Page 18 of Waiting for Love (The Taverstons of Iversley #3)

C oming to London had been the right thing to do. Of course, it was. He had kissed her! If Olivia hadn’t fled from him, terrified or appalled, he would have kissed her again.

And if they had been caught? Benjamin’s blood turned to ice. The consequences would have been devastating.

It had been three weeks since he’d begged a ride with Hazard. The viscount was a very pleasant man, but their conversation during the lengthy journey had been superficial given the presence of Miss Jamison and Hannah. During a short rest at a posting station to change horses, Benjamin waited for Miss Jamison to take Hannah to the privy before broaching the topic of a social secretary. Hazard grasped the situation at once.

“But I cannot think of anyone at the moment,” he said, scratching his chin. “Come around in a couple of weeks and I may have a few names.” Then he smiled in the amused way he had. “Don’t come before noon.”

So now, the requisite time having passed, Benjamin trudged through the brown-and-yellow snow, nodding to the few equally miserable-appearing city dwellers who had ventured forth on this day of weak sunshine and cold wind after five days of continuous sleet.

Coming to London may have been the right thing to do, but perhaps bringing Hannah had not been. He should not have subjected her to London in February.

Hazard’s stonework townhouse was old and stately. Although not as enormous as the Taverston home at 8 Grosvenor Square, it had a substantial heft to it that was partly due to the weight of its history. The Viscounts of Haslet had a storied past, including an ancestor who had gone a-pirating with Sir Walter Raleigh. Hazard’s fortune had deep roots.

Benjamin lifted the brass knocker and let it fall. After a few moments, a surprisingly youthful butler opened the door. Benjamin gave him his card.

“Just a moment, sir. I will see if he is in.”

Benjamin stood on the freezing stoop, waiting for admittance. It was early afternoon. He had a sudden shiver of worry that he would not be welcome. But before he had time to suffer a true bout of insecurity, the door opened again.

“Come in, if you will, Mr. Carroll. His lordship is in the parlor. I’ll take you to him.”

Benjamin had never been inside Hazard’s home. The entrance hall was striking. Dark, carved-wood paneling covered the walls. Iron candlestands with the longest, fattest candles he’d even seen stood in the corners and in niches beside doorways that were framed by wide moldings. At least a dozen candles burned bright, odorless, and clear. Benjamin tried to guess whether the hallway was kept lit or whether it was the butler’s job to quickly light a few when callers arrived. The expense of such massive spermaceti wax candles, if routinely utilized for light and not simply for show, was one of those inconceivable extravagances that made Benjamin’s head hurt.

At the end of the entrance hall was a carpeted stairway. Halfway up the stairs, a landing led to a balconied walkway before the stairs continued upward. The butler led him onto the walkway and then through an alcove into an extraordinarily cozy room. The walls were papered in a light-brown design over which had been hung several medieval appearing battlescapes of exceptional quality. A single large window was almost completely blocked by plants. A massive fireplace took up one entire wall. Only a small fire burned in it, but it kept the room warm.

Benjamin was so charmed by the setting that it took him a moment to locate Hazard in it. He sat near the fire in one of two oversized leather chairs. His stockinged feet were propped on a hassock. He waved Benjamin in, dropped his feet to the carpet, and stood.

“James, would you bring another pot of coffee? Come in, Mr. Carroll. Let me introduce you to my good friend, Lord Chesterfield.”

Chesterfield occupied the other chair. He stood and nodded. He was a strong-featured man with a barrel chest, graying light-brown hair, and a thin, out-of-fashion mustache. He wore a loose morning jacket and pantaloons. Despite his stature, his expression was retiring. Shy, not aloof.

Benjamin bowed. “Lord Chesterfield.”

“Have a seat, Mr. Carroll.” Hazard gestured to a cushioned chair upholstered in scarlet. Then he gave his own chair a bit of a shove to widen the circle before sitting down again. Chesterfield sat as well. “Chester and I were just finishing our coffee and debating whether to ring for more. You have decided us.”

“Thank you, my lord.” There was no point refusing refreshment that had already been sent for. Besides, he could use a warm drink.

“How are you finding London?” Hazard asked. “You are staying at Iversley’s?”

“Yes. My previous landlady let out the apartment I had been using. She offered to turn out the current tenant, but that seemed rather cruel.”

