Tom: To Secure His Legacy (Other Pens, Mansfield Park Book 4) Read online

  Robert chuckled and clapped Tom on the shoulder before taking a place leaning against the edge of a small cabinet. “She is good at it. However…”

  Tom looked between glaring sister and taunting brother. “I should like to have her help me.”

  “She is demanding,” Robert cautioned.

  “I have already discovered that,” Tom replied with a grin. “I assure you that I have been thoroughly interrogated as to the sort of friend I am and my purpose in seeking help.”

  Miss Eldridge gasped and touched each of her fingers on her right hand on the thumb of that hand as if counting as Robert laughed. She gave a further huff.

  “I would not call a handful of questions a thorough interrogation.”

  Her protest caused her brother to laugh harder.

  “I cannot just trust my identity to anyone!” she cried in a louder voice. “It is bad enough that I, as a lady of means, am in this establishment, but to be here dressed as I am?” She stood and waved her hand down her person.

  Bless Robert for having crossed the room before he infuriated his sister further so that she would have to turn toward him and away from Tom. Her back was as lovely as her front, especially since she was wearing breeches that fit exceptionally well. Not a curve was hidden by that article of clothing. The jacket, that bothersome mass of cloth, was not so obliging in revealing the feminine form beneath it.

  “Yes, yes,” Robert said, calming some. “I know. You have already lectured me on that in the carriage.” He bent to look around his sister. “She is put out with me over my thoughtless extravagances. She does not believe that cockfights and horse races are good uses of funds.”

  “Because they are not!” Miss Eldridge snapped.

  “I was about to agree,” Robert retorted. “Why must you always think I am going to disagree with you?”

  Miss Eldridge shrugged and unfortunately took a seat. “Because you usually do.” Her reply was soft, and to Tom, it seemed as if there was some pain in the admission.

  “Only because you drive me to distraction,” Robert’s reply was soothing. Apparently, he also recognized that his sister was not merely angry. “And before you say it, I know I drive you to distraction as well.”

  “You do.” Her lips curled upward in a small smile.

  “But you love me anyway, just as I love you.” Robert winked at her.

  “It might be too soon to remind me of my love for you.”

  Robert laughed. “Very well. I shall refrain from saying anything similar until we are in the carriage?”

  She shook her head.

  “Home?” Robert adjusted.

  She shrugged. “That depends on what Mr. Clarke’s reports look like.” She reached forward and drew a paper towards herself with a “May I?” for Mr. Clarke.

  The man readily acceded.

  “These are very good numbers,” she said after a quick perusal of the paper. “Do you have any investments in mind?” she asked Tom.

  He shook his head. “I have been attempting to learn how this all works, and my friend Mr. Durward has suggested some ventures about which he knows.”

  “Is he conservative?” Her question was asked eagerly as if she were truly interested.

  “Excessively.”

  “And trustworthy? Is he trustworthy?”

  Tom smiled. There was no one as trustworthy as his friend Gabriel Durward. “He could not come with me today because he is at home recovering from injuries sustained while proving himself trustworthy to the lady whom he will soon call his wife.”

  “He is marrying!” Mr. Clarke interjected.

  Tom nodded. “He was accepted just this morning.”

  “He will be wishing to make some changes to his investments, I would assume,” Mr. Clark scratched down a note. “One cannot afford to be too daring when he has a wife to consider.” He looked up at Miss Eldridge. “Not that Mr. Durward is daring. He is conservative, but he is aggressive. That might need to be tempered a wee mite.”

  “He was injured?” Miss Eldridge questioned.

  Tom nodded. “He nearly died.”

  Her lovely blue eyes grew wide.

  “It is a long story, but if you were to help me, I am certain we would have the time at some point for me to tell you the tale.”

  Her eyes sparkled, and her lips pursed, surprising Tom. There was a bit of her teasing brother in her after all. “If I am to help you, I expect to be focused on our task, Mr. Bertram.”

  “I would have it no other way, but mightn’t there be time to have a cup of tea between lectures?”

  She smiled. “A cup of coffee or chocolate might be more tempting.” She lifted her cup to her lips.

  “Whichever you wish.”

  She closed her eyes as she savoured the sip of coffee she had just taken. Tom swallowed along with her. She was delectably tempting. It was no wonder Robert had never introduced her to any of his friends.

  “Will you help me?”

  Her eyes opened. “I suppose I shall.”

  “We will call on you tomorrow,” Robert said.

  Tom nodded his understanding of the raised brow which accompanied the statement. He would have to attempt to keep his admiration of Robert’s sister less obvious. However, he was not entirely certain it was possible.

  Chapter 4

  Faith and Robert followed the butler up the stairs to the first floor of Mr. Bertram’s town house and then down a short hall to a small study just off a drawing room decorated in shades of green and cream. If it would not have been rude, Faith would have stopped at the door to the drawing room and taken in the design. Green was one of her favourite colours. However, as she was not on a tour but rather here on business, she did not stop at the drawing-room door. Instead, she entered the study behind her brother and allowed her eyes to take in its dark wood panelling and fittings.

