Page 71 of A Duke Changes Everything
After he departed, Mina trailed her fingers across the pile of gowns laid out carefully over the back of the settee. Her fingers slid across satin as slick as the damask on Enderley’s dining room chairs, then sank into plush velvet that reminded her of the curtains in the old estate’s library.
The velvet gown was a rich, vibrant red, and she couldn’t stop touching the fabric. The cut was simple, with few adornments, and for the first time in her life, she found herself eager to put on a dress.
What would they think of her at Lady Lovelace’s dinner party if she showed up wearing such a bold shade? In an eye-catching gown, perhaps they wouldn’t assume she was the daughter of a land steward who’d never been to the city before today.
Mina lifted her hand from the gown and drew in a shaky breath. Her green traveling suit would do. Tonight wasn’t about her. It was a chance to secure funding for Colin’s design.
“You should wear that one if you like it,” Colin said from the doorway.
“It’s too daring.”
He chuckled. “This from the girl who raced every boy in the village and usually won, punched Roger Beck because he called me short, and taught me how to fish with a sharpened stick.”
“None of that was daring.” Mina shrugged, though hearing her exploits in such a succinct list made her regret what she’d put her father through. Perhaps she had been a bit of a hellion. “It was just childhood.”
“We dared to venture to London on nothing more than hope and a whim. And look how far we’ve come. Tonight I’m going to meet Charles Babbage, and Mr. Iverson seems keen on hearing more about the thresher.”
“Do you think he’ll invest?”
“I think he might.” Colin pressed his lips together, but his eyes were twinkling. “I want to see that thresher at work in Barrowmere, Mina.”
She imagined getting in the harvest more efficiently, with increased earnings for tenants if they could process grain quickly and get it to market. The rents might finally come in steadily, adding a bit more to Enderley’s coffers.
Her first impulse was a desire to tell Nick. But would he care? His life was here in the city, at his gambling club and conducting business with men like Iverson.
Their commitments and cares were worlds apart. Yet more and more, Mina couldn’t imagine her life unfolding and not seeing him, speaking to him, being close enough to touch him.
And she couldn’t imagine how his duty and hers would ever allow them to be together.
Chapter Eighteen
Nick could breathe again.
Dusk and a thick umbrella of fog had settled over London by the time he arrived, but the metallic, sooty air tasted sweet on his tongue. Familiar.
Every mile they rolled away from Enderley, the lighter Nick felt. Freer. More himself. The city was the only place he’d ever considered home, and he was glad to be back.
But there was more. A niggling sense of anticipation. Mina was here. Somewhere in this vast metropolis, she was rambling aimlessly with her cousin, who was as ill-prepared for London’s dangers as she. He hoped they’d taken in some of the sights. Enjoyed themselves away from the grim walls of Enderley.
He wished he could see her here. More, he wished she could see him at home in the city where he’d achieved so much. The place where he was at ease and might at least seem like a man she could admire.
If only she’d spoken to him first, he might have arranged a meeting with Iverson or Huntley or other investors willing to fund her cousin’s agricultural design.
Mrs. Scribb insisted the two planned to return to Enderley tonight, and Nick wondered if they were headed back already.
“Lyon’s Club,” the driver called down as the carriage drew to a stop.
Nick jumped out and headed to a side door. He rarely entered through the front. To do so invited noblemen to approach and complain about their losses or ask to see him belowstairs about a loan. He wished to avoid causing any interruption in play at the tables, and to spend a bit of time checking in with Spencer before heading to Iverson’s.
He’d sent a messenger from the train station to let Iverson know he was in the city, asking him to arrange a meeting with Calvert immediately, if the ill-mannered nobleman was amenable.
He sniffed the air’s familiar scents when he stepped inside Lyon’s. Slow-roasted beef and stewing vegetables from the dining rooms mixed with colognes and hair pomades from the game rooms. What was shockingly unfamiliar was the quiet. A few voices carried from the large lounging rooms, where men dined or drank and conversed for hours. But the gaming tables were usually abuzz after nightfall. Tonight, the hum of chatter was minimal, the clink of dice and betting chips few and far between.
Nick bounded up the stairs and burst through Spencer’s office door. “What the hell has happened to my club?”
His factotum looked up slowly from a ledger book and removed his spectacles. “Good evening, Mr. Lyon. So good to see you again.”
He hired Spencer because he was smart, efficient, and unflappable no matter what trouble arose. But it also made the man damned hard to read.
