Page 40 of My Best Friend’s Earl (Bluestocking Booksellers #2)
Review tax paperwork preparation with parents
Mail payment notices to lending library patrons
Ask Caro about next book release date
Forward letter from Mr. Wellsley to Althea Bookmarks
F ranklin Wellsley was waiting when Oliver returned from visiting Dorian.
The young man leaned against the townhome’s wall beside the stoop, with one booted foot propped on the house and his hands in his pockets.
The picture of relaxed repose, and not at all the panicked man he’d dragged from Constance’s cleavage in that dark storeroom.
Wellsley held his hat in one hand and rested with his eyes closed and face lifted to the sky, like a flower seeking out the sun’s rays. Peaceful and unencumbered by things like regret, self-recriminations, and begrudging adherence to duty.
Oliver would dearly love to smack him with something. Given the few details he knew about the man’s relationship with Althea, it was intriguing that he’d call.
As Oliver drew near, Mr. Wellsley straightened and donned his hat. “Lord Southwyn. May I have a moment of your time?”
This should be interesting. Oliver swept his arm toward the door. “Of course. Come in.”
Rather than the study, Oliver headed toward the seldom-used blue drawing room at the front of the house.
The study was his sanctuary, where he stored his broken heart and unfulfilled wishes.
Holding Constance in his favorite chair, knowing she felt safe enough to sleep in his presence, had forced him to assess how deep his feelings went.
Yes, he desired her. After all, she was all curves and laughter and unruly hair that quivered with every movement.
And she moved a lot. Being allowed to hold her while she dreamed, absorbing her honeysuckle scent, and feeling her breath on his neck, had been about more than desire. He loved her.
Sitting beside Constance on Dorian’s love seat, without touching her, had been a special kind of torture, and all he’d wanted to do was haul her back with him in time to that morning, when she’d been his for a brief while.
So, no. Oliver wouldn’t be opening his study to visitors anytime soon.
“Roberts, will you please bring some refreshments?” Knowing his butler, he’d read the tension in Oliver’s shoulders and would ensure there was something stronger than tea on offer.
Sure enough, a moment later, Roberts returned carrying a tray with a decanter and two glasses. “Will you be wanting further refreshments, milord?” Bless him and his priorities.
“Thank you, Roberts. This will be all. Mr. Wellsley, may I pour you a drink?” If nothing else, the manners his mother instilled in him would ensure the younger man didn’t walk away from this meeting thinking Oliver a monster.
At his nod, Oliver handed him a crystal glass containing a generous splash of amber liquid.
Taking a seat, Oliver rested a booted ankle on his knee and indulged in a bracing swallow. “I assume this call pertains to Althea.” Better to dive into the matter than waste each other’s time.
Mr. Wellsley’s sip became more of a gulp. Dutch courage, perhaps?
“I’m in love with your fiancée.” Twin slashes of pink colored Wellsley’s cheeks, but he held Oliver’s gaze. Interesting. Oliver’s estimation of the man went up at the show of bravery.
“Does Miss Thompson know you’re here?”
“Not exactly. She’d probably be livid if she knew.”
Oliver cocked his head, studying the man. Really, he was becoming more intriguing by the moment. “Why risk her wrath, then?”
“Because it’s not an honorable thing, is it? To love another man’s bride to be. So, I’ve come to do the only thing that feels right. I’m here to inform you that, if at all possible, I intend to marry Althea.”
He said it in a way that didn’t strike Oliver as empty bravado, or an attempt to urge them toward something truly unadvisable like pistols at dawn.
“Is that why you were in that storeroom the other night? Sending a marriage proposal via a third party?”
“Receiving a message from Althea, actually. She wanted to give me the opportunity to run away without feeling yellow-bellied. You see, if we elope, Sir William will withhold her dowry and raise such a fuss, there’ll be no escaping the scandal.”
Oliver sipped his drink and tried to identify the emotion coursing through him.
Not the fiery spikes of anger, or even the inky sticky sensation of jealousy.
This was warm, and a bit tentative. Like hope, afraid to bloom after feeling reality’s boots too many times before.
Because perhaps this young man’s courage and honesty could be the sliver of sunshine needed to light their way to a different path.
Already, Oliver’s brain buzzed with starts and stops as he attempted to imagine a new course of action.
