A Rose for Laura by Callie Hutton
3
Keniel couldn't help grinning at the expression on Miss Benson's face. She was a pretty little thing, of medium height, possessing a well-formed body, dark brown hair, and eyes the color of chocolate—eyes which were now glaring at him. "Mr. Farnsworth is not here, but I assume you've come to tell him that you do not wish to purchase the townhouse?"
"Not at all." He took the seat next to her and turned in her direction. "I find the house is perfect for my needs."
Her jaw tightened. "It is perfect for my needs."
The young clerk was doing his best to ignore them, but he kept taking furtive glances in their direction when he was not looking at the front door, most likely hoping Mr. Farnsworth would appear and deal with the two combatants in the room.
"I am sure there are lovely homes out there that would suit you quite well, Mr. Singh." Miss Benson smoothed out her skirt and placed her folded hands in her lap. She raised her cute little chin and glared at him.
Ah. She remembered his name. That was promising. "Yes, there are. I just found one, in fact."
All pretense at civility vanished. She leaned toward him. "I intend to lease that house. I was here first." She turned to the young man behind the desk. "Wasn't I?"
The clerk gulped, obviously not wishing to get involved in the dispute. "I didn't notice, actually."
Miss Benson stood. "How dare you! That is not true. I have been here for almost an hour." She pointed at Keniel. "He just walked in." She settled back down and checked the timepiece pinned to her dress. "Yes. Almost an hour."
Another fifteen minutes passed, with Miss Benson checking her timepiece regularly, when the door opened and a lad of perhaps twelve years came in and approached the desk. He handed the front desk man a note, tugged on his cap and left the room.
The clerk opened the missive and his eyes grew wide. Clearing his throat, he said, not looking up, "It appears Mr. Farnsworth will not be returning today. Something has arisen that he must deal with. He asked that anyone waiting for him return in the morning."
Miss Benson hopped up again and crossed her arms under her breasts and glared at the young man. "This is unacceptable. I wish to finish up this matter today."
The young man tugged on his necktie. "I am sorry, Miss Benson, but there is nothing I can do. Is it possible for you to return in the morning?"
She stuck her nose in the air. "Very well. I shall be here first thing in the morning. What time do you open?"
"Eight o'clock, Miss Benson."
"Thank you." She turned on her heel, pulled her skirts close to her as she passed Keniel, and sailed out the door.
Keniel approached the man at the desk. "If Mr. Farnsworth returns before you close up for the night, please leave word that I am interested in purchasing the townhouse."
He might have felt a bit guilty at undermining a young woman, but he desperately needed to get out of his flat which was overrun with boxes and barrels, and with his long work hours he didn't have much time to continue the search.
Unfortunately,he was destined to be disappointed since the townhouse had already been purchased by the time he returned the next morning. Frustrated, he returned the day after and accepted information from the lad at the desk about another townhouse. The paper clutched in his hand, he set off to view that residence.
The neighborhood was not as nice as the former one, but certainly acceptable. The view from outside was promising, so he made his way up the steps and opened the door with the key provided by the office.
"Good morning, Miss Benson." He was pleased to see the young lady from two days ago coming down the stairs from the first floor.
"Mr. Singh." She acknowledged his presence and whipped by him to stroll down the corridor, looking in all the rooms.
Once again he was taken with her lovely looks. Today she wore a lemon yellow walking suit with a hat perched on her head with netting tying the bonnet under her chin.
Instead of following her like a puppy dog, he took the stairs two at a time to reach the first floor. After viewing the rooms, he made his way back down just as Miss Benson was arriving at the entrance.
He offered a warm smile, not wanting her to leave so fast. "I assume you were not the person who secured the other townhouse?"
"No." She flicked invisible lint from her sleeve. "And shall I assume you were not that person either?"
"Correct." He looked around. "What do you think of this one?"
She narrowed her eyes as if he were planning a trap. "It seems adequate."
"You do know that this one is also for sale as well as leasing?"
"No matter. Perhaps I shall offer to purchase it, instead of leasing." She moved around him and placed her hand on the latch. "Good day to you, Mr. Singh. Good luck in your search."
And with those parting words she was out the door.
As if two days before had been a rehearsal for this day, once he entered the property manager's office, Miss Benson sat on the same chair, tapping her foot. She glared at him as he took the seat next to her. "I intend to lease the townhouse."
"I intend to purchase it."
