Mrs Sommersby’s Second Chance. Laurie Benson
convert it into a spa. The hot spring was running under their property for a reason. Lane had discovered it for a reason. And that reason was to make money.
After Lyonsdale left, Hart seemed to have taken the news much better than Lane. ‘Do not look as if the world is crashing down on you, Lane. You always take these things too much to heart.’
Lane’s reputation and the success of his business ventures were what kept him acceptable in the eyes of certain members of Society. Hart would never understand the prejudices he faced as an orphan with no family connections at all. His business success was a way of proving to them that he was just as good as they were. He believed that and, on some level, he knew some of them did as well.
‘Come with me, Lane. It’s Wednesday and my wife has told me that they serve a good breakfast at the Lower Assembly Rooms today. I think I need to get you out of this place for a few hours to improve that foul look on your face.’
The Lower Assembly Rooms were located close to the banks of the River Avon, not far from the King’s and Queen’s Baths and Bath Abbey. The large room Lane found himself in with the tall windows held balls on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, according to Hart. It wasn’t until they stepped inside that he recalled Mrs Sommersby mentioning it to him when they spoke in the park.
While they were being escorted past the small round tables of two-to-four people to get to their seats, he found himself scanning the occupants to see if she were here and found it oddly disconcerting when his spirits dropped even more than they already had when he didn’t see her.
‘Have something to eat. It might help to improve that mood you’re in,’ Hart said after they settled in with their steaming mugs of coffee and buttery-smelling breads.
‘I’m fine.’
‘You don’t appear to be fine. You look as if you will rip apart our waiter should he offer you more coffee. Which is rather inconvenient since I believe I will be having more than one cup.’
‘Lyonsdale is wrong about this. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Lyonsdale will never change.’ Hart brushed a lock of his black hair out of his eyes. ‘You know he is not one to part with his money easily.’
‘But how could he not see the immediate value in this?’
Hart picked up his knife and began to spread marmalade on his bread. ‘Instead of obsessing over the fact that Lyonsdale would not give us all the money we require, let’s talk about who we should approach next. You always get so offended whenever someone doesn’t see your vision or care to invest.’
‘I do not.’
‘Yes, you do.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Yes. Yes, you do. You should see how that vein in your temple is pulsing right now.’
Lane rubbed his temple before he caught the mischievous glint in Hart’s eye. ‘You’re an ass. And if it is pulsing, as you say, it’s because I’m with you.’
His response only served to make Hart laugh. ‘You, my friend, view life far too seriously. Stop trying to prove something. There is no need. You already are successful.’
‘I’m not trying to prove anything. I am trying to make money for you and me and I would think you would appreciate that.’
‘I do. However, we both know that there is more to this than that and that’s why you’ve taken Lyonsdale’s decision so hard.’
‘And when did you suddenly become qualified to say what my motives are? You, of all people. You are a complicated wreck and you know it.’
‘Correction. I was a complicated wreck. Now, I’m just complicated.’
‘How does Sarah live with you?’
‘She finds my complications endearing.’
‘At least someone does.’ To avoid having to look at Hart’s cocky grin, he turned his attention away from his friend.
And spotted Mrs Sommersby, sitting not far from them.
She was wearing a pink and green dress as she sat with a red-haired young woman. Both women appeared to be enjoying each other’s company as they placed their orders with their waiter.
‘...are much less conservative in their investing than Lyonsdale,’ he heard Hart say, breaking into his study of Mrs Sommersby. ‘I believe there is a good chance that I can get them to commit to this.’
‘Who?’
‘Weren’t you listening to me?’ Hart scanned the area of the room where Mrs Sommersby sat as if he were trying to determine what had captured Lane’s attention. With so many people sitting near them, it would be impossible for him to work it out. Hart must have come to that conclusion as well, since he looked back at Lane. ‘I’ll be heading back to London in two days to handle some additional affairs that need my attention and will speak with a number of potential investors then. Hopefully, soon, we will have the funds we need to create this spa of yours.’
At the mention of the spa, Lane found it hard to swallow the bread in his mouth. ‘Hopefully they will be more willing to invest in it than Lyonsdale was.’
Not wishing to dwell any further on his aggravating day, Lane’s attention was drawn back to Mrs Sommersby, who was now speaking in an animated fashion to her companion. Narrowing his focus on to her lips, he tried to determine what she might be saying. Some people were proficient in reading lips. Lane discovered he was not.
‘I propositioned the older one once. Years ago, before I met Sarah.’
The fact that Hart had leaned closer to him when he said it made it hard to ignore the comment.
‘Who?’
‘The dark-haired woman sitting with the red-haired chit you’ve been staring at.’ With his head, he nodded in the direction of Mrs Sommersby’s table. ‘She’s a widow by the name of Sommersby. The beauty beside her with the flaming hair and full lips I’ve never seen before, so I cannot help you there.’
The idea of Hart and Mrs Sommersby together made Lane’s stomach drop. It shouldn’t matter to him who this woman chose to spend time with. He didn’t even know her. ‘What makes you believe I was staring at any woman in this room? Perhaps I was simply staring off, not wanting to continue to look at your face.’
The studied expression Hart was giving him made him shift a bit in his seat.
‘My mistake.’
‘Do you have any particular investors in mind that you’ll be contacting?’
‘I do. There are two gentlemen in particular that—’
‘What did you say when you propositioned her?’ Lane felt his forehead wrinkle as he continued to try to push away the image of Mrs Sommersby with his friend.
‘Pardon?’
‘Mrs Sommersby? What did you say to her...exactly?’ Having the need to do something with his mouth so he would just stop talking, Lane took a sip of coffee and waited.
His friend chose that very moment to take a bite of bread, prolonging the time it took him to answer. ‘I don’t remember my exact words.’
‘Well...what is it that you think you might have said to her?’
‘Well... I think I might have asked if she’d care to take a turn with me in the darkened gardens during a ball we attended together. It was probably a cold night and I may have offered to keep her warm as we looked at the stars.’
‘Have you had much success with that suggestion?’
‘You’d