“It’s human to feel hurt,” Angelica said softly. “Even if you wish others didn’t have the power to hurt you.”
How hehatedthat his father still wielded that much power over his life.
The man had never known him. Jonathan had been disavowed whilst still in the womb. His birth, proof of failure. The reason he had lost his mother, on a day just like today.
“That’s why I don’t like Christmas,” he said, his words thick. “There’s naught to celebrate.”
Not yet, anyway. The day he was finally richer and more successful than his father, he would raise his fist to the sky in satisfaction.
Until then, he would just keep moving.
Chapter 11
The next morning, Jonathan did not go straight to Angelica’s jeweler’s shop, as had become their delightful custom. Just as he was tying his cravat, a handsome coach-and-four bearing an extravagant family crest pulled to a halt in front of the cottage.
The Duke of Nottingvale had arrived. The English aristocrat whose public endorsement would ensure Fit for a Duke’s commercial success. The wealthy nob whose initial investment into the fledgling company would finance materials, wages, tens of thousands of catalogues, and operating expenses for up to a full year. The influential man whose popularity and handsomeness was the bedrock upon which Jonathan’s bright future rested.
He had never been more disappointed to see a carriage in his life.
Nottingvale’s arrival precipitated Jonathan’s departure. Once the presentation was over and the contract signed, it would be time to move on.
Even if it hadn’t been for his visceral aversion to Christmas, which was two days hence, Jonathan’s place was on the road.
Nottingvale’s contributions were his name and his money. Calvin’s contribution was his genius with fashion. Jonathan’s contributions were his feet and his mouth. He was to spread the word far and wide. The sooner he started, the quicker the path to success.
Of course, all that would happen once Calvin arrived. He had Jonathan’s sketches for the catalogue as well as prototypes of the latest designs.
The duke would be eager to move forward with the plans. The idea was excellent and Calvin’s artistry undeniable. Nottingvale wasluckyto be considered as a founding investor. The duke was no fool.
Jonathan might be.
He should be preparing for what might be the most pivotal meeting of his life, not mooning out of the window because he’d rather be reading geology texts aloud on a hard wooden stool at Angelica’s counter than making small talk in a duke’s sumptuous parlor.
Nottingvale’s retinue was breathtakingly efficient. In no time at all, the duke’s trunks were carried inside, the duke himself trimmed and cleaned and starched, and Jonathan trundled into the dining room to join him for nuncheon.
He’d forgotten about the dining room. For the past fortnight, he’d taken almost every meal with Angelica.
The duke’s dining room could seat two dozen. It seemed improbably big and impossibly lonely. Perhaps that was the real reason Nottingvale hosted an annual party. He couldn’t bear sitting at the head of that enormous mahogany table all alone.
That was the best part about not having a home, Jonathan decided. One never had to confront one’s loneliness.
Just when he began to despair of Calvin ever arriving, a significantly less grand carriage pulled up before the cottage, and the most talented tailor in the world leapt out.
“We’ll have to be quick,” said the duke. “Guests could arrive at any moment.”
“Of course,” Jonathan said. “We just need a moment.”
A moment in which there would be no rehearsing, which was bound to worry nervous Calvin. There would also be no time to sort through the sketches and paint the best ones to look like fashion plates. Nottingvale would have to use his imagination—or trust in theirs.
Jonathan met Calvin at the door and ushered him into the parlor, where they worked quickly to set up Calvin’s life-sized manikin with the latest fashions Calvin had designed. Jonathan’s dream of making his fortune on his own was finally within his grasp. Without his father’s coin. Only then would he be able to think about making a home.
The presentationalmostwent off without a hitch, except for the part where the duke’s sister crashed the meeting, which only caused the duke to even more stubbornly insist in taking part in the venture. He agreed to Angelica’s involvement at once, as well as to only using suppliers with no involvement in the slave trade, even if it meant higher prices for materials like cotton.
“The designs are magnificent. Let’s start production on the catalogues.” The duke turned to Jonathan. “How soon can you start putting them into people’s hands?”
“Tomorrow,” Jonathan said automatically. He could have saidtoday, but he wasn’t leaving Cressmouth without seeing Angelica one last time.
The duke laughed. “Even if I poach the castle’s printing press, tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I doubt we can start production in earnest until Twelfth Night. You’re not leaving before then, are you?”
