“Your mother was forever being pestered by ambitious men.”
Fanny leaned lightly against her father’s shoulder. “Mother would never have betrayed you, or the family interests.”
“Oh, I know that,” he promised. “But some men seem to think persistence will be rewarded anyway and they keep returning, like a bad smell.”
She hoped that would not be the case with Thwaite. “I’m still not convinced I should invest in Thwaite’s new venture.”
“It’s not his venture or sudden interest in Cedar Mill that worries me,” Father murmured. “It’s him. He’s got his eye on you for something, sweetheart.”
Fanny straightened up.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ve the sense to feel it already, which is why Dawes is following you about so closely tonight. Thwaite had quite a sour look about him when you both slipped away together earlier.”
“I’ve never encouraged him to imagine I would be interested in him that way. Besides, he’s married.”
“Married men betray their wives, and some men don’t bother to wait for an invitation either.” Father frowned momentarily as he played a difficult passage. “Do you know the story of how Thwaite acquired his country estate?”
“It was part of his first wife’s dowry, wasn’t it?”
Father nodded. “Thwaite ruined her to force the match.”
Fanny’s blood ran cold. “He wouldn’t dare force me.”
“No, perhaps not under my roof, but I’d prefer you not face that same situation somewhere else. Oh, I know you’re a woman of experience now, and widows often do as they please. But he could create enough of a fuss to damage your reputation beyond repair. He’d make it seem that your only choice was to give him what he wants. Be careful. He pressed me hard to stay the night. I won’t have you unhappy. Keep Dawes close.”
Fanny blinked as Father suddenly cut his performance short and stood to address the room. “Milo, Samuel. I’ve just remembered a matter that requires a discussion between us.”
Father popped a kiss on her head and went off toward his study with her startled brothers, leaving Fanny and Jeremy as the only two souls left in the room.
Jeremy regarded her drowsily. “What did I miss?”
She chuckled. “Nothing of importance. You should go to bed.”
“Not until you retire.” He climbed to his feet and stretched his long agile limbs. “Do you play the pianoforte as well?”
“Do you think musical talent runs in every great family?” Fanny banged her fingers down on the keys, inelegantly as always.
“Stop, stop,” Jeremy cried, putting his hands over his ears. “I would have accepted no without any proof. At least now I’m fully awake.”
Fanny smiled, running her fingers along the keys, the most pleasing sound she’d ever made on the instrument, before covering them up. “It’s not a talent I’ve ever aspired to possess.”
“His grace plays very well. Better than anything I’ve ever heard. Almost put me to sleep.”
“Almost? I’m fairly sure I heard a snore.” Fanny put the music sheets away in their usual place.
“I do not snore,” he insisted. “And I was only resting my eyelids until you had need of me.”
When she turned around to respond, Jeremy was peeking out the windows.
He grinned. “Stars are still out.”
She laughed. “Did you expect them to disappear so quickly?”
“They do in London.”
She strolled toward him, drawn to his smile and the warmth she remembered finding in his arms. “You are not in London anymore, my dear sir. You are in the country, where the skies are often clear for hours on end and the soot and fog rarely inconvenience anyone for long. The weather wouldn’t dare be anything but perfect for my sister’s wedding day. Father wouldn’t allow it.”
Jeremy laughed. “You know, your father has your sense of humor.”