The Duke's Broken Heart Page 21
“I’m in. If I win, you have to spend an entire day living the Silas life. If you win, I’ll uh . . .”
“You’ll shadow me, following me as I go about my business.”
“I will do that with reluctance, but you won’t win, so it doesn’t matter,” Silas said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Silas turned to Phin again, suddenly serious, “Phin, why do you do it? The sale of the plantations alone set you for life. You don’t need any more money.”
Phin blew out a long breath. “I’m not made of the same stuff as you. I don’t have the kind of mind to live in the world you live in. When I came back to London and met Charlotte, among other things, I thought she would be a perfect person to find worthwhile charities for the money.
“The money was there, waiting for the cause that spoke to me. Somehow, I didn’t want to take on that task. I considered it Charlotte’s task.” Phin shrugged. “That’s the way my mind works. I can’t help it.”
Silas felt uncomfortable in his chair. “You put me to shame, Phin.”
Phin looked at him, the love for his brother evident, “I don’t mean to do any such thing. I can’t be anyone but who I am. You can’t be anyone but Silas, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Bennett couldn’t be anyone but Bennett. God help us.
***
“Yes, hello, Warren. I’m here to see Elizabeth,” Silas said standing by the door. Silas didn’t like Elizabeth’s townhouse. It looked the same as it did when her father died. She had made no changes to it so it looked too masculine for her. When she stood at the door to the parlour to greet him and usher him in, she looked like a visitor.
Silas sat, took the proffered drink, and got to the point. “I need your help in clearing Phin. You and I will attend as many ton events as possible over the next fortnight. I expect to see Phin’s name cleared within a two-week time frame.”
Elizabeth took a seat across from Silas and said, “What on earth makes you think I would do such a thing?”
“Because, Cousin Elizabeth, if you don’t, the ton will find out about your live-in boyfriend. If that isn’t enough, they will find out about your job. Tell me, are all those antiques legitimate? I wonder if they were stolen.”
Elizabeth slit her eyes and stared at Silas. “You wouldn’t dare. I’ll blow the lid off the rumours between Bennett and Phin.”
Silas laughed. “You are threatening to do something you have already done. You and I,” Silas said pointing his finger back and forth between the two of them, “are going to undo that damage.”
Elizabeth laughed. “No, thanks. I’m busy. You’re on your own.”
“Oops, sorry, Elizabeth. Wrong answer. I think it’s sordid, and none of the ton’s business, but don’t force me to tell as many members of the ton as I can that you are living in sin with Merritt and working in the market of antique stolen goods.”
Elizabeth gasped and fell back into her chair. “You wouldn’t.”
Silas gave her a hard look. “After what you did to Phin, do you doubt I would waste one minute of my time debating whether or not to expose you?”
Silas stood. “There’s a ball tonight. I’ll pick you up at nine. Don’t keep me waiting.”
Elizabeth was confused. “What? Why are you going?”
“To make sure you clear Phin with everyone in that room. I’ll be right beside you. Oh, and we will be attending the theatre tomorrow evening. You have a lot of work to do.”
Silas and Elizabeth went to the ball that evening. “Mary Margaret,” Elizabeth said, putting her hand on Mary Margaret’s arm. “Have you heard the good news? Bennett Collins’ personal journal was found, and it contains entries he made in his own handwriting about how he gambled away Mercy’s dowry and drained the Collins bank accounts.
“And the most awful part? He took out a loan against Collinswood. Can you imagine? Mercy was in peril of losing the roof over her head. Phineas saved Collinswood and Mercy’s dowry by making the sacrifice of going to India to earn the money to save them.
“What a thoughtful man, taking on his volatile father for the benefit of his sister. Apparently, the man was very difficult. Did you know he disowned Phineas?” Elizabeth shook her head and whispered “unstable” then nodded.
Silas marvelled at Elizabeth’s acting ability. By the end of the evening, she had talked with no fewer than fifteen matrons. Silas was pleased with the progress and looked forward to the theatre the next evening.
Chapter 27
Phin closed his eyes in the breeze off the boat’s deck, taking a deep breath of ocean air. Everett had been right as always. John and Genevieve would keep a close eye on Charlotte.
He put his hands on the rail and leaned in. He was happy to be home in London with his family and Everett. But the stress of Charlotte, Elizabeth, the journal, and rumours were almost too much to bear.
Where he was going, what he was doing? He was good at it. It was under his control, unlike the rest of his life.
He’d check in at a local inn near one of the wineries on his list. He’d ask the locals how they liked the wine, and what they didn’t like about it. Research.
When he went to the wineries, he’d explain he was an importer, and he’d ask for the owner, a tour, a sample of each wine. He’d never ask for prices. He’d mentioned establishments in London that had mixed feelings about the wine. He’d give the owner the ‘feedback.’
Phin smiled. He and Everett did that research together. It took several weeks, but it was fun. Everett’s notebook was filled with customer reviews and the price of each wine by the bottle and by the glass.
