Mrs Sommersby’s Second Chance. Laurie Benson

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Mrs Sommersby’s Second Chance - Laurie Benson Mills & Boon Historical

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as she stood by the fountain and was disappointed when she didn’t see him. Perhaps he had left town already.

      ‘I thought you wanted me to arrange for him to meet my neighbour’s daughter?’

      ‘Well, you’ve said you do not want to marry again. There is no sense in me matching the two of you together. Unless you are open to having an affair with him.’ That mischievous look was back on her lined face, making her appear almost childlike. ‘I can help you with that endeavour if you like. You did bother to look for his name in the book. That has to mean something.’

      ‘That signifies nothing and I am certainly not looking to have an affair,’ Clara replied, not even trying to hide her indignation. ‘And he is much too young for me, regardless.’

      Humphrey padded down between the rose bushes from where he had been by the garden wall. The small dog stopped near one of the pots on the edge of the border that held lavender. He raised himself up on his hind legs and proceeded to thrust himself against the clay pot a number of times, eliciting a laugh from the Dowager.

      ‘Humphrey, no!’ Clara called out to him, while a hot flush crept up her neck. She had to repeat his name a number of times before he stopped and looked over at her with those big brown eyes. She walked over to him and picked him up. When she returned to her chair, she placed his small body on her lap. ‘Please forgive him,’ she said to the Dowager. ‘He has developed a habit of doing that. I suppose I should be grateful he does that only to things and not people, but I don’t know how to get him to stop.’ The dog in question curled into a ball on her lap and lowered his head.

      ‘I’m afraid I cannot help you with his problem. I’ve never owned a dog. Would it help if you walked him some more? Perhaps if you tire him out?’

      ‘I already take him for a long walk every morning and then I walk him at four o’clock along the Crescent and into the park every day. It has done no good.’

      The Dowager smiled up at Clara. ‘I am certain you will work out the best course of action to take. In the meantime,’ she continued, lowering her voice, ‘I need something to keep me occupied while I am here in Bath and playing matchmaker for your neighbour’s daughter sounds like the perfect challenge. Why don’t you join me in helping her find someone special?’

      ‘Harriet is a lovely girl. I doubt it will be a challenge. We just need to separate her from her sister.’

      ‘And hopefully your mystery gentleman from yesterday will still be in town and we can find out if he is a suitable prospect for her.’

      The idea that he could still be in Bath shouldn’t have mattered. He was a stranger she had spoken to for less than thirty minutes—and yet the notion made her smile.

       Chapter Three

      Lane stood in the cellar of the coffee house that he had purchased with his friend and business partner the Earl of Hartwick and looked over at the man in question, who was holding a glass of hot mineral water up to the sunlight that was streaming in through the window.

      ‘When I told you to go to Bath because you might find something that would interest you, I didn’t mean the water,’ Hart said, narrowing his sharp blue eyes and taking a cautionary sniff of his glass.

      ‘I know what you meant.’

      ‘Women, not water. I meant go to Bath to find a woman...or two. I’m not one to judge. But this water...are you certain it is safe to drink?’

      ‘I had a glass of it myself only yesterday and I am here today.’

      Hart peered at Lane over the glass. ‘Yes, but you appear agitated. I have no wish to become agitated.’

      ‘I am agitated because you have yet to tell me if you agree that turning this coffee house into a spa is a wise business decision,’ he replied in a clipped tone.

      ‘People truly do drink this hot water that smells like a pocketful of pennies?’

      ‘The room was full of people paying five pence per glass to drink it.’

      ‘And they go there every day?’

      ‘Some do and drink multiple glasses. And some bathe in the hot thermal water as well.’ Lane dug his hands into the pockets of his green-linen coat. ‘How is it that you were the one to tell me to go to Bath and yet you know nothing about the hot springs or the Grand Pump Room?’

      Hart arched his brow. ‘In the seven years that you have known me, do I truly look like a person who would bathe with strange old men in ancient pools or drink water that appears to have been boiled with currency?’

      ‘Well, no, not really.’ Lane shifted in his stance.

      ‘Then what makes you believe I know anything about the water here?’

      Lane had been introduced to Hart by Lord Boundbrooke, who was on the board of the Foundling Hospital and had helped secure Lane’s apprenticeship at a bank when he left the Hospital. In the years following, he had kept his eye on Lane and had told him that he thought both Lane and Hart would benefit from a friendship with each other. He was right. In Hart, he had found a rare aristocrat who didn’t care that Lane did not come from a family of consequence or that he didn’t even know what family he came from at all. But even though he was very fond of the man, there were times Hart could try his patience.

      ‘You must know of the reputation of the town, Hart, and you’ve seen the numerous visitors that come here by the thousands because of water such as that.’

      Hart brushed a lock of his black hair out of his eyes. ‘Do I really have to drink this?’

      ‘Not if you don’t want to.’

      ‘What I’d prefer is a nice glass of brandy somewhere where we can discuss this further.’

      Lane motioned to the white-skirted table with two chairs that was tucked against the stone wall and Hart followed. He broke out into a broad grin when Lane reached under the table and produced a bottle of brandy and two glasses.

      ‘You knew I wouldn’t drink the water.’

      ‘I suspected as much and, even if you had, you would need this to wash the taste out of your mouth.’

      ‘If that water is so vile, why are all these people drinking it?’

      ‘Because they firmly believe that that water is going to cure all their ailments.’

      ‘And, do you believe that?’

      ‘I am keeping myself open to the possibility.’

      Hart poured himself some brandy. ‘Then why not just operate a place for people to come to drink the water? Why do we need to purchase the hotel as well?’

      ‘If we don’t offer bathing as well, it might not be enough of an incentive to draw people here. They could very well continue to go to the spas where they can have a drink and bathe. And, more importantly, there is more money to be made from people bathing in the water. Look here.’ He took out a paper with his financial calculations from his pocket and laid

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