Page 3 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl (Marriage Mart Scandals #2)

Andrew leaned back in his chair, his eyes weary from the strain. He had done as he had planned and had resumed looking over the accounts after a day spent resting and riding.

“It’s not possible,” he muttered into the empty air.

The amount owed by the Rilendale estate ran to a little over five thousand pounds, and that was just debts to craftsmen and tradesmen in the greater London area. If he considered the other debts, it was closer to eight thousand. He ran a hand through his thick black hair and tried to ignore his desperate inclination to go down to the stables, saddle his horse and run away.

A knock at the door made him jump in startled surprise.

“What is it?” he called.

“Lord Neville is here, my lord. Should I send him in?”

“Please,” Andrew replied at once, relief washing through him like a wave. He needed the distraction of someone friendly to talk to.

Mr Pearson opened the door and Neville strode in almost at once.

“Neville!” Andrew greeted, relieved to see him. “I almost forgot your visit. Apologies. I wasn’t aware of the hour.” He had slept later than usual, since he had been blissfully untroubled by visions of his grandfather in dreams. After two hours poring over accounts in the study, it was getting close to lunchtime.

“Just thought I’d drop in,” Neville said casually, drawing out his chair where he customarily sat. Neville’s expression was unusually tense, his eyes bright as though he was intent on something.

“How was your ride to London?” Andrew asked him.

“I had a successful meeting at the club,” Neville told him. Andrew frowned.

“Did something interesting happen?” He could sense that Neville was focused on something, and he wondered what it was.

“I have some news for you,” Neville said lightly.

“News?” His stomach twisted with some sort of anticipation. As Neville cleared his throat, he realised how unusual it seemed to be looking forward to things.

“Yes. I happened to fall in with a fellow, the Baron of Bradwood, at the club with the fellows. Never met him before, but he was telling me and his business associate about his worries. Might not have talked so freely, but for a little brandy.” Neville shrugged.

Neville sipped his tea and Andrew itched with impatience to hear the story. After what seemed like an age, Neville put his teacup aside and continued.

“He told us,” he began, “that he has been worried about his daughter. She is of marriageable age and has a considerable dowry. Even so, he has struggled to find suitors in London.” He shrugged again. “Said the girl was too shy even to speak to anyone.” His eyes widened. “I thought of you.”

“ Of me ?” Andrew gaped at him. “You mean...”

“Yes. I hope you can forgive me, but I took it upon myself to mention your worries to this baron, and he practically threw himself on the floor before me, wanting me to make an introduction to you. Of course, I said I would do so. It’s the least I can do. I thought the poor fellow was in such a predicament that I simply had to.”

“You led the fellow to believe I would be interested in wedding his daughter?” Andrew stared at him.

“Yes,” Neville said with a touch of levity. “Pardon me, old chap.”

Andrew swallowed hard. His grandmother’s counsel echoing in his mind, and he had to admit there was merit to it. He narrowed his eyes. “Pray, tell me you made it abundantly clear that you had no such authorisation from me?”

Neville tilted his head. “Well, he did not inquire, so I saw no reason to volunteer that information.”

Andrew flushed. Neville had no right to suggest such a thing to anyone. But at the same time, he could not forget that his grandmother had proposed something quite similar only the day before. And it was, indeed, a sensible notion. If he were guided solely by cold, unfeeling business acumen, he would have acted upon it without hesitation.

“I hope you didn’t let the poor fellow believe I would do as you suggest,” Andrew continued. “I might disappoint him.”

“At least meet her?” Neville asked lightly.

Andrew let out a sigh.

“Her dowry is more than fifteen thousand pounds,” Neville added.

Andrew closed his eyes for a moment, lost in thought. The idea was sound, if one thought rationally. But he could not do it coldly. If the girl was truly desperate, it might not be too terrible—she might be willing to live in his house and be a noblewoman and have no interactions with him at all.

“I cannot quite say thank you, since you acted most rashly. However, since you have told the fellow I am interested, it would seem churlish not to visit him.” He didn’t know how he had managed to get the words out. It was easily the hardest sentence he had ever said.

Neville inclined his head. His eyes were wide with surprise.

“Good,” he said softly. “That’s good. Mayhap we could ride to London soon.”

Andrew blinked at him disbelievingly.

“I shall consider it,” he said slowly.

When Neville had ridden off, Andrew walked through the garden. He went to a place high up on the estate grounds, to where the estate grounds led into the farmland. He leaned on the gate and stared out over the property, lost in thought. He tried to imagine what the girl looked like—for some reason, he wished he knew, even though he supposed that it didn’t matter. It was only her dowry that mattered.

