The Earl, the Lady and the Song of Love by Fanny Finch
Chapter 10
Nigel Derby stood by his open window, looking out to the busy streets as he tied his cravat.
There was a tune in his mind, one he had not been able to rid himself of since the day before. Every now and then, he caught himself humming it. He was doing it again.
He stopped as he realized this, smiling at himself. He was not certain where he had heard the tune before. All he knew was that it sounded very familiar.
Just then, a knock sounded on his door.
“Enter,” he called out.
He shared his home with his butler and household staff. The only person who would be behind his door at this time in the morning would be Gaius Whitcombe, his butler.
The door opened and the older man entered, confirming his guess.
“Is the carriage ready?” Nigel asked, not looking his way.
Ignoring his question, Gaius said. “Dressing yourself again, I see. You know, you have a valet for a reason. You should let him perform his duties sometime.” Clearing his throat, he continued, “And yes, my Lord. Your carriage is ready. Breakfast has been served as well. I told Geneva you would not be able to have one, but she will hear nothing of it.”
Nigel smiled. It was just like Gaius to scold him over such matters and entirely like Geneva not to take no for an answer. He had grown up enjoying her meals and, in that time, she had become family. She delighted in fattening him up with delicacies and scolding him when he got too busy to eat.
He finally turned, facing Gaius as he finished tying his cravat.
“That is fine. I believe I have a little time to spare. I shall not let her efforts go to waste.”
Gaius breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness,” he muttered. There was a pause before he continued, “You must know, Lady Cheshire is also here. She says she wishes to share breakfast with you. I was afraid you would not be able to grant her that wish.”
Nigel’s brows raised. “Mother? When did she arrive?”
“A moment ago. Just before I came up.”
Nigel’s smile deepened. The last time he saw his mother was a fortnight ago at the Leighton ball. He had promised to visit soon after, but business and state affairs had kept him occupied.
He was certain she missed him. He missed her, too.
“I cannot very well desert her after she rode all the way here now, can I? You know how my mother can be when she does not get what she wants.”
Gaius’s response was a small smile.
“Fetch me my coat, will you please?” Nigel asked, picking up his hat. By the time he was done placing it on his head, Gaius had the coat waiting in hand.
He took it and draped it over his left arm, then muttered, “Thank you.”
With those words, he left his chamber with Gaius trailing behind.
His Mother was staring at the family painting hung on the wall when Nigel arrived in the dining hall.
She instantly felt his presence as he entered. Beaming, she turned to him, her arms opened wide.
“Nigel! Oh, it is so good to see you this wonderful morning. Have you been well?”
“Yes, Mother. And you?” he asked as he hugged her.
“Oh well, I certainly am now that I have seen your face.”
“Ha!” Nigel laughed as he pulled away. “Do not let Lord Cheshire hear you say that. He will be sad to think that his presence was not enough to make you happy.”
She waved her hand at him, still beaming. “Pshaw! Arthur understands that the love I have for him is different than that which I have for my sons. He will be just fine.”
She turned to walk to the dining table and Nigel followed.
“I hope I did not come at a bad time. I thought it wise to arrive early. I feared if I came by later, I would miss you. I know how busy you are these days, seeing over the family business and state affairs.”
“Not at all, Mother,” he replied as he pulled out a chair for her. “You came at the perfect time. I am set to meet Mr. Hartford at ten 0’clock.”
“Oh, Mr. Hartford,” she chimed. “It has been some time. Has he been well?”
Nigel nodded. “As fit as a fiddle.”
“Do send him my greetings, will you?”
Nigel nodded again. “You can count on it. The ride to Grosvenor’s square will take me all of an hour.” He looked at the clock on the wall. It had just struck eight o’ clock. “I have another hour until I have to leave.”
She touched his hand, stopping him when he would have moved away.
He looked down to see her green eyes twinkling at him. “I am glad.”
He nodded as warmth enveloped his heart. “Me too, Mother.”
She withdrew her hand then, and he went to take his own seat.
“It has been a while since we had breakfast together. We should do this more often. Hopefully, when the season is over, you will have more time to visit Arthur and me. We would also be happy to join you of course. You and your wife, given you are married by the time.”
Arthur cleared his throat as he reached for a glass of wine. He took a sip before responding. “Back to that, are we?”
His mother widened her eyes, feigning ignorance. “Back to what?”