“I assume you’re certain of her affections.” Constance had told him as much, but he wanted to make sure Althea was being forthright with her beau.
“Yes. That she was so determined to warn of the consequences we’d face if we elope confirms it.
Althea wants the best for me, even if it’s not her.
” A smile tilted Wellsley’s mouth. Oliver heard the unspoken words.
There was no one better than Althea for Franklin Wellsley.
And damned if this visit didn’t convince Oliver of that.
“You’re a younger son, correct? Do you have prospects, or an income to support a wife?”
Wellsley rested his elbows on his knees, cradling the glass between his palms. Light from the window illuminated the whisky swirling in the tumbler but wasn’t bright enough to cast the crystal into prisms on the floor. Oliver missed those days when the sun sent rainbows through this room.
When his mind turned back to Wellsley, it was to see the man draining his glass with a tight expression on his face. In matters of his finances, things weren’t looking bright, then, if Oliver had to guess.
He allowed the silence to fill the room, and took another taste of his drink.
Finally, Wellsley spoke. “I need a year. I’m not just a younger son.
I’m the fifth son.” Oliver winced in sympathy.
“Exactly. I’ve no patience for the law, haven’t the faith for the clergy, and with the war over, there’s no place in the army. ”
That narrowed the usual options significantly.
Unfortunately, twelve months was entirely out of the question, given the complication of Althea’s father and his pressing debts. “What would you accomplish with your year, if you had it?”
“I’m interested in estate management. Particularly the latest farming innovations.
Rather a shit season in which to find a position, I must say.
Everyone is in a panic, and rightly so. However, we’ve dealt with bad harvests before.
I have to believe there will be a need for land stewards in the future.
Within a year, I hope to have work that will provide me with a house.
It wouldn’t be a grand life, but it’s honest labor, and stable. I could support Althea.”
An idea germinated, and that earlier sprig of hope grew. “Do you know anything about canals and locks?”
Wellsley shrugged. “A bit. My grandfather built one in our county when I was a boy. It was quite the undertaking, but the benefits have been enormous.” An eager spark lit his eyes, and he leaned forward.
“Two years ago, Mr. Stephenson built an amazing steam locomotive and ran it on the Killingworth Railway. I read that his engine successfully hauled eight coal wagons, weighing thirty tons uphill . Just imagine what the combination of canals and tracks could do for England. We might see the transport of goods entirely revolutionized within our lifetime.”
Oliver smiled. Young Mr. Wellsley might do just fine with the right resources.
If he was eager to learn, and genuinely loved Althea, there might yet be a way out of this damned marriage.
Pulling the ace card from his pocket, Oliver ran a thumb over the weathered surface and studied the single pip.
If this card was anything as fanciful as a sign, one spade could mean one right path, rather than one logical path forward. They were not always the same.
“Unfortunately, I can’t give you a year.
However, I have an idea. I’m not comfortable sharing specifics until I know it will work in our favor.
It would be cruel to raise your hopes. But I will say, that if we ensure your financial stability, I have no issue with stepping aside so you and Althea can marry.
Sir William is another matter altogether. ”
“We will probably need to elope, which eliminates her dowry. Sir William wants a title for Althea. I’d give her the moon if I could, but I can’t make her a lady. Simply being part of a noble house isn’t enough for him.” Bitterness colored his words.
“I am on your side, Mr. Wellsley.” Hope grew a little more as details fell into place in his mind. “I have an appointment with my banker tomorrow and need to visit my solicitor. Hopefully, they will agree that my idea holds water, then you and I can sort the details.”
The fates might not be so unkind as to tie Oliver and Althea together when they’d given their hearts elsewhere.
The thought was illogical to the point of being whimsical and made him smile.
It was just the sort of thing Constance would accept as fact, without blinking.
The kind of thing his mother wouldn’t have questioned, despite her love of the scientific method.
Oliver focused his attention on his visitor once more, on alert for any sign of insincerity. “You’ll love her, provide a safe home for her, and protect her heart with your life?”
Not a wince, a smirk, or even an eye twitch betrayed doubt in Mr. Wellsley. “It would be an honor and a privilege, milord.”
Oliver nodded and stood. “Then, Mr. Wellsley, I will be speaking with you soon.”