He shuddered. He didn’t believe that. He was not that cold and mercenary. He knew it would be torture for them both. And if it was not, if they actually found some affection and respect for one another, that would be even harder for him. He did not want to get close to another person.

“Be sensible,” he told himself aloud. “You can gamble your heart for fifteen thousand pounds.”

It was a king’s ransom. He could afford to rebuild parts of the manor that were neglected and pay his debts. He could even hire staff to ensure the maintenance of his home.

He closed his eyes, trying to think about what it would really be like. He could not do it.

He walked back to the manor, thinking about what he could tell Neville. The man that Neville had spoken to would be disappointed, but that was Neville’s matter to deal with. He could not condemn a young lady to a loveless life to make her father happy.

He walked up the stairs into the entranceway.

“My lord! My lord,” Mr Pearson yelled as he walked in.

“What is it?” Andrew asked confusedly.

“Your grandmother, my lord. The countess. She fell. ”

“What?” Andrew was rooted in place, unable to move. His heart thumped wildly in his chest. Grandma! He could not bear it if she...

“She is presently in the drawing room. Mrs Hall found her.”

“Is it serious? Has someone sent for the physician?” Andrew demanded.

“No, my lord. Your grandmother was asking for you.”

Andrew was about to retort that they should have fetched the physician anyway, but they had already reached the door. He rushed in.

“Grandma!”

He ran to her side where she lay on the chaise-longue. Her face was papery white, her forehead livid bruising from the fall, and she looked lovingly at Andrew. She was tucked up under a blanket, a pillow under her head. Andrew took her hand in his and stared into her eyes. She was looking at him, awake and alive. That was all that mattered.

“Grandma,” he repeated softly. “You’re alive.”

“Grandson,” she greeted him. Her voice was a rasping whisper. “I wondered where you were.”

“What happened?”

“I fell,” she said softly. “Nothing serious. Just a shock. And some bruises,” she added, lifting a hand to her brow.

“What happened?” Andrew repeated, touching her forehead gently. He could feel no crack in the bone, though it was swollen, the skin warm, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“I just fell, Grandson,” she said gently. “I will be quite all right. I’m just tired.”

“I’m sure,” Andrew said quickly. He knew the pain of hitting one’s head—he had hit his head falling off his horse once and he had been terribly drowsy.

“I need to sleep,” Grandma said softly. “I’ll be quite all right with time.”

“I am sure you will,” Andrew said swiftly. “May I carry you to your room?” he asked.

“Oh, Andrew. You don’t need to do that,” she said softly, but she smiled at him as she said it as if the suggestion appealed to her.

“I am happy to help,” he said instantly, and bent down and lifted her up. He hadn’t realised how little she was—she was such a huge figure in his life, but somehow her body seemed so frail and tiny when he held her.

He carried her down the hallway and to her bedroom.

“Thank you, Grandson,” she murmured .

“Please rest,” he said softly as he lowered her onto the bed. “Rest and get well.” He kissed her brow. “I will fetch the physician.”

“No need,” his grandmother murmured softly, but he shook his head.

“I will feel better if he has seen you,” he insisted.

She smiled sleepily. “If you must.”

He went to find Mr Pearson to send for the physician.

“What happened to her?” Andrew asked Mr Pearson as they both walked to the door. “Where did Mrs Hall find her?”

“In the hallway,” Mr Pearson explained. “Near the gallery stairs.”

Andrew winced and let out a sigh. The hallway that led to the gallery was dangerous. The floor was rickety—neglect and lack of maintenance led to several boards being loose and some had lifted. It was easy to fall there. He should have had the place cordoned off. Grandma liked to go up there to look at the portraits of the family and he could not deny her that small comfort.

“I ought to have attended to it long ago,” he castigated himself as he walked to his study.

He walked past his bedroom and went in, flopping onto the bed. He closed his eyes, exhaustion overwhelming him.

Sometimes, when he was in need of guidance, he spoke to his father and mother. He did not know if they could hear him somewhere in the lands beyond life, but he fancied that they could. He was calm as he spoke aloud to them.

“Mama. Papa. I wish I knew what to do.”

He paused, the sense of peace settling on him and, even though no thoughts came to him, the calmness was welcome.

“I could repair the floor with fifteen thousand,” he added. He needed to repair the manor—Grandma's accident made it plain.

He opened his eyes and shut them again exhaustedly. It was a choice that was no real choice at all. He had to fix the manor, and there was only one way to get the money to do so. He had to do what Neville had suggested and at least meet this young lady.

It was what Grandma had asked him to do.