The Lady Tamed by Boyd, Heather (urban books to read TXT) 📗

“Yes, I have always had a great interest in the theater,” she enthused. “I never miss a performance when in London, especially not when Jeremy is onstage.”

Thwaite’s eyes darted to Jeremy and, in the darkness, she sensed they narrowed in suspicion. “Well, now I must discover for myself what sort of performer he really is.”

Fanny felt the hair on the back of her neck rise in warning, but she dismissed the sensation. She had wanted people to believe Jeremy was a romantic interest of hers and leave her to it. From Thwaite, she sensed a keen interest to discover the whole truth. Time to distract him. “And now, having availed myself of the view and the tranquil country air, I was just about to return inside to encourage my sister to play.”

“It would be a pleasure to escort you,” Thwaite said quickly, depriving Jeremy of the chance.

She reluctantly placed her hand Thwaite’s sleeve. “Mr. Dawes was just remarking upon the difference in the clarity of the stars when in the country compared to the lack in London.”

Thwaite looked down at her. “’Tis a prettier view at Stapleton indeed.” Fanny caught a flicker of smug satisfaction on Thwaite’s face before he turned her away from Jeremy. “Do excuse us, sir.”

“Certainly. But I will be returning to the drawing room, as well.”

Thwaite leaned his head closer to hers. “Have you given any thought to the Hampton Street project?”

“Not as yet.”

“It will be a very profitable enterprise,” he enthused. “I have every confidence we can overcome current difficulties with an injection of new money from discerning investors like yourself.”

“That, I shall decide for myself at a later time.”

“We should meet to discuss the project. I wouldn’t want anyone catching wind of our partnership too soon and having you lose your chance to join your friends.”

She shrugged. Fanny was a little too tired for business talk tonight. “I shall look into the matter when I have a spare moment, my lord.”

Thwaite had the sense not to press her and took her toward the fire, where her father sat on a long chaise and guided her down to sit beside him.

Jeremy stopped not far away and caught her eye. “Would you care for a refreshment, my lady?”

She smiled at Jeremy and he smiled back, while her silly heart gave another ridiculous jump in her chest. “A sherry would be lovely, Mr. Dawes. Thank you.”

“Your grace?”

Father held up his empty glass. He was taking Hawthorne’s death very hard. Drinking more than could be good for him. “A refill, port, please.”

“My pleasure,” Jeremy murmured before turning toward the array of decanters lined up across the room.

Lord Thwaite squeezed in beside her as Lord Letterford dropped into a chair that faced her and Father. Fanny had an uncomfortable feeling that, if not for Father’s presence, she’d just been surrounded.

After Jeremy returned with a drink for her and her father, he remained nearby, keeping a watchful eye over her again. She was rather glad she’d not had to ask him to do that.

“There’s been a lot of talk about your Cedar Mill of late,” Thwaite mused.

Fanny sipped her drink before she answered. Her investment in Cedar Mill was no secret…but the changes she’d planned to make were supposed to be still. “Such as?”

“Is it true you’re in negotiations to sell it to that upstart Maxwell Danvers, of all people?”

Fanny worked hard to keep the surprise from her face. Her discussions with Danvers were in the very early stages. “The mill belongs to me.”

“You’d be a fool to sell to him at any price,” Thwaite warned.

Men were always ready to tell her what she should or should not do as if she had no intelligence. The state of her fortune proved she knew exactly what she was doing without any man’s interference. She turned her head to regard Thwaite with not a little hostility. “You are entitled to your opinion, I suppose.”

“Yes, and—”

Father put up his hand. “No business discussions tonight.”

Lord Thwaite appeared ready to protest but finally subsided. “We’ll continue our discussion another time. To Hawthorne.”

Glasses were raised around the room and Fanny sipped her sherry slowly.

Father sighed, staring into his glass. “I don’t feel like this, after all. Dawes, be a good fellow and take this from me. I’m suddenly in the mood to play a bit of music instead of drowning myself in drink. You may take my place here if you like,” Father murmured.

Fanny was relieved when Jeremy crossed the room to take the glass from her father. He slid into the vacated seat beside Fanny’s and a great deal of her annoyance with Thwaite slipped away.

Father started up on the pianoforte, a familiar tune she knew well, and she lost herself in the music and happy memories of times past. Father had done just the thing to lift her spirits.

She turned to Jeremy, who was sitting somewhat stiffly on the edge of the chair beside her. “I was hoping my father would play during your visit. He is very skilled on the pianoforte. Some of my favorite memories are of falling asleep here with my sisters while he entertained us in the evenings.”

Jeremy’s body softened in her direction a touch. “Did your late mother play, as well?”

“Mama had no talent for music, but the current Lady Stapleton does and plays beautifully,” she murmured. “At long last, Father now has someone to play duets with.”

“I look forward to having the opportunity of hearing them play together then,” Jeremy whispered, and then sat back like she had to listen, his fingers tapping on one bent knee.

Lord Thwaite leaned close to whisper in her ear, startling her. “Now your father is occupied, we can talk about that Mill uninterrupted.”

Father came to an abrupt halt. “Fanny, be a dear and come and turn the pages for your old father.”

“You’re not old, Papa,” Fanny exclaimed, jumping to her feet immediately and rushing to do his bidding to get away from Thwaite. His breath across her ear had not