"I was here first."
She continued to glare at him, but he could not return the look. He found the entire situation comical. He fought to keep from laughing as she took in deep breaths and blew them out.
After about twenty minutes the door opened and Mr. Farnsworth walked in. Miss Benson jumped from her seat as if pushed from behind. "Mr. Farnsworth, I wish to lease the townhouse on Broad Street." She threw a smug look in Keniel's direction.
Keniel leaned back in his seat and grinned at the startled look on the man's face. He straightened and viewed her over the top of his spectacles. "Broad Street, eh?"
She nodded. "Yes. I would like to sign the papers right away." More foot tapping.
"Well, miss, I'm afraid that one is gone. Sold it last night." He moved to go around her, but she stepped in front of him.
"Wait." Her shoulders slumped. "I desperately need a townhouse. Do you have more for lease?"
Mr. Farnsworth rubbed his bearded chin. "I have a meeting with an owner shortly, so if you will return in about two hours I might have another one for you."
"In a respectable neighborhood?"
"Yes. I do not offer properties in neighborhoods other than respectable. However, I must warn you that this owner may also prefer to sell the property rather than lease it." He continued toward the wooden and glass door that most likely was his office. "Now if you will excuse me, I shall see you in a couple of hours."
Keniel rose and approached Miss Benson. "Miss Benson?"
"What?" she snapped.
He held his palms up in surrender. "Since it appears the property we just viewed is gone and the next one might be available for sale as opposed to leasing, perhaps you will join me for tea and we can discuss it between us?" He held his breath, waiting for her to snarl at him and flounce off, which he hoped she wouldn't do.
However, much to his surprise and delight, she straightened to her full height, which made it to his eyebrows, and said, "Yes, I agree, Mr. Singh. It is best if we get this worked out between us so we can settle the matter and stop chasing each other all over London."
He held in his laugh at her words but offered his arm and she accepted. A sigh of relief came from the direction of the young man seated at the desk as they passed through the door.
Keniel glanced down the street at his vehicle. "I have my carriage with me. How did you arrive?"
"I rented a hackney."
He nodded. "Very well. Then allow me to escort you to my carriage." He considered whether she would agree to ride alone with him in his vehicle, but again she surprised him with a definite, "That would be fine."
"Do you have a preference to where we have tea?"
"I do."
He laughed to himself. Miss Benson seemed like a woman who always knew what she preferred and what she did not.
"There is a tea shop, Louisa's Tea Kettle, three streets from here that I have visited numerous times."
"Then Louisa's Tea Kettle it shall be." He led her to his carriage and helped her in, after giving the driver the name of the shop where they were headed.
It was a silent ride, which suited him. He was afraid if they started their 'discussion' in the carriage they’d be finished and before they reached the tea shop. For whatever reason, he wanted to spend time with this woman. She intrigued him.
His contact with the fairer sex had been limited since he'd arrived in London. As his work at the club kept him busy most evenings, and the sort of women who were allowed into the club didn't appeal to him, it did not leave him a great deal of time to socialize.
He'd made some friends at the gentlemen's clubs Dante had introduced him to. They were nice men, but Keniel wasn't quite sure they would accept their sisters or daughters taking up with a half Jamaican, half British man. He'd hoped one day to find the woman for him and settle down with a home and family.
He'd always wanted a complete family, mother, father, and several children. All the things he never had, as much as he loved his mother and the excellent upbringing she'd given him.
There was just so little time to do that, however. He glanced across the way at Miss Benson. She was the sort of woman he found quite appealing. Not just her looks and figure which were more than acceptable, but her fighting spirit. In some ways she reminded him of his mother. Strong, honorable, and smart.
The carriage came to a stop in front of a small shop he hadn't seen before. Before the driver could alight, Keniel opened the door and jumped out, pulled down the steps and extended his hand to Miss Benson.
The warmth of her hand through their gloves startled him. He had to quell the urge to pull her close and tuck all that softness and warmth next to his body. Instead, being the perfect gentleman Muma had raised, he merely slipped her arm in his and led her to the front door of the tea shop.
* * *
Laura triedhard to ignore the tingle that started in her middle when Mr. Singh slipped her arm into his. Yes, he was a handsome man, and attracted her in a certain way, but he currently was the enemy, and she must remember that. He wanted the houses that would be perfect for her orphans. The homes they'd viewed so far were the only ones she’d found suitable and within their price range.
