Father held up his empty glass. He was taking Hawthorne’s death very hard. Drinking more than could be good for him. “A refill, port, please.”
“My pleasure,” Jeremy murmured before turning toward the array of decanters lined up across the room.
Lord Thwaite squeezed in beside her as Lord Letterford dropped into a chair that faced her and Father. Fanny had an uncomfortable feeling that, if not for Father’s presence, she’d just been surrounded.
After Jeremy returned with a drink for her and her father, he remained nearby, keeping a watchful eye over her again. She was rather glad she’d not had to ask him to do that.
“There’s been a lot of talk about your Cedar Mill of late,” Thwaite mused.
Fanny sipped her drink before she answered. Her investment in Cedar Mill was no secret…but the changes she’d planned to make were supposed to be still. “Such as?”
“Is it true you’re in negotiations to sell it to that upstart Maxwell Danvers, of all people?”
Fanny worked hard to keep the surprise from her face. Her discussions with Danvers were in the very early stages. “The mill belongs to me.”
“You’d be a fool to sell to him at any price,” Thwaite warned.
Men were always ready to tell her what she should or should not do as if she had no intelligence. The state of her fortune proved she knew exactly what she was doing without any man’s interference. She turned her head to regard Thwaite with not a little hostility. “You are entitled to your opinion, I suppose.”
“Yes, and—”
Father put up his hand. “No business discussions tonight.”
Lord Thwaite a
ppeared ready to protest but finally subsided. “We’ll continue our discussion another time. To Hawthorne.”
Glasses were raised around the room and Fanny sipped her sherry slowly.
Father sighed, staring into his glass. “I don’t feel like this, after all. Dawes, be a good fellow and take this from me. I’m suddenly in the mood to play a bit of music instead of drowning myself in drink. You may take my place here if you like,” Father murmured.
Fanny was relieved when Jeremy crossed the room to take the glass from her father. He slid into the vacated seat beside Fanny’s and a great deal of her annoyance with Thwaite slipped away.
Father started up on the pianoforte, a familiar tune she knew well, and she lost herself in the music and happy memories of times past. Father had done just the thing to lift her spirits.
She turned to Jeremy, who was sitting somewhat stiffly on the edge of the chair beside her. “I was hoping my father would play during your visit. He is very skilled on the pianoforte. Some of my favorite memories are of falling asleep here with my sisters while he entertained us in the evenings.”
Jeremy’s body softened in her direction a touch. “Did your late mother play, as well?”
“Mama had no talent for music, but the current Lady Stapleton does and plays beautifully,” she murmured. “At long last, Father now has someone to play duets with.”
“I look forward to having the opportunity of hearing them play together then,” Jeremy whispered, and then sat back like she had to listen, his fingers tapping on one bent knee.
Lord Thwaite leaned close to whisper in her ear, startling her. “Now your father is occupied, we can talk about that Mill uninterrupted.”
Father came to an abrupt halt. “Fanny, be a dear and come and turn the pages for your old father.”
“You’re not old, Papa,” Fanny exclaimed, jumping to her feet immediately and rushing to do his bidding to get away from Thwaite. His breath across her ear had not been a pleasant sensation. Not like Jeremy’s had been last night when he’d held her.
Father didn’t actually need sheet music when he played, but she was willing to go along with his request. He gave her a long considering look as he made room for her and started up again.
Fanny dutifully pretended to turn page after page. It wasn’t long before Lord Thwaite got up and called out good night to everyone before stalking off for his chambers upstairs. She hadn’t been aware he’d be staying tonight and hoped not to see him over breakfast tomorrow morning. Letterford and a few others went with him, thankfully, leaving only her family members and Jeremy behind.
Jeremy had leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes to listen to her father play. She studied his handsome face in repose…and something inside her softened. She admired him openly; how could she not? But it had never been his face that had drawn her notice. It was the way he flirted, the way he never sought her favor or coin. It was the way he laughed at everything she took for granted.
“You remind me of your mother tonight,” father said, drawing her attention back to him.
“I do?” Fanny had never thought she resembled her mother very much, who’d been beautiful but flighty and vain and contrary. Possessed of fierce intelligence and stunning selfishness sometimes, too. It was a sad truth that Fanny’s life had become less unpredictable after she was gone. “Why tonight?”