Sheridan Furniture Company was started by his Grandfather when Declan was a child. They immigrated to America, and together, his Father and Grandfather grew the business from a logging company to a thriving furniture business. With Declan leading the way they offered cabinets and eventually chairs. After the first ten years, Declan convinced them to offer one of a kind pieces, dining room tables, handcrafted sets. It was a risk that is set to pay off greatly. Declan has sunk every penny of his inheritance from his father into this new line.
His father passed away after an accident inspecting one of the sawmills. He was struck when a load chain broke and the loose end hit him. He lived long enough to secure a promise from his Grandfather.
“You win, Dad. I hope you know what you're doing.” Declan jumps when a knock sounds at the door.
The valet enters and smiles at Declan. “Sir, Lady Reagan is waiting for you in the sunroom.”
“Thank you, Jonathan. I'll be right there.” Declan frowns and walks over to the desk and picks up the ring box. He doesn't open it. His memory is perfect. Inside, his Mother's ring is waiting for him to give to the woman that he loves.
Declan opens the desk drawer and drops the box inside. “I may be getting married, but I won't smear the memory of my parent's love by including it in this sham.” He strides from the room and slams the door behind him.
As he walks through the house, he decides to marry her quickly and set her up in a house with an allowance. That will allow him to continue working. He will no longer have to worry about being set upon by every mother and daughter in the city. Perhaps he can make this work for both of them. He grins as he walks into the sunroom.
Chapter 3
London is called from her room by the housekeeper. “Hurry, London.”
Lady Hubbard is in the hallway shouting with excitement. “I told you he would propose, George! A Duke! Can you imagine what this will do for your business and our social calendar!” her giggle of excitement is contagious.
“When is the wedding?” George runs a hand over his belly and grins.
“November 23. Apparently, he can’t wait one minute longer to marry your daughter!”
“That’s three weeks! So much to do!” George sniffs and walks with his wife into the family room. Reagan stands silently in the hallway and glares at them as they walk away from her. Slowly she wonders up the steps past the staff and into her room.
No one speaks, instead, they drift away, and London follows her into her room. She watches quietly, waiting for Reagan to shout, scream or plead. Nothing. Worry has her almost moving towards her, but Reagan nods once and sits at the dressing table.
“Help me with my hair, London.”
“Yes, my lady.” She works quickly, pulling the pins and releasing the curls. After she brushes her dark hair, Reagan chooses a dinner dress and sniffs.
“Declan and his Grandfather will be here for dinner. I’m to wear the navy dress. It’s his favorite color. He said it matched my eyes,” Reagan says.
London jerks, and her eyes lift to meet Reagan's. “Your eyes are brown,” she snaps and slams the brush on the table. Reagan jumps and giggles at the anger coming from her maid.
“Men,” she laughs, and it sounds almost hysterical.
“Perhaps if you give him a piece of your mind, he will remember the way they develop glints of gold in them when you’re angry!” London grabs the navy dress and turns only to hiss in surprise. Reagan is standing in front of her.
“What will I do without you, Mouse?” she sniffs, and tears fill her eyes. “I've never had a sister, and you are much too comely to be mine, but I would call you friend if I could.”
London has to wipe her own tears and pulls her into a hug. “I would be honored to call you friend, Lady Reagan.”
The years of working together day and night caring for another human being has crafted a strange bond. “I wish only for your happiness, Reagan. Life is too short for anything less,” London declares.
“Exactly. Help me get dressed.” She straightens her spine and declares, “I’m wearing green, not the blue. He will know my eye color before he leaves this house.”
London nods proudly and jerks the blue dress away to swap it out for the emerald green. “You can keep the blue one.” Reagan says, “I’m sure you can let it out and make it fit you.”
A laugh escapes before London can stop it. “I'm no magician, my lady.” London doesn't say that she's kept the last ten dresses Reagan has offered her and had a seamstress fix them. Beneath her padded gown, she has a curvaceous figure. When she is able to leave, she will be dressed better than most women of the upper class in New York.
They erupt in a fit of laughter, and Reagan squeezes her hand gently. “Thank you. I needed that.”
London watches her leave and sighs. It seems this life is hard for all women. Today’s investments are going to ensure that she is not in the same situation as Reagan. The next few weeks will determine how much longer she will have to work at this job.
Once Reagan is married, she will need to find another job. Lady Hubbard will not keep her on. It's time to pull the trigger and invest less cautiously. Reagan pulls her glasses off and rubs the bridge of her nose. In her room, she looks at herself in the mirror and has to laugh softly.
