скачать книгу бесплатно
‘I am not having fun at your expense. But you must admit you take the most benign things quite seriously.’
‘I do not.’
‘You do. I have lived most of my life in this town and not once have I witnessed anyone inspect the water as carefully as you did yesterday. And today you couldn’t even enjoy a walk along the Crescent.’
‘That does not mean I have a serious disposition.’
She crossed her arms in return. ‘How would your friends describe you?’
‘That is neither here nor there.’
‘That tells me that you know they would not be describing you as jovial.’
‘I should have left you in the bushes.’
The off-the-cuff comment didn’t insult her, but made her laugh instead. ‘So perhaps you aren’t so serious all the time. What have you found enjoyable while you’ve been here in Bath?’
‘I have yet to have the opportunity to see much of the town.’
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Eight days.’
‘Eight days and you haven’t seen much of Bath? What have you been doing all this time?’
‘I’m here on business and haven’t really got out much.’
‘Apparently. I think we need to remedy that. It might help with that disposition of yours.’
‘And what do you think I’d find enjoyable here?’
My company is enjoyable, she wanted to say. ‘I suppose it depends on what you like. Perhaps it would be better to ask what kinds of activities you find enjoyable.’
He gave a slight shrug of his shoulders.
It seemed he was not going to make suggesting what he should do an easy endeavour. ‘Well, one can assume you do not enjoy long strolls.’
‘No. That is not true. I do enjoy a brisk walk. It helps me clear my thoughts.’
‘Then we will put brisk walking on the list. Perhaps you would enjoy visiting the Lower Assembly Rooms. They are near the bowling green and close to some lovely walks that are laid out by the river. If you time it just right, you might be able to walk the pathways before the crowds descend. And the public breakfast that is served there every Wednesday is quite good.’
‘That’s a much too leisurely way to spend my days.’
‘Well, you could always attend the dress and fancy balls in the evenings in the Upper Assembly Rooms. I prefer the dress balls, myself. And there are cards rooms at those if you do not dance.’
‘What makes you think I do not know how to dance?’
‘Forgive me. I meant if you were not inclined to dance.’
‘I find balls rather tedious. Too much talking about the weather and the state of the roads.’
‘Of course. Who would want to speak to all those people enjoying each other’s company?’
His lips pressed together which made her laugh again.
‘Then perhaps you would prefer a concert or the theatre. Bath has a vast array of ways to entertain yourself while you are here. Your wife might enjoy those activities.’ She waited to see if he would confirm that he was married. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might be until now.
‘Was that your way of finding out if I am married?’
She was not one to hide her inquisitive nature so she smiled up at him. ‘Are you?’
Instead of appearing affronted by her question, the hint of a small smile played on his lips. ‘No. I am not.’
‘Neither am I.’ Clara held back a groan. Why, oh, why had she offered that bit of information? It wasn’t as if he had bothered to ask her.
‘I know. I assumed from the Pump Room that you are widowed. I’m sorry for your loss.’
‘Thank you, but my husband passed a long time ago.’
The small creases at the corners of his eyes deepened as they looked at one another.
Humphrey’s head nudged her ankle, drawing her attention down to her dog. When she saw him eyeing the gentleman’s boot with that expression she had come to know, a sense of dread filled her chest. She held tight to his leash and tugged him back, closer to her.
Humphrey let out a series of barks in protest.
‘I really should be taking him home. He is probably hungry.’
‘Would you like me to escort you back from where you came?’
‘No, thank you. That won’t be necessary. I don’t have far to go.’ Humphrey pulled on the leash in the direction of the gentleman, making their departure all the more urgent. ‘I do hope you’ll take my suggestions. It would be a pity if you spent your time here without enjoying some of what this town has to offer.’
His eyes seemed to darken momentarily. ‘I’ll consider your suggestions.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
There was something about being around this gentleman that made it hard not to smile. She was just glad this time she did so only after she had turned to walk away.
‘Wait. I do not even know your name,’ he called after her.
Clara pulled back on Humphrey’s leash and turned around. ‘Mrs Clara Sommersby. And you are...?’
He tipped his head and held the brim of his hat. ‘Mr William Lane.’ A smile softened the hard planes of his features.
There was no reason to hide her smile now as she bobbed a curtsy. ‘Good day, Mr Lane. Perhaps we shall meet again.’
* * *
It had taken all of Lane’s restraint not to follow Mrs Sommersby out from behind the hedgerow in their secluded spot in the park. As it were, he watched her slowly walk away from him with her small dog trotting along beside her until she reached the end of the hedge where the dirt path they were on merged with the gravel pathway that would take her out of the park.
