Nathaniel closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair as he wondered just how much more he could take of this torture. Not very long, he thought. Opening his eyes, he turned to look at his brother Mark, who was going on and on again about some mathematical theorem that was discovered just that year.
Mark was scribbling on a paper on the tea table in front of him while his other hand waved in the air. He smiled as he spoke nonstop about his theory.
"Enough!" Nathaniel lifted his hands in surrender. "Mark, please."
His brother opened his mouth to continue and then stopped, leaving only the energetic noise of the shop's other patrons to fill the silence. The brothers, Nathaniel, Mark, and Andrew, were all at Le Cafe, a place on Bond Street known for good coffee and better conversation. It was a popular establishment, credited for being a place of open minds, and boasted the best in coffee as well as debate. Across the room, a group of men were discussing the newest issues of parliament. Andrew, unable to resist, was amongst the loud men, each sure that their way was more correct than the other, rallying their allies behind them to cheer them on. When the Dawntons had first started coming here, Nathaniel had laughed at them all, believing the discussions to be pointless, but after awhile, he'd come to the understanding that much was not just discussed, but decided inside the four walls of Le Cafe.
Mark got his attention again. "Well, allow me to simply show you how this works until our writer arrives."
Nathaniel stood, spotting his arrival at the door and grinned. 'Too late. He's here."
Sir Rudolph Vow spotted Nathaniel from across the room and waved him over. The two men had met at Eton, only to be reunited a few years after Nathaniel finished at Oxford. Spotting one another at a play last season, Nathaniel had found out that not only was Vow another fan of the theatre, but that his personal work was also outstanding. They'd both decided to meet so that Nathaniel could see the finished script and they could hash out the logistics on seeing the play move from paper to vision. Mark was present to make the financial talk go smoothly.
"Sir Vow."
"Lord Dawnton." He turned to Mark, shaking his hand as well. "My lord."
The three men took a seat.
Nathaniel laughed, "So, you've finished the play?"
Vow handed Nathaniel a stack of papers. "Just this morning. It's a beauty, too. Romantic. Comedic. Some dark drama."
Nathaniel glanced through the papers. "Well, if it's anything like the beginning, I'm sure it's good. How much do you think it will take to put it on?"
Vow quoted a number. A high number.
Nathaniel turned to him. "So much?" It wasn't so much that he didn't have it or couldn't get other investors onto the project, he simply hadn't expected the amount.
Vow nodded, "We'd want to get the very best actors, costumes, sets, but I promise you, it'll be worth it."
Nathaniel reached into his pocket. "I suppose you're right."
Mark cut in, "But, we'll be needing a budget first. One that shows the entire accumulation of funds. We'd need to know exactly where every shilling is going."
Vow looked shocked.
Nathaniel laughed and spoke to Vow, "Of course, a budget would be best." He'd expected one of those, but then he turned to Mark. "But, every shilling? Perhaps, we could work with estimations?" He didn't think a few shillings was worth counting.
Mark turned to him, "Every shilling and receipts from the vendors for supplies."
Nathaniel stared at Mark and then turned to Vow and smiled, "This is why I bring him. I usually avoid the messy stuff. I simply wish to enjoy the play and take credit for putting it on."
Vow smiled at them both and then pulled another sheet of paper from his pocket. "I got a budget right here, though... it isn't quite down to the shilling." He handed the paper over to Mark, who quickly began to read it over. Vow continued to talk. "There will be silk gowns and a lead actress with the voice of an angel." Then Vow leaned forward and whispered, "And the face of one as well."
Nathaniel smiled, thinking of the other pleasures one could find at the theatre. A flash of brown hair and brown eyes captured his mind. Amy. How he'd love to take her to the play, buy her the finest gown, and have her sit with him in his box at Covent Garden. She'd look beautiful on his arm, and he wouldn't mind at all if they happened to get distracted by...
Mark had only spent a moment glancing at the document before he looked up. "I'll need the invoices from the vendors, guaranteeing these figures."
