“Fine,” the Earl finally acquiesced. “We’ll have dinner with the duke. But if he says one wrong word, and you see me stand up from that dinner table, we are leaving.”
“Of course, we are,” his wife nodded obediently.
Jane, however, refused to. She did not agree with any of this. She believed that there was no good reason on earth that they should be having dinner with that man who, among other things, thought it was a good idea to play with her emotions and pretend that he was interested in her while all the time, the only thing he was interested in was to cause more misery to her family. That was something she could not forgive nor had any intention to.
“Then, we are all in agreement,” the Countess said in a satisfied manner. “You shall send a reply immediately, darling,” she urged her husband.
“Immediately…” he grumbled, glancing one more time at his newspapers. Then, he got up demonstratively as he always did, assuring that his was the last word being spoken. “One wrong word,” he repeated with his index finger lifted importantly in the air, “and we are leaving that place immediately.”
“Immediately,” his wife echoed with another nod.
With those words, the Earl stormed out of the dining room, not even bothering to close the door behind him. Jane gave her mother a look underneath her knitted eyebrows.
“Do not look at me like that, my dear,” her mother pointed out, taking a napkin and pressing it softly against the corners of her lips, more in an effort to busy her hands with something than to actually clean herself. “We have to think of our financial future, and by that, I mean your dowry.”
“My dowry?” Jane gasped. She had to admit that she hadn’t considered that although the truth was staring at her right in the face.
“Yes,” her mother nodded, taking a cup of tea in her hand and bringing it to her lips for a sip. “We have no money. You are to get married soon, and we cannot afford a dowry which would assure that you are well cared for.”
Jane wanted to remind her mother that perhaps she might meet a good man, a kind man who would see past her family’s poor financial state and wish to marry her, nonetheless, but she bit her lip before saying it. This was a conversation she did not wish to get involved in right now when she had other concerns on her mind.
“It is just a dinner,” her mother reminded her as if she somehow had the magical abilities to read her daughter’s mind. Then again, perhaps all mothers were blessed with this. “What harm could come of it?”
CHAPTER2
Leonard Ridlington, the Duke of Dunton wished to look particularly good that evening although he could not for the life of him explain why. It was a business dinner, essentially. Although, the present parties would be far more than mere business acquaintances.
He looked at himself in the mirror, wondering if the dark gray trousers and jacket he had chosen for this evening would convey the image that he needed to convey. As he adjusted his cravat for the fifth time, he tried to go over the monologue he had in his mind. To be quite honest, it changed every time he tried to repeat it. Sometimes, it seemed too harsh as if he were forcing them into this. At other times, it seemed too mild as if he were pleading with them to agree and that they would be doinghima favor instead of it being the other way around.
He sighed heavily, leaving the cravat. It would have to do as it was. His steel blue eyes inspected his own reflection in the mirror. He wasn’t as pleased as he expected to be. He tried to convince himself that it was not the result of any nerves. Why would he be nervous? This was all his doing. He was the organizer. He would be the one with the business proposition. He was the one doing a favor for them if only they were smart enough to see it.
He never considered himself a particularly handsome man although his tall, lean build and his chiseled muscles said otherwise. His chin was strong, according to some even arrogant. He had inherited that trait from his father, but he tried not to let it surface too often. Still, he knew that he needed to show his teeth when it came to the business world because it was too cutthroat. They would eat him up alive if he showed them that he had a soft side to him as well. That was why his arrogance and self-confidence always took the lead, and this evening would be no different.
Fortunately, a knock on the door interrupted his train of thought, bringing him back to present moment.
“Yes?” he called out. He doubted that the guests had already arrived. There was at least an hour and a half left before the time they had agreed upon.
The door opened, and his mother let herself in. Her gown trailed behind her like a thin, velvety tail of a mermaid. As a child, he always thought his mother was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Effervescent and sparkling, she was the lift of every conversation she took part in. That was what everyone loved about her. She always knew what to talk about and always made sure that no one felt left out.
As years went by, her beauty did not fade. On the contrary, it took on a more mature look, like fine wine ripening in the cellar, just waiting for the right moment to be opened. Her face was devoid of any make up. There was just a slight dab of red on her still full lips.
Once, a long time ago, he caught her dipping blueberries on her lips, as she sat at her vanity table. He approached her, mesmerized by what she was doing. When she caught his reflection in the mirror, she immediately turned to him, and explained that she liked the color that blueberries left on her lips, and it was much better than any rouge she might purchase. She then proceeded to finish the process, and he had to admit that he had never seen her lips look more beautiful.
“Are you certain that this is a good idea?”
She came straight to the point which was a trait he loved about his mother. If she had something important to discuss or some relevant question to ask, she would not circle around it. She would immediately ask or say what was on her mind, not wishing to waste anyone’s valuable time.
“To tell you the truth, not really,” he said with a sigh, staring at her in the mirror. “I don’t know if this is what Father would want.”
“Your Father’s wishes, God rest his soul, do not matter any longer,” she said matter-of-factly, not as a result of any lack of love for her deceased husband but simply because life was for the living, not for the dead. “The brewery is yours. Whatever business decisions you make are solely your own, no one else’s.”
“I know,” he nodded, finally turning around. “But I also know that Father hated the Earl of Reeves. That is why they went their own separate ways.”
“He didn’t hate him,” his mother corrected him as she took a seat on the nearest chair, her back straight and her bejeweled fingers resting in her lap. “They started off as the best of friends. To tell you honestly, I thought it was one of those friendships that would last a lifetime.”
“You were wrong,” he pointed out although politely.
She smiled somewhat sadly. “I was, Leo.” There was melancholy in her voice, a longing for the olden days which would never return.