A Rose for Laura by Callie Hutton
5
For the third time Keniel checked his appearance in the new mirror in the new bedroom of his new house.
Things were still chaotic with the move-in. With work at the club and helping search out a place for Miss Benson to move her orphans, he'd had no time to put things away, or try to put his living space into some semblance of order.
He'd spent the past several months squeezed into a room with all his possessions stacked around the place. Now that he had a lot more room, he found he had a lot more empty spaces to fill and decorate. But he was happy to have a real home again. Many of his mother's paintings and other pieces of art were scattered around the rooms of the townhouse, almost bringing with them the clean, salty scent of the ocean and soft swish of the waves.
He checked his timepiece. He was to pick up Miss Benson in a half hour, and it was a fifteen-minute trip to her townhouse. He'd learned at their last outing that she was the only child of Mr. Harold Benson, a well-known businessman. Although not a member of the peerage, her father was wealthy and successful, leaving Miss Benson far above him. It was nice to know exactly where she stood.
And where he stood.
He had purposely left enough time from when he arrived at her home to when they were expected at Hunt's house to speak with her father before they left. Since they'd had no formal introduction, he hoped the man was not waiting for him with his pistol cocked.
Again he was impressed with the neighborhood and Benson's townhouse as his elite carriage drew up in front. He'd never owned such luxurious equipage and had never expected to. And he would not be in possession of one either if his brothers hadn't gifted him with it, despite his attempt to decline their generous gesture.
His driver jumped down to open the door, and a staid-looking older man, dressed in gold and white livery, opened the front door of the townhouse and awaited Keniel's appearance. He apparently was expected and hoped once again the visit would not turn into a 'name your second' visit.
The butler bowed. "Good evening, Mr. Singh. Mr. Benson awaits you in the library." He took Keniel's hat and greatcoat and handed it off to an underbutler. "If you will follow me."
Keniel followed the butler down a long corridor. Black and white tiles gave the space a clean, crisp look. Pale striped paper covered the walls with white wainscoting on the lower part.
He and his mother had lived a comfortable life with the income from her paintings and the small inheritance from her father. They had a decent size house not far from the beach with several servants to tend to them.
He'd gone to the only private boys' school on the island and would have followed with attending University in England, but he did not wish to leave his mother alone. Instead, he went to work for the plantation company owned by his unknown father.
Benson's home evinced aged elegance, reminding him of Hunt's townhouse. The one time he'd gone there to fetch something Driscoll had needed for the club he had been quite impressed by the residence's stylishness and grace. Hunt's tasteful home had exuded nobility in the very air with the feel of generations of earls and their families.
It had been shortly after he'd been hired and had felt no connection to the men he knew to be his brothers. Seeing the home of his eldest brother had put off whatever revelation he had planned at the time.
He and the butler stopped in front of a large wooden door that still smelled of the lemon oil used to clean it. The butler opened the door and stepped in. "Sir, Mr. Keniel Singh has called."
The butler moved aside and Keniel entered the room. A man somewhere in his sixth decade stood and moved around a large desk. He smiled and Keniel immediately relaxed and offered a bow. "Mr. Benson, thank you for receiving me."
"It is nice to meet you, Mr. Singh. My daughter should be down in a few minutes." He stuck his hand out, and they shook. "Doing last minute lady things, I assume. May I ask you to join me in a brandy, or sherry?"
"Yes, thank you. A sherry would be welcomed." He didn't want to drink anything that would impair him in any way, still not knowing what the man had in mind.
"Please, have a seat."
Keniel sat in a large, comfortable pale green and rose striped chair. He looked around the room as Benson poured them both drinks. A sherry for him, as requested, and a brandy for his host. The room, just like the rest of the house, reeked of taste and refinement.
Benson joined him in an identical chair across from where Keniel sat. "I believe you and my daughter are off to a dinner this evening at your brother's home. The Earl of Huntington, I understand?"
After taking a sip, Keniel placed the glass of sherry on a small cherrywood table next to him "Yes, sir. I only discovered a year ago that I am related to the Rose brothers."
Miss Benson's father nodded and sipped his brandy. "Nice man, the old earl. I knew him from my club. He did a wonderful job with his sons. All well-mannered and never brought disgrace to the name. Now three of them married. Good family." He raised his glass in a salute and took another sip. "I've never visited their club, The Rose Room. Not much of a gambler myself. My business interests provide me with enough of a gamble every day." The man narrowed his eyes. "What do you think of this orphanage business my daughter is involved in? I understand she's looking for a new place for the urchins."
Keniel had to hide his smile. He didn't think Miss Benson would take kindly to her father calling her orphans urchins. He cleared his throat, not wanting to antagonize the man, but not wishing to have Miss Benson hear he'd agreed with her father. "It is a noble cause and I think she is to be admired. However, I hope I will be able to assist her in finding a better residence for the children so she would not have to travel to the part of the city where they are housed now."
