Page 15 of An Earl Like You
“Those were put away for my grandchildren,” he said as she tossed a wooden ball across the garden. Willy tore after it, his ears flat back as he bounded over a low stone wall.
“You know,” remarked Eliza, “Willy is probably much better behaved than a small child would be. He goes to his basket and sits quietly when told to.”
Papa scoffed. “He chews the table legs!”
“He hasn’t done that in months.” Eliza forbore mentioning that Willy had shredded an old bonnet she’d carelessly left out just the other day. “Besides, these toys for your grandchildren were actuallymytoys, and as such I decided to use them again.” Willy trotted back, ball in his teeth, and Eliza knelt to praise him. “Good boy, Willy.”
“Your mother packed them away when you grew too big for them,” Papa complained. “She told me they were for our grandchildren, and now the mutt will chew them to pieces.”
“You’ll have to buy new toys, then, if you ever have grandchildren.” Eliza heaved the ball and Willy raced off again. “What a terrible pity for you.”
Papa barked with laughter. “I take that as a promise you’ll give me grandchildren! You’re my only hope, Lilibeth; I’d like a pair of boys to dandle on my knee, and a little girl to spoil outrageously.”
Eliza rolled her eyes. “No one can promise to have children, let alone how many boys and how many girls.”
“Nevertheless I want some of each, and I’m counting on you.” He winked at her.
Willy brought the ball back, his tongue flopping out of his mouth in joy at the game, and Eliza threw it once more, as hard as she could. Willy liked to run, and the grounds were expansive. “It would be easier to get some dogs. Then you can choose what breed, what sex, even what color.”
“We have enough dogs already—more than enough.” Papa ignored her scowl at the slight to Willy.
Eliza was used to her father’s persistent talk of her marrying, but this talk of grandchildren was new—and depressing. It was one thing to accept that she would be an eccentric old lady with a pack of dogs for company, and another to remember that meant she would never be a mother. Eliza loved children. Belinda Reeve, the vicar’s wife, had two small daughters, who delighted and charmed Eliza every time they met. No matter how much she told herself she could spoil Georgiana’s future children, or Sophie’s, they wouldn’t beherchildren. They wouldn’t crawl onto her lap and put their little arms around her neck; they wouldn’t call her Mama and tell her they loved her with sweet childish lisps.
Like her friends, Eliza was an only child—Georgiana’s brother was twenty years her elder and didn’t count. The three of them had promised they would be godmothers to each other’s children, but Eliza was sure she was the only one of the three who would never have to make that request. Georgiana would be Lady Sterling soon, and Sophie was far too beautiful to remain unwed, even though she had no money and had been disowned by her grandfather. Where Eliza would have been devastated to be on her own, though, Sophie had a plan. Sophie was a survivor, and since she’d been able to take care of herself so far—rather well—Eliza was sure Sophie would find a husband once she decided she wanted one.
That would leave Eliza, alone and unwed, knitting lace caps for her friends’ babies and never for her own.
“What did you think of Lord Hastings?” Papa asked, scattering her morose thoughts.
Eliza flushed. “Very charming.” Willy dropped the ball at her feet, and she stooped to retrieve it, grateful to hide her face. “Has he decided to do business with you?” Papa never would have invited him if he hadn’t wanted to partner with the earl.
“I believe so,” said Papa thoughtfully. “He’s no fool, that one.”
She smiled. “Then he must have decided! Who would pass on a chance to learn from the great Edward Cross?”
Papa did not, as expected, laugh at her teasing or scoff at it. He stared off across the grass as Willy raced after the ball yet again. “Well, we shall see. I suppose if he comes back, I’ll have my answer.”
She started. “He’s coming back?” While it wasn’t uncommon for Papa to have business partners over for dinner, he usually went into London to see them. Even his friends like Mr. Grenville rarely came all the way to Greenwich.
“Perhaps.” Papa slanted a curious look at her. “Does that bother you?”
“Why would it?” She waved one hand in front of her burning face. “Of course not. My, it’s warm out.”
“He seemed very taken by your singing last night,” Papa went on.
Stricken by a sudden suspicion, Eliza shot a wary look at him. But Papa was watching Willy, whose eye had been caught by some robins. The birds were scratching for worms, but flew away in a chorus of squawks when Willy bounded toward them. “I like a man who has a good ear,” added Papa absently, squinting at the robins fluttering above her dog’s frantic leaping.
Thank goodness. For a moment she’d had the terrible thought Papa was hinting that she try to flirt with Lord Hastings. All that talk of grandchildren...
“What sort of business are you planning with him?” she asked instead. Her father was involved in a variety of things, and if Lord Hastings would be expected again at their home, Eliza needed something intelligent to say to him.
“What?” Papa frowned, then waved one hand. “Nothing exciting—don’t trouble your head about it, my dear. It may well come to nothing. But I should be on my way. Grenville wants to persuade me to invest in his latest scheme.”
“Oh no. Not again.”
“Something about balloon travel,” Papa went on with a nod. “Some chap he knows thinks he’s sorted out how to pilot the silly things from Norwich to Amsterdam without crashing into the sea. Grenville envisions turning it into a courier service to the Continent.”
Eliza laughed. “I can see you’re taken by the prospect. Mr. Grenville has a way of talking you into the worst ideas.”
