Page 29 of The Secret Word
Fortunately, Clem had already heard from Chris the probable topic that had so upset her father. “Our Mr. Satterthwaite was angry with his grandfather when we met this afternoon, Father. Apparently, the man turned up in Chr—Mr. Satterthwaite’s office this morning, demanding that Mr. Satterthwaite stop courting me as the older Mr. Satterthwaite had already signed a marriage agreement for Chris. Of course, Mr. Satterthwaite told him where he could put his plans.”
That stopped Father’s furious pacing. “He did? Yes, I suppose he did. Though the manishis grandfather.”
“The man abandoned our Mr. Satterthwaite sixteen years ago, when he was a child. To turn up now and dare suggest Chris owes him anything? Chris told him in no uncertain terms thatwhom he marries or does not marry is not the business of Mr. Satterthwaite senior, and he wants nothing to do with the man.”
“Is that right?” Father had taken up station in front of the fireplace, rocking back and forth, his hands in his pockets, and with a smile on his face. His temper was gone as if it had never been.
“When are you seeing ‘Chris’? Tonight, is it?”
Father had not missed her slip of the tongue, then. It was too late to unsay it. She could do nothing more than hope he wouldn’t find a way to turn it to her disadvantage. Hers and Chris’s.
Honestly, why did the pair of them have to be cursed with such conniving, selfish, vicious old men?
“Yes, Father. He is escorting me to the Sutton ball.”
“Sutton, as in the Earl of Sutton? That’s the Duke of Winshire’s heir.”
At her nod, he whistled. “Sutton, eh? You are flying high, Clementine, my girl. When Satterthwaite arrives, tell him I want to talk to you both before you go out.”
Clem could do nothing but agree, and wait with as much patience as she could muster for Chris to arrive.
Hours later—it seemed much longer—evening rolled around and with it came Chris, looking incredibly desirable in his black evening coat and silver-grey breeches and stockings, this time teamed with another waistcoat—this one in a dark blue silk brocade.
He must have chosen it to co-ordinate with her gown, which he had asked about during their afternoon drive. It was silver-grey and embroidered in dark blue, and was one of two new gowns she had had made. Father had reluctantly agreed to pay for a single new ball gown, but Clem had taken a leaf from Chris’s book and gone off Bond Street. The modiste was soreasonably-priced compared to the Bond Street shop that Clem was able to purchase two.
“Father had a visit from your grandfather,” Clem told Chris.
“The vile old villain,” said Chris. “I should have expected it. What did he want?”
“Do you know? Father never said. I just assumed it was that you couldn’t marry me. I told him about Mr. Satterthwaite’s visit to you, and how you dealt with it. He cheered up, then. He wants to talk to us before he goes out, Chris, but he didn’t say what about.”
“We are about to find out, then,” Chris said, “for here he comes.”
“Ah, Satterthwaite,” said Father. “Come into the parlor. I have a bone to pick with you.”
“I am sorry my grandfather angered you today, sir,” Chris said, as he escorted Clem to a chair in the parlor and took station slightly behind her and to her right. “I want you to know that I don’t agree with him. I knew nothing about his plans on my behalf, and I’ll have no part of his schemes.”
“I’m pleased to hear that, my boy,” Father said. “You know what he came about, then?”
Clem, who knew her father well, could tell this was a trick question. It wasn’t what she had thought, then. It was too late to warn Chris. She held her breath as Chris answered.
“I assume to tell you he would not allow me to marry your daughter, sir. That is what he told me when he called on me today. That he had plans for me, and they did not include marrying the daughter of a coal miner. That he had signed a marriage agreement on my behalf, without my knowledge or consent! Well. I’m a man grown, and no thanks to him. I’m not a dog to be whistled at when he wants me. He ignored me for sixteen years, and I’d be happy to spend another sixteen ignoring him.”
Chris was breathing heavily when he had finished, and when she turned to look over her shoulder at him, his color was high. She turned in her chair then to see that his eyes were flashing and his hands had formed fists.
Father, on the other hand, was grinning. “Good for you, lad, but you are wrong, you know. He didn’t want to stop you from marrying my Clementine. You were determined on it, he said, and he had a mind to let you have your way.” He picked up the brandy decanter. “A drink, lad?”
“Just a small one,” Chris said, “and you, Miss Wright?”
Clem hid a smile at that, and saidyes, which won her a sharp look from her father, but he poured Chris a small drink and Clem not much more than a thimbleful.
“He had changed his mind then, sir?” Chris asked. “He was in favor of the match?”
“Ah, well,” said Father, well into his second favorite role, asraconteur. His favorite was business dealer. “Wait, and you shall see. Your grandfather said he knew—the whole world knew—I had in mind to marry my girl to a proper gentleman. ‘Alas, Wright. That is not my grandson. Perhaps once—but he ran away, and ended up in a gambling den. And worse, Wright. Not the sort of man who will ever be accepted in polite Society. Such a pity. He was a boy of real promise.’ He took out his handkerchief and wiped his eye.”
“Chris—Mr. Satterthwaite—did not run away,” Clem protested. “He was abandoned.”
Father’s eyes twinkled. “You will like what is coming next,” he promised. “The old man said, ‘I fear the rogue will break your daughter’s heart, gambling and cavorting with paid women. It is what he has been raised to, Wright. And all you will get out of it is sorrow, for he’ll not be your entry into the ton.’ As if I wanted to enter the ton.” Father sniffed his scorn.