  “Welcome.” Mr. Bertram rose from where he sat behind a large desk, which, Faith noticed, was very tidy. There was a lamp on one corner with an inkwell and pen near it, and, to the left, a stack of two books in front of the lamp with a third open book, over which Mr. Bertram must have been poring.

  “I was attempting to decide where we should begin.” He pulled one of the chairs that stood in front of the desk around and behind the piece of furniture so that it was next to his and to his right. “Miss Eldridge.” He motioned to his large leather chair.

  “You wish for me to sit there?” In his seat? Where the master of the house should sit? It seemed wrong.

  “You are the teacher,” he said with one of his charming smiles that caused her to want to sigh.

  She lifted her chin and scolded herself. She was not here to admire Mr. Bertram. “I could sit on –” Or perhaps, not. Tom had dropped into the chair he had just placed behind his desk.

  “I insist.” He motioned once more to his large leather chair. “Will you be joining us, Eldridge? Or would you rather take your ease in the drawing room?”

  It was then, as she was just about to take her place at the desk, that Faith noticed the door which led from the study to the green drawing room they had passed. “May I look at it?”

  “The drawing room?” Tom asked in surprise.

  Faith nodded. “I know it is forward to ask. However, we passed it on our way here, and the glimpse I got of it was so lovely. Oh, no! You do not need to rise,” she added as Tom reached for his cane. “I will just peek in the door to satisfy my curiosity.”

  Tom waved his hand toward the door. “We can take some tea in there later if you wish. I was just going to have it brought in here, but the drawing room would be more comfortable.”

  “There is even a table for it,” Faith replied, turning back toward Mr. Bertram. “It would be perfect. It is very well decorated,” she added as she returned to that formidable chair behind the desk.

  “I cannot take credit for any of that. I believe my mother was the one who chose the décor.”

  “You do not know?” How did one not know if one’s mother had or
had not decorated a room? Faith knew precisely which pieces had been placed where by her mother and what fittings had been purchased by whom and when.

  Tom shook his head. “I do not.”

  “How?” Faith flopped back in her chair.

  Robert chuckled. “Gentlemen are not so interested in paint and fabric as you are, Faith.” He had taken a book from one of the shelves that lined the wall behind the desk and was making his way to a chair in a small alcove which looked absolutely perfect for curling up in for a long read.

  “But surely Mr. Bertram would have noticed some activity. Decorating or, more likely redecorating, causes a fair bit of disturbance.”

  “If he were not here when it was done, then he might not notice,” Robert argued.

  Faith scowled at her brother before turning to Mr. Bertram. “Were you here when it was being decorated?”

  Tom shook his head. “For me, it has always looked as it does now save for a few pieces that have been shifted or a new painting that was hung or the like.” He was smiling as he watched her.

  She blushed. “Well, that is acceptable then.”

  “I am glad to hear it.”

  “Tell me what this ledger is.” She would much rather his eyes be on his books than on her. She did not enjoy the prickly feeling it sent up her spine. It was not at all comfortable or conducive to wishing to add up sums and consider percents.

  Mr. Bertram shifted closer to her so that he could see the book which lay open on the desk. The action did not make that distracting tingling sensation go away. If anything, it made it worse. She gave herself a mental shake and pulled her mind away from the handsome gentleman beside her – or, at least, she tried to. He was, after all, going to remain at her side, and she must converse with him. Ignoring him would not do. She must just ignore how attractive he was.

  “This is the book that shows the amount of my brother’s inheritance which was lost – no, not lost,” Mr. Bertram corrected, “squandered.”

  There was a bitter edge to his words that tugged at Faith’s heart. It seemed he was truly repentant for having wasted his funds. She had heard that same tone in Robert’s voice when trying to reconcile accounts.

  “And the other books?”

  “Those are household accounts. I thought I should have them at the ready in case you suggested retrenching.”

  She tipped her head and studied the covers of the closed books. He was not only repentant but also determined to recoup his losses. Retrenching was not something that came easily for many. “Have you done any retrenching already?” she asked. “It is an excellent way to earn money without risk.”

  “I stay home more often than is my normal wont and have not purchased any new suits of clothes since the season began.”

  “That is commendable.” She peeked at her brother, who seemed to sense her look and shifted uncomfortably. “Doing without a few items now will make for a brighter future. Oh, my! That is a substantial amount, is it not?” She queried after having taken a look at the book before her.

  “It is,” Tom agreed as he pulled two sheets of paper out from under the household account books on the desk. “This is a list of investments my father has made and over which he has given me control.”

  Faith scanned the items. “These seem very good. I am not certain they could be made much better without posing too much risk.” She shook her head. “You cannot afford to take too great a risk with this much of a debt that needs repayment, for you do not wish for it to grow. Do you have any additional funds that are not already invested? Something that would cause little inconvenience if lost or diminished?”

  Tom pulled the bottom page from her hands and pointed at a figure. “That is money which is liquid.” He smiled sheepishly at her. “I sold a few things, and there was some money that my father was able to give me for this venture. He is quite happy that I am finally attempting to take responsibility for Mansfield and its holdings.”

  “You sold things to do this?” That was a very noble gesture. Again, she peeked at her brother.

