Page 1 of Miss Davis and the Architect (Dazzling Debutantes #4)

"I am not fond of the idea of my shrubberies being always approachable."

Jane Austen

* * *

LATE JULY 1820, LONDON

B arclay descended the stairs, sliding his hand over the banister, the muscles in his back protesting the movement. It had been a long journey from one of their minor Yorkshire building sites, and even a night stretched out in his own bed had not eased the stiffness brought on by too many hours in the carriage over the past days.

As his foot hit the bottom stair, he looked up to find an unknown gentleman staring at him from the doorway of his grandfather’s study. His grandfather, Tsar, stood behind the man’s shoulder.

Noticing his descent, Tsar called out, “Barclay, there you are! I just sent Robins to find you. Join us for coffee?”

Barclay frowned. Was the gentleman a prospective client? He certainly looked moneyed in his black Hessians, expensive buckskins, snowy cravat, and immaculate wool coat. His sable curls were artfully cut and his face clean-shaven.

But they rarely met clients in the family home. And something about how the visitor’s emerald green eyes followed him was unnerving. Barclay sensed this was not a typical client meeting.

He entered the study in their wake and took a seat in a leather armchair beside the unknown guest, who fidgeted nervously with his cravat. Barclay’s unease mounted.

“Allow me to make introductions. This is Lord Richard Balfour, the Earl of Saunton.”

Barclay was startled. He made to rise to his feet to bow. “My lord?—”

“Please, it is unnecessary, Mr. Thompson. I am quite embarrassed about this situation, so we shall not observe formalities.”

Barclay raised a hand to run it through his hair, puzzled about what was happening. He shot a glance at his grandfather, who looked away. Barclay’s own tension increased.

Thomas Thompson, better known as Tsar, was a renowned architect now in his mid-seventies. He had apprenticed and worked with Robert Adams himself in his youth, before being discharged along with three thousand other workers because of the failing Adelphi project in 1772. With a young Italian wife, whom he had met on his Grand Tour, and a two-year-old daughter to provide for, Tsar had risked everything to begin his own firm. He had quickly built his name and reputation with grand Palladian designs, crafting country homes for the wealthy over the subsequent decades.

Known as Tsar because of his commitment to purchasing quality timber and supplies from the Baltics and St. Petersburg, he was famous for his relationships with merchants from that region. Timber had become highly priced over the past decade or two because of heavy taxation during the troubles with France, but everyone knew that timber from Northern America was inferior due to the extended sea journey, often arriving with dry rot set in. Tsar was unwilling to compromise.

If one wished to conduct business in St. Petersburg, one called upon Tsar, well known to be a determined man of ideals and fierce loyalties. A man of integrity. He had taken part in thousands of negotiations with clients and suppliers over the decades, and he never looked nervous.

Of course, today proved that the observation was inaccurate. Tsar was distinctly nervous as he fiddled with papers on his desk. Eventually, the gentleman to Barclay’s left broke the awkward silence by clearing his throat.

“If I may explain?”

His grandfather grunted a bashful consent, his cheeks growing suspiciously red.

What on earth is going on?

“This is a rather indelicate subject to discuss, so I shall be blunt.” Despite the announcement, Lord Saunton hesitated. He stared down at his hands folded on his lap.

Barclay did not like to express emotion in public. He was a man of restraint, except with his close family, whom he adored, but even he could not maintain his patience any longer. He frowned, then demanded, “What is this?”

His lordship took a deep breath. “I have recently discovered through extensive investigation that you and I are brothers … well … half-brothers. A fact that your grandfather has just confirmed this morning.”

Barclay’s jaw dropped. After several heart-pounding moments, he turned to Tsar. “The late Earl of Saunton was my father?”

Tsar kept his eyes lowered, dropping his head in a curt nod.

“You and Mother informed me my father was an officer in the Royal Navy, lost at sea before they wed!”

“It was … easier. It was what your mother desired,” he mumbled.

Aurora Thompson! He was going to have words with his mother when he saw her next. She and Tsar had lied to him. He was a man in his early thirties, discovering his parentage for the first time. He felt like a callow youth discussing this subject in front of a stranger, with his shock and outrage on display.

