Page 49 of My Best Friend’s Earl (Bluestocking Booksellers #2)
If at first you don’t succeed, escalate the situation
N ot only were there letters from two estates waiting when he returned home, but a notice from Gerard Bellmore, his solicitor. Althea’s deed and trust had been recorded and filed. Oliver couldn’t stop smiling.
Prince rubbed against his hand, insisting on more pets to make up for Oliver’s absence. One hand scratched the cat’s ears while the other dashed off a summons to Mr. Wellsley.
Roberts knocked on the study door. “Milord, Mr. Wellsley is here. He says the matter is urgent.”
“Perfect. Send him in.” Oliver slapped the lid of his silver inkwell closed, and it gave a satisfying thwap .
Standing, he stretched to loosen the aches from spending so long in a carriage.
Other muscles he hadn’t known he possessed made themselves known, but the ways he and Constance had earned each twinge and pang left him feeling smug as hell.
Franklin Wellsley’s face was set in grim lines when he entered a moment later.
Oliver rounded his desk. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure what to do. I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.”
Oliver gestured toward the chairs and chaise near the fireplace. “Take a seat. We can figure it out together. I just finished writing you to ask for a meeting, so your timing is excellent.”
Mr. Wellsley’s shoulders relaxed. Giving his guest time to gather his thoughts, Oliver knelt by the fire and added another log, then poked at the embers until flames once again leapt merrily in the grate.
“Now. Tell me what’s happened.”
“Sir William and Lady Thompson secured a time at the church for next week. According to gossip, Miss Braithmore cried off from Lord Landry. Althea is desperate. I’m hoping you have news about your idea.”
Oliver grimaced. A week? Finalizing those papers had happened at the last minute. They didn’t have long to figure out how exactly he and Althea would miss that wedding date. “Then it’s best we decide on our next steps. A desperate Althea could be ruinous.”
Mr. Wellsley visibly gulped. “Interesting word choice. She’s determined to ruin herself publicly and force her father to let us wed.”
“Which leaves her bearing the brunt of the scandal. How do you feel about that idea?” Letting Althea seem like a jilt didn’t appeal to him.
“I love her. I’ll marry her under any circumstances. I worry that this throws too much mud on her. She might regret that later.” The younger man looked pained. “At the same time, so much of her anger stems from how she’s been controlled, with no choices.”
A glow grew in Oliver’s chest the longer he listened. Mr. Wellsley truly did love and respect Althea. “Everyone might assume you were forced to marry because of the scandal, rather than out of genuine affection.”
“We’d know the truth. That’s what matters.”
“All right. Before you two decide what you’ll do, there’s a second option. You’re familiar with the idea of a separate estate trust in marriage contracts?”
Mr. Wellsley nodded. “Of course. Pin money, or family wealth set aside for a woman’s children.”
“I convinced Sir William to deed Althea a tract of land he’d intended as part of her dowry.
That land is now in a trust. I’m currently named as the trustee, but when she marries, her spouse becomes the trustee.
The documents don’t specifically name her husband, so legally, it can be you.
Everything is filed with the government and official. Sir William can’t take it back.”
Oliver returned to his desk and gathered the letter from the solicitor, his copy of the trust, a map of Birchwood Court’s surrounding area, and the engineering plans. Althea’s determination to cause chaos in his life seemed to have truly died, because each item was where he’d left it.
From now on, the title of Head Chaos Coordinator belonged to Constance. With a spring in his step, he brought the stack to Wellsley. “The land includes a river dividing my estate from the Thompsons’. I intended to turn the river into a canal.”
Unrolling the paper on the low table between them, Oliver pointed at various areas of interest on the map.
“This orchard is large enough to produce goods for a family, with a decent leftover crop to sell at market. Or you could clear it and build an office or shelter for the canal workers. There’s space for a house here—nothing too grand, but a nice-size cottage.
However, it’s on the Thompsons’ side of the river.
” They exchanged a grimace. “A canal would connect our farmers and artisans with larger markets to the east and south.”
Wellsley leaned in and examined the papers. “I can’t imagine how much building an undertaking of this size will cost.”
Oliver nodded. “With this year’s harvest looking so grim, the canal system is not an immediate solution.