  “I did.”

  “I think I will have an easier time of reading in the drawing room,” Robert said, pushing up from his place. “There is too much talking and too many pointed glares in here.”

  Tom chuckled. “I take it that your brother has not yet come to the point of retrenching?”

  Faith shook her head and smiled. “He has not, but I have.”

  “You?” Mr. Bertram’s asked incredulously. “But is it not your brother’s doing which has caused his troubles?”

  “Yes.” Faith sighed. “However, if I wish for my money to still be intact when it is needed, it is best if I forego a dress or a pair of slippers on occasion.” She lowered her voice. “Robert goes without a few things as well. He just does not know it.”

  Again, Tom chuckled. “Such as?”

  “Our cook is excellent, and so is Robert’s valet. Both can create the appearance of finery with a little less than some might need.”

  “And your brother has no idea you are doing this?”

  “To be fair, I did tell him that if he did not find a way to retrench on his own, I would assist him.”

  “But he has no idea you are assisting?”

  Faith shrugged. “Not yet. I suppose when we review the accounts next week, I will be forced to admit to some of it. However, I hope that by being slightly devious, I can show him that retrenching is not as difficult or painful as he might think it is going to be. The thought of doing without something to which you have grown accustomed can be a frightening thing.”

  And it smacked of failure. She knew that Robert felt as if he had failed. He did not say it, but she could see it in his features when she refused to go shopping as he suggested or declined an invitation to some soiree that might require a small expenditure of money.

  “We are not destitute or anywhere near it,” she added. “I am just cautious, and one day, I assume he will marry.”

  “A family is a heavy responsibility,” Tom agreed softly.

  “Do not tell him I said anything. He would be embarrassed.”

  Tom shook his head. “I would not dream of embarrassing him. He has been a good friend.” He paused and looked away toward the drawing room and then back at her. “I must ask you a question regarding him.”

  Tom looked again at the drawing-room door. “I am attempting to change my ways –”

  “As is Robert – even if he is not doing so as willingly as I would wish. Father’s death.” She sighed and then drew a breath. It had been a year, and yet it was difficult to speak of it.

  “I understand.”

  Faith looked up from studying her hands.

  “I nearly died.” He covered her clasped hands with his. “Death is a good soberer of the self-indulgent. I am sorry that your father died.”

  Faith pulled one hand free from his and brushed a wayward tear from her cheek. “I suppose we should discuss what sorts of investments might interest you.”

  “An excellent idea.” With a questioning look, he withdrew his hand from covering hers.

  “Thank you,” Faith whispered. “For understanding and your condolences. I just cannot speak about it.”

  The replying smile he gave her before taking another sheet of paper out of his desk was understanding. It was enough to make her wish to sigh again. She pulled herself straight and accepted the paper he handed her.

  “I would like to begin with this,” he said. “My friend, Mr. Durward, is looking for partners.”

  Chapter 5

  Two days later, Tom settled into a chair in Gabe’s study. The surgeon and Gabe’s mother could confine Gabe to his house, but they were unable to keep him from work. Tom knew that if his friend had his way, Gabe would be at the warehouse watching over the things that still were part of his business there. However, that warehouse was a business which was not going to remain a part of Gabe’s life.

  Things were changing. Gabe would soon have a wife and, after that, likely children.
Added to those changes was the fact that Gabe preferred to be his own man and work with integrity, which was something he did not feel was entirely possible in his current situation.

  “What has our friend’s face so twisted?” Tom whispered to Mr. Waller who was sitting silently in front of Gabe’s desk.

  “My face is not twisted,” Gabe said without lifting his eyes from his papers. “I am making a few last calculations about my future.” He lifted his eyes to look at Tom. “Or rather, our future?” he asked hopefully.

  Tom shrugged. “My financial advisor seems to think your scheme is worthy of my funds as long as they are funds which can be lost without further damaging my estate.”

  With a pleased smile, Gabe returned his attention to his papers.

  “A conservative fellow, is he?” Waller asked.

  The image of deep blue eyes, sunset blonde hair, and pleasant curves caused Tom to smile as he shook his head. “Conservative, yes. A fellow, no.”

  Gabe’s head popped up from his work. “The expert Clarke mentioned is female?”

  “Very.”

  Temptingly female. Distractingly female. Female enough for Tom to wish he had not declared his old self a thing of the past for he would dearly love to steal a kiss or more from Miss Eldridge. However, he had declared his old self gone, and with it, he had packed away his old actions. Therefore, he would have to endure the alluring femininity of his tutor and refrain from pressing matters any further than friendship – and a possible dance or two at a ball, should they ever meet at such an event.

  He tipped his head and looked past Gabe. He could, perhaps, offer to take her for a drive through the park. They could discuss business while driving as easily as they could in a study or drawing room – as they had done yesterday at the Eldridge’s home.

  He brought his focus back to his companions when Waller nudged his arm. Both Waller and Gabe were looking at him as if he should have some sort of response for them. For the life of him, he had no idea what they had asked. He had not even been aware that they were speaking. Miss Eldridge was a distraction even when she was not present.