There was something about being around her that had him wanting to talk with her some more and not rush back to the coffee house as he had originally intended. But now, running back to the coffee house was the furthest thing from his mind as he wondered if she walked her dog here often. When he reached the edge of the wooded park, he looked left and right, trying to catch sight of her, but to no avail. She was nowhere to be found. Digging his hands into his pockets, he resumed his walk. This time he didn’t mind the slow pace, since, instead of focusing on reaching his destination, his mind was filled with thoughts of Mrs Sommersby. And the fact that for those few moments she was stuck to the bush, more than anything, he had wanted to kiss her.
Chapter Five (#u75f4568f-8407-5714-a0b0-45f922e8c629)
Two days later Lane sat across from Hart and the Duke of Lyonsdale in the office in the back room of the coffee house and tried his best to decipher the man’s expression. Lyonsdale had listened intently to what Hart and Lane had to say about the planned spa—but he hadn’t asked any questions. The Duke had invested his money with them in past ventures and in prior instances he always had some questions. However, today he sat with his arms crossed and a neutral expression on his face. It couldn’t be possible that Lyonsdale was going to turn them down. This spa had the potential to become one of their most profitable ventures yet.
Tapping his finger on the proposed budget that laid between them on the table, Lane leaned closer. ‘You have yet to tell us your thoughts. You see the potential, do you not?’
Lyonsdale nodded and sat back in his chair. ‘Those numbers are impressive—however, I’m afraid I cannot invest in this.’
Lane could feel his composure start to slip and he almost had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from calling this well-respected member of the House of Lords an ass. ‘Might I ask why?’
‘Because I have been coming to Bath for years and I see the changes that are taking place here. How many times have you been to Bath, Lane?’
‘I just started visiting recently.’
‘I see. Well, let me tell you what I’ve observed. This town was once overflowing with members of the ton. Parading along the Crescent resembled making your way through the crowds at Almack’s on a Wednesday night. But do you know what I see now?’
Lane shook his head, wishing that he could tell Lyonsdale that he didn’t want to know. Those numbers on that page spoke louder to him.
‘Now I see a town fading somewhat in its glory as the most fashionable place to be outside of London. There are not nearly as many members of the ton here as there once were. Brighton is where the Regent is. Brighton is where the growth is. Do not mistake what I am saying. Bath is still a desirable destination, but for how much longer? It may be profitable now, but can you truly tell me it will continue to be profitable ten years from now...or twenty?’
While Lyonsdale, unlike many members of English Society, always treated Lane with respect, Lane had never felt the divide in class as acutely with the man as he did at this very moment.
‘There are no guarantees in business,’ Lane replied, looking Lyonsdale directly in the eye. ‘I cannot say with one hundred per cent certainty that this venture will be profitable ten years from now or twenty. But what I can guarantee is that right now...now, those numbers are sound. And while people of your class and position may not be flocking here the way they once were, people of my class are. The merchant class and those who are discovering ways to make money through industry, we are all here. And there are many more of us than there are of you.’
He liked the man. He truly did. But how could he not see what was right in front of him?
‘I didn’t mean to appear so singular in my vision.’
‘But you did.’
Hart shifted in his chair beside Lyonsdale. He was the one who possessed all the finesse and charm. He was always the one who would petition the members of the ton to invest with them. And this was part of the reason why. The look in Hart’s eye told Lane that he might have overstepped himself with the Duke. It told him he should stop talking, lest they lose the man’s help in the future.
Lyonsdale came from one of the most prestigious families in Britain. He was a well-respected member of the House of Lords. He was a duke and not the type of man who was accustomed to being talked to in this way. Yet Lane’s pride was too great. He might have been raised in a Foundling Hospital, but that didn’t mean that he and those like him were not important. They had a place in towns like Bath and Brighton and anywhere else they saw fit to inhabit.
Yes, the look in Hart’s eyes said to just shut up—but in this matter, Lane was not about to brush aside the Duke’s ignorance.
‘With that singular vision of yours you have discounted everyone who is not like you. We have our pleasures, too. We have our place in this world and in time you may find that we are the ones who possess the majority of wealth in this country. Your title and pedigree will not put food on your table for ever.’
There was a loud groan from Hart as he lowered his head and a lock of his black hair slid across his forehead as he pinched the bridge of his nose. By keeping his head lowered and not looking at Lane, it was apparent he was contemplating where he would hit Lane first, once Lyonsdale left.
Silence descended over them, cloaking the room with an air of foreboding.
Finally, the Duke let out a loud breath. ‘You can pick your head up, Hart. I’m not about to storm out. This is just becoming entertaining.’
While Hart’s head jerked up, Lane had the urge to reach across the table and plant a facer on Lyonsdale. He was not entertaining. None of this was entertaining. Why were people all of a sudden considering him entertaining? First Mrs Sommersby and now Lyonsdale.
‘And stand down, Lane. I did not mean to imply that the world outside my circle isn’t important. But certainly you know that the ton sets the fashion for the rest of England. If those of English Society move out of Bath completely, it will only be a matter of time before others follow suit. That was what I meant. My comments were not intended to disparage anyone with a position in Society under me.’
