problem. It’s too easy for green boys to fall into the wrong company in London, Smoky wrote, but Geoff hadn’t. He had quickly made friends with one of her schoolmate’s brothers, young Johnny Remington, who was such a likable, levelheaded fellow, with a nice smile and even features, that Emilyann was considering him for Nadine. Geoff and Rem went everywhere together when they were not escorting their female relatives, poking fun at the dandy set, and only halfheartedly emulating the Corinthians. They seemed to be enjoying London and their freedom as men about town, so Emilyann was surprised when Geoff approached her one morning in her study, saying that he wished to go home.
She put down the pen and closed the account book she’d been working on, with some relief. “What, is mutiny contagious?” she joked, not really worried. “I suppose you’re worried about your hogs, is that it? You know Meecham writes every week, and follows your instructions to the letter. But I suppose we can get along without you for a few days if you are determined to see for yourself.”
“It ain’t a visit I had in mind, Emmy. I don’t think I like this kind of life here, you know, nothing much for a chap to do.”
“No? What about that mill, and the race to Richmond, and the new steam engine exhibit you wanted to go watch?”
Geoff set his mouth stubbornly, all too reminiscent of Nadine’s sulks. “I ain’t on leading strings, Emmy, and I want to go home.”
Emilyann was sure she could bring that ready smile back to his face, the one where he reminded her more of Smoky than of his sister, even though his face had Nadine’s roundness, and his hair and eyes were brown like Nadine’s, not Smoky’s darker colors. “I know what it is,” she teased. “You want to get out of another night in knee breeches. Very well, you need not escort us to Lady Cheyne’s ball this evening. Or is it that you’re afraid you won’t be able to outrun little Miss Rivington and her predatory mama?”
Geoff grinned sheepishly; he never could stay mad for long, and Miss Rivington did seem to be nearby whenever he took his sister anywhere. Then he noticed the account books, and remembered his mission. “No, Emmy, this place is just too dashed expensive for my tastes. I’d rather be home seeing the farms prosper than stay here, being a drain on them.”
“I see,” said Emilyann, thinking she did. Smoky and Geoff had agreed to maintain the latter’s allowance, adding in the unused school money, until Smoky was home and the estates were earning more. Then they would see about a fair share of the profits, or even a manager’s salary. Meantime, she supposed, keeping up appearances in the city was more expensive than they had planned. Her other investments were paying off well. “Why don’t I write to Smoky about increasing your allowance?” she offered.
“No, Emmy, you’ve done enough, and it ain’t anything I want you mentioning to my brother, not even a right ‘un like Ev.”
“Oh, ho, wild oats, is it? You’ve sown barley and wheat and turnips, so why not? From what I heard, Smoky did his share.” She refused to consider whether her husband had put such ways behind him or not. “If it’s a loan you’re needing—”
“Stokely would have my hide, discussing such things with you!”
“But the problem is money?” she asked, her blue eyes looking troubled now.
“Ah, not exactly ...”
She tapped her fingers on the account books. “Then what is it, exactly?’
She was like a dog with a bone, this fragile-looking sister-in-law of his. A big dog with a meaty bone, and she was never going to let go. So he told her, between his embarrassed pauses and her impatient prying, about the previous evening’s event. He and Rem had decided to seek more excitement than watching the sobersides at White’s and Watier’s and had left for a visit to Drury Lane. They couldn’t really afford the high fliers at the greenroom, but the night
She put down the pen and closed the account book she’d been working on, with some relief. “What, is mutiny contagious?” she joked, not really worried. “I suppose you’re worried about your hogs, is that it? You know Meecham writes every week, and follows your instructions to the letter. But I suppose we can get along without you for a few days if you are determined to see for yourself.”
“It ain’t a visit I had in mind, Emmy. I don’t think I like this kind of life here, you know, nothing much for a chap to do.”
“No? What about that mill, and the race to Richmond, and the new steam engine exhibit you wanted to go watch?”
Geoff set his mouth stubbornly, all too reminiscent of Nadine’s sulks. “I ain’t on leading strings, Emmy, and I want to go home.”
Emilyann was sure she could bring that ready smile back to his face, the one where he reminded her more of Smoky than of his sister, even though his face had Nadine’s roundness, and his hair and eyes were brown like Nadine’s, not Smoky’s darker colors. “I know what it is,” she teased. “You want to get out of another night in knee breeches. Very well, you need not escort us to Lady Cheyne’s ball this evening. Or is it that you’re afraid you won’t be able to outrun little Miss Rivington and her predatory mama?”
Geoff grinned sheepishly; he never could stay mad for long, and Miss Rivington did seem to be nearby whenever he took his sister anywhere. Then he noticed the account books, and remembered his mission. “No, Emmy, this place is just too dashed expensive for my tastes. I’d rather be home seeing the farms prosper than stay here, being a drain on them.”
“I see,” said Emilyann, thinking she did. Smoky and Geoff had agreed to maintain the latter’s allowance, adding in the unused school money, until Smoky was home and the estates were earning more. Then they would see about a fair share of the profits, or even a manager’s salary. Meantime, she supposed, keeping up appearances in the city was more expensive than they had planned. Her other investments were paying off well. “Why don’t I write to Smoky about increasing your allowance?” she offered.
“No, Emmy, you’ve done enough, and it ain’t anything I want you mentioning to my brother, not even a right ‘un like Ev.”
“Oh, ho, wild oats, is it? You’ve sown barley and wheat and turnips, so why not? From what I heard, Smoky did his share.” She refused to consider whether her husband had put such ways behind him or not. “If it’s a loan you’re needing—”
“Stokely would have my hide, discussing such things with you!”
“But the problem is money?” she asked, her blue eyes looking troubled now.
“Ah, not exactly ...”
She tapped her fingers on the account books. “Then what is it, exactly?’
She was like a dog with a bone, this fragile-looking sister-in-law of his. A big dog with a meaty bone, and she was never going to let go. So he told her, between his embarrassed pauses and her impatient prying, about the previous evening’s event. He and Rem had decided to seek more excitement than watching the sobersides at White’s and Watier’s and had left for a visit to Drury Lane. They couldn’t really afford the high fliers at the greenroom, but the night
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