Page 87 of Miss Dashing
Phillip kissed her cheek. “Well done.”
Another general uproar ensued, and Hecate let it wash around her. She was content to stand hand in hand with Phillip, to be free of Johnny, of riches, of any expectations save those dearest to her heart.
“You signed it away?” Edna asked when the hue and cry had subsided. “Truly?”
“The money made me miserable, or I allowed you lot to make me miserable over it. I never wanted wealth, I didn’t earn it, and Uncle Nunn will steward those resources as well as I could. I wish you all the joy of squabbling over it, but you will no longer vex me with your importuning.”
Phillip took both her hands. “You’re sure?”
“You were right: Family is as family does. Will you have me without my money?”
“Will you have me if I never learn to dance a quadrille?”
Hecate purely beamed at him. The joy was both roaring and quiet, enormous and intimate. “I will have you, my lord. Depend upon it.”
Somebody cleared his throat.
Hecate looked past Phillip’s shoulder to see an older gentleman—the fellow who’d brought the traveling coach—looking uncomfortable at the top of the steps.
“If somebody wouldn’t mind handling the introductions, I would very much like—love—to make Miss Brompton’s acquaintance. My lord?”
Hecate abruptly needed Phillip’s arm for support. “Who is that fellow?”
“A prosperous Bristol merchant. Nunn has known him for ages. Let’s find somewhere private so you can make his acquaintance without an audience.”
“Let’s,” Hecate said. “Please, let’s.”
ChapterEighteen
The murmur of voices coming from the foyer was leavened by the strains of a string quartet. Nunn and Edna, abetted by Charles, Eggy, and Emeril, were greeting the stragglers, and Phillip was far from dressed for the occasion.
He should have been mortified, but he was too busy holding hands with his intended to care. He’d shepherded her and Edward Ross to Nunn’s study, where nobody would dare intrude.
“Your mother,” Edward Ross said, “was a force of nature. She appeared at first glance to be the demure wife of another London dandy, but her conversation was insightful, her humor uproarious, and her determination… You inherited that. You clearly inherited much that is wonderful from your mother.”
Father and daughter had been talking for nearly an hour. Haltingly at first. Platitudes.
Thank you for receiving me.
You’re looking well.
Have you always lived in Bristol?
Ross had been born in Dundee, and traces of the accent still flavored his speech. Until the last two changes, Phillip had ridden in the coach with him and learned much of his prospective papa-in-law. In appearance, Ross was tallish, solid, going gray about the temples, and imposing about the eyebrows. His blue eyes had likely always been fierce.
Ross read voraciously, and he’d shown a prodigy’s facility with figures from a young age. He was known for scrupulous honesty in business and for driving a hard bargain. He did his own negotiating, leaving the lawyers to clean up details, and he was as yet unmarried.
By degrees, Hecate and her father were tiptoeing up to more difficult matters.
“Mama didn’t mention you often, but she was always complimentary. Said I must not blame you and that someday, she hoped, I might make your acquaintance. I did not dare.”
Ross rose and went to the sideboard. “I will presume to pour a round of brandy, to steady our nerves and, in my case, to celebrate. My daughter has acknowledged me more than civilly, and I…” He busied himself moving decanters about, back to Phillip and Hecate.
“I am celebrating too,” Hecate said gently. “Phillip?”
“My rejoicing is without limit.”
Ross collected himself and passed out the drinks. “I did not dare approach you. Firstly, I did not deserve to intrude on your life, and secondly, Nunn had assured me repeatedly that the Bromptons would turn any overtures from me to their own purposes should they get wind of them.”
