AS SHE SKIPPED A STEAMING PILE OF HORSE DUNG on the way across the street leading to Mr. Stephenson’s office, Annie put the past behind her and looked forward to the future. Today she had Matilda respectably by her side, and although her companion outshone her with her gown of cherry red and white striped silk, Annie thought she put up a good show. She wore her maroon wool gown with the ivory silk embroidered petticoat.
Lord Carbrooke had put the chance of her obtaining the Bunhill Row house out of question. Although his face had swum before her eyes as she’d sunk into sleep last night, she refused to let him take any more of her time. She could not dwell on his offer, tempting though it was. It was completely out of the question.
Mr. Stephenson worked from a well appointed office in a sought-after part of the City close to the Guildhall. His shop took up the ground floor of the establishment, where he sold the products of his large gold and silver workshop. He made centerpieces, fine cutlery and other items at the top of the market, which was how Annie had become acquainted with him. He’d been one of her husband’s best customers, and continued to take half her output today.
The shopkeeper was waiting for them. In the midst of glass-fronted cases holding a breathtaking array of silver and gold items, he indicated a small door at the rear of the premises. “It is a pleasure to see you, ladies. You are expected. Pray go straight up.”
Upstairs they found his clerk standing behind his desk. “The maid will bring you refreshments. Mr. Stephenson requests the honor of a personal interview without the benefit of your companion.”
Annie stared at him in surprise. That was an unusual request, and not one she was used to. Mr. Stephenson was fond of ceremony, and preferred to act the part of gracious host. His adherence to the proprieties was famous, and he knew to a nicety how low he should bow to each rank in society.
Annie would go along with his request. She’d known him for years. He was almost a family friend.
Matilda chose a seat in the office, folding her hands over her lap and nodding to the clerk. “I will be here if you need me, my dear.”
Annie went through, allowing the clerk to open the door for her.
The room smelled very masculine, of pipe tobacco and leather. The tang of fire coals suffused the atmosphere as it did almost every room this early in the year, especially when the weather was chilly.
Mr. Stephenson came around the massive mahogany desk to bow and hold a chair for her to take. She gave him her hand, mildly surprised when he grazed the back of her glove with his lips instead. “It is a pleasure to see you this fine morning,” he murmured.
The morning was actually rather overcast, but Annie would not gainsay him. “I am pleased to see you too.”
A maid came through the door with a tray of tea and coffee things. She laid the silver teapot, the water jug, cream jug and silver container on a side table, well within Annie’s sight, so she could admire them. Even the china was fine German porcelain, rare and expensive. She was flattered that he had brought out the best for her.
Mr. Stephenson dismissed the maid and poured the tea himself. After a delicate pause, he added milk and sugar, and put the dish and saucer where she could easily reach it. The gold-rimmed dish was a forget-me-not blue shade, heavily adorned with flowers and bees, in the finest mode. Annie was almost afraid to pick it up. She had not seen anything so fine even on Lord Carbrooke’s breakfast table when she’d stormed in two days ago. They had been using white china with gold rims.
He picked up a letter from his desk but did not retreat back behind it. His small, sharply observant eyes took in her appearance. He smiled, although those thin lips were rarely caught in anything of that nature. Mr. Stephenson was a serious-minded businessman. His clothes, although sober bottle-green were fashioned from the best cloth and edged with fine gold braid. His gold buttons were probably real. He had certainly dressed finely for a day in the office. Perhaps he had a meeting at the Guildhall later. It was said the City was wealthier than Mayfair. Since many residents of Mayfair owed more money than they owned, it would not surprise Annie to discover that was the truth.
He read the letter through. “I take it you have enough funds to pay for a lease on the house?”
“I would not have insulted you by making my request otherwise.” Annoyed to find her hands were shaking, Annie gripped them together. “Indeed I believe my husband had only the greatest respect for you, otherwise I would not have ventured to ask. The house is ideal for my purposes. Since we already live there snugly, it is my first preference.”
His eyes narrowed. “Have you investigated other properties?”