Page 6 of Married to the Earl

Astrid supposed it was the loss of her mother that had made Tobias so uptight. Caroline Dawson had died years ago, in childbirth. Astrid had never known her, but she knew her father grieved the loss still.

A knock came at the door, bringing Astrid to her feet. She crossed the room and opened it.

Her father stood there in his finest suit. “Astrid.”

She embraced him. “You’re home. How was your day?”

“Tiring,” he said, leading her from her bedroom and toward the dining room. “Exhausting, to be true. Why do people employ a solicitor, I wonder, if they’re not willing to listen to advice?”

“Who did you see today?” She loved hearing stories of her father’s work.

“Today it was Lord Chauncey Farnsworth,” he said. “You remember who he is?”

“A baron, isn’t he?” The name sounded familiar, but Astrid had trouble placing exactly why she knew it.

“That’s right,” her father said. “The man can’t keep his financial affairs in order, and of course he blames me.” He sighed. “He wouldn’t have problems if he had done as I suggested in the first place. But now he says it’s my fault he’s lost money, and that he’s going to hold me legally responsible for his losses.”

Astrid gasped. “He can’t do that!”

“I’m afraid he can,” Tobias said. “He may only be a baron, but he’s a member of theton, and I’m just a commoner. My word won’t stand against his in court.”

“This is going to court?” Astrid couldn’t believe it.

“It will, unless I agree to pay what he’s demanding,” Tobias said. “And I haven’t got the amount he’s asking for, so of course he’ll have to pursue court filings if he hopes to get anything from me at all.”

“But I don’t understand,” Astrid protested, feeling dizzy. “How can he come after you for money you don’t even have?”

“He doesn’t see it that way,” Tobias says. “All he sees is that he entrusted his finances to me, and now his accounts are failing. He hasn’t thought about the fact that I don’t have the money to bail him out. He hasn’t even connected his own actions with his losses.”

They had reached the dining room. Astrid sat down at the table. Ordinarily she would have gone to the kitchen to get the soup she’d had simmering for the past hour so that she could serve herself and her father, but she was too distracted and upset by the story he was telling. “What’s going to happen?” she asked.

“I may have to sell my business to get the money,” Tobias said. “I may have to sell our home.”

“But where will we live?” Astrid’s whole world felt as though it was crashing down around her. She had never been in financial trouble before. Her father was not a wealthy man, to be sure, but they had always had more than they needed thanks to his hard work. To think that one baron could ruin them like this over a foolish misunderstanding—it was nauseating.

She thought of her mother, who had once lived in this house too. Even though Astrid had never had the chance to know her mother, she had always felt connected to her through their shared home.

Her mother had decorated this place, Astrid knew. She had chosen the furnishings. She had hung the curtains herself. There was a burn on the wood floor in the kitchen that Tobias told her had been caused when Astrid’s mother had spilled boiling water.

Everything here was a connection to a past Astrid would never know, to a mother who would never embrace her and tell her she was proud.

They couldn’t allow Lord Farnsworth to take that away. Especially when her father hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Father,” she said. “What are we going to do?”

“If we could get the money together somehow, we could pay him off,” Tobias said. His voice was thoughtful, but Astrid heard the undercurrent of anxiety below the careful consideration. He was worried.

It was her job to ease his worry. That was what a dutiful daughter ought to do. “I can sell my jewelry,” she suggested. The jewels she had were inherited from her mother, and Astrid was loath to part with them, but keeping the house was more important.

Her father nodded slowly. “That’s a possibility,” he said. “Though, of course, I would prefer it if you didn’t have to. Perhaps we could get a good price for Bartholomew.”

Their horse. “You need him,” Astrid pointed out. “How will you get to work without Bartholomew?”

She did not add that it would break her heart to sell the horse, that she loved him as a member of the family. Now was not the time to be sentimental. She knew better. They had to be practical. It was the only way out of this mess.

“Besides,” she added instead, “I don’t think we’d get very much money for old Bart, do you? He’s not exactly a prize stallion.” It hurt her to speak ill of her beloved horse, but if it kept him from being sold…

Her father sighed. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be enough money to sway Lord Farnsworth, in any case.”

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