Engaging the Earl. Mandy Goff

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      At this, Grimshaw lowered his gaze to the floor.

      Marcus noticed the change in his demeanor. “What is it, Grimshaw?”

      â€œYou’ve trusted me for years with your estates and with your investments, have you not, my lord?”

      Marcus nodded. Nothing about the shift in conversation inspired confidence in him.

      Grimshaw nodded almost reflexively. But he still wouldn’t meet Marcus’s eyes. “And you’ve given me the liberty to handle the funding as I saw fit, for the most part.”

      â€œYes?” More a question than an answer.

      â€œI might have funded the investment from the Americas with a larger than usual portion of your ready funds.”

      The knot of worry in Marcus’s gut grew and twisted his insides until they felt like mush. “How much?” he managed.

      â€œIn hindsight, more than I should have,” Grimshaw hedged.

      â€œWhat does that mean?”

      â€œBad news … if the ship has sunk … which of course we don’t know for sure …” Grimshaw added hastily.

      Marcus didn’t want to ask this next question, but he had to. “If it has sunk, what does that mean?”

      The time it took his estate manager to answer was grossly exaggerated by the fear gripping Marcus. “It means you’ve lost most of your fortune.”

      Even though Marcus had been bracing himself, the news still hit him hard. He raised a hand to rub his weary eyes and flinched when he pressed on the growing bruise. It was almost laughable—earlier that evening, he had fancied himself a heroic rescuer, sweeping in to save the fair maiden.

      But who was going to ride to his rescue?

      Chapter Two

      Across town, Emma Mercer found herself occupied with her own need for rescue. As expected, she’d entered the Roth residence to find herself summarily dismissed from her position. To make matters worse, Lady Roth had not even allowed her a night’s rest before setting her on the street, with her belongings already stowed in her valise by a maid. Notably missing among those belongings was any type of letter of reference.

      Emma couldn’t return to her parents.

      Yes, sooner or later, she’d have to tell them she had lost her position, but she couldn’t bear to wake them with that dreadful news so soon. Not until she devised a plan to find different employment and provide them with the income on which they depended.

      That left her with only one place to go—Olivia’s house.

      At Olivia’s, the butler, an imperturbable man by the name of Mathis, showed her immediately into the drawing room as though there was nothing unusual about a predawn visitor. Olivia joined her there minutes later, still in her nightclothes but with an alert and determined expression. One look—plus whatever information Mathis had given her—was apparently all it took for Olivia to understand exactly what had occurred.

      â€œI never liked you working for that puffed up snob anyway,” Olivia, the Marchioness of Huntsford, announced as she entered the room, talking over Emma’s attempts to apologize for the early hour. “You are far too good for those terrors she calls children, and besides, she gave you scarcely any time at all to come by and visit me.”

      â€œThis isn’t exactly good news, Olivia.” Emma felt compelled to interject. Although her friend’s enthusiasm had a grudging smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

      â€œNonsense, this will be like a holiday, having you here—because, of course, you’ll be staying.” Olivia continued. “And none of your protests about it being extra trouble, or me being too kind. I’m being entirely selfish in looking forward to having you stay with me. Mathis will have a maid prepare you a room in no time at all, won’t you, Mathis?”

      â€œCertainly, my lady,” the butler replied with such assurance that one might have supposed he always kept rooms at the ready for newly dismissed governesses.

      â€œThere, you see?” Olivia said as she seated herself on a sofa. “Now, while Mathis takes care of that, why don’t you sit down here with me and tell me all about it?”

      Relief and gratitude poured over Emma in a wave as she all but collapsed onto the seat next to her friend. Soon, the whole story had come out—oversleeping at her parents’ house, rushing back to the Roths’, the confrontation with Lady Roth ending in her swift but final exit. The only thing Emma left out was her meeting the man—Mr. Fairfax. But surely she could be forgiven for glossing over that. It had, after all, been merely a chance encounter with a gentleman she’d likely never see again.

      Olivia listened with her usual amount of patience—which was to say, none whatsoever—interrupting frequently with exclamations of surprise and outrage on her friend’s behalf. Emma was used to constantly having to bite her tongue around Lady Roth and the little terrors masquerading as children, and around her parents. Frankness was a sure way to offend the former and hurt the latter. Despite the bleakness of the situation, it was relaxing to finally say exactly what she thought without fear of the consequences. If Olivia were the type to be easily offended, they never would have become friends in the first place.

      Granted, a marchioness and a governess were an odd pairing for a friendship. The origins of the friendship had been equally unique. During a walk through the park a few months earlier, David, one of the Roth children, had flung a handful of mud at his sister, Marie—only to have it miss and hit the unsuspecting Marquess of Huntsford as he and his wife were strolling. Emma had been suitably mortified, but the Huntsfords had been cheerful and gracious.

      Since then, Olivia had been a stalwart friend. A stalwart friend who was now entirely too eager to find a silver lining in Emma’s situation.

      â€œWe just need to build the proper strategy,” Olivia continued.

      â€œFor what?” Emma asked, her dread rising as she wondered how much of the conversation her reminiscing had caused her to miss.

      â€œFor finding you a husband.”

      â€œOlivia,” she said in a warning voice. Considering the evening she’d had, and the early hour, Emma could think of a hundred reasons not to have this conversation. Maybe a thousand reasons.

      Her friend paid her no mind, which wasn’t surprising at all. “Emma, it’s a good plan.”

      â€œYour suggestion hardly constitutes a plan,” Emma argued. “Besides, who would have me?”

      The question was met with a blank stare. “You must be joking, Emma. There are no end of eligible bachelors in Town for the Season. It will be a small matter to make one of them fall in love with you.”

      â€œBut do you think I’m going to find it that easy to just fall in love with someone myself?” And СКАЧАТЬ