Page 14 of My Best Friend's Earl
“I see.” Constance drained the last of her tea, then stood. “Thank you for telling me.”
Her father rose as well. “Nothing is set in stone. I wanted to include you in the discussion so talk of selling didn’t take you unawares.”
“I appreciate that.” Constance sent him a tight smile. “I’m going to bed. Good night.” She kissed his cheek.
“I love you, poppet.”
“I love you too.”
The bedroom she shared with Hattie was empty, and she stood at the threshold for a moment, puzzled. “Right. She’s tutoring the Widow Fellsworth’s children.” The hour was later than Hattie usually stayed out. When she arrived home, she’d be tense from walking in the dark.
Constance turned around and went downstairs to the shop.
In the office, she lit a lamp, then walked to the front window and set the light close to the glass. The glow from the lamp would shine through to the street, and she knew from experience her cousin would appreciate the gesture.
With a grumble, Connie fetched the receipts from the day and the ledger, then curled up in the chair beside the window. Might as well work on the damned paperwork while she waited for Hattie to come home.
“I look like a camel when I have a lie-down,” Caro commented from between Constance and Hattie the following evening.
That the three of them shared this bed for years was hardto believe, after the luxury of only having a single bedmate since Caro married. Constance shifted on the mattress, trying to find a comfortable place on the pillow. Since the duke and duchess’s return to London for the birth of their first child, Caro made a habit of visiting Martin House to see the family. The cousins usually ended up like this, side by side in the manner in which they’d once slept, as they caught up on the events of their day.
“My ankles are swollen, my wedding ring doesn’t fit, and today I cried over cheese,” Caro lamented.
“Cheese?” Hattie asked. “Cheese as a general topic, or one particular cheese?”
Constance snorted a laugh. Pregnancy had played havoc on poor Caro’s emotions, so Hattie’s query wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.
“Our neighbors in Kent make an apricot honey goat cheese that I’ve been craving for days. This morning, I finally collapsed into sobs because I wanted it so fiercely, I could almost taste it. My poor husband.”
“I have a tuppence that says Dorian sends someone to Kent to get your cheese within the week,” Hattie said.
Constance lifted her head from the pillow and reached a hand across Caro’s giant belly to Hattie. “My tuppence says he will have it by the time she returns home tonight.” Because if there was one thing worth placing money on, it was the Duke of Holland’s absolute devotion to his wife. That man would empty the channel with a teacup if it made his duchess happy.
Hattie considered Connie’s hand, then shook. “Too many variables are at play for him to acquire it that quickly. The roads, weather, and their neighbors having some on hand. I’ll take that bet.”
“Oh God, now I want cheese again!” Caro wailed,although there was obvious humor in it. “Quick, one of you distract me.”
It was on the tip of Connie’s tongue to tell her cousins about the conversation she’d had with her father the night before, and the worries for her future and the shop. Before she could open her mouth, Hattie said, “Constance is conspiring with Althea to make Southwyn break their engagement.”
Connie’s air froze in her lungs as she jerked upright. “Hattie McCrae, that is not something you’re supposed to know.”
“Yousawme eavesdropping!” Hattie protested, sitting up as well.
“That is not the point. If we don’t speak of it, it never happened.”
“Could one of you please help me? If we’re going to sit up in bed, I need assistance.” Caro held out her hands, like a child asking for someone to pick her up. Each of her cousins took an arm and were kind enough not to comment on the grunt the Duchess of Holland made when she moved.
“How do you function with that belly?” Hattie wondered aloud. Silently, Constance seconded the question, even as she panicked over what to tell her closest friends about the matchbreaking plan.
“I usually have some kind of furniture to use as leverage, or can roll over and get into a better position. Has this bed always been so tiny?”
“Yes,” Hattie and Constance answered in unison—Constance from behind her hands, covering her face.
Huffing and slightly out of air from the simple act of sitting, Caro said, “Now. What is this about Althea and Oliver?”
Constance groaned, letting her hands fall to her lap.These two women were more than family to her. While they kept few secrets from each other, information never strayed beyond their trio. Their discretion was sacrosanct. “Althea doesn’t want people to know about this.”
“I see you’re conflicted, Connie. You don’t have to explain. I will. Our dear cousin and Althea concocted a plan to convince Lord Southwyn to cry off. Their ideas are deliciously devious. I’m proud that Connie hasn’t said a word about it.”