"Well said, my boy, well said." Benson looked up and smiled. "Ah, here is my lovely daughter now."
Keniel stood as Miss Benson entered the room. He was immediately taken with his reaction. He'd had his share of women over the years, but there was something that Miss Benson possessed that made her appear special. Given the differences in their heritage, it would be best if he quelled any interest he might have in her.
Truth be told, he had to admit to being quite surprised with the acceptance he'd felt from both Miss Benson and her father. He'd run into some men at the club who had disliked him on sight merely because of his skin color, but overall he'd found London, the metropolis that it was, to be quite welcoming.
Keniel gave Miss Benson a bow. "Good evening, Miss Benson. You look quite lovely."
A faint blush rose to her cheeks. "Thank you, Mr. Singh."
"We have time for a drink if you wish to indulge before we leave."
She took a deep breath. "Yes. I would like that."
She seemed to be nervous, and he thought a drink might help calm her. No doubt entering an earl's home and attempting to get his guests to hand over money for orphans was causing her unease.
Once they'd both finished their drinks, Keniel stood. "Are you ready, Miss Benson?"
"Yes." She rose and moved to where her father sat across from her and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Good night, Papa. Are you going out?"
"Yes. I believe so. I will see you in the morning, then."
After the carriage began its trek from the Benson townhouse to Hunt's—which would take no more than five or ten minutes, depending on traffic—Keniel crossed one leg over the other and eyed Miss Benson who looked a tad pale, and said, "I have the feeling you are somewhat tense about this dinner. If it helps, so am I."
* * *
Laura let outa breath and grinned at Mr. Singh's remark. Yes, indeed, she was tense. The idea of attending a dinner at an earl's home—even though she knew the Earl and Countess of Huntington from various events she'd attended—and then trying to cajole money from the other guests was somewhat daunting.
"I believe you are correct, Mr. Singh. But why are you anxious?"
He shifted in his seat. "I was raised in a much more informal lifestyle. Even though my mother and I were considered members of the Jamaican upper class, there was not as much reserve as I have found among the upper class in London."
"I agree. At one time I would never have been accepted among the nobility since my father is in business, but things have changed quite a bit. A great many of the peerage are falling into genteel poverty or marrying wealthy American heiresses. My father's ilk are no longer looked down upon. At least not by most. There remains a few who still resist the changes."
"There will always be those who resist change. I am of the belief that those are the ones who are left behind when things alter." He leaned back on the seat and rested his foot on his knee. "From what I've seen at the club, I am usually able to tell those who refuse to believe that England is changing, and the way of life that has supported the nobility for generations has fallen by the wayside."
"Don't you think it is somewhat frightening to change the way of life you were born into and have lived your entire life? In a way I feel sorry for those who are trapped in the past."
"Of course it is upsetting, but if one is to survive, one has to adapt."
She smiled. "Like you adapted to life in London, which you've mentioned is quite different from life in Kingston."
"Indeed. But one learns that people are still people no matter where you live. Whether we have different color skin, speak a different language, have different customs, and eat different food, we all have likes, dislikes, worry, joy, hopes and dreams, all the things that make up living."
She couldn't help but grin. "Oh, my Mr. Singh. You are a philosopher."
"Ah, and you are a suffragette."
She shook her head. "I hate titles."
"As do I. So let us say that I enjoy philosophy, and you enjoy shaking up society."
"Is that what you see I am doing?"
"To a certain extent. You want women to have more of a voice in how they conduct their lives, and I agree that is truly a noble cause. Just because a woman is a woman there is no reason to believe she can't make decisions that affect her life."
She couldn't help staring open-mouthed at Mr. Singh. She'd never heard a man speak like this before. "I believe you received your somewhat revolutionary opinions from your mother."
"Of course. Even though she came from wealth, she enjoyed her painting, and took great pleasure in selling them for excellent good prices. Her father denounced her more than once, believing until the day he died that art to her was merely a pastime and hobby."
"I imagine that did not go over quite well with your mother."
"No." He paused and looked at her steadily, as if he were assessing her. Not in a way that a man looks at a woman's body and face, but as if he could see into her soul. 'Twas a disconcerting feeling and one that had her heart thumping in her chest.
"You and my mother would have gotten along quite well."
Just then the carriage came a stop, which was good because Laura needed to remove herself from such close quarters with Mr. Singh. She had the strangest feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with the upcoming dinner and everything to do with Mr. Keniel Singh and his opinion on women and on her, in particular.
The driver opened the door and Mr. Singh stepped out and turned to help her down. In the scant moonlight, with his hand extended to her and the glow to his skin and features, the strange feeling in her stomach increased.
