was at the heart of them.
She was certainly at the heart of Beldon’s absorption. Beldon, who was normally very adept at dinner conversation, seemed lost in his own thoughts, letting his gaze drift between her and Valerian.
Valerian had apparently used up his quotient of good behaviour the night he’d squired Lady Pentlow. It was clearly not in evidence tonight. Valerian was in one of his blacker moods, not even making an effort to follow the conversation beyond sprinkling it with an occasional pointed comment regarding the risky nature of country banks. ‘Venture capital is all well and good, but let’s call it that instead of calling it “banking”,’Valerian drawled over the last course.
Lucien took offence, which was probably what Valerian had been planning, Philippa thought. ‘Exactly how is it not banking, St Just? We do what any other bank does. We loan money to those who wish it. We hold money for those who wish to deposit sums with us.’
Valerian sipped his wine thoughtfully. ‘With the exception that you invest deposited sums in high-risk ventures without the benefit of safe investments to act as ballast should the risk fail. Frankly, you and I both know there is a significant chance people could not get their money back. It’s why folk of our status bank in London at Childs or Coutts. Don’t you find it telling that certain classes of people are rather limited in the banks they have access to?’
Philippa didn’t like the gleam in Valerian’s eye, but could find no way to intervene without giving the impression she was championing Lucien. For starters, Lucien didn’t need a champion. He could handle himself well enough in a financial conversation. For the rest, she didn’t want to give any impression to Mr Danforth that she’d be willing to invest in his provincial bank.
‘St Just, are you implying that I would deliberately swindle investors by making promises I could not uphold?’ Lucien was all cold ice, piercing Valerian with a stare that said he was merely a comment away from pistols at dawn. Philippa stifled a groan. The Provincial Bank of Truro was about to erupt into scandal and the doors weren’t even open. She shot her brother a quick plea for help, but Beldon was enjoying himself too much.
‘I am suggesting that there is something of a history of short-lived provincial banks, that’s all,’Valerian said easily, his long fingers caressing the stem of his wine goblet. ‘Their limited livelihood comes from the tendency to invest in risky enterprises. Odds are usually against them. It wouldn’t be the first time something went amiss.’
‘It would be for me, Viscount,’ Lucien said evenly. ‘I have yet to invest foolishly. Those who follow my lead reap the profits of their trust. Don’t they, Pendennys?’ He looked down the table to Beldon for confirmation, putting Beldon in a tight spot.
‘That is certainly true, in my experience,’ Beldon acquiesced. But Philippa noticed he didn’t bother to elucidate further on the point. She could tell Lucien was disappointed. She knew Lucien had hoped Beldon would expound on the British-Bolivian mining colony in the Americas that the two of them had invested in. Beldon had sold his shares a few months back, reaping an enormous profit. It was left to Lucien to blow his own horn.
‘Pendennys and I had a lucrative opportunity in Bolivian silver. We took a large sum in the proceeds when we sold. I’d be glad to guide any investments you might consider making as well, St Just. Your man of affairs is welcome to contact my secretary any time,’ Lucien said with cold magnaminity.
He turned to the rest of the table. ‘Since it is just the four of us, I’d like to suggest dispensing with cigars and brandy. It’s been a long day with departing guests and the trip to Veryan. Perhaps, gentlemen, you would enjoy a game of billiards. St Just, if you’d like to play the pianoforte, feel welcome. Make free with my home. I find I have business to discuss with my gracious hostess. If you will excuse us?’
It was all skilfully done and moments later everyone was dispersed, leaving Philippa and Lucien to talk alone in his library.
The meeting was not at all what she was expecting. The last time they’d spoken, Lucien had been angry. Since then, they’d only spoken in the company of others. She’d anticipated a continuation of their former conversation. She’d anticipated an angry, self-righteous Lucien Canton. What she encountered was a very different face.
‘Sherry, my dear?’Lucien solicited from the sideboard, pouring himself one of his special after-dinner wines.
‘No, thank you. I have packing to oversee, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep this short,’ Philippa insisted, taking a seat in a deep-wing backed chair near the fire.
‘I am sorry to hear that. My valet reported you were preparing to leave. I’d hoped you would stay on after everyone had left. We haven’t had much time together this week,’ Lucien said in sincere tones, taking the seat opposite her.
He drew a deep breath and exhaled, relaxing. ‘This is nice, sitting with you by the fire. Two chums, taking their ease together, eh, Philippa?’ He gave a charming smile, looking and acting more like the Lucien she’d known over the past three years than the arrogant man of the last few days. ‘We are still friends, aren’t we?’
‘Of course, Lucien,’ Philippa said quietly. In truth, as upset as she was about Lucien’s behaviour, she could not logically throw out years of steadfast friendship with him over the matter of a few days and events; events she was responsible for. She imagined she might behave quite the same as Lucien had if she’d been in his place. No one liked being usurped in one’s own house and there was no denying that Valerian hadn’t hidden his dislike of Lucien Canton.
Lucien cocked his head to one side, studying her intently. ‘My God, you’re a beautiful woman, Philippa. The shot-blue silk becomes you.’
Philippa blushed. ‘Thank you. But I am sure that isn’t what you called me in here for,’ she prompted gently. She wanted to be in her room, watching the maid pack her things. When she’d returned from Veryan, she thought some of her things had been moved, that her escritoire had been looked through, gently, of course, but still it felt like a violation. The letter she’d written, but never sent to London regarding Valerian was in a different spot than she’d recollected. For an unexplainable reason, the incident felt like more than just negligence on the part of an unobservant maid cleaning the room.
‘Yes, our business.’ Lucien nodded. ‘I need to thank you for acting as hostess. Everything went splendidly, as I knew it would. I had time to talk business with my guests and you took care of the rest.
‘I also need to apologise. I have not looked after our relationship as I should. I was reckless and selfcentered. Such behaviour caused me to jump to poor conclusions.’ Lucien reached for her hand and closed his fingers around hers.
His hand was warm and she thought the gesture was meant to convey reassurance. But she wasn’t reassured at all. She had the distinct feeling they were being watched, and coupled with the fact that Lucien was not a man who would admit to such shortcomings, something was afoot, although she couldn’t put a finger on it.
‘You have nothing to apologise for,’ Philippa offered, hoping quick absolution would end the conversation. But Lucien wasn’t finished.
‘I have everything to apologise for. I didn’t understand how close you and St Just were, that he was your friend as well as your brother’s. I misunderstood your desire to simply spend time with an old friend. He had your time, Philippa, and I didn’t. It made me a bit jealous and jealousy can cloud a man’s judgement, make him see things that aren’t there or put incorrect constructions on what is there. I am guilty of doing that. I spoke harshly to you on New Year’s Day.