After the tour and the tasting, Phin would look at the owner of the winery. In perfect French, he would say, “Thank you for your time.” He would bow and turn as if to go.
“Your Grace,” the owner would say, to keep Phin from leaving. “Surely you need more information before you take your leave. Stay for lunch and enjoy our hospitality.”
Phin would look the owner in the eyes and grimace, knowing the winery owner would take it as an insult if he turned him down.
Over lunch, Phin would wait for the winery owner to bring up prices. The wineries would much prefer to sell a boatload to one customer than a case here and a case there to an individual establishment.
Phin would hesitate, mention some of the drawbacks of the wine, and then shut up. Invariably, the owner of the winery would talk himself down from his original price while Phin stayed silent. By dessert, a deal would be forged.
Yes, most days, he would walk into Everett’s study, seeing him hunched over papers on his desk, not lifting his head. He and Everett fit together so well because they didn’t invade each other’s work. Phin didn’t want to do what Everett enjoyed, and as Everett put it, he’d rather stick sharp pins in his eyes then negotiate with anyone.
Phin smiled. He missed Everett already. How did he survive in India for five years away? With constant correspondence, that’s how.
He thought about Charlotte. She and he fit well too. The two most important people in his life were so very different from him. Charlotte could make him laugh. Her joie de vivre was contagious. If she wouldn’t marry him, he feared he would become a curmudgeon no one wanted to humour.
Someone, who he didn’t remember, although it was probably Everett, said opposites attract. Phin believed it. He was living it.
Phin came out of his reverie at the feel of raindrops on his face. At first, they landed, one here, one there, but the casual drops turned into a steady downpour before Phin could make it to the lower deck.
Benches shoved against the hull, ran twenty feet long on both sides of the boat’s lower deck. When he ran down the stairs out of the rain, four passengers looked up at him then returned to what they were doing. A mother whispering a lullaby to her baby while the father looked on. A man sitting alone on the far end of the benches, the balls of his feet bouncing up and down in a nervous gesture. A boy, not yet of age, leaning back, his arms folded over his chest, his eyes closed
. And Phin.
He sat on the hard bench and looked around. It was dim and smelled of tea leaves. When he turned towards the stern, he saw there was no cargo aboard. They must be loading the boat in Calais.
The trip across the channel took around three hours, depending on the weather conditions. Phin took out his pocket watch to find they were more than halfway there.
When they docked in Calais, he would hire a coach to Paris, buy the local’s bread and cheese then be on his way. If the roads were dry, Phin estimated he could be at his men’s club by 9 p.m. Late dinner, and he would retire. Then his journey would begin.
He would check back and stay at the club when he finished one town before heading for another. He would pick up his mail at the club. When Everett wrote him, Phin wondered if he’d make mention of the journal. The more he thought about it, the more Phin knew it wasn’t the answer he needed. At least it was in his hands now. No one else was in charge of his family’s information.
***
Phin climbed out of the coach and stretched his body. Calais to Paris was a long bumpy trip, but he estimated his arrival time right. He’d grab a late dinner then retire.
The men’s club he belonged to in Paris was similar to White’s in London. He would take a room for the duration of his stay in France; it would be his home base.
Once the trunk was taken down from the roof of the carriage and carried inside by porters, Phin checked in and went to his room. He sat on his bed and let himself fall backward until all but his lower legs were on the bed. His body still vibrated to the wheels of the carriage, and it took a while for his body to still. He got up, thinking if he didn’t, he wouldn’t, and he would find himself in that exact same position in the morning.
He needed air to revitalize himself before eating and left the club to walk. The streets of Paris were exactly how he remembered. One street charming, the next street sweet, the next garish, the next energetic. He remembered a bistro he enjoyed last time he was in Paris, and his feet found it with no problem.
Phin had fallen into conversational French the moment he hit the shores of Calais and didn’t need to remind himself to switch to speaking French. His French was excellent because of his extensive education.
“May I have a seat for dinner?”
“For one? You are alone?” she said.
Yes, yes, I am,” he said with a small smile.
She smiled back. “Follow me.” She looked back at him, “A quiet corner or along the window? The window seating is one long table with stools.”
“I’ll take the window, please.”
It was perfect. He stared out the window at the city of lights, and it was easy to see where the nickname came from. The street the bistro was on was active at this late hour.
His server gave him the menu verbally; he chose, ordered a glass of wine, and then sighed. Wouldn’t Charlotte love it here?
A woman bounced into the stool to Phin’s left. She turned to him and smiled. She was a very beautiful woman with dark, curly hair, and pale blue eyes.
“Hello, my name is Marielle. I am hiding from a young man out there,” she said as she pointed her chin to the window. “He has mistaken me for a street lady.” It seemed to occur to her to look down at what she was wearing, “And I’m having difficulty explaining I’m not interested.”
Phin nodded and thought a moment. “Would you like me to explain this to him?”
