Page 48 of The Colonist’s Petition (Heirs & Heroes #2)

Thirty-Seven

A t home hours were nearing a close when the butler announced their first visitor. Mr. Dalrymple.

Where was Johnathan? He promised to come. Grandfather had left early and said something about Johnathan. He must be detained. Grandfather was still out as well.

Mr. Dalrymple spoke to everyone generally of the weather, last night’s ball, and how London air smelled of smoke.

After precisely fifteen minutes he took his leave with no particular attention to Jane or George.

Puzzling, since he had sent flowers. Didn’t that usually indicate some sentiment, even if only an apology for bruised toes?

Aunt Healand checked the corridor to ascertain if they were alone.

“I’ve sat through enough at home visits and I have never had one such as this.

All these flowers and only one visit, and you’ll pardon me saying so, but Mr. Dalrymple did not appear nervous, nor did he express particular interest in Jane. ”

Jane walked to her flowers and breathed in the scent. “Since I have no interest in him, I did not mind. It is peculiar that he sent them. Our conversation was not out of the ordinary. And his only compliment was on my sensible dress, which I am sure was not a complement at all.”

The grey-almost-lavender dress Jane wore today was typical of her dresses with no added lace or frills.

George moved to the window and parted the curtain.

No carriage in front of the house. No Johnathan.

And no clue as to the origin of the other two bouquets of flowers.

She turned to study them. While she enjoyed pruning and growing mother’s roses and flowers, she had never taken a particular interest in the language of flowers. “Jane, what do pink roses mean?”

“They could mean the beginning of a relationship.”

“Not much of a beginning when I am unaware of the sender.”

“They could also mean he finds you graceful or elegant.”

George pulled a daisy from the bouquet from Johnathan. “And this collection has so many different flowers that send quite a muddled message, does it not?”

“Not so varied. A daisy is for innocence, and you like them. Primroses are for consistency. I am unsure about some of the others, but myrtle is for marriage.”

George turned away to hide her blush. “And what do the ones you were sent mean?”

“Friendship, kindness. Nothing of romance.” Jane tapped the vase from Mr. Dalrymple’s offering. It is as if he sent these just to send flowers to any lady of his acquaintance. I must ask Isabel if she knows more.”

“Do I dare ask about my last flowers?”

Aunt Healand spoke up. “Red and white roses? How can you not know when you have been caring for your mother’s roses all these years?”

“Tending roses and knowing what they mean have nothing whatsoever to do with one another.”

“Red roses mean passionate love.” Jane’s answer came out in a reverent whisper.

George sat down hard. “I am confused. Why would someone send those messages with no card?”

Jane circled the table where the flowers stood. Once, twice, again. Then she started to giggle.

“What?”

Jane held one hand over her mouth trying to stop the laughter as she beckoned George with the other.

“What is it?”

“Look, they all came from the same florist except Mr. Dalrymple’s and the man who stepped on your toes.”

“Probably not that many places to choose from.”

Aunt Healand laughed. “I cannot even count the number of shops where a man can purchase hot house flowers. And a few men like the Duke of Aylton have homes that boast an orangery and grow their own.”

“So, it would be highly unlikely for four of six offerings to have similar origins?” Jane smiled as she did whenever she was correct.

“Precisely.”

Johnathan sent them all? George could not voice the question. Especially when he had not appeared during the usual hours. “If you will excuse me, I think I shall take a turn about the garden.”

It was late afternoon when Johnathan and the Earl returned to his townhouse.

Visits to various clerks had been accomplished followed by a stop at White’s where several of the Earl’s friends toasted the good news that the petition could go forward.

No one mentioned Dartmoor. Though a few turned their papers over to hide the story.

All the while Johnathan fretted.

Before he could tell the Earl, he must talk with Georgiana. It took several dropped hints to get the Earl to invite him back to the townhouse. The butler informed him the ladies were in the parlor.

With a speed that his tutors of the past few months would frown upon, Johnathan rushed to the parlor. Jane sat at the pianoforte and Lady Healand dozed in a corner chair. Georgiana was no place to be seen.

Jane stopped mid-stanza. “Johnathan?”

“My apologies for appearing so late and not waiting to be announced.”

