Once Upon a Time in Bath (The Brides of Bath #7) - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,29

her and . . . Forrester. She sighed to herself each time she thought of her betrothed by that special name only she would use.

She thought, too, of the sweet words he’d said to her. My love. . . my dear. . . You’ve made me very happy. Not as happy as he’d made her.

And her father.

Papa had been ecstatic when she’d told him of his lordship’s proposal, so happy that once again he’d forgotten about his afflictions, flung himself from his sick bed, and begun to dance around his bedchamber. “My daughter, Lady Appleton. Oh, how I wish your dear mother could have lived to see it.”

Such a reflection did not make Dot sad because she could not remember her mother at all.

When she finished her chocolate, Meg returned with a freshly pressed dress that Mrs. Gainsworth had just delivered. “Oh, Miss Pankhurst! I never seen anything so beautiful.”

Had Dot not been to Bath’s elegant Assembly Rooms, she would never have seen a dress as fine as this, either. It was snowy white and embellished with hand-embroidered ivory flowers and trimmed in white lace. She couldn’t wait to wear it for Forrester.

“You’ll never guess,” Meg said, “who’s in yer father’s library right now.”

Dot knew very well who was there. Would her father and her betrothed be discussing marriage settlements and those boring financial matters? How happy she was that she was not taking part in those discussions.

* * *

The prospect of addressing Dot’s father made Appleton even more nervous than actually asking the lady for her hand in marriage. He supposed his fears emanated from guilt. Knowing how dearly Mr. Pankhurst cherished his daughter and would expect his daughter to be cherished, Appleton worried that the father would suspect Appleton’s true motives for wishing to wed his only child.

What would he say if the father asked him if he was in love with Dot? Appleton abhorred lying.

Mr. Pankhurst put him at ease immediately, clasping his hand and shaking it vigorously as he smiled and referred to him as my boy. “Do let’s come into my library.”

Like the rest of the house, the scarlet library was decorated in excellent taste, with walnut paneled walls and furnishings. “Let us sit on the sofa before the fire. There’s quite a chill after all this blasted rain.”

They sank into a plush red velvet. “So I’m finally going to have a son,” Mr. Pankhurst began. The man could barely contain his glee. He was as excited as a pauper who’d won the sweepstakes. “And a lord at that! I don’t mind telling you I couldn’t have wished for a better mate for my girl.”

“Thank you, sir, but I’m the fortunate one.” He hoped such a remark would appease the adoring father.

“You certainly are! Just you wait and see what a fine wife you’ve selected, my lord. Tell me, when do you plan to marry my girl?”

“I thought we ought to spend a bit of time together to get to know one another better, but I’d like to marry before the month’s out. I shall, of course, procure a special license.”

Mr. Pankhurst nodded. “A good plan, I daresay. You need to have time with each other without a lot of other people. Just you and Dot, free to talk to each other without disruptions.”

“I agree.”

The older man cleared his throat. “I’ve done a bit of asking around about you.”

Appleton’s stomach dropped. “As a dutiful father should.”

“It’s come to my attention that you’ve recently come into some serious financial losses.”

Uh oh. He felt as if he’d been walloped with a tree trunk. How in the devil had Pankhurst learned that? Appleton supposed that a man with very deep pockets could obtain whatever information he sought. “I won’t deny it. It’s the first time in my thirty years I’ve ever done anything so foolish, and I give you my word it will never happen again.”

Mr. Pankhurst’s face grew solemn as he nodded. “I suppose you know I’m a very wealthy man?”

“I won’t deny that, either, sir.”

“Dot has a generous dowry, and when I’m gone, all my property will go to her.”

“You must know that as head of the Appleton family I’m obliged to live on our estate. When not at Bath, I plan to live at Hawthorne Manor as my ancestors have for the past two-hundred-and-fifty years. If Dot should inherit . . . Blandings, is it not?”

“It is.”

“It would always stay in our family, but I see it going to one of our children, perhaps a