As she took his hand, she mentally shook herself. This was becoming ridiculous. Mr. Singh was merely a—recent—acquaintance who was assisting her with finding a suitable dwelling for her orphans. The reason he'd invited her to this dinner was to give her the opportunity to speak about her endeavor, and possibly pick up a sponsor.
Nothing more.
She must remember that.
"Mr. Singh, good evening to you." Hunt's butler opened the door before they even reached the top step. "And good evening to you as well, Miss Benson."
"Thank you." Mr. Singh stepped back so she could precede him into the entrance hall. The butler deftly helped her out of her cape and took Mr. Singh's topcoat. "They are awaiting you in the drawing room, Mr. Singh. If you and the young lady will follow me." He preceded them up the stairs and down the corridor to a room that was identified as the drawing room by the buzz of conversation.
Several people stood in the room, holding drinks in their hands and conversing. Huntington glanced up and a smile lit his face. "Keniel, you're finally here."
The woman Laura knew as Huntington's countess joined her husband as they both crossed the room. "Keniel, so nice to see you." The countess gave him a hug and the earl held out his hand to him. They turned to Laura. "And Miss Benson. I am delighted that you are part of our celebration to welcome Mr. Singh into our family," the countess said.
Laura dipped a curtsy to the earl and countess. "Thank you for welcoming me, my lord, my lady. "
The countess shook her head. "None of this 'my lord and my lady' business. You must call me Diana and my husband Hunt. After all, we have known you for years."
Diana immediately linked her arm with Laura's and marched her to a group of gentlemen and ladies, Hunt and Mr. Singh following her. "I imagine most of you know Mr. Keniel Singh from the Rose Room." She then patted Laura's hand where it rested on Diana's arm. "And for those of you who don't know her already, this is Miss Laura Benson who has joined us this evening."
Warm welcomes and greetings were murmured from the group. "Would you care for a drink?" Hunt asked.
"Yes, thank you," Laura said as she accepted a glass of sherry from Hunt who had lifted it from a footmen's tray as he approached them.
"Keniel, I assume you would prefer a brandy?"
At Mr. Singh's nod, Hunt handed him a snifter. Then her host turned to her. "Miss Benson, Keniel tells me you are on a committee to assist orphans."
She took a sip of the sherry. Which was quite good. "Yes. Including myself, three women make up a committee who raise money for the orphanage and oversee the running of it. Presently, we are in a quandary because the current house we have for the little ones is to be torn down to make way for new construction."
"Ah. Yes, the new construction, going on all around London, I'm afraid. I'm sorry that my brother stole your house."
Laura almost choked on her drink until she saw the mirth in Hunt's eyes. She nodded. "It did seem that way to me, but Mr. Singh has graciously offered to help me find another place."
"Oh, Laura, you must not be calling us Diana and Hunt and still call Keniel by his formal address." Diana turned to Mr. Singh. "Tell her, Keniel. We do not need to be so formal."
Mr. Singh smiled at her over the brim of his brandy snifter. "Her ladyship is correct. Please call me Keniel. I am much more comfortable with that. As I mentioned earlier, I was raised in a much less formal atmosphere."
Laura felt the blush starting in her middle and climbing up her chest to her face. "Very well, then in that case, you may address me as Laura."
Having been raised part way in, and part way out of the ton, she'd been trained to be formal with her addresses. Her tutor would be aghast if she heard Laura calling the earl Hunt and his countess, Diana. But Mrs. McLeod was long gone from her father's employ, and Laura could make her own decisions on how to conduct herself.
Her one concern was dropping the formal titles between her and Keniel. The more time she spent with him, the more dangerous he became to her mental well-being. And her physical control.
Diana moved Keniel and Laura around the room, making introductions. After another fifteen minutes had passed, the butler arrived in the doorway to the drawing room and announced dinner.
Diana declared no formal line into the dining room, everyone was to walk with whomever they pleased.
Keniel stepped to Laura and took her arm. "Have you had a chance to speak to any of the other diners with regard to your cause?"
"A little. Mr. Wilson and his wife were most interested in our work."
Keniel nodded. "Good. I asked Diana to seat you where you will be able to work your magic on Mr. Everson and Lord Hereford. I understand they are quite generous in supporting excellent causes."
"Well, thank you. I appreciate that. I really don't care for being too obvious regarding our need for a safe place for the children and continued support for their care and upkeep."
Keniel leaned closer to her as they entered the dining room. "With your natural charm, you won't even appear to be asking for support. Just bat those beautiful brown eyes at them and they will be opening up their pockets."
Again, she grew warm at Keniel's words. He thought she had beautiful brown eyes? He thought she had charm?
She glanced at him under her lowered eyelashes. Most likely he said that to all the women he met.
Didn't he?