Nigel simply shook his head at her. She never missed the chance to remind him about marriage lately. Not that he faulted her. He knew he was not getting any younger.
Seven-and-twenty years was old enough for any gentleman to take a wife. And he would, soon.
“Never worry, Mother. If all goes well this season, I do hope to be married by the end of it.”
The joy that immediately spread over her face was enough to make him have a wedding right then. Anything to make certain she continued to be as happy as she was in that moment.
She reached for his hand. “Then let me find a wonderful girl for you, Nigel. You trust me, do you not? There are many fair debutantes, this season. The lot of them from reputable families. It will not be hard at all, I tell you.”
Nigel covered their joined hands with his free one. “Mother, I know you mean well, and I trust that any lady you choose for me will be the best. Nevertheless, this is something I would rather do myself.”
Her smile faltered for a moment, and he wished he had not said those words, but it could not be helped.
“It is alright. I understand. I suppose I must be satisfied with the thought that you are at least, willing to try this time around. How long has it been since I have been telling you to start your own family? You would not hear a word of it.”
Nigel chuckled. It was lighthearted, happy. “And now, I am getting an earful.”
She lifted her chin, looking away. “Serves you right.”
He chuckled again. “Yes, Mother. Serves me right. Now, shall we eat?”
“Of course. Everything smells so delicious. Oh, I have terribly missed Geneva’s cooking. Many times, I wish I took her along with me. It is not fair that you get to have her all to yourself.”
“Well, it is not too late.”
“Do not even think about it. I hear she makes certain you fill your belly with food amid your busy schedule. She is the only one I trust to do that, so she stays with you.”
Nigel shook his head. Of course, he had long since realized that the reason why his mother had not taken Geneva along with her when she remarried was because she needed someone to watch over him and report to her.
It was the same with Gaius. Nigel did not mind one bit.
He was glad he did not have to hire new faces and the thought that his mother was watching over him still, often filled him with warmth.
“I wish we had more time together,” his mother said, sighing as they stood in front of his home after breakfast.
“We will see each other again soon, Mother,” he said, stroking her cheeks in a soft caress.
She let her eyes flutter closed for a moment, as she rubbed her face against his palm. Then, opening them, she stopped.
“Have you heard from Ethan lately?”
Nigel shook his head. “No, not since the last time.”
“I am sure that wherever he is at the moment, he is fine. I burn candles for him every night. You know a mother’s prayers never go unanswered.”
“He will return home to us, Mother. As always. And one day, he will return for good.”
Lady Cheshire replied wholeheartedly. “My heart longs for the day.”
Nigel smiled at her. “You will not have to wait much longer.”
Ethan was Nigel’s younger brother, a captain in the Navy. He spent most of his time at sea, so they rarely ever got to see him. It had been very difficult in the beginning, but they had soon grown accustomed to his absence, learning to be content with receiving only a handful of letters, each year.
They both missed him very much.
She returned his smile. “Alright then, off you go. I must not keep you any longer. I am aware that there are places you must be. I too have to be somewhere. Until we meet again, my darling.”
Nigel pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “Stay well, Mother. I love you.”
She rose on her tiptoe to kiss his cheeks as he pulled away. “And I, you.”
He helped her onto her carriage and watched as the coach disappeared down the busy street before going to his.
When he had climbed on and settled, he gave three knocks to the roof with his cane. That was all the coachman needed to begin the journey.
As the wheels began to roll, taking him to his destination, he found himself humming that tune again. This time in his mind, he sang along,
Oh, what a night! The skies shining bright . . . Oh, what a marvelous eve.
***
Imogen’s hands moved with litheness as she brushed strokes of vibrant colors on the canvas. She had no inkling what she was painting, but she was enjoying herself too much to care.
It had been three days since she began to paint and though the picture was starting to come together, she still could not quite tell what it was exactly.
It was the first of such. Many times, before she started painting, she often had an image in mind. It was as though the brush was leading her this time.
It was thrilling to say the least. She was quite excited to see what would become of the piece. Where the brush would lead her.
“The moon in glory, the stars in envy . . . Oh, what a marvelous eve. Oh, what night! The skies shining bright, oh, what a wonderful time.”
She had not been able to get herself to stop singing that song for three days as well. Amusing, when she considered the fact that she had only heard it in her dream.
It was the song that had been playing while she waltzed with her prince charming. He had not returned to her dreams after that night, but something told her that he would again soon.
“It truly is wonderful to see you so happy again.”
