Page 2

A week later Will was back in London, and to his dismay no new solution to his money problems had occurred to either him or his man of business.

If anything, Mr. Thomas Mayhew had discovered even more bills than he had at first realized. “If I may be so bold, my lord,” Mayhew said, his luxurious mustache echoing the frown of the man’s lips, “Lady Gilford, despite both our warnings to her about the precariousness of the situation, has continued to spend at the same rate and, in some cases, even higher than she did before she was informed.”

Will wanted to drum his head on the surface of the desk in the office that had once been his father’s. He knew the issues with the estate’s finances had begun while the former Lord Gilford was still alive, but he couldn’t help believing that Papa would have prevented matters from becoming this dire long before it was a danger.

He was certain his father would have known better how to manage Lady Gilford.

As difficult as she could be, the one person in the world who was able to curb her behavior had been her husband. His death had left her free to act upon all her worst impulses, and as a result what had begun as a gentle glide down the financial hill had quickly become the unchecked freefall Will now faced.

“I will speak to her again, Mayhew,” he told the solicitor. He didn’t relish the exchange, but it couldn’t be helped. His refusal to take on his responsibilities as the head of the Gilford household—though he would like to place the blame somewhere else—was the root of his current headache, and he must now take his medicine.

Once he had finished signing the letters to creditors Mayhew had brought him, he sent the man off with a gruff farewell.

When the door to the study was shut, he stifled the urge to fortify himself with brandy before he sought out his mother. Taking the stack of bills from dressmakers, drapers, hatmakers, perfumiers, and every other merchant who might be expected to be patronized by ladies of the peerage, he stepped out into the hallway and headed for the morning room.

Even before he reached the landing leading to the second floor, where the public rooms of Gilford House were situated, Will heard the raised voice of his mother wafting toward him, like smoke alerting him to quickly rising flames.

“I have been mistress of this house for nearly thirty years, Mrs. Parker.” Lady Gilford’s tone was strident, and as Will stepped into the lavishly appointed chamber from which his mother conducted much of the household business, he noted the carefully expressionless face of the housekeeper standing before her. “And I will not stand for such insolence.”

Will noticed that his mother was clutching the portfolio—

with white-knuckled hands—the housekeeper used to keep the household accounts.

“Begging your pardon, my lady.” Mrs. Parker, who had overseen household domestic matters in the London townhouse of the Gilford family since Will was a boy, managed a far calmer tone than he’d have done in her situation. “I mean no disrespect, but his lordship’s orders on the matter were that we should try to trim those costs—”

Before she could finish her statement, which would only serve to anger his mother more, Will stepped fully into the room and crossed to where the two women faced one another. “Do not trouble yourself, Mrs. Parker,” he told the housekeeper. “I will speak to my mother about the matter. And when she is ready to resume discussion of the household budget, she will no doubt summon you.”

Yet another reason for him to marry as quickly as possible, he thought as he watched the housekeeper curtsy to them before hurrying out of the room. If this was how Lady Gilford treated any servant who attempted to enforce his orders regarding estate spending, then he would need to attend to the matters himself until a new Lady Gilford supplanted her. He certainly wouldn’t have the servants treated so harshly. Guiltily he wondered how many such tirades they’d been subjected to since he’d decamped to the Continent.

Lady Gilford looked at her only son with a hauteur he recognized all too well. “I never imagined when I welcomed your return last week that I would wish you gone again within days, Gilford. But that is just what has happened.”

He took in her still-lovely countenance and had little difficulty understanding what had drawn his father to her. But there was a coldness there he hadn’t noticed when he was a child. And in the years since her husband’s death, there were lines in her face that seemed to have been wrought not by mirth but by displeasure.

“I have no intention of displeasing you, Mother,” he said calmly, not rising to her pettish words. “However, as both Mayhew and I have explained to you more than once, we can no longer afford to spend as freely as we all have done since my father’s death. If you will not practice economies on your own, then I shall be forced to take them for you.”

“Economies,” she spat out as if the word were the vilest of crudities. “When your father was alive, we had no such need to deprive ourselves. This is all due to your gallivanting about the Continent for so many years.”

“As we both know, it takes far less to live in Paris than it does in London,” he said reasonably. “Though I will take my share of the blame for our current situation. I had no notion of our predicament while I was away and spent accordingly. Now, however, I do know and cannot in good conscience allow the family to live so far beyond our means.”

Lady Gilford’s mouth tightened in annoyance before she responded. “I suppose you mean to place most of the blame for this nonsense on your sister and me. Though we have only been attempting to present ourselves in society in the manner expected of a viscount’s family. Especially given your shameful absence. I am more than certain that your lack of interest in finding Margaret a husband is the reason why she is still unwed at one and twenty.”

Will rather thought that the reason why Meg was still unmarried had more to do with her inability to find a man who could meet her stringent criteria for husband. But he did not say so aloud.

