Page 61 of Two of a Kind
She was still chortling when James slid his foot behind the door and in one deft motion swung it closed behind them. The smile disappeared from his face, and he gently set her down on her feet.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered. Leah saw the cause of James’s anger.
Dumped in the middle of the downstairs foyer were her trunks. They looked for all the world like they had been thrown in from the street, with some of the corners of her brand-new luggage caved in.
She blinked back tears as she crossed the floor to where her things lay in a muddled heap. She lifted the lid of the nearest trunk; inside were bottles of her toiletries and perfumes. To her surprise they were all intact, only requiring her to reorganize them back into their right places. While she continued to check the bottles and lotions, James moved the rest of Leah’s cases and boxes into some semblance of order.
“There is a note on the top of this one. It’s addressed to you,” he said, handing her a folded up piece of paper.
She took it, and immediately recognized her mother’s handwriting on the outside. She straightened her back and unfolded the note before devouring its contents. A second reading of the letter had her puffing out her cheeks. “No congratulations or anything, but that was to be expected. She says all my things are here and in good order. Guy took back everything that he gave me and has asked that I return the engagement ring forthwith. Oh, and I am to receive her and my sister for afternoon tea at the earliest convenience,” she said.
A quick check of the rest of her belongings proved her mother to be true to her word. Leah had not thought she would see any of her personal possessions again. She had honestly expected that her father would have demanded every single thing his errant daughter owned be taken into the rear laneway and smashed to pieces. Everything destroyed. That was his usual way of dealing with those who dared to defy him.
“I am pleased that your things have been returned to you,” said James, placing a tender kiss on her lips. She gave him a hopeful smile.
He didn’t need to mention that with money being tight for the foreseeable future, they would not have been able to replace Leah’s possessions if they had been lost to her.
“Let us take a look at the rest of the house. I need to pick a room in which to set up my studio. The sooner I can get working on my major landscape pieces, the sooner I can start earning money from my paintings,” he added.
Until he could make money as an artist or find a patron, he would have to juggle working back as a shipping clerk in Charles Saunders’s office, as well as trying to complete more works. He had refused his father’s offer to continue funding his painting, citing the strain he had already placed on Hugh’s purse.
“When are you going to speak to my father? You have every right to ask for my dowry,” said Leah.
The question of Leah’s dowry had sat in James’s mind for most of the trip back to London. He had never thought to find himself in a situation where he would be needing his wife’s money in order to live. It made him question his decision to keep pursuing his painting. “I will speak to him. But we are not going to touch your dowry money unless it cannot be avoided. I should be the one to provide for my family,” he replied.
James would do his damnedest to find a way to earn enough money to keep him and Leah. While he was well within his rights to ask for Leah’s dowry, he had a sneaking suspicion that Tobias Shepherd would make him beg for it.
Chapter Forty-Three
James stood out the front of Guy Dannon’s house. A house he had visited numerous times in the past, a house where once he had been a welcome guest. He knew that time was now at an end.
“Let’s get this done,” he muttered.
Taking the door knocker in hand he rapped it loudly twice, then stood back. Guy’s chubby butler finally answered it. James started forward in greeting, following old habits, then stopped. This was not a pleasant social call.
“Mister James Radley to see Mister Guy Dannon,” he said.
The butler ushered him inside, but instead of James doing his usual casual amble upstairs and seeking out Guy himself, the butler left him standing in the foyer.
“I shall see if my master is at home to you, sir,” he said.
Guy, of course, made him wait.
And wait.
While he stood unattended in the foyer, James toyed with the gaudy diamond ring in his pocket. Leah had handed it over as soon as they were returned to London, begging James to be rid of it. The polite thing to do would have been for her to return the ring in person. But considering the circumstances of her breaking the betrothal, she and James agreed it would be better if he went to see Guy.
Finally, Guy appeared at the top of the staircase. Again, he took his time in coming down the stairs to greet his visitor. James stood with his hands in his coat pocket, the ring grasped tightly in his fingers.
“Radley. What do you want? Or have you come to steal something else from me?”
James slowly blinked. Guy had never called him by his surname in all the years they had been friends. He held his temper in check. He wasn’t going to give Guy the satisfaction of seeing him get angry at his taunt.
“Mister Dannon, mywifeasked me to return this to you,” he said, holding out the ring. A sly grin threatened at his lip. He knew it was beneath him, but Guy’s accusation of him having stolen his wife made James want to stick the knife in Guy’s pride just a little. Stick it in and twist.
Guy snatched the ring from James’s outstretched hand. “So, the little whore had you do her bidding? That is no surprise. May I offer you my congratulations. Not on your recent nuptials, mind you, but rather on how well you kept your duplicity hidden from me. Here was me thinking you intended to be my best man, when in fact you and the bride were planning to run away together. You are a cunning bastard; I will give you that.”
James had played out this scene in his mind a thousand times. In every one of those scenes, it always ended badly. He took heart from the fact that Guy was not holding a pistol or a sword in his hand. More than one of James’s imagined encounters with Guy had ended with him lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
