Page 39 of My Best Friend's Earl
Althea shook off his hands. “Oh, he explained everything. No dowry, no choice in the matter. I’m to obey, as always. He doesn’t want a daughter; he wants a trained hound.” Her eyes met Constance’s. “I’m sorry you had to see this, Connie. Might we reschedule our visit for another day? I am not great company at the moment. Besides, I’ve been sent to my room like a child.”
Constance rushed forward and wrapped her in a hug. Under her hands, Althea’s frame quaked with emotion, even as she woodenly returned the embrace.
“I am here for whatever you need, darling. Be proud of yourself for your bravery. It sounds like your father was awful.”
“I’ll visit the shop or get word to you soon. I’m not done with this yet,” Althea whispered, then drew away and turned toward the staircase.
“I’ll do my best to make you happy, Althea. Please know that. Whatever life we make has to be better than what you just went through, right?” Lord Southwyn stared up at where Althea stood.
“That you’re willing to go along with my father’s wishes makes you complicit in his bullying. Only, you’re quieter about it, and don’t call me names.” The hurt and anger in Althea’s voice made Constance’s eyes burn.
Lord Southwyn dropped his chin to his chest. From Constance’s vantage point, he seemed to study his hands as his jaw flexed. The confidence she associated with him was nowhere in sight. He offered no arguments or defenses.
Without another word, Althea continued upstairs. Constance glanced around the foyer. The servants had made themselves scarce. Probably for the best that she hadn’t had a chance to remove her cloak or bonnet. Now she could slip away without a fuss.
Lord Southwyn, however, still stood with his head bowed. The usually straight line of his shoulders slumped under the weight of his emotions, whatever they were. She wished, fruitless as it might be, that she knew him well enough to guess at his thoughts.
Except, they weren’t on the same side of this scuffle, were they? Althea said she’d continue in her efforts, and Constance would help her. Because that’s what she’d agreed to do, and that’s what a friend would do. Althea needed a friend right now.
Seeing him struggling made her want to reach out and be a friend to him as well. Instead, Constance cleared her throat. “I will leave you to collect the marriage contract, milord. Thank you for the ride. I’ll make my own way home.”
Chapter Fifteen
Find a way to reach Franklin (did Althea ever tell me his last name?)
Find out who Franklin is
Invoices. Just do them
Answer customer mail
Send another note to Althea asking how she is (Maybe sixth time’s the charm)
There are customers asking for you,” Hattie said from the office doorway.
Constance held up a finger, silently telling her cousin she’d be there in a minute, then gulped tea to wash down the last bite of meat pasty she’d eaten while she worked. Glancing at the clock, she winced. How had it only been an hour since she started the invoices? More time should have passed. Several hours, if not days. Wearily eyeing the stack of papers still awaiting her attention, she silently vowed to return and finish the task, then stood.
After a single hour at the desk, her brain felt like it might melt from her ears, and her eyes burned. How was she going to do this every day for the rest of her life? The books themselves, the customers, designing eye-catching displays? Dealing with them was second nature by this point. But thiscramped office, with its endless demands of filing, recordkeeping, and writing down every last detail… she had to find a way to thrive here if she was to keep Martin House.
With a heavy heart, she stepped onto the sales floor.
It had been over a week since she’d seen or heard from Althea, so finding her perusing the shelves with Lord Southwyn came as a surprise. The last time she’d been in their presence, Althea had essentially called her fiancé a bully, and he’d silently accepted the accusation. Now they appeared perfectly content in one another’s presence. What had she missed?
Several other customers milled about the store. Hattie was busy wrapping a parcel with paper and twine as she spoke with one of their older patrons.
Constance recalled the date, then nodded. Yes, Mrs. McArthur usually visited the shop during the first week of the month. Which meant the parcel contained one new purchase—usually a torrid novel, like those Caro wrote as Blanche Clementine—and three books from their lending library. Smiling a silent greeting at the woman, Constance turned her attention back to the newcomers and dipped a curtsy.
“Lord Southwyn, Althea. This is a pleasure.”
“Miss Martin,” came the deep greeting. Although she tried to ignore the way his voice affected her, she understood now how Gingersnap must feel each time he arched into her hand when she scratched that one spot on his back. Constance gritted her teeth at how much she liked the sound.
Althea laid one dainty hand on Southwyn’s arm and smiled prettily up at him as they exchanged a few quiet words. The way she leaned close made it seem like an intimate moment, and Constance caught herself retreating toward the safety of the office. Irritation at the instinct forcedher to still, and she silently berated herself for the surge of jealousy she felt at seeing them together like this.
The self-chastisements would have to wait, however. Because when Lord Southwyn gave her a nod, then wandered deeper into the shop, Althea faced Connie with a vastly different attitude. Like a mask had dropped, her face changed from demure and sweet to intense and a little angry.
“I don’t have much time,” Althea hissed.
“Is everything all right?” Constance followed her to the side of the store furthest from Southwyn.
