Devin's Dilemma

Chapter 3

Chapter 3Devin stared up at the imposing white edifice of the Mercury Hotel. This monstrosity of a building strove, not to allow the wealthy to enjoy the natural beauty of the shore, but to bring their ideas of luxury with them to it. It spoiled the view from three blocks of town. He considered it an eyesore, but most of the locals welcomed these wealthy, if difficult, guests for the money they brought to the town. And I'm working for one, so I don't get to be choosy.

Mounting the steps to the two massive red doors, flanked by imposing columns, he entered the grand and opulent foyer. Plush carpet in tones of tan and red threatened to turn his ankle with every step. Everywhere he looked, white wooden panels divided and decorated the space. He checked his note again for the number of the suite where his illustrious guest awaited him and mounted the stairs to the left.

More of the overly thick carpet formed a colorful runner up the center, so he carefully placed his feet on the pale wood at the edge, clinging to the ornate cast-iron balcony for balance. Upward he climbed, until looking over the railing made him quite dizzy, and he decided to keep his eyes on the tread in front of him, until at last, panting and wheezing, he reached the fifth floor.

He quickly located the suite the Fletcher family had rented for the summer and knocked. A stuffy-looking manservant opened the door and ushered him through the sitting room and into an office dominated by an imposing desk. The man himself, Sir Malcolm Fletcher, sat behind it, easily claiming the throne-like structure. His lack of height and heft struck Devin, and yet, for all his slightness, the man possessed an imposing presence.

“Sir Fletcher,” Devin said politely.

“Have a seat, Bennett,” his prospective client urged, indicating a small chair across the desk. Devin suppressed both a grimace and a sigh as he squeezed his oversized frame into the too-small seat. The back barely supported him, and the wood groaned under his weight. Alarmed, he decided to sit as still as possible. He extended the portfolio and watched as Fletcher opened it and examined the contents.

“Well, Bennett,” he said after a brief perusal, “I must say these are well done. I've had the same solicitor for years, and you've managed to find clearer wording than he did. No one would be able to contest this. Excellent.”

Though the words might have seemed enthusiastic, Fletcher's deadpan delivery left Devin a bit uncertain where he stood. “Sir?”

“This is only part of the job, Bennett. I had to be sure of your ability before I trusted you with full disclosure.”

Oh, Lord. What now? “How can I help you, sir?”

“Can I count on your utter discretion?” Fletcher demanded, his eyes boring into Devin's with painful intensity.

“Yes, sir. I wouldn't be much of a solicitor if I couldn't keep my clients' private matters private, now would I?” He leaned forward, intending to prove his sincerity. The chair gave an ominous creak, and he froze.

Fletcher considered him, and then opened his mouth to speak. At that moment, the door burst open and two women bustled into the room. Devin rose to greet the arrivals.

One, tall and stately with an admirable figure and masses of black curls regarded him with wide blue eyes and a hint of a smile lingering around her lips. The other hung back, small and drab in a brown dress, which suited neither her dark hair nor her olive-toned skin and tried to look invisible.

“Sorry, Father,” the taller girl chirped. “I just wanted to let you know I'd be taking a walk on the seashore to enjoy the afternoon sun.”

“Be careful of your complexion, my dear,” her father urged. “You know how badly you freckle.”

The girl indicated a lace parasol that matched her frilly dress and he nodded, a half-smile curving his mouth and compressing his cheek. “Very well then.”

“Father, where are your manners?” the girl cried. “Who is this tall and handsome gentleman?”

A blush, the redhead's curse, heated Devin's face.

“Of course. Fanny, this is Mr. Devin Bennett, my new solicitor. He'll be drawing up your marriage contract. Bennett, this is my daughter, Miss Fletcher, and her companion… um… also Miss Fletcher.”

Interesting. He looked like he'd bitten a lemon when he spoke the companion's name. “A relative?”

“In a way,” he replied, “but never mind about her. She's only a servant.”

Now the smaller girl's cheeks heated, and her dark eyes snapped with displeasure. And no wonder. What an unkind comment. Nothing wrong with working for a living.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Bennett. We'll be back later, Father.”

“Off you go, then,” Fletcher urged. The girls turned and left.

Devin watched them until the closing door blocked his view completely, then he turned back to his client. Fletcher was still smiling. Something about his expression made Devin uncomfortable.

“So, a marriage contract?” Devin asked.

“Yes,” Fletcher replied. “It's a bit of a poor match, I'll admit. The boy is only a younger son of a yeoman, and a professional man at that, but he's been so kind and tolerant of her. In the end, I couldn't say no. Her happiness means more than some title.”

This made Devin like him more. Guess he's not as stuffy as I thought. “What profession?” Devin asked.

“A physician,” Fletcher replied. “Why do you ask?”

Idle curiosity. “If he were also a man of law, it would affect how I write the contract,” Devin explained.

“Ah. Well, my one demand, which the lad is already aware of, is he must accept the contract exactly as I lay it out. No exceptions, no substitutions, no prevarications. If he objects, no wedding.”

“Interesting,” Devin replied.

“Don't mistake me,” Fletcher continued. “I don't intend to cheat him. It's only that my Fanny has enjoyed a certain lifestyle, and I don't want her reduced to a pauper because of her marriage.”

“I understand,” Devin replied. This man is so hard to read.

“Won't you take a seat? You can write up the contract first. The will might take a bit longer.”

“I'd rather stand,” Devin replied. “I don't think the chair will take my weight.”

Fletcher chuckled. “Very well then. Let's get started.”

* * *

“Did you see him?” Fanny asked, her eyes wide, as she practically danced along the path leading from the hotel down to the seashore. The sea-tangy breeze teased strands of Harry's dark hair loose from its modest chignon, even as the sun kissed her cheeks and the end of her nose. Fanny's umbrella had slipped over her shoulder, no longer protecting her from the sun.

Harry indicated the parasol with a pointed look. Fanny stuck out her tongue but obediently shaded her face, nonetheless. “You're such an old lady, Harry!”

“I know,” she replied. “I don't like it when your father scolds me, so have pity on me, please. And yes, I saw him. He's quite tall, as you said.”

“Tall and handsome,” Fanny insisted. “That face.” She sighed dramatically, resting the back of one hand on her forehead.

“I suppose, if one fancies gingers,” Harry muttered.

“And why not?” Fanny demanded. “Handsome is handsome, regardless of hair color.”

Harry nibbled her lower lip but did not reply. She's not wrong. That strong jaw, those broad shoulders… but my favorite part was the intelligence in his eyes. Brown eyes with red hair is such a striking combination. And his fair skin had a golden glow that suggested many hours spent out of doors. I wonder how he does that when he spends so much time hunched over a desk.

With a sigh, she released thoughts of the solicitor to float over the heaving sea and concentrated on walking, not wanting to step from the path and sink her floppy boots into the pebble-laden sand.

“And did you hear what Father said?” Fanny chirped on. “He's going to be drawing up the marriage contract. I'll be wed to Will in no time. I can't wait!” She actually kicked up her heels.

“Settle down, Fanny,” Harry urged. “It will be months before a wedding can be planned in full. You're getting worked up over nothing.” Heaven help me when we're almost there.

“Spoilsport.” Fanny stuck her lower lip out. Harry shrugged as the two continued their walk, enjoying the sun and the salty, fishy tang of the air. Harry longed to close her eyes and experience all of nature through her other senses. The whoosh of the tide over the beach. The cries of gulls and curlews along the shore. The salty savor of the humid air. All bespoke a different way of life than the crowded, dirty streets of London, and it was a change she adored. I could stay here forever. Despite all the work involved in travel, she didn't regret having come.