“George is in the garden.” Jane straightened her music. “As soon as I finish this piece, I will join you. Aunt would be upset if I did not provide proper chaperoning.”

“Is it a long piece?”

“Only if I make too many mistakes.” Jane played the first few notes, the last one being most obviously wrong. “Oh it might take some time.”

Johnathan rushed out of the room to the sounds of a discordant cord. He owed Jane a better bouquet of flowers and a box of sweets.

George sat on the bench in the corner twirling a daisy. Since none grew in the small space it must have come from the flowers he sent. She looked up as he approached.

“You received my flowers.”

“If Jane is correct you sent me three sets. Two of them with no card.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I did. I wanted to make sure I chased away any other suitors you might have had.”

“You need not have worried on that account. Only Mr. Dalrymple came.”

“Dalrymple? What was he doing here?”

“We do not know that any more than we know why he sent Jane flowers that meant friendship.”

Johnathan gestured to the empty side of the bench. “May I?”

Georgiana tucked her skirts closer to her and nodded.

“Jane is giving us a few moments alone. I do not wish to waste them and we must speak.”

She set the flower between them and looked into his eyes.

For a moment, he forgot his purpose. Then the newspaper headline flashed through his mind. “Do you read the newspaper?”

“Jane does on occasion. Why?”

“Have you heard of Dartmoor Prison?”

“No.”

In as delicate of terms as he could manage, he relayed what he knew.

“The war is over between us? Why were they there still?”

“I do not know. England has ships enough. There has been no one I could ask.”

“Is that where you have been?”

“No. We visited the solicitor this morning, and then your grandfather stopped at the club to celebrate with his friends.”

“Celebrate what? It does not seem like a day to celebrate.”

“The messengers sent to my grandfather returned with the news that they were hoping for and the petition can proceed.”

Georgiana studied his face. “You did not celebrate, did you?”

“Only enough to satisfy your grandfather.” Johnathan clenched his hands tighter and focused on his whitening knuckles. “I cannot become an earl. I do not know how to not accept the title either. I will disappoint so many people.”

A light touch on his arm was followed by Georgiana’s whole hand and she leaned closer. “Johnathan?”

He continued to stare at his hands.

“Please look at me.”

He turned enough to see the side of her face.

“If you will not look at me properly, at least hear what I say. As you seem to have forgotten our previous conversation.”

Her statement was enough to convince him to look at her fully.

“I said this before, and not far from this very spot. I am not interested in you because of a title nor do I wish you to take it if you will be miserable.”

“I know you said as much, but do you mean this? Do you realize I cannot stay in England if I turn away this petition of your grandfather’s?”

“Why not?”

“Other than living as one of your grandfather’s tenants. I have no way to make my way in this country. In my heart I am only a farmer. All the lessons in all the country are not going to make me into a fine gentleman.”

“You acted like one at the Duchess’s ball.”

“Learning to dance does not make me a gentleman any more than swimming makes me a ship.”

“Considering one fine gentleman stepped on my toes often enough that he sent flowers as an apology, dancing has nothing to do with being a gentleman. And you have always acted as one even the day you stood all wrinkled and travel worn at Grandfather’s door and faced down his butler.”

“That does not change my lack of another vocation. How can I hope to marry you if I cannot provide anything but a leaky roof over your head? Even if your grandfather grants me a place to live, your father could take it away once he inherits.”

Georgiana took his hand. “It sounds like you are trying to count your harvest before the planting is done. We will talk with Grandfather?—”

“Not today. He is so happy. I cannot face him today. He will tell me it is only the news of Dartmoor and I will feel differently in a fortnight.”

Georgiana gave him a soft smile. “That he will do.”

The back door opened with more noise than usual, and Jane clomped out of the house. “Aunt sent me out. She says she had not heard poorer playing in many a year, and if I play another note, she is liable to smash my fingers with a book.”

Johnathan stood. “I would not have your fingers damaged on my account. May I take you to Gunters for an ice? Many thanks are due.”

“Only if George comes along to chaperone. It would not be proper without her.”

“Would tomorrow afternoon suit?”

Jane looked at Georgiana before answering. “Yes. It will.”

The acceptance raised Johnathan’s mood considerably.