“Tell me about you first,” Silas requested as he sank into a blue damask chair in her drawing room. “How has your week progressed?”
His grandmother scowled, but when it was clear he wouldn’t succumb to her demand, she heaved a sigh and settled back in her chair. “Well enough. And you?”
She’d been careful with the small inheritance her husband had left and used it wisely, spending a significant portion on her only child’s debut, a risk that had paid in spades when she’d married well. At least as far as titles went.
Silas wondered if his grandmother would’ve permitted the match if she’d realized how poor his father was, but that was water under the bridge.
The burden of improving the family’s finances was now Silas’s to bear no matter how much he wished otherwise.
“Quite well,” he said. “I recently enjoyed a day at Newmarket.”
“And how did the horses treat you?” she asked, eyes narrowed.
“I won the modest wager I placed.”
She nodded in approval. “One cannot wager what one does not have.”
“Hmm. I don’t think many of the ton are aware of that rule.” He knew for a fact he wasn’t the only gentleman who was heiress hunting.
“As long as you are. That is all that matters.” She adjusted her position in the chair. “How is your mother?”
“That is one of the reasons I came.” He shook his head, worry filling him. “Still under the weather, I’m afraid.” She’d come down with a troubling cough and nothing the doctor suggested had cleared it.
“Oh, dear.” She frowned. “We should cancel the birthday celebration.”
“Nonsense. You only turn seventy-five once, and the invitations have already been sent. Besides, it’s still two weeks away.”
“It will be too much for her,” his grandmother said with a shake of her head.
“I have already offered to aid Mother with the planning.” In truth, his mother had expressed concern as to whether she could manage the party, which showed just how poorly she felt.
Silas had reassured her that he would step in to aid her if necessary. Besides, from what she’d said, most of the planning was done. How difficult could it be to finalize any remaining details?
“You?” His grandmother’s doubtful look had him stiffening in offense.
“I am capable of planning a party. Though Mother is under the weather, she can still advise me what else needs to be done.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am. The matter is settled.” His grandmother had been looking forward to the party for months. Several guests were traveling a fair distance for the gathering. Disappointing her was not an option when he could prevent it.
“Very well. Thank you, dear.”
“You are welcome.”
She waited a long moment, blue eyes holding on him with anticipation in their depths that had nothing to do with the party. “The weather has been fine, has it not?”
He laughed. “You are incorrigible. I refuse to discuss the weather.” He looked over his shoulder at the doorway. “Wilson, are you nearby?”
With stately grace, his grandmother’s long-time butler walked into the room holding a silver tray with a small stack of papers on it, his dark face, the color of mahogany, creased into a smile. “I am, my lord.”
His grandmother’s eyes widened with curiosity as she set her cane against the arm of her chair. “Over here, Wilson.”
Wilson lifted a brow at Silas to gain his permission, his manner dignified, as always. The older man had been with his grandmother for as long as Silas could remember and took excellent care of her.
Silas nodded even as nerves tingled in his stomach. If his grandmother had been a man, she would be rich and powerful—she was that brilliant. However, such a path was nearly impossible for a woman now, let alone five decades ago.
“Keep in mind these are only preliminary,” Silas began, hoping the revised drawings didn’t disappoint her.