The tension in Lane’s shoulders began to ease a bit even though Lyonsdale was right. Lane was not an unreasonable man. To succeed in business, you had to have an open mind and view a situation from another point of view. ‘It is a valid point—however, I have been to the spas. They are filled with the infirm and aged. And they keep coming. This is not just a town that attracts people for the fashionable entertainments. This is a town that people believe will cure their ills. I cannot say if they are right or wrong. I have not witnessed it myself, but what I have seen is the look in the eyes of those who I have spoken to that shine with hope. A hope to be free of the aches and diseases that have plagued them. They believe the water works. And if it doesn’t cure them completely, soaking in it offers some relief. Even if for just a little while.’
Lyonsdale looked over at Hart and eyed him up and down. ‘Why are you the one who always tries to convince me to invest in these endeavours of yours? Lane is much more logical than you are.’
Hart appeared completely affronted. ‘Not true. I appeal to your need to make money. What is more logical than that?’
‘Lane has appealed to my sense of justice.’ He looked at Lane and arched his brow. ‘He has almost made me feel that by investing in this I will be performing some sort of civic duty.’
‘Well, we all know how much you pride yourself on your civic duty, so let’s go with that, shall we?’ Hart replied. ‘We can look to see how many widows and orphans take to the waters.’ After he said it he glanced at Lane and looked down, as if he realised immediately that he had spoken out of turn considering Lane was an orphan.
‘You really should let Lane speak to me about your future investments,’ Lyonsdale said, shaking his head.
‘Then what will I do? Stand around and exude silent encouragement?’
‘You should try that. I’d be interested to see how long you could stay in a room with the two of us and not say a word. Silence is such a foreign concept for you.’
‘Not true.’
‘True,’ both Lyonsdale and Lane said in unison.
Hart glanced between the two of them and pressed his lips together. ‘You are both wrong. And to prove it, I will sit here in silence while the two of you discuss how much money Lyonsdale will give us to build the spa.’ He raised a challenging brow at him and smirked.
Before his interest waned or Hart provoked him too far, Lane needed to secure Lyonsdale to this project. ‘Do you now see the potential we have here?’ he asked, taking the Duke’s attention away from Hart.
Lyonsdale drew the sheet of paper with the budget closer to him and his gaze slowly moved from side to side as he scanned the page. When he sat back, it was Lane whom he focused on. ‘I will fund some of this, but I am not willing to give you all the money you need. And it will be on loan to you for five years.’
When he told them the amount of what he was willing to give and the interest he would charge them, Lane’s heart sank. It was not an unusual arrangement that Lyonsdale had offered. Most of the time Lyonsdale preferred to be conservative in his investments. It was just that this time—with this opportunity—Lane had hoped Lyonsdale would see the full potential and take the risk.
‘Come now,’ Hart said, breaking his self-imposed silence. ‘If you give us the full amount we think we will need, then you can become a full partner and reap all the rewards when this spa becomes the sensation of all of Bath and word of it hits London and this town becomes fashionable again.’
‘I thought you were going to sit there and offer your silent support?’ Lyonsdale said, shifting his weight on his chair away from Hart.
‘You knew that was never going to happen, so there is no need to pretend you expected it to. It is early in the morning. You haven’t had your breakfast yet. Why don’t you go home, have something to eat and think about it some more?’
‘No amount of food is going to make me change my mind. While I do believe, for now, it is a sound investment, I still have reservations about the long-term success of this venture. I’m sorry, but this is all I am willing to offer.’
It wasn’t enough. They needed more money if they were to purchase The Fountain Head Hotel and convert it into a spa. The hot spring was running under their property for a reason. Lane had discovered it for a reason. And that reason was to make money.
After Lyonsdale left, Hart seemed to have taken the news much better than Lane. ‘Do not look as if the world is crashing down on you, Lane. You always take these things too much to heart.’
Lane’s reputation and the success of his business ventures were what kept him acceptable in the eyes of certain members of Society. Hart would never understand the prejudices he faced as an orphan with no family connections at all. His business success was a way of proving to them that he was just as good as they were. He believed that and, on some level, he knew some of them did as well.
‘Come with me, Lane. It’s Wednesday and my wife has told me that they serve a good breakfast at the Lower Assembly Rooms today. I think I need to get you out of this place for a few hours to improve that foul look on your face.’
Chapter Six (#u75f4568f-8407-5714-a0b0-45f922e8c629)
The Lower Assembly Rooms were located close to the banks of the River Avon, not far from the King’s and Queen’s Baths and Bath Abbey. The large room Lane found himself in with the tall windows held balls on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, according to Hart. It wasn’t until they stepped inside that he recalled Mrs Sommersby mentioning it to him when they spoke in the park.
While they were being escorted past the small round tables of two-to-four people to get to their seats, he found himself scanning the occupants to see if she were here and found it oddly disconcerting when his spirits dropped even more than they already had when he didn’t see her.