Hazard said, “Especially since Iversley would have been annoyed to hear you stayed elsewhere. How is little Hannah doing?”

“Better.” Then he quickly corrected himself seeing Hazard’s brow wrinkle with concern. “Well. She is well.”

“Was she not?” Hazard asked. Then he turned to Chesterfield. “Hannah is Mr. Carroll’s daughter.”

“Her health is robust.” He tried to smile. “It is only that London is a far cry from Chaumbers. She misses the fresh air.”

“And the company, I imagine.”

Benjamin’s chest tightened. For the first week or more, Hannah had cried herself to sleep, asking “Where is Olly? Where is Lady?” Lady , he learned from Miss Jamison, was the dowager. The crying finally ceased, but Hannah now drifted about with a lost expression that tore at his heart. And she stopped mentioning either Olly or Lady. He didn’t know what that signified but thought it sad rather than encouraging.

“Yes, she misses the Taverstons.” Benjamin hoped he sounded matter-of-fact.

“As do we all,” Hazard said with a chuckle. God. That was the truth. “You heard about Arthur, naturally?”

Benjamin grinned. “Iversley sent word. Mr. Taverston did, too. The babe is a blessing, I’m sure.”

Hazard turned to Chesterfield. “I told you about that.”

Chesterfield smiled. “Captain Taverston had his way yet again.”

Then Hazard rubbed his knees and sat straighter as if to say the small talk was finished.

“I have been thinking about Iversley’s request. There are a couple names I might suggest, but Chester provided the best one. I think you should start there. A Mr. Nigel Boring.”

Boring? An unfortunate name for a secretary. “That name sounds familiar.”

Chesterfield snorted. “Yes, well, it would. But not the Earl of Dunleavey. This is a different Boring.”

“Related in some way, no doubt,” Hazard said. “He is a gentleman. But you’d have to trace back several generations to find a title in his line.”

Which explained why the man needed to support himself in such a fashion.

“And why is he the first choice?” Benjamin asked.

“He is very smart,” Chesterfield said. “Knows everyone.”

“He is currently clerking in his uncle’s firm,” Hazard said. “Inheritance law or some such. But he finds it stultifying.”

“He thinks social secretary would be less so?”

“I believe he would. He’s a young man. About your age, I gather. But more…more inclined to put himself forward. I understand he wants to stand for the Commons.”

Chesterfield sniffed again. “His politics are sound. And as I said, he is a smart fellow. But he hasn’t paid his dues, as one might say. Too young, yet, and he hasn’t the funds or the clout for a successful campaign. Working for Iversley would be beneficial to them both.”

Jasper’s politics were none of Benjamin’s concerns, but apparently, they interested Hazard. He wanted to convert Jasper. But Benjamin was certain he would not try to advance his agenda at the expense of Vanessa’s entrance to Society and Olivia’s coming-out.

The butler arrived with a tray. He gave Benjamin a steaming cup of coffee, refilled the cups of the two lords, set down the pot, and retreated to the door.

“Will there be anything else, my lord?”

“No, James. I will ring when we are finished.”

James left the room.

“Good fellow,” Hazard said in a low voice. “Has only been with me for three weeks. My butler took ill. I’ll have to find a way to keep him when Harrison comes back.”

They sipped their coffee. Hazard and Chesterfield discussed the problem of servants. Chesterfield had the typical complaints of his class: servants were not what they used to be. Hazard disagreed. When treated well, they served well. They argued in polite tones, without the quips and laughter Benjamin was used to hearing when Hazard and Jasper traded barbs. Yet they each conceded points to one another with smiles that Benjamin could only interpret as fond.

Then Hazard said, “Good Lord. We are putting poor Mr. Carroll to sleep. Tell me, how are you finding things at Iversley’s? I’ll wager the servants have not all deserted their posts with the family gone?”

“Not at all,” Benjamin said. Of course, the bulk of the high servants had made the journey to Chaumbers with the Taverstons. Half-staffed, the London home had been “closed.” Most of the furniture was now draped in heavy white linen. Fires were kept only in the kitchen and servants’ quarters—and now in Benjamin’s apartments and the morning room where Benjamin, Hannah, and Miss Jamison took their meals. “They have been very attentive and very welcoming.”