“From now on,” he said instead, “you will have nothing to quibble at in that regard. I mean to accompany the two of you to any number of events this season. It is time that I began to look for a bride.”

At this her eyes widened with the kind of shock and surprise he’d have expected from her if a leopard had suddenly stalked into the room. But instead of pleasure at the news, she gave a huff of annoyance. “I doubt you will find the social engagements we attend to be of any interest. Especially after your time in Paris. It is much better if you spend your evenings at your clubs and the like. You are still young yet. There is no need for you to wed for several years more.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, attempting to understand her reasoning. “I thought you would be pleased to learn that I wish to marry.” The devil knew every other mother of an unmarried son in the haut ton was hell-bent on seeing them leg-shackled.

“Of course I am pleased,” she said, belying what she’d just said. “It is only that I had thought I would have more time with my only son before he became some other lady’s.”

Since she had never expressed a sentiment for either of her children in their lives, Will discounted her words without hesitation. Instead, he considered what instead she might be unwilling to give up.

The answer came to him without much thought. “It is not I you do not wish to give over to some other lady. It is the house. The estates. You are not ready to become the dowager Countess of Gilford.” He shook his head with disgust.

Lady Gilford waved away his words as if they were gnats circling in the air. “You can hardly blame me. This estate and its running have been my responsibility for decades now. You cannot expect me to give up everything I have worked for to some empty-headed girl with more hair than wit without a fight.”

“I can expect that you would not be surprised at the notion,” he said with exasperation. “You’ve known for those decades that it would happen someday. And the only way I can get the funds needed to refurbish the country estates and to keep us in the style demanded of a viscount’s family is to marry an heiress. Do you not wish to continue replenishing your wardrobe at the beginning of every season? And entertaining your friends with the same degree of luxury to which you’ve become accustomed?”

At that, she made a face. “I do not see why you are making all this fuss about funds. We are well able to continue on credit with London merchants for years to come.”

“No, we are not.” Will could see now that he would need to keep a firm hand with her. Allowing his mother to argue with him only reinforced her belief that she was entitled to a say in the matter. “I have made my decision and will not be swayed. You had better prepare yourself for your tenure as the dowager Countess of Gilford, whether you wish it or not.”

Unwilling to listen to any more of her cajoling or protests, Will strode from the room, ignoring the sound of sputtering protest behind him.

He was donning his hat and coat in the entryway when Parker opened the door to admit Meg and another young lady, who with her hair escaping its pins and her cheeks pink from the still-chill spring air, was pretty but forgettable. So forgettable, in fact, that though he was certain they’d been introduced before he left for Paris, he could not for the life of him recall the chit’s name.

“Will,” Meg said, a note of warning in her voice, “I think you’ve met my friend Miss Lucy Penhallow before, have you not?”

Clearly, his sister wished to warn him away from pursuing her friend. Which amused him. In part because he’d just dismissed the chit. And in part because Meg must have forgotten that the surest way to make him do something was to warn him off.

Still, he’d missed his sister enough that he was willing to do her bidding in this matter, at least.

“Indeed, Miss Penhallow and I have met before.” Will bowed over the young woman’s hand, careful not to do so for too long. A pity, really, he thought as he noticed her nearly lavender-hued eyes. “A pleasure to see you again, Miss Penhallow.”

If she’d interpreted his thoughts, Meg’s friend gave no sign of it. “My lord,” she said, offering him a brief curtsy. “Welcome back to London.”

“Are you going out?” Meg asked Will with a frown and a glance upward. “I was hoping you might take some tea with us.”

There was no misinterpreting that look. And once again he felt the sting of having left Meg to endure Lady Gilford’s temper and histrionics alone for so long.

Unfortunately, he could not put off this meeting with Adrian if he was going to save the family from ruin. And surely having Miss Penhallow at the tea table would curb Lady Gilford’s worst impulses.

“An appointment I cannot put off, I’m afraid,” he told Meg with a shake of his head. “But I will be sure to do so on another day.”

“I shall have to keep you to that promise,” his sister said with false gaiety. “Enjoy your errand.”

Bidding both young ladies a good afternoon, Will stepped outside and hurried down the front steps of Gilford House and into the hack one of the footmen had summoned for him.

When he was safely inside the hired cab, his thoughts strayed back to Miss Penhallow. She was prettier than he’d remembered.

Her pale blonde hair was unusual in that it was almost white. And there were those eyes. Still, she was obviously one of Meg’s dearest friends, and he did not wish to add even more complication to his sister’s life. Especially given that he’d not even informed her about the family’s precarious financial situation yet. Meg needed stability right now. Not more unrest.

Then, dismissing all thoughts of the winsome Miss Penhallow from his thoughts, he began a mental list of the wealthy young ladies he’d discuss with Adrian once he got to Brooks’s.