I’d like to partner with you both on this venture.
Even still, we will need investors, and that could take years.
In the meantime, I’m prepared to offer you a position working with a land steward at my property in Cornwall.
You would have a salary, a cottage on the estate, and an escape from the scandal all this will cause. Also, Dorcas lives nearby.”
A frown crossed Wellsley’s face. “That sounds wonderful. But even with her sister nearby, will Althea be happy in Cornwall?”
That his first concern was for her happiness confirmed she’d be well loved.
Oliver remembered a much younger Althea running barefoot through the estates, climbing trees, and playing in the dirt.
Once upon a time, she’d loved the country and cried when they went to London.
Even after she could take part in the Season, she complained about missing rural life.
In short, beneath her polished exterior, Althea Thompson was a bit of a hoyden.
“I think so, but don’t take my word for it.
Ask her. Since Sir William is a horse’s arse, I doubt he’s told her about any of this.
Would you like to do the honors? Take the papers to her so she can examine them for herself.
With this in place, she doesn’t need to resort to a publicly compromising situation. ”
Wellsley grinned. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you. This is more than I thought possible.”
“Just be kind to my childhood friend. Ensure she laughs every day.”
“You have my word as a gentleman,” Wellsley promised.
That should have been the end of it. Althea could have eloped to Scotland, then moved on to Cornwall. Except, she didn’t.
I should know better than try to predict anything with these women.
If Constance was Head Chaos Coordinator, Althea could be Assistant Chaos Instigator, because she stormed into his study an hour later, waving the sheaf of papers.
An amused Wellsley followed at her heels. “Oliver, you wonderful man!”
At least she liked him again, Oliver thought when she hugged him.
Althea pulled back with a serious expression. “I still want to cause a fuss and compromise myself.”
Oliver’s gaze went heavenward. “Why, for the love of God, when you have a perfectly reasonable, logical, and legally sound way to quietly elope?”
Wellsley wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You might think me mad, but I’m inclined to agree with the idea.” Seeing Oliver’s face, he urged, “Hear her out.”
“If we make our attachment public, Father can’t make up his own version of events.
After the way he’s treated us, don’t you want everyone to see what he’s really like?
Think about it. Even if Franklin and I slink off into the night, you’re still here, facing the scandal.
That isn’t fair to you. Creating a spectacle lets us have some control over what people say.
Besides, for the last three years, I’ve been a pawn in everyone else’s game.
I want to control the way this ends. Father doesn’t get his precious title, and Mother doesn’t get her society wedding. ”
They were valid points, much as it pained him to admit it.
But two glaring problems needed addressing.
“I don’t want you taking on the majority of blame, Althea.
Also, when we eventually build this project literally right beside your father’s land, if his temper hasn’t cooled, he will be unbearable. ”
Althea shrugged. “He’ll always be an arse. If he’s still angry, I’ll take delight in inflicting the mess and noise of construction on him. Becoming wildly successful will be even sweeter.”
Oliver considered her, feeling his smile grow.
“Have I ever told you what an interesting woman you’ve grown to be?
” Arguing with Althea was as successful as pissing into the wind, so he threw up his hands in defeat.
“Fine. You two put on a show. Serve Sir William a generous helping of consequences. If we can’t avoid a scandal, we might as well use it to your advantage.
However, I can’t in good conscience let people frame you as a jilt.
If you’re willing to share your moment of victory, I have a request.”
By the time they left, his good mood was back in force. For once, he and Althea were not only intent on the same objective, but also in agreement about how to go about it.
Which meant he needed to visit Lord Bixby, London’s most notorious purveyor of personal information. If the society sharks wanted to swarm at the scent of blood in the water, Oliver would need a shark of his own.
Lord Bixby lived in a tidy, if sparsely decorated townhome in a genteel area of London. A housekeeper opened the door at Oliver’s knock, then escorted him through a warren of hallways and identical doors, keys jangling from the chatelaine at her waist.
Gold-shot burgundy silk covering the walls had faded with time. Darker squares and rectangles showed where art had once hung. The Bixby barony came with a mountain of accumulated debt that grew as the family mausoleum filled.