Engaging the Earl. Mandy Goff

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ mind, Olivia. I know,” Emma said gently because she couldn’t stand how her friend looked when she thought her brilliant plan—that wasn’t so much of a plan—wasn’t going to work. “But I still don’t see how I can be expected to compete with the other eligible ladies.”

      â€œThey’ll be foolish to try to compete with you,” Olivia insisted. “You’re beautiful—no, don’t shake your head, it’s nothing more than the truth—you’re kind, generous, practical, good with children and you’re from a highly respectable family.”

      â€œA highly impoverished family, you mean. Uncle is the one with money, and he doesn’t speak to Papa.”

      Olivia waved the problem away. “He’s a recluse. He doesn’t speak to anyone. No one will expect you to be his closest correspondent. Simply the fact that you are his niece and therefore, eventually, his heir will earn you entrance into many circles.”

      â€œBut my uncle won’t be the one to provide me with a dowry.”

      â€œSo we’ll find you suitors who don’t need to gain money from marriage.” Olivia reached out to take hold of Emma’s hands. “Truly, Emma, a husband is what you need. As a governess, you will always be subject to your employer’s whims. You’ll never have security, never have stability, never truly be able to help your parents in any lasting way since you’ll never be able to guarantee your income from one month to the next.”

      The last bit was a low blow, but Emma had to admit everything Olivia said was the truth.

      â€œI know this may not be exactly what you’d planned for your life, but can you at least try?” Olivia asked. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll figure out something else.”

      Olivia looked so hopeful, Emma could only nod. “I suppose I can try,” she said grudgingly.

      â€œWonderful!” Olivia exclaimed. And her mouth quirked into a smile, and her eyes sharpened. “It really would be the perfect solution. A handsome, wealthy, godly gentleman will fall madly in love with you and all of your problems will disappear.”

      â€œBut I wouldn’t get my hopes up, Olivia.?… My agreement to try doesn’t mean …”

      It was no use; her friend was hugging her as though Emma had fulfilled her most earnest desire.

      â€œI’ll put together a list of the most suitable gentlemen, and we’ll go from there.”

      â€œAnd how am I to meet these suitable gentlemen?” Emma couldn’t help but ask. She covered her mouth to hide a yawn.

      â€œLeave that to me,” Olivia insisted. “I have just the man in mind to help.”

      Two days after the incident in Cheapside, Marcus wasn’t in any better mood. There had been no further news on the status of the ship, so he’d spent his time reviewing his accounts, trying to determine just how badly he’d be impacted if the ship was truly lost.

      Very badly indeed, as it turned out.

      â€œSo you’re convinced the ships are lost?” Marcus asked during his morning meeting with Grimshaw and the Fairfax family solicitor, Mr. Wilbanks.

      â€œI’m afraid so, my lord,” Grimshaw said with a sigh.

      It was clear that this financial struggle concerned Grimshaw just as much as Marcus. Marcus had learned that his estate manager’s cousin was one of the timber merchants involved with the investment. That explained why so much had been funneled in a single project—Grimshaw had seen the opportunity to help his cousin and benefit his employer with a potentially highly profitable venture. He’d acted with only honest intentions, but his family loyalties had made him disregard the risk.

      The guilt over acting with so little foresight was clearly weighing on him now.

      â€œWhat can we do if the ships are gone?” Marcus asked. He was unwilling to give up hope that everything might, in fact, turn out fine.

      However, his solicitor, Mr. Wilbanks, an older gentleman who had served Marcus and his father before him for years, was silent; obviously, he thought the worst.

      â€œThe numbers aren’t good, my lord,” Wilbanks said with the same dejected manner as Grimshaw. “In your grandfather’s time,” he explained, “the entirety of the family’s income came from the rents on your estates. It was your father who made the decision to begin investing in various enterprises with the surpluses from the estate funds—a practice which you have continued, and which has doubled your income.”

      Marcus already knew the family’s financial history, and he wanted to tell Wilbanks to speed up the explanation. But instead of barking at the solicitor, he tried to wait patiently.

      Wilbanks took a steadying breath before continuing.

      â€œBut all of the monies in the investment accounts were used for this timber project of Lord Rutherford’s. If the ships are lost, that portion of your income is gone. It will take years of surpluses from the estates before you would be able to build those accounts up enough to begin investing again.”

      â€œHow much is going to be left?” Some claimed Marcus was rich as Croesus, which might have been an exaggeration, but the truth of the matter was that his accounts had been quite large. And now they were empty—and would remain so, unless the ship and its merchandise could be recovered.

      All was not lost, Marcus supposed. He did still have a vast amount of property at his disposal. Property that earned a fair amount of income—enough so he would hardly have to worry about starving, or lacking a roof over his head.

      But all the other uses he made of his money—the charitable donations, the investments into facilities to help the underprivileged, all his plans to use his wealth and position to drive interest in generating labor and housing reforms … it would all have to come to a halt. The very thought was appalling.

      Wilbanks fumbled, but Grimshaw seemed to take pity on the solicitor, naming a number that made Marcus wince.

      â€œIt’s enough to maintain your estates until the next round of rents come in,” the estate manager continued, trying to be consoling. “And to cover moderate personal expenses. Not much more than that, though. No lavish living,” he finished.

      â€œMr. Wilbanks,” Marcus said, turning toward the solicitor, who looked like he might rather be having his teeth pulled out one by one and without any numbing effect than to be sitting in the room with them. “Is that right?” Marcus didn’t care so much about the not living lavishly part … but it would have been nice if there had been something other than eking by on the horizon.

      â€œFrom what I can tell of the paperwork …” Wilbanks sighed. “Yes. It is, unfortunately, true.”

      â€œHow long?” Marcus croaked, his throat and mouth parched.

      â€œHow long until what precisely, my lord?” СКАЧАТЬ