Drew grunted.
“Do not let Lord Andrew make you feel unwelcome.” Mrs. Dart’s neatly gloved hand shot out and patted his brother’s shoulder. There was a pearl button just at the wrist, holding it closed, a solitary concession to vanity in her otherwise drab ensemble. Drab? No. Rather, call it perfectly practical. He’d never thought her gownsdrabbefore. That damn pink gown had ruined something inside him. No matter. Time and an abundance of gray skirts would put it all to rights.
“I am glad to have your company, Lord Atlas,” Mrs. Dart said. “You have helped pass the hours in many diverting ways.”
“Many pointless ways.” Drew stretched his aching legs out until they sliced between Atlas’s leg and Mrs. Dart’s skirts. A nice little wall, separating, dividing, conquering. “We’ve not discussed anything of importance.”
“Do not whine,” Mrs. Dart said. “It’s unbecoming of a grown man.”
“I’m not—” Drew cleared his throat and looked out the window. What he’d been about to say, even to his own ears, had sounded damn near close to a whine. The edges of London rolled by, the houses and buildings far apart but growing closer together as they traveled onward. “Let us be serious now. We have two goals in London. The first is to visit townhouses and choose one for the agency. The second is to find Atlas an artisan.” He pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it openthen closed, needing only a moment to glimpse the time before slipping the watch back into his pocket. “We will need to meet the property agent soon, so townhouse business first. But we should have enough time to drop you off at the Waneborough Charitable School of Art, Atlas.”
Atlas saluted him. “Yes, sir.” A military bark.
Drew pursed his lips and turned to his secretary. “Mrs. Dart, have you had time to consider the list I gave you?”
“No.” Not quite a military bark but just as sharp.
“And why not?”
“Because that list is not my business.”
“What list?” Atlas asked.
“It is too your business.” Drew sat up straight, though it meant having to retract his legs from between his brother and his secretary.
“What list?” Atlas asked again.
“You pay me,” Mrs. Dart said, “to assist you in a professional capacity, and that list is quite, quite personal. Thus, it is outside of my realm of duties.”
“Personal?” Drew almost rolled his eyes. But he did not. He kept his tone moderate as well. No reason to give into the frustrated heat rising within him. “It’s entirely a business matter. There is nothing personal about it.”
“It’s a list of marriage candidates!” Mrs. Dart’s voice exploded, and it heralded a buzzing silence into the coach.
First pink. Now explosions?
Drew removed his glasses, then pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and used it to wipe the lenses clean, focusing on the task as he said, “What has gotten into you, Mrs. Dart?”
Her jaw twitched and her lips thinned, and she tossed her gaze out the window.
“You’re getting married?” Atlas whistled. “Never would have thought. But what’s this about it being a business matter? Youtold Raph you were good with funds. If you need money, Drew, the painting?—”
“No. I don’t want the painting. I want a marriage of convenience with a wealthy woman of my choosing.”
Atlas held up his hands, palms flat toward his brother. “Do as you wish, brother. I won’t stop you. I won’t agree with you, but I won’t stop you. Not that I could. You’ve always gone your own way.” Just so. At least it was Atlas finding out so soon. Raph would have tried to stop him. Wouldn’t have been able to, but he’d have tried. “When did you plan to tell us?” Atlas asked.
Us. The family.
“After I’d secured the woman’s hand in marriage. Should take no longer than a month.” Drew glanced at Mrs. Dart. She remained unaccountably silent. “It would take a shorter length of time, Mrs. Dart, if you offered your opinions on the ladies.”
“I offer no opinion on any lady.” Each word sounded clipped, and not in an efficient sort of way. What had gotten into her? Perhaps she suffered the effects of yesterday’s indulgences more than she let on.
“Do you need the coach to slow it’s pace?” he asked.
She blinked. “No. Whyever would I—” She shook her head. “I will help you with every aspect of the expansion but one. Let us focus on the townhouses, Lord Andrew.”
“Is it the paper I wrote the list on? It was filthy. Is that why you refuse to consider the names I wrote there? If so, do not worry. I threw it in the fire at the pub and drew up a clean one before sleeping last night.”
“It’s not the paper. Leave it be. How many properties are we touring today?”
