Andrew’s jaw tightened. I’d love to meet up with the fiends who did this. “How long before the repairs are completed?”
“At least eight weeks, Mr. Stanton.”
Damn it to hell and back. That meant another two months of workmen’s wages to be paid, two more months of paying for storage for the museum’s artifacts, to say nothing of the two-month delay in opening the museum. Or the exorbitant cost of the materials. He knew exactly how much the windows, walls, and floors had cost the first time around.
“Any word from the investors?” Andrew asked.
Simon winced. “I’m afraid bad news travels quickly. Mr. Carmichael and Lords Borthrasher and Kingsly, as well as Mrs. Warrenfield, sent ‘round notes requesting to see you today. The letters were rather tersely worded, I’m afraid. They await you on your desk.”
Andrew banked his anger and forced himself to concentrate on the matters at hand. Obviously, Mrs. Warrenfield, Mr. Carmichael, and Lords Borthrasher and Kingsly were no longer taking the waters in Little Longstone and had returned to London. Lord Borthrasher had already made a sizable investment to which he was considering adding a significant sum, while the other three had been on the verge of handing over funds. The museum’s success depended upon actually securing those monies…
“Answer the letters, Simon, inviting the investors to meet me here at five this evening.”
“Do you think it’s wise to let them see this?”
“Yes. If we don’t invite them, they will come here on their own anyway, and that will reflect badly on us. They need to know precisely what happened and what steps we’re taking toward repairs and ensuring this does not happen again. We don’t want them to think we’re trying to hide something. Investors who feel as if they are not being told the entire truth can become very nervous, and nervous investors are not something I care to heap upon the mess we’re already facing.”
“I’ll send the notes off right away, Mr. Stanton.” Simon turned, then headed toward the small office tucked away in the far corner of the room.
Andrew blew out a long bream, then removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. There was much work to be done, and by God, he wanted some of it completed by the time he sat down to write to Philip about this.
Catherine paced in front of Genevieve, her peach muslin gown swirling about her ankles every time she turned in the confines of her friend’s cozy drawing room. “I’m glad he’s gone,” she said, proud of the decisive ring in her voice.
“So you’ve said,” Genevieve murmured. “Three times in the past hour alone.”
“Well, only to reiterate my point.”
“Which is what precisely?”
“That I’m glad he’s gone.”
“Yes, that is, er, evident. However, you do realize that Mr. Stanton will be returning to Little Longstone. Tomorrow.”
Catherine waved aside the comment. “Yes, but by then I’ll have everything once again settled into perspective. I’m certain my chat with you will clear up all my… confusion. Then, he’ll be here for only a few more days, and poof!” She snapped her fingers. “Back to London he’ll go.”
“A prospect that makes you happy?”
“Deliriously happy,” Catherine agreed. “Then Spencer and I can resume our routine without interruption.”
When Genevieve made no reply, Catherine glanced toward the settee. The expression of utter disbelief on her friend’s face caused her footsteps to falter, and she halted. “What?”
“Catherine, has it not occurred to you that the ‘interruption’ Mr. Stanton has brought to your routine is a good thing?” Before Catherine could reply, Genevieve continued, “From everything you’ve told me, the man is divine. Naturally he’s irritating at times, but as I’ve told you, all men are. However, all men are not the other things your Mr. Stanton is-handsome, strong, romantic, thoughtful. An accomplished and generous lover.”
Heat rose in Catherine’s cheeks, and Genevieve laughed. “Yes, I can tell that without your divulging any specific details, darling. The look of a well-loved woman is written all over you.”
“I never said he wasn’t all those things,” Catherine said. “But-”
“And the friendship he’s taken the time to forge with your son is clearly bolstering Spencer’s confidence. Surely that must please you.”
“In one way, yes, but it also represents another source of concern. I fear Spencer stands to be devastated when Andrew returns to London for good.”
“And what about you, Catherine?” Genevieve asked gently, her blue eyes soft with concern. “Do you, too, stand to be devastated?”
“Certainly not,” Catherine said, but somehow the words badly affected her knees to the point that she sought refuge in the wing chair opposite Genevieve. Once seated, she continued, “Today’s Modern Woman is not devastated by the end of an affair.”
“Darling, any woman would be devastated by the end of an affair if she cared deeply for her lover. I know firsthand of such heartbreaking pain, and trust me, I would not wish it upon anyone.”
“Well, I run no risk of that as I do not care ‘deeply’ for Andrew.”
“Really?”
Catherine laughed lightly. “I don’t mean to imply that I don’t care for him at all. ‘Tis just that I barely know him. I’ll readily admit that I desire him; however, deeper feelings that could leave one ’devastated‘ only develop over long periods of time. And most often between people who share common interests and backgrounds.”
Genevieve nodded. “Naturally a lady of your noble lineage would share few common interests with a man of Mr. Stanton’s background. Why, he’s a commoner! Even worse, a colonial commoner.”
“Precisely,”Catherine said, although Genevieve’s ready agreement and true words irked.
“ ‘Tis a blessing that your attraction to Mr. Stanton is merely physical and that his departure for London at week’s end will not affect you adversely in the slightest.”
“A blessing indeed.”
An exasperated sound escaped Genevieve. “Catherine, what I am about to say, I say out of love, friendship, and loyalty to you.” Leaning forward, she pinned Catherine with an emotion-filled stare. “I have never, in my entire life, been forced to endure listening to a more ridiculous pile of rubbish. I’m utterly flabbergasted that I heard such idiotic notions coming from you, of all people. Not to mention lies.”
Dismay, edged with stunned amazement, not to mention a dose of hurt, flooded Catherine. “I would not lie to you, Genevieve.”
“It’s not me, but yourself that you’re lying to, my dear. You may say ‘I’m glad he’s gone’ and ‘I’m only engaging in a temporary affair’ as many times as you wish, but even a million utterances will not make those words true. You’re certainly not convincing me, and I think, if you took the time to examine your own heart, you’d realize that you can’t convince yourself, either. No matter how hard we try to wish away our heart’s desire, we cannot. We may choose not to act upon it, but we cannot ever fully wish it away.”
Catherine opened her mouth to reply, but before she could utter a word, Genevieve pressed on. “Even if we assume for one insane moment that your feelings for Mr. Stanton fall into the lukewarm category, have you given any thought at all to his feelings for you? Because I assure you, they are anything but lukewarm.”
Genevieve’s words threatened to bring to the foreground emotions Catherine refused to examine. “I realize he cares for me, but he agreed that when the week is over, our affair ends as well.”
There was no missing the combination of concern and annoyance emanating from Genevieve’s eyes. “Darling, he more than cares for you. I could see it plainly at the duke’s soiree. The way he looked at you when he knew himself observed, and even more telling, the way he looked at you when he believed himself unobserved…”She breathed out a long, shivery sigh. “My God. The passion, the want, the emotion in his eyes was blatant. Watching him look at you, waltz with you, I felt as if I’d walked in on an intimate tкte-а-tкte. You are sadly mistaken if you believe that man will simply vanish from your life in a week’s time.”