Page 48 of Deceiving an Earl
“Oliver!” His mother offered her cheek, and he bent to kiss it.
Josie looked less than pleased to see him and more than a little distrustful.
“What brings you here so early?” his mother asked.
He dumped about a dozen white envelopes beside her plate and sat next to her while the footman poured him coffee.
“What is this?” She sifted through the envelopes a bit before her head popped up and her eyes went wide. “They’re…” She poked through them some more. “They’re invitations. To balls. And picnics.”
He sipped his coffee and watched the joy cross her face, all while feeling his fate seal up tight.
“Why are you bringing invitations here?” Josie asked.
“Yes, dear, why?” Nora folded her hands beneath her chin and pierced him with her dancing blue eyes.
“I believe it’s time that I make an appearance or two.”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This was more difficult than he thought it would be, and he didn’t like the gleam in his mother’s eyes.
The idea of finding a suitable wife would not leave him. It was time. He was thirty-four years old with nothing to show except a very successful earldom that was earning money faster than he could invest it.
After speaking to Ashland, and watching Philip attempt to piss it all away, he was more convinced than ever that it was time to produce an heir. And who else to help him find a suitable wife than his mother.
“I see,” she said, studying him closely. “And what brought this on?”
“Come, Mother, you’ve been telling me for years that it’s my duty to carry on the title.”
“And suddenly you agree with me?”
He found it hard to believe that she wasn’t jumping up and down in excitement and planning his nuptials already.
She picked up an envelope and pulled out the invitation, then proceeded with the rest of them, sorting them into two piles. Oliver was known as a math genius, able to smell a good investment. He had no issue with dirtying his hands and his money in businesses that no aristocrat would touch. His mother was also a genius, except her genius leaned toward manipulating Society to do what she wanted. People feared her, because a snub from Lady Armbruster meant social ruin.
She pushed two invitations toward him. “These two,” she said. “They will provide the most debutantes. Personally, I recommend Lady Sylvia Evendale. She is of fine stock, her reputation unblemished, and her bloodline impeccable.”
Josie snorted then covered her mouth.
Nora raised a brow at her daughter. “You don’t approve?”
“Lady Sylvia is dull. She has not an original thought in her head. Oliver would be bored to death within five minutes.”
Oliver grinned at his sister, who seemed to know him far better than their own mother. Lady Sylvia might be all of the things his mother said, but if she did not have an original thought, he didn’t want her.
“Who else?” he asked.
Nora sighed. “Really, Oliver. You must think of things such as bloodlines and reputation.”
“Not if she’s dull. Who else?”
“What about Lady Fieldhurst?” Josie hid her expression behind her cup of coffee that she raised to her lips. All Oliver could see was her mischievous eyes. He glowered at her.
“Lady Fieldhurst is old,” Nora said, dismissively.
“She’s my age,” Oliver said, a bit miffed that his mother thought him old.
“That’