Page 36 of A Lord in Want of a Wife (Daring Debutantes #2)

‘Pray tell me what you’ve been doing since I left. Caring for your father, obviously, but since then?’

She shrugged as she poured her tea. ‘Much as I did before. I help my sister. I go to parties.’

She fell silent and he frowned at her. ‘You barely did that before. Your interests were in your father’s boats and cargo. In how the accounts were managed. You wanted more investors to reduce your risk.’

She set her teacup down as she studied him. ‘You remember that?’

He gaped at her. ‘Of course I remember.’ Some of their happiest and most frustrating times were when they argued about such things. It had been a daily discussion between them, and he longed for such ease with her again.

‘Tell me what you decided. Tell me how it went.’

She was quiet for a bit, then she spoke, slowly warming to her topic.

‘It went badly,’ she said. ‘With my father so ill, no one would invest with us. Even Declan tried to help, but you were the one who could bring people to the venture. You were always the one they believed in. Not my father and certainly not me.’

He shook his head. ‘I never hid your involvement. But each person cared about a different thing, had different reasons to invest with us.’

She nodded. ‘You understand that. I never did. And so without you, we floundered.’

‘You didn’t sail?’ he asked. He knew now how risky shipping could be, but without sailing a cargo, she would have no income at all.

‘One ship. The others wait for investors.’

‘I can help you,’ he said, warming to the possibility. ‘My investors will be pleased. I can get more.’

She bit her lower lip even as she looked down at her hands. ‘So you intend to sail again?’ Her words sounded casual, but he could see the tension in her body.

‘I understand the business better now. And there is joy in the work,’ he said. ‘But I want to be England for a while.’ He wanted to be with her.

‘A while?’ she pressed.

Maybe forever. ‘I am a good sailor now, but not a gifted one. My skills are best used here with the investors.’ He had gone all around the world. Twice! Only to learn that he was happiest at home. Hopefully with her.

‘I would be grateful for your help,’ she said.

He smiled, feeling some of their rapport return. He ached to touch her, but he didn’t dare yet. She was still reserved with him, and he did not want to rush her.

‘Cedric,’ she began, her voice tentative. ‘I have looked at the ship’s account.’

He tensed though he didn’t want to. She should be pleased by her profit.

‘Why did you spend so much silver in China? The tea was not that expensive.’

Trust her to find the one thing he wasn’t anxious to tell her. But it was in the account book, so he knew he couldn’t hide it from her. ‘I only took from my share. It was not debited from anyone else.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘But what did you buy?’

Information. Knowledge so that he could understand her better.

‘Cedric?’

‘Captain Banakos did not tell you?’

‘I haven’t asked him. I’m asking you.’

There was no real secret. And it was something he wanted to tell her. And yet, the words were difficult to confess. It felt too vulnerable to confess how desperately he had missed her. And to what lengths he had gone to learn more about her.

He had done so willingly, though he hadn’t expected to give so much silver. He’d miscalculated the cost of the bribes and, of course, hadn’t expected the storm or the expensive repairs.

‘What did you do?’ she pressed.

‘I went to the temple where you were raised. I wanted to see it. I wanted to know who you were before.’

She stared at him, clearly understanding the magnitude of what he had done. It was difficult for Cantonese to slip into the Thirteen Factories district. It was near impossible to smuggle a white man from that district into Canton proper.

‘Why?’ she whispered. ‘If you had been caught…’ She shook her head. ‘If you had been betrayed, you would have died horribly! Do you know what could have happened to you in a Chinese prison?’

Probably not. But he’d had to see it himself, where she had come from, how she had lived.

Her world was so alien to his experience, but he understood things better now.

And he had seen the other children at the temple, her sisters and brothers, so to speak.

Many of mixed races like her. Others with obvious deformities.

Children who were not wanted and had not been killed at birth.

Children who survived on the charity of the temple.

‘They asked about you,’ he said. ‘I told them you were doing well.’ His gaze slid away from her. ‘They wondered if I had come to adopt more children as your father had.’

‘The children at the temple will not have good lives in China,’ she said. ‘That is why I had to leave.’

He had not realised the depth of her problems in China. Not until he’d seen it himself. ‘I wanted to take them back with me. I wanted to adopt them all. I gave them all the silver I had instead. I made them promise to use it to feed the children.’

She said nothing, and when he looked at her face, he saw shock and understanding.

‘When we first met, you gave away your last coin to a pickpocket.’

He frowned, not remembering but believing her nonetheless. ‘I suppose it was foolish of me.’

‘It is what first drew me to you. You are a kind man, not a selfish one. Thank you for caring for my other siblings. It is good that they know someone cares.’

‘I hope they will honour their promise.’ He had no way to ensure that the monks spent the money on the children.

‘They will do it. They care, too. Otherwise, none of the half children would survive.’

