“Will it continue to grow at the same rate?” Will understood the canine species as well as he understood his own. Agriculture was in his very blood. He could manage a ledger fairly well, and monitored conversations with the bankers mostly to ensure they weren’t cheating Casriel.
This investment business, though… It wanted more than a piece of cheese and a pat on the head for Will to take an interest in it.
“The rate of growth can change, and even become a rate of loss,” Ash said. “Kettering is the best though, and you’re family. He’ll ferret out the more profitable projects for you, and watch them like an old tabby with one kitten. Then too, as the principle grows, the interest has more to work with.”
“Like when Georgette’s daughters are old enough to breed,” Will said, folding the paper and tucking it away. In a few years, the progeny of one bitch and one dog could number in the hundreds. Why hadn’t Will seen that invested money had the same potential?
Between Grosvenor and Mount Street, a bright, sunny revelation beamed down through the clouds of Will’s worry for his brother, and for several unfortunate dogs: Someday, I might be able to marry Lady Susannah Haddonfield. Not now, maybe not for several years, but someday…
“That is a dangerous smile,” Ash said. “Makes you look more like Cam. So upon whom are we calling?”
“Lady Susannah Haddonfield. Who said anything about we, Ash?”
“Don’t be difficult, Willow. I stopped Cam from appropriating your newest breeches, and I am owed some consideration for merely borrowing them myself.”
Eight
“Mr. Dorning has asked me to accompany him on a call to Lady March. Would you like to come with us?” Susannah asked, tying her bonnet ribbons beneath her chin.
“Suze, you have no sense of style,” Della retorted, untying the ribbons and repositioning the hat. “A slight angle to the bow, a jaunty set to the brim does not make you a Haymarket streetwalker.”
In the mirror over the foyer’s sideboard, Susannah studied Della’s adjustments. “You’re not supposed to know about Haymarket streetwalkers, or speak of them if you do. Are you fretting over Lord Effington’s lapse?”
For the viscount had failed to keep his appointment in the park not an hour ago, and Della’s handling of Susannah’s millinery was brisk to the point of agitation.
“In truth I’d be relieved were Effington to attach his interests to another lady,” Della said. “I want my own household, of course, and a husband and children, but if this is how he behaves when trying to secure my interest, how will he act once we’re married?”
Susannah picked up her reticule, felt the weight of Mr. Shakespeare therein, and decided he need not accompany her on this call.
“Effington might simply be ill, or busy with his solicitors, or perhaps he got the days confused,” Susannah said, the same excuses she’d trotted out for the few and fainthearted gentlemen who had made overtures to her years ago.
A knock sounded on the door, and Susannah answered it herself rather than indulge in the absurdity of waiting for the butler.
“Mr. Dorning, and Mr. Dorning, good day.” Susannah was disappointed to see Ash Dorning at his brother’s side, though they made a fetching pair.
“My lady and my lady,” Will replied, bowing when he and Ash had been admitted to the foyer. “Lady Della, will you join this sortie?”
Would he be disappointed if she did?
“No, thank you,” Della said. “I’ve just come back from taking the air in the park.”
“Ah, then you’ll be having a spot of tea,” Ash Dorning said. “I could use a cup myself.”
Bold of him, but after Susannah’s own behavior beneath the rhododendrons, she could hardly judge a man for a bit of boldness.
“Come upstairs, then,” Della said, “and we’ll leave the social calls to our elders.”
Will watched them go, his expression troubled. “Lady Della is not pleased to have a caller other than Effington. Perhaps he’ll stop by, for I crossed his path at the Duchess of Ambrose’s house.”
Oh dear. “Lord Effington was due to walk in the park with Della and failed to keep the appointment. Did he seem in good health?” Had the viscount known what day it was?
“His lordship was to all appearances in the pink of health. Had Mannering in tow, and that fretful little pug.”
Yorick, or poor Yorick, to Susannah. “You might have dissembled, Mr. Dorning. Hedged, prevaricated, failed to note the viscount’s state of health.”
Will took Shakespeare from Susannah’s grasp and set him aside. “No, I mightn’t. You prefer the difficult truth to the convenient lie. I like that about you. Shall we be on our way?”
A compliment, however well disguised.
“Your note was mysterious,” Susannah said as Will held the door for her. “Why are we calling on Lady March? My memories of her tea dances are hardly cheering.”
“They should be fortifying memories. You foiled the Mannering sisters’ attempts to wreck your standing in the eyes of the young fellows, and to destroy your confidence. Others would not have fared as well.”