Vow held Mark's eyes and then nodded and stood. "Very well. I can have it to you in a few months. For now, we should move ahead with the auditions and—"
"Figures first," Mark said, getting to his own feet, towering over the other man. It was not only Mark's mind that awed people, but he had a Dawnton attitude as well. "So, I suppose we'll be seeing you in a few months."
"Give me two weeks." Vow was no longer smiling.
Nathaniel stood and reached out, giving the man a check. "Take this to get us started with auditions." The check wasn't much, but it would do. "Take it to my banker, and he'll cash it for you." Then he shook the other man's hand. "I'll read over the play and look forward to seeing you in two weeks."
Vow took the hand, and the check, and then left.
Nathaniel asked once he was gone, "Was that completely necessary? If you're going to stop us before we begin, then the play will never be ready for show by the end of the season."
Mark showed no emotion in his green eyes as he said, "The man had overpriced everything."
Nathaniel shrugged, "Of course he has. You never want to send a budget in simply to ask for more money later when things go missing or break. Budgets change."
"And I'll be here to look over all the changes as they come."
"Very well."
"I just don't want you to lose."
"I can't."
"Why not?" Mark asked.
Nathaniel smiled, "Because even if he gets a few extra coins now, I have the manuscript." He waved the document in his hand. "And I guarantee that I would have no trouble putting this thing on without him and long before he could gain the capital to do it on his own. So, if I find out that he's tried to play me, the money that I would make after production would be sufficient payback. After all, if he gave me the play and I just gave him funds in front of an entire room, who's to say I hadn't simply payed for the script?"
Mark stared at the papers and then at his brother. "Your conscience?"
Nathaniel frowned, "I don't believe I have one of those."
Mark blinked, "Was this your plan all along? To swindle him?"
Nathaniel frowned in return. "No, but insurances must be made in all things."
"Hmm, and to think they call me the cold one."
Nathaniel took a bow.
Mark headed toward the exit.
"Where are you going?"
"The Professor's."
Nathaniel frowned. The Professor, or Dr. John Peters, was an old man who'd once taught at Oxford before he'd been dismissed for going off subject. Now, he opened his home up to a few 'like-minded individuals' as a place of study and mathematical discussion. To Nathaniel, the man was a nut, but Mark, along with a few others, believed him to be a genius... not that those two characteristics couldn't exist together.
He'd just retaken his seat when a servant girl came over and asked if he needed more coffee.
Nathaniel gestured to his cup.
The woman began to pour, all the while giving Nathaniel what he assumed to be her most charming smile.
"What though the radiance which was once so bright, be not forever taken from my sight."
The girl smiled and said, "You're pretty well with words. You ever think about publishing a book?"
Nathaniel had to force his face from showing his disappointment at the woman for not knowing that the line had already been published in a book by William Wordsworth.
When the woman's smile began to fall, Nathaniel slid his into place, immediately causing the waitress's own smile to return.
"What a great idea," he said. "Should it happen, I'll make sure to dedicate it to you."
The woman's smile grew, and then she skirted away, leaving Nathaniel to his thoughts. Had he been speaking to Amy, he wouldn't have had this problem. Had he said the words to Amy, not only would she have known the author, but also the right book.
He sighed thinking about their moment on the balcony two weeks ago. Tonight would be the first of many parties for the season, and Nathaniel had every intention of going... if only to see her again. He admitted to himself that the last time they'd spoken, it hadn't gone well. He shouldn't have told her that she'd fail at the season. Not then. Not when she'd been vulnerable enough to ask him if she was truly beautiful. He'd seen her weakness and gone for the kill... only to find that Amy hid an inner strength that defied every other woman he knew.
He'd slipped, losing his charm, which was something that didn't usually happen.
It was all Amy's fault. She was the reason Nathaniel hadn't been himself. He hadn't been himself since that morning he had run into her. Upon Nathaniel's arrival to London, women had begun to throw themselves at his feet, stepping over one another just to be near... and he'd turned them all away. Because of her.
Dismissing Amy from his mind, he opened the manuscript and began to read.
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