That was good to know. And good that she understood that he couldn’t see those children, know they were half-starved and reviled, and not do anything for them. And, of course, he hadn’t expected to spend the rest of his money on ship repairs.

She touched his hand, showing him with a simple caress that she understood him. And that she was grateful for what he had done. Pleased beyond measure by that, he shifted until their fingers were entwined.

‘What are your plans now?’ he asked.

She frowned. ‘Plans?’

‘Yes,’ he said, stretching for the right words. ‘Your plans. You have money now or will soon, thanks to the cargo.’

‘I had money before. My father’s estate filled my dowry.’

Right. ‘Well, now it’s bigger.’

She nodded. Why didn’t she speak?

‘I mean, it’s May, right? You’re in the middle of the Season?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you engaged? Did you find someone to marry?’

She carefully set aside her teacup, making pains—he guessed—to show that there was no engagement ring on her finger. ‘I have not selected a husband. Why should I? I am content here with my sister, and I look forward to my niece or nephew.’

That made sense. Indeed, many unwed sisters lived such a life on their relative’s generosity. ‘You are happy then?’

Her lips curved and her gaze grew abstract. ‘I am happy.’ Then her eyes sharpened. ‘Are you? Do you have plans?’

‘God, no. I thought I was dead. It’s disconcerting to have survived.’

‘Hmmm.’

Damnation, she knew how to be inscrutable when she wanted.

She stood, as regal as a queen, and he could do nothing but gaze in amazement at her.

She’d always been lovely, but now she had a maturity that had been lacking before.

A strength in herself that made her stunningly beautiful. She would age into a goddess.

And then, while he was still caught up in his fantasy of her as Juno or Athena, she abruptly bent down and pressed her mouth to his.

Never, in his entire life, had he been surprised by a kiss. That was because he was the one who orchestrated the dance. Always. Except with Lucy. She’d never said what he expected, never done as he thought she would. She was kissing him, and he scrambled to catch up.

Her lips touched his, warm and wet from her tea. And when her tongue stroked across his flesh, he felt a roar in his blood that hadn’t been there since he’d left England. But it was back now, and it wanted her.

He pressed into her kiss, trying to deepen what she’d started. She allowed it for a moment, but only a moment. It was as if she sank into him long enough for her to remember him and for him to realise her presence with him.

Then she pulled back.

He caught her arm, but only barely. So when he tried to hold her close, she slipped away. And then she stood there, waiting while her breath steadied, and his heart kept pounding.

‘Lucy—’ he began.

‘Do you remember our time on the ship? Just before you left?’

How could he forget? How many times had he relived the taste of her? The feel of her coming apart beneath his mouth?

‘Yes,’ he rasped.

‘Now you know how it feels to begin something, to open to something you want, and then have it disappear. For nineteen months!’

He winced. ‘I had to prove myself.’

‘And have you? Do you feel like a worthy man now? Do you know what you want?’

He paused before answering. He knew the question had more significance than it appeared. There was a finality behind her eyes that told him so much rested upon his answer.

He sat up and thought about everything he had done, everything he was. He knew not to count the money. Coin was the least measure of a man, but it was the way the world counted. If he chose to look at himself by the world’s standards, he would fall short.

Instead, he chose to look at himself the way Lucy measured a man. Or perhaps the way he now thought of other people.

He held to his responsibilities, for good or for ill.

He cared for his family and for the children of strangers.

He could be foolish with money, but he was gaining ground there.

He balanced accounts, he calculated what was necessary and what was excess.

He’d made mistakes there, but he owned them.

And he apologised when he was in the wrong.

‘I am a good man,’ he realised. The words were spoken in a whisper at first, but then he looked straight at her and spoke with strength. ‘I am a good man.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘You are.’ And then she folded her hands in front of her. She looked almost demure though he knew there was a dragon beneath that quiet exterior. ‘There’s something else you should know.’

He was still reeling from his own realization, but it was easy to look at her. Easy to wait for whatever blow was coming.

‘I looked at the account book. You made a miscalculation.’

He winced. Good God, now what? How much had he lost?

‘You don’t own The Integrity ,’ she said. ‘Declan does.’

‘I know,’ he said, weariness entering his tone.

‘So the costs of the ship’s repairs fall to Declan. Not you.’

He frowned. Was that true? He’d been the man on board, the one handling the accounts alongside Captain Banakos. As Declan’s representative, of course he paid for the repairs. So he’d applied those expenses to his own tally. But he didn’t own the boat.

He didn’t own the boat!

‘I spent… The repairs…’ He blinked, mentally reviewing the costs.

‘They will all be returned to you. Cedric, you have made an enormous profit on this venture. Enough, I think, to cover the expenses of a Season for both your sisters. And to give them a modest dowry.’

He gaped at her. ‘I have money?’

‘A very great deal.’ And with that, she turned and left the room.