Page 39 of The Gift of Patience
“You could say that,” Rupert replied, lowering his voice.
“Oh, I see. You do not wish for others to know about it?”
His eyes darted nervously around the table. “I would rather not have word get out that I have made my fortune, if you know what I mean.”
“Indeed, sir. Your secret is safe with me.” She mimicked his low voice.
“I also do not think the friend that enlightened me to the scheme would appreciate sharing the wealth, so to speak.”
“Oh, I only thought it might be something in which my brother would wish to invest. I can see it is not that sort of scheme.” She waved her hand as though the thought had already left her mind. And Rupert was not acting his normal self. She tried to think of how else to draw him out as she turned to give her time to her other dinner partner, Mr. Greening. It was clear Rupert did not wish to tell her more about how he made his fortune as he put it, but what if this friend was the mind behind the theft and he was using Rupert as a puppet in his scheme? Rupert must have friends in London, but she’d never actually run into him there. When it was time and she turned to him again, those questions were burning in her mind. Was he not welcome in Westwood’s circles? If he had an unsavoury reputation, then surely Westwood would not associate withthem here. He was at least ten years Westwood’s junior, so perhaps he ran about with a younger crowd. However, if he was seeking to court her, that was not the behaviour of someone running wild with their set. She frowned, trying to work out the mystery.
Ashley satacross from Patience and amongst the two eldest Fagge daughters. She stood out like a rose amongst the thorns. However, he knew she had her own well-hidden ones, including her prickly tongue.
He could not keep from listening to her conversation. She was doing an admirable job of trying to draw Rupert out. Was his idiocy all an act? Or was he merely the pawn of Layton’s son? He would have to be looked into. Ashley had a strong dislike for the plump tulip. It certainly could not be because of his obvious interest in Patience Whitford.
If only he could be the one to interrogate Rupert, but talking across the table simply was not done in polite circles. Not that he thought anyone would mind in such a small gathering in the country. Certainly any host with as many marriageable daughters would forgive anything to a wealthy bachelor with such connections as Ashley had. He would have to wait until the ladies left.
When the ladies withdrew, and the port was poured, Ashley took the opportunity to move close to Rupert. Westwood raised a brow as Rupert was not exactly Ashley’s normal sort of acquaintance. He would have to explain the conversation he heard earlier.
“Mr. Fagge,” he said, leaning back lazily in his chair and swirling his port. “Do you mind if I call you Rupert? We are neighbours of sorts.”
Of course, Rupert looked pleased as Ashley suspected he would.
“And you may call me Ash, like my friends do, if you choose. We never crossed paths much before. I was mostly away at school and then with the army. May I ask what your interests are?”
“M-m-mine?” He sputtered as though no one had ever asked him such a thing.
Ashley shrugged with Gaelic nonchalance. “I don’t have much time for amusements hereabouts, but surely you must know what there is. Westwood has become eminently respectable since his marriage.” Ashley’s mouth formed a moue of distaste.
“To be honest, there is very little here unless you’ve an interest in the river. All other pursuits, you must unfortunately ride back into Town.”
“As I suspected. But the river you say? Do you mean boating?”
Rupert shook his head then leaned forward as though he were going to say something very clever. “Speculation,” he enunciated with a great deal of spittle.
“Oh, is this the investment you mentioned to Miss Whitford?” He tried to look abashed. “I could not help but overhear a little.”
His eyes held a knowing and self-important gleam. “Indeed. And if you could assist me in the matter of convincing Miss Whitford to accept my suit, I might be inclined to let you in on the secret. We would be family then, after all.”
“Ah, I see. Miss Whitford might not appreciate my meddling. She is rather strong-willed.”
“Nothing my firm hand could not mould into a dutiful wife.”
“Just so.” Ashley could only hope that he was a better actor than what he was feeling inside. Because his blood was like a molten pipe about to erupt in a massive explosion, which took Rupert’s head with it. Right now, he could not afford to alienate this pompous arse.
But he did have an empty glass, and the decanter was sitting right in front of Ashley. Perhaps just a little more port to loosen the man’s tongue? Ashley couldn’t think of any better alternative at the moment. It might even be worth trying on Devil, though he imagined it would take a great quantity before Devil spilled his secrets. He was protecting that young boy.
They listened to the conversation around them while Ashley kept refilling Rupert’s glass. His cheeks were now ruddy, his eyes glossy, and his speech was well slurred.
In a break in the conversation, Ashley swirled the red liquid in his glass watching it as it spun into a nice little vortex. “So how can I be sure the speculation will be worth my while?”
Rupert giggled. Yes, giggled. There was something disturbing about a grown, rotund man giggling like a small child. Ashley had to turn away from the sight of his multiple chins jiggling with mirth.
“I don’t know about you, but as the second son, I would think thousands of pounds would be very worth your while.”
Ashley raised his brows, showing appropriate intrigue.
“Now I have your ’tenshion.”
