Sapphire

Blake scowled, knowing all too well he couldn’t just throw them out on the street. “You’re right, it isn’t your place to say. I inherited the damn house, but…” He hesitated. He just wanted to be gone. “Give them the place in the country,” he snapped, now impatient to be out of the barrister’s office.

“My lord?”

“You heard me. They don’t need the town house in London. It’s the least I can do to spare Londoners having to listen to what I’ve heard these past weeks, but they can go to the country. The cows can listen to them.”

“And the town house, my lord?” Stowe asked, looking at Blake as if he had taken leave of his senses. “You want me to sell it, or keep it for your next trip to England?”

“I don’t know. Let me think about it.” He replaced his top hat on his head. “Good day, Stowe.”

“Good day, my lord,” Stowe replied, standing at his office door as he watched Blake leave.

“And, Stowe…” Blake glanced over his shoulder. “Nice-looking woman you have there.” He winked. “I like redheads, too.”

Lucia was out of her chair by the time Jessup closed the door. “I’m terribly sorry about that, my dear. I don’t care who he is or what title he possesses, he had no right to barge in here like that.”

“Now, now,” Lucia said, looking at the door where Mr. Thixton had just made his exit. “He’s a blustery young man, obv

iously used to getting his own way. You probably behaved the very same way once upon a time when you were a young man, before you found your senses.”

“I don’t care. It’s inexcusable,” Jessup repeated, tugging on the hem of his waistcoat.

“Do you think he’ll really return to America without hearing my Sapphire out or waiting to see what you’ve uncovered?”

“My love.” Jessup sighed, reaching out to rest his hand on her shoulder. “I told you, it could take me months to find anything, if there is anything to prove that the late Lord Wessex was Sapphire’s father.”

“I know.” She gazed into his eyes. She and he were of equal height and she liked that—not being looked down upon by a man. “It’s just that—”

“I know. He was never willing to hear her out, and for that I’m sorry. But men like Lord Wessex, like Blake Thixton,” he said, “can be obstinate.” He hesitated. “That doesn’t mean they’re bad people.”

Lucia tried to think what he meant by that comment. “It’s not just that,” she said softly.

“Then what is it?”

She didn’t want to tell Jessup what she was truly worried about now, but if she was serious about wanting to spend the rest of her days with him, she knew she needed to trust him in a way she had never trusted another man, even dear Armand. “I’m concerned…that Sapphire may have feelings for Mr. Thixton.”

He raised a bushy eyebrow. “I see. Well, that could complicate matters, couldn’t it?”

“Perhaps.” Lucia smiled, reaching up to smooth the frown lines around Jessup’s mouth. “You know, mon chèr, you’re very handsome when you wear that concerned look on your face.”

“It’s only that I would not want to see her hurt if he doesn’t feel the same for her, which perhaps he does not,” he said gently, “since he obviously intends to make his departure shortly.”

“You never know what will transpire. You haven’t seen the way Thixton looks at my Sapphire,” she continued. “Across a ballroom, from across the theater. I don’t care what he says, I know men and I know he’s attracted to her. Fiercely, I suspect.”

“My love, I don’t recall Sapphire saying she was any too fond of him. What was it she called him the other night when his name was brought up in conversation? An arrogant, blustering—”

“Blockhead,” Lucia finished for him, leaning to brush her lips against his. “I’m off to shop now, but I will see you Saturday evening if that still suits you. Your house.” She drew her finger under his chin teasingly as she walked away. “Your bedchamber…”

13

“Good lord a’mighty, Hattie, did you see ’im?” Odelia hurried behind her companion down the narrow, dark servants’ hall, balancing the heavy tray of dirty glasses in her arms. The sound of the orchestra in the ballroom playing a waltz could be faintly heard behind them.

“It’s no wonder all the ladies is faintin’ left and right,” Hattie agreed excitedly over her shoulder. “I don’t know if I’ve even seen a man as good-lookin’ as that.” The unwieldy tray in her arms tipped slightly. “Whoa,” she cried, turning back to rebalance it. “I jest don’t see why m’lord don’t pay for candles in the halls, much as he’s worth, the old skinflint.”

“Can’t be buyin’ candles,” Odelia offered. She had a terrible itch under her nose, but she couldn’t scratch it and balance all the dishes on the tray. If she broke a single glass, Mrs. Paxton, the housekeeper, would have her hide and a month’s pay, too. “Not when he’s got to be payin’ for all them ’spensive gowns the missus is always buyin’.” Odelia tried to wiggle her nose to relieve the itch. “You see what she was wearin’ tonight?”

“I seen it, all right. Scared me, all them feathers. Look like she was gonna take off flyin’ down the grand staircase or somethin’.” Hattie halted at the door at the end of the dismal hallway that smelled of mildew and rodent droppings. Balancing carefully, she lifted one foot and kicked the door twice and a third time for good measure. Then she backed up and leaned her shoulders against the wall to try to relieve the ache in her arms from the weight of the tray, which was now more of an annoyance than her itchy nose.

Hattie had been carrying these heavy trays of glasses and fine china back and forth from the pantry or the kitchen to the main house since dawn, first to set all the tables in all the rooms. Lady Harris liked her guests to be able to enjoy their refreshments in every room. Now Hattie and Odelia were to clean up dirty glasses and replace them with new ones until the party ended, which would probably be at dawn. Hattie didn’t understand why these haughty-taughties couldn’t drink from the same glass more than once, but it wasn’t her place to say so.