She looked at him, her beautiful eyes wide, “Would you? I would be grateful, but it may not be necessary. I think I’ve lost him.”
“Well, Marielle, I’m Phin. If he finds you, I will help,” Phin smiled. “Would you join me in a glass of wine?”
Phin waved the server over and ordered wine. He turned to Marielle. “I ordered dinner. Should we put in an order for you? I would hate to eat in front of you.”
She shrugged and looked sheepish. “Yes, I see the problem. I will join you for dinner.”
When the server brought her the wine, she ordered, and Phin requested the two dinners to be served together. He turned to her, “Problem solved.”
“So, your name is Marielle, and you are not a street lady. Is there anything else interesting about you that you would like to share?”
Marielle grinned at Phin. He had no idea why. “I’m a dress designer and a dressmaker. I have a little shop next to and across from other dress designers and dressmakers. But I enjoy my work, and I can’t tell a lie. I can make the most unattractive matron look good in one of my dresses.”
Phin chortled. “I didn’t know there were unattractive women in France. Have they all visited your shop so that you have worked your magic on them?”
“Are you from London, Phin? Your French is flawless, but you are no Frenchman.”
Phin grimaced playfully, “I am no Frenchman; you are correct. And, yes, I am a Londoner. I just got to Paris about two hours ago.”
She smiled her beautiful smile again. “Don’t worry; I won’t hold it against you that you’re not a Frenchman. There are times when I think it is a good thing. Not all Frenchmen are worthy of the name.” She rolled her eyes. “Do you need help navigating the city or countryside? I’ve lived in Paris my entire life.”
Their food came, and there wasn’t a dull moment or awkward pause during their entire meal. Phin offered to walk her home. He marvelled at the lack of rigid social structure in Paris. He could never get the opportunity to enjoy a stroll through the streets of London with an unaccompanied woman at midnight.
She lived above her dress shop. The street-level window was large with two dresses on forms in the window. It looked like an inviting place.
The street was littered with similar dress shops, and Phin wondered how a lady would decide which shop to patronize. At the door to her shop, Marielle turned. “Are you in Paris for long, Phin?”
He hesitated before answering. Marielle was a beautiful mature woman in her mid to late 20s. If he were of another frame of mind or were not in love with Charlotte, Marielle would be a pleasant distraction. He thought for a moment, then decided he wasn’t courting anyone so she would make good company.
He leaned against the outside of her shop window, “I’m here for two months but will be making side trips to the country every few weeks. I am not sure yet how much time I will be able to spend in Paris.”
Marielle gave Phin a smile. “Well, next time you’re here in Paris, walk down to the shop, and I will be here. We might have another pleasant dinner together.”
“Thank you for your invitation. I imagine I’ll be back here in two or three weeks. I’ll stop by then.”
Marielle stood up on the balls of her feet and kissed Phin on the cheek. She slowly pulled back and lowered herself. She turned, unlocked her door and disappeared into the darkness of her shop.
After Phin returned to Paris from a successful trip to Champagne, he collected his correspondence and went to his room.
He smiled at Silas’ letter. Apparently, Silas was blackmailing Elizabeth for certain indiscretions of hers that the ton would never forgive. Elizabeth wanted to continue as a member of the ton, not be cast aside. To keep in their good graces, she and Silas were attending every ton social function, giving Elizabeth the opportunity to sing Phin’s praises.
Phin laughed. Silas was thoroughly enjoying himself; he was sure.
John was holding a Dukes meeting at his estate next weekend. Bennett’s journal would be the focal point of the meeting. This news was less enjoyable than Silas’. The twenty-four Dukes minus him would discuss Phin’s personal life in messy detail. It didn’t sit well with him, but the Dukes prided themselves on their discretion, so he would try to put that meeting in the back of his mind.
Everett wrote three times, all correspondence on business sprinkled with updates on Mercy, Josie, and Silas.
Phin responded to all, letting them know he was grateful for their efforts and telling them about his trip.
In his correspondence with Everett, he mentioned meeting Marielle. He desc
ribed her and their time together. The streets of Paris seemed welcoming when he walked them with her. The slow pace forced people to notice the flowering trees, the birds that flew and descended on the banks of the Seine, and the murmurs of other couples as they walked by. The hush of the city suited Phin.
Phin shared with Everett his feeling that pursuing Charlotte was a waste of time. As Everett had said to him, he could stand outside Charlotte’s door day after day waiting for her to receive him. Either she wanted him as much as he wanted her, or she didn’t.
Phin took the letters to the front desk and asked that they be sent for delivery, and then he walked out on the street.
He remembered where Marielle’s dress shop was located. It was only a fifteen-minute walk from the club. When he found it and looked in the window, he saw her with a customer, waving her delicate hands down the back of the dress the woman was wearing, while the customer nodded. She was speaking rapid-fire, and her assistants, pins in hands, were on their knees doing her bidding.