Nay, not a stranger, but a brother!

He attempted to gather his wits, but could not make sense of what was unfolding. “Grandfather, I have always appreciated that you did the right thing by my mother and me—standing by her when she … but this is … Why did you lie about who my father was?”

Lord Saunton coughed quietly into his fist. “I believe, if you think on it, that the idea of an officer lost at sea with a wedding planned was a more romantic notion for a young lad than …” The earl pulled at the knot of his cravat in agitation before finishing, “Than … the Earl of Satan seduced the young daughter of his architect and abandoned her to her fate.”

“Satan?”

Wincing, Lord Saunton’s face gradually turned red while he struggled to respond. “Rest assured, your ignorance of my—our—disgraceful father is a blessing. Now that I am the head of the Balfour family, it is my responsibility to acknowledge our connection and ensure you receive the benefits of our relationship … brother.”

Barclay’s thoughts were swimming, and his customary composure was nowhere to be found. He straightened, ready to spring to his feet. “I do not want it!”

“Barclay.” His grandfather spoke quietly, but firmly. Barclay had always trusted and respected Tsar, so, despite his struggle, he could not rise and stride away.

Reluctantly, Barclay paused before settling back into his chair, his hands resting on his knees while he drew a calming breath. “Yes, Grandfather?”

“Barclay, these many years your mother has struggled with the burden of being unwed. My reputation has assisted her to maintain some relationships, but she is not accepted in general society. One day, my great-granddaughter … Tatiana will struggle with the burden that her father is a illegitimate. When I am gone in the not-too-distant future, none of you will enjoy the benefit of my protection any longer. Lord Saunton’s offer to acknowledge the connection will elevate you from a by-blow to the brother of an earl. It will open doors for you, as well as for your daughter and mother … All this will provide me with the solace I sorely need.”

Tsar ran his fingers through his short, curling gray hair in a gesture reminiscent of Barclay’s own a few moments earlier. His rounded face was creased in concern when he continued. “I … often worry about what will happen to my family when my reputation and relationships from fifty years of professional excellence are no longer available to all of you to facilitate your social and professional interactions.”

Barclay hung his head, closing his eyes while he thought. “I am an excellent architect in my own right. My awards attest to that.”

“I will not deny that, but you have yet a decade of work, which simply does not compare to my five decades. You must acknowledge that, as a by-blow of an unknown officer, you will encounter difficulty when I am no longer here to lend you my support. Lord Saunton can make that difficulty disappear, which will benefit our womenfolk. Society is much harder on them than it is on men.”

Barclay leaned his head back in the chair to stare at the ceiling, swallowing hard while his thoughts raced.

The earl leaned forward to speak in earnest. “Mr. Thompson, it would be my great pleasure to acknowledge you publicly and unite our families. You will gain two brothers, along with extended family, for your mother and daughter. My—our—cousin is the Duke of Halmesbury. He and his duchess are certain to sponsor Tatiana in society when that time comes. Even now, we can open doors for your mother.”

Barclay wanted to walk out of the room, but reflecting on the advantages to both his mother and Tatiana, he realized that would be the immature act of an excessively proud man. A duke? And not just any duke, but the much-lauded Duke of Halmesbury? Only a fool would reject such a prestigious connection.

He might tolerate the challenges he faced as a natural-born son, but if that burden could be lifted for Tatiana … if his late wife were still with them, she would place her much smaller hand gently over his and counsel him to accept the offer. His heart squeezed at the thought of Natalya and the words she would have said if she had been here to say them, but it had been two lonely years since she had died. Tatiana no longer had a mother, and he no longer had a wife, yet now his young daughter would gain uncles, aunts, and cousins in the peerage.

He swept a trembling hand through his hair, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees before mumbling to his boots, “What does this entail, Lord Saunton?”

“Please … Barclay … we are brothers—blood. If our father had done right by your mother, even now you would be the earl, instead of myself. My family address me as Richard.”

Barclay sighed. “What does this entail … Richard?”