Once they were seated and had ordered tea, Mr. Singh cleared this throat and regarded her. "Tell me why a townhouse is so important to you, Miss Benson. I would think a young lady would be residing with her father, or brother, or another male member of her family."
Just like a man to think a woman could not live by herself.
Laura bristled. "Not that it is your concern, but I do reside with my father. However, I am on the committee that handles the financial matters for an orphanage." She fought the smile that tried to force its way to her lips when Mr. Singh's eyes grew wide. Good. Maybe now he would give up his claim to the houses she'd wanted to lease.
"An orphanage?" He tapped his—very appealing—lips with his finger. "That is interesting. How did you become involved in this?"
"Most of my friends are engaged in some sort of charity work. It makes us feel less guilty that we have so much while so many are suffering and have so little."
Mr. Singh studied her. "That is an interesting motive, I must say."
She allowed a smile. "I know that was quite a crass way to say it, but basically it is true. Some sew clothing for the foundling home, others serve soup to the homeless, or visit the sick in hospital."
"I always thought ladies kept to the more benign social matters such as donating money and holding fundraisers. I had no idea you and your friends actually got involved."
"To some degree you are correct. I am acquainted with many women who do just that, and that is certainly appreciated and helpful. However, in my close circle of friends we feel as though we should be more involved with life's causes. So many women are oppressed and have little choices in their lives."
"Uh, oh." He stared at her. "It sounds as though you and your friends are suffragettes."
She grinned. "Yes. We are."
Just then the waiter returned to their table with tea and an array of sweet and savory treats. Laura picked up the teapot and poured for them both. "How do you like your tea, Mr. Singh?"
"Pure and simple. No milk, no sugar."
She raised her brows. "Indeed. How elementary."
Conversation ceased as they placed items on their plates and Laura fixed her tea the way she liked it. With milk and sugar. Not at all elementary.
Anxious to get the matter settled, she said, "I must ask you to please forfeit your interest in the house, Mr. Singh. I have spent days searching for the perfect residence for our little ones."
He shook his head. "I'm afraid that is not possible, Miss Benson. You see, I have been searching for a home to purchase with not much time to do it. If this property Farnsworth just mentioned is available for sale as well as lease, I'm certain he would prefer to sell."
Her shoulders straightened. "But he would most likely accept my offer to lease it if he were unaware of your interest in buying it." She sneaked a look at him under lowered eyelashes.
"Let me explain. I arrived in London from Jamaica well over a year ago. I brought some of my things with me, but the bulk of my possessions arrived a few months past. They are currently stacked haphazardly in my small flat. My job provides me with limited time to search for a new residence."
"I'm sure there are many more townhouses for—"
Before she even finished her sentence, he shook his head. "No. I am afraid not. According to Mr. Farnsworth and from what I've discovered myself, there is a shortage of acceptable homes."
"You see?" she asked. "That is the same thing for me. I cannot find suitable homes for lease." She leaned forward, arranging her features in the softest, most vulnerable way possible. "I have orphans, Mr. Singh. Little children. Babies, actually. Who are near to being tossed into the street because their current home is being torn down. Into the street, Mr. Singh. They will have nowhere to go." She pulled her handkerchief from her reticule and patted the corners of her eyes. As a suffragette, she despised woman who used emotions to get their own way, but considering what was at stake, she decided to attempt some feminine manipulation.
Mr. Singh sighed. "Miss Benson, I am truly sorry for your position. However, I can offer you a compromise."
She crumpled the handkerchief in her hand and sat back, her eyes narrowed and her lips in a tight line. All semblance of tears gone. "What?"
"If this new property owner is more interested in selling the townhouse than leasing it—"
"—But we don’t know that."
"True. We don’t. However, Mr. Farnsworth knows I am seeking to buy a townhouse and I'm sure he will relay that information to the owner. I have found that more people in possession of a home not in use would prefer to sell it than play landlord."
This was most distressing. The thought of losing yet another possible townhouse was frustrating and annoying. She had wanted to finish this up today so she could bring good news to the committee and then move on to her other obligations with the suffragette movement. She sighed. "Then what is your compromise?"
Mr. Singh leaned his forearms on the table and moved closer to her. The faint scent of mint and bergamot drifted across the table. He did have the most remarkable eyes.
"If this house is acceptable, I shall buy it and help you find a townhouse to lease for your orphans."