Page 6 of On a Midsummer Night
He loitered down the street from the Daltons’ townhome, swinging his pocket watch about his finger on a loop, the motion calming the thoughts whirling about in his head. His supervisor, Mr. Gooch, had still not promoted Henry to lead engineer despite him being vastly qualified and deserving of the position. The older man had rambled on about funding and hierarchy, and Henry had come to the uncomfortable realization that his career was floundering not because of his lack of talent but because of his perceived lack of loyalty. Mr. Gooch believed him to be entertaining other employment offers and had cocked a brow at Henry’s assurances he was content at Great Western. It almost made him want to accept one of the many job offers he had received and head to America, where opportunities for a locomotive design engineer were numerous and profitable. He certainly didn’t need to stay in England, for his mother and sister were now in Vienna, and any friends he’d once counted were no more. It was a depressing thought.
But lowering still was the idea of starting his life anew. Henry had already done it once, and he knew he could do it again, but the thought left him exhausted to his marrow.
And as if that were not enough to occupy his thoughts, the envelope in his coat pocket seemed to burn his flesh. It had arrived two weeks prior, and although he had not read it, it had turned his whole world upside down. Why would they contact him now? Hadn’t he given them enough? Hadn’t he given themeverything? Surely the fact that they were reaching out to him only hinted at bad omens—
“Ramsgate, what are you doing here?”
Jerking his head up, Henry spied Francis Willoughby strolling down the walk in his direction. He was a friendly enough fellow, and Henry often found himself moving in the same social circles as the young banker.
Henry held out a hand in greeting. “I was on my way to pay a call on a lady. You?”
The other man tilted his head. “Miss Dalton or Miss Lucy?”
Henry frowned. “I wasn’t aware that Miss Lucy Dalton had an older sister.”
“She doesn’t. But her cousin is spending the social season with them.”
“Oh.” Henry stored that knowledge away as he tucked the watch into his pocket. “Well, whatever the makeup of the Dalton household, I had hoped to visit with Miss Lucy.”
Turning toward the Dalton home, Willoughby fell into step next to him. “She’s a pretty girl. Sweet. Friendly. A bit young for you, though, don’t you think?”
Henry scoffed. “We’ve yet to be introduced. But most of the women who are closer in age to my seven-and-twenty are already married. There’s not much to be done about that.”
Willoughby cocked his head. “I suppose you’re right.”
Fighting not to roll his eyes, Henry looked away. “Do you have your hopes pinned on Miss Lucy?”
“Initially, I did.” The other man chuckled. “But then I met the other Miss Dalton and was charmed.”
“Indeed?” he murmured, his attention already on the ordeal ahead. It was a relief to know he would not have to worry about offending Willoughby when he eventually married Miss Lucy Dalton. For hewouldmarry her.
His career with the railway depended upon it.
The walk to the Dalton townhome was short, and after turning their hats, coats, and canes over to a footman, the butler escorted them through double doors into a space off the foyer. Upon crossing the threshold, Henry’s first thought was that the room was cluttered with furniture, making the space feel small and almost stifling. The dark wallpaper was fine indeed but added to the sense of crowding. Knickknacks of all shapes and sizes lined the ornate mantle and littered every table in the room. There was so much to see that he struggled to focus, almost missing the two young women who sat together on a settee before the large window that overlooked the street.
The blonde woman—she looked like a girl, really—wore a blue day dress the color of clear skies, a pretty pink flush on the apples of her cheeks. This was obviously Miss Lucy, for every descriptor of her proved true. She did not meet his eye, and Henry noticed her hand entwined with the woman’s sitting next to her, her knuckles showing white with how tightly she gripped it. As he fought to keep the frown from his face, his gaze traveled to the side to glance at the woman next to her, and his lungs seized on a breath.
A tidal wave of memories threatened to pull him under, and Henry took a step back, overwhelmed as a pair of sable-brown eyes snared his.Beth.
A name, a face he’d never been able to forget, no matter how he had tried. His gaze moved hungrily over her features, noting how they had changed, matured, and grown more beautiful—as if that were possible. But it was that fierce spark in her bottomless dark eyes that showed him the girl who had captivated him from the moment he’d seen her all those years ago was still there in this elegant woman. Regret curdled in his gut.
Henry gritted his teeth. Regret was a luxury he could no longer afford.
She rose to her feet, all effortless grace, and a small smile lifted the corners of her pink lips. “Mr. Willoughby, how good of you to call upon us.” She turned to her cousin.
Miss Lucy jerked a nod. “Yes, Mr. Willoughby, it’s a pleasure to see you.”
And then she regarded him, her lovely face devoid of all emotion. “Mr. Ramsgate, how do you do? I’m Beth Dalton, as you may recall. Please allow me to introduce you to my dear cousin, Miss Lucy Dalton.”
Did she think he would not know her? As if he hadn’t thought of her countless times over the years, cursing the loss of what could have been?
How had this happened? How had he not considered the possibility that Mr. Charles Dalton of Great Western Railway was related to his old friend Oliver and his altogether captivating sister? Oliver had never mentioned an uncle and considering Oliver’s family resided in Bristol, Henry had not made the connection. That he hadn’t hinted at the worries distracting him.
“Please, gentlemen, have a seat,” Beth invited, her voice as melodic as he remembered. She appeared not bothered by their unexpected reunion even as Henry’s emotions spiraled.
Willoughby settled onto the chair nearest her, and with a lump in his throat, Henry selected the one next to Miss Lucy. The girl smiled shyly at him but glanced at Beth as if waiting for her older cousin to direct the conversation.
And Beth did. Effortlessly. She inquired about his work and family, as well as Willoughby’s, listening attentively and asking insightful questions like a seasoned hostess. The conversation never faltered or grew stagnant, and the minutes flew by. Still, Beth allowed little room for him or Willoughby to direct the discussion to her or Lucy, and Henry knew that was intentional. For her part, Miss Lucy remained silent, although she smiled at his answers and chuckled here and there over Beth’s witty remarks. Although Mr. Dalton had all but ensured his daughter was perfectly eligible and charming, it was obvious that if he were to secure Miss Lucy’s hand, he would need to win Beth’s approval first. And after the way he had fled from Bristol, he wasn’t sure if that would be possible.