A voice startled her out of her reverie, but she quickly recovered when she recognized it to be her father.
She was in the garden, as she preferred natural light and the open when painting. She had not expected an audience.
She turned around to face him, grinning when she saw his eyes widen in mock horror.
“You do realize your face is not a canvas, do you not?”
Imogen rolled her eyes in their sockets, trying to get a look of her face.
“Do not tell me I have paint on it,” she replied, feigning obliviousness when her efforts proved naturally futile.
Her father sighed, shaking his head slowly at her. “Whatever am I to do with you?”
She grinned at him. “Love me, care for me, as you always have done.”
She turned back to her canvas then. “You are back early.”
He had left that morning for a meeting, he said. He would not tell her, but she could not shake off the feeling that he had gone to see the Earl.
There was something in the way he had looked at her as he bade her goodbye. Unspoken words in those brown eyes.
Imogen wondered if they had discussed her, if her father had told Lord Kensington that he would love for him to meet his daughter.
“Yes. The meeting was not as long as I reckoned it would be. All the records were in order, so it was easy to go over them and reach a conclusion.”
“Everyone who does business with you must be a happy man, Father. You are ever so thorough.”
She heard the smile in her father’s voice when he spoke. “It goes both ways. Both parties have to be just as thorough and dedicated, otherwise . . .”
He did not complete his statement. He did not have to. Imogen understood.
“I suppose a lot of them are.”
“Yes, indeed, and they make me happy to work with them.”
“Like the Earl,” she said. If he had come all the way to the garden to seek her, he must have something to tell her.
There was a small pause as she waited for his response.
Finally, he spoke. “Yes, like the Earl. Interesting that you should mention him. He is the one I met with.”
So, I was right!
She continued to paint, intent on acting as though she was in no way affected by the conversation.
The truth was her heart was beating so wildly, she feared it would cause bruising to her ribs.
“Oh?” she asked.
“Yes. After we finished with business matters, I spoke to him about you.”
Her belly churned, her heart skipped a beat, and her head suddenly felt too heavy.
“You did?” she asked, her back still turned to her father.
“Yes. He said he would love to meet you. I invited him to dinner.”
Imogen swallowed hard. Her head had begun to spin.
He would love to meet me?
“I see. I shall inform Daria. She is always happy to cook for guests,” she managed to say, still stroking feverishly.
“I already did. I invited him to dinner tonight, Imogen. He will be joining us this evening.”
She froze then. So soon?
She spun on her feet as she thawed, finally facing her father again. It took her a moment to gather herself so she would not be betrayed by her emotions.
“I see,” she said with no small effort. “Very well then, I believe I must prepare. How long do we have until then?”
“A few hours.”
She nodded. “That is more than enough time. I suppose I shall have to halt my painting for the day. Feels like there is much to do.”
“It is not a feast, Imogen. It is a private dinner with family and a friend.”
When her father put it that way, she did not feel so alarmed.
Nevertheless, she could not help being nervous. She would be meeting this Earl for the first time.
What if he did not like her? What if she got shy and tongue-tied as she often did around strangers, and he ended up considering her boring?
Just like the baron, he might decide he would be better off courting another lady. A lady who was vibrant and outspoken. A lady who could hold a conversation and keep him entertained.
Of course, if he decided to be patient enough, he would come to see that she was all of these and more, but would he?
How many men had such patience these days? Why would anyone choose to be patient with her? It was not as if she was an extraordinary beauty. At the very least, her looks might have kept him interested long enough for her to break through her shell.
Perhaps, she had been too quick to ask for her father’s help. It now seemed foolish to have tried to move on too quickly.
“Imogen?”
She startled out of her overwhelming thoughts as she heard her father call her name.
“Yes?”
“Are you alright? You seemed for away for a bit.”
She immediately forced a smile. “Of course. I was simply thinking about what dress to wear and how to style my hair, is all.”
He did not look like he believed her, but she was grateful when he let it pass.
Rolling his eyes, he returned her smile. “Women.” Folding his hand behind his back, he said again, “Well then, I shall leave you to it. I will be in my study.”
With those words, he turned to go.
Imogen felt her legs weaken when he finally disappeared into the house and she held on to her stool for support.
She had to wonder, was this the start of something new, something beautiful? Or was it simply the beginning of another heartache?
While a part of her never wanted to find out, she could not help trusting the other part that very much wanted to.
The voice that told her it was alright to hope.