His father’s narrow lips pressed together, his disapproval obvious and all too familiar. His taut expression made Joseph realize how much he’d aged in the past year.
His temples held more grey than dark hair, and what had been fine lines around his eyes and mouth had deepened. Not for the first time, Joseph realized that his father’s beliefs didn’t bring him happiness. While that wasn’t the purpose of religion, shouldn’t it offer comfort?
“What do you intend to do with this bank?” the earl asked.
“Encourage local industries, both large and small.”
“Such as?” He raised a brow, his skepticism obvious.
“Several people have shared ideas that take the area’s resources into account. They only need the funding to proceed.”
“Banks are risky, Joseph. You should leave such things to those with experience.”
Another rejection, just as he’d expected. He wished it didn’t hurt and that his father’s opinion didn’t matter.
“I am forming a group of investors with experience and wealth. I thought perhaps you might want to join us.”
That was as much of an invitation as he could manage.
His father chuckled, though it was an unpleasant sound. He leaned back in the chair, his fingers laced over his modest stomach. “I think not. I’d advise you to stay out of it as well.”
“You’d prefer to give money to Henderson instead?” Joseph regretted the words as soon as they were out. He’d already questioned his father on the subject without success.
“Henderson is a visionary. There are only a chosen few who have realized it thus far.”
“On that, we will have to disagree. The man is sly and greedy, no better than someone standing on the street corner with his hand out.”
The time with him at the house party had only deepened that belief.
“You’re wrong.” His father straightened, his nostrils flaring even as his face reddened.
“What does he do with the money, Father?” Joseph couldn’t let it go.
“You wouldn’t understand his plans.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “I wish you luck with your bank. You’re going to need it.”
The slight tremor of his father’s hand gave Joseph pause. He hoped he hadn’t pushed him too far. But his father held his gaze steadily, making Joseph certain he’d imagined the moment of weakness.
“Thank you,” Joseph said, pretending the remark had been sincere. “Goodbye.”
He strode out of the study, closing the door behind him before he drew a slow breath.
The riot of emotions was unwelcome, reminding him too much of the young boy he’d been, so desperate for his father’s love. How ridiculous that he still felt that need when he knew it would never be given.
If only he could stop trying. He closed his eyes briefly to regain control then went upstairs to his mother’s sitting room.
He’d advised the butler upon his arrival to let her know he was there, but she still seemed surprised when he walked in. No doubt she’d thought he would leave in anger after speaking with the earl.
“Joseph.” She studied his expression warily. “You spoke with your father.”
“Yes.” But he wasn’t going to talk about that. It would only upset them both. “I hope the day finds you well, Mother.”
“It does. How nice of you to call on us.” Still, she watched him as if worried about what he might say.
“I thought you might like to have this.” He handed her the lace he’d purchased the day they’d met on Bond Street as he sank into the nearby chair.
“Thank you. You’re always so thoughtful.” She smiled as she examined the delicately woven threads.
A piece of embroidery sat at her elbow, catching his eye, the ecru and cream colors bland. “I thought you were working on something else.”