To Catch a Rake by Sally Orr Page B

sounds to my ears that you are taken by this Mr. Drexel. I wonder—”
    “No. I can honestly say that I am not. I doubt he’d make a suitable husband for any woman, since he lacks constancy. Besides, I loved Charles and have no need for another husband. I ask this favor because my sister’s reputation and happiness are at stake. Well, hers and James’s. Please, just put the matter before your spouses. That is all I ask. Can I depend on your support?”
    The ladies answered in turn. “Yes.”
    “Of course.”
    “Yes.”
    “Yes, indeed, my pleasure.”
    In total, Meta heard eight affirmations. “You all have my sincerest thanks.” She needed to tell Mr. Drexel this news as soon as possible. Perhaps the end of this muddle was within reach.
    Grizel spoke last. “I will ask my husband, but I cannot make any promises now, you understand. Hamish must approve first.”
    Bethia hung her head. “What if he takes it out of my pin money? I did not consider that.”
    “No, you have no worries on that score,” Lady Sarah said. “Your husband loves you dearly and only wants to please you.”
    Everyone knew of Mr. Valpy’s devotion to his wife of forty years, so they all agreed about his dedication to ensuring her happiness.
    Bethia generously thanked everyone.
    “I speak for every lady here,” Grizel pronounced, “when I say that none of us should actually make any promises today. You must give us time to convince our spouses and fathers.”
    Meta froze. Her good news for Mr. Drexel had evaporated within a minute. She gulped. What else could she do to persuade them?
    “I have an idea.” Lady Sarah jumped to her feet. “Why don’t we all visit the tunnel site together? One of my friends has already done so and considered it remarkable. Maybe we will even meet this Mr. Drexel for ourselves. At the very least, we can determine the size of the operation and the chances for the tunnel’s success. We could have a picnic afterwards to discuss our contributions. What do you all say?”
    The majority of the members clapped and agreed to the plan.
    Meta smiled at the thought of the ladies’ reaction when she provided introductions to Mr. Drexel. How would they respond to his charming “bear” expression? Or his conversation that on occasion consisted of a single sly word or vulgar innuendo? She chuckled. Some of her friends might be shocked or offended. Some ladies would laugh. Then again, some of them might fall under his seductive spell the way she had. Or perhaps some ladies, especially Bethia, might act like Lily and flee his presence to hide behind the nearest building.
    “Fabulous idea, a picnic,” Sybella said. “I’ll be delighted to consider the tunnel for investment purposes and to be introduced to this notorious Mr. Drexel in person.”

Five
    Meta sat in front of a large oaken desk, waiting for the arrival of her man of business, Mr. Cole. Her appointment was for eleven o’clock, but her concern about keeping her promise to Mr. Drexel to obtain at least one new investor propelled her to arrive early. Since none of the ladies had immediately agreed to invest, she decided that if she could afford it, she would buy shares at the tunnel’s next offering. Lily and James’s future happiness might depend upon it. So she sat and waited, listening to the tall clock chime on the quarter and the coals hiss in the grate.
    The numerous papers on Mr. Cole’s desk appeared in distinct piles, and his five pens were laid next to each other in an even line. Meta believed the order of a person’s writing table reflected the order of their mind. Her orderly desk resembled Mr. Cole’s, except for her collection of enamel boxes with painted flowers on the lids, tokens of thanks from her friends for her assistance.
    Mr. Drexel’s unusual desk by the bow window came to her mind next and the pile of papers and models strewn over every inch of the surface. She did not know him well enough to determine if the disarray was