“See?” Hazard said, with a smirk. He changed the subject. “Has there been any word from Crispin? Is he in France with Wellington?”

“No word. None of which I am aware.”

Hazard sighed. “This war needs to end.”

Hazard and Chesterfield exchanged thoughts on Wellington and Bonaparte that were in far better accord than their thoughts on servants. Benjamin drained his cup. He was likely wearing out his welcome.

“My lords, thank you. I should be taking leave and returning to work.”

“Let me give you Mr. Boring’s direction,” Chesterfield said, standing. He reached into his waistcoat as he came toward Benjamin. He didn’t watch where he stepped and tripped over Hazard’s outstretched feet.

“Sorry, Rupe,” he said, giving a sidestep as he caught himself. “Mashed you, did I?”

Hazard blushed. Noticeably. “My fault. My fault.” He tucked his feet under his chair as if suddenly realizing he was shoeless. Or maybe it was the name. Rupe. Rupert? Benjamin had never heard him called anything but Hazard.

Chesterfield handed Benjamin a card. “That is the uncle. The address of the firm. You can find young Boring there.”

Benjamin stood as he took the card. “Thank you. This is very helpful.”

“Ring for James, would you, Chester?” Hazard asked.

Chesterfield went to the wall and pulled the bell cord. A footman appeared. Not James.

“Would you see Mr. Carroll out?” Hazard asked.

Benjamin followed the footman. In the alcove, he heard the scraping sound of the hassock being dragged. Then a soft “ uuuff .” Then very quietly, “Let’s see those toes, Rupe. What did I do?”

Benjamin walked quickly away.

*

The following afternoon, he interviewed Nigel Boring from Jasper’s office. The office here was twice the size of the study at Chaumbers and the desk was at least three times larger. Benjamin felt like an imposter sitting in the earl’s chair, but it would have looked strange not to use it.

Mr. Boring was his own age, twenty-seven, but he had large round childlike eyes that made him appear younger. This was counterbalanced by a strangely long, narrow jaw that practically came to a point at the chin. His hair was rust colored. Benjamin did not like to cast judgment on people’s appearances, but the man was ugly. Moreover, he had narrow shoulders and a paunch. But none of this disqualified him for serving as secretary.

Rather, his qualifications were solid. It took only a short conversation to prove he was as smart as Lord Chesterfield claimed. And he was discreet. He said he was aware of Lady Iversley’s past, but made no further comment. He understood that the earl’s sister was beyond reproach—and that, naturally, her marriage to the right peer would be much to Iversley’s advantage. He left unsaid that this would be particularly important now, given things as they were. Then he listed several events that he knew Iversley would have to attend, and suggested a few dates when a ball might be held and a few choices for a musicale, along with suggestions for who to hire to perform. It would be best to choose quickly so as to have first choice.

Benjamin was out of his element.

“Iversley suggested that whoever was hired might do best to coordinate with the dowager—”

“I will write to her directly, if you would be so good as to provide me an introduction.” Boring flushed as red as his hair. “If you choose to hire me.”

Benjamin grinned, thinking of Hazard’s description of the man as inclined to put himself forward. Boring was certainly eager.

“Yes, I will hire you. I will write an introduction for you to include in a letter to the earl. Are you able to travel to Iversley Village? I imagine he will ask you to come, and he will introduce you to the dowager himself.”

“Yes! Yes, indeed. As soon as they require me.”

“Good. If you would be so good as to return in two days, I will have the letter of introduction ready. While we wait for a response, which I imagine will be quick, you may begin making inquiries about performers. Musicians, I think, rather than singers.” He had a vague memory of Reg employing an opera singer as a mistress at one point. He couldn’t remember the woman’s name, but couldn’t think of anything worse than accidentally hiring her to perform at a Taverston entertainment when they were trying to tamp down gossip.

“Very good, Mr. Carroll. Very good! I will.”

They shook hands. Mr. Boring left.

And now Benjamin faced a decision. Should he return with Boring? Hannah was unhappy. The tasks he’d set for himself in London were complete. Chaumbers’ steward belonged at Chaumbers.

Having discovered his inability to control his impulses, he must simply make sure he was never alone with Olivia. Soon enough, she would be in London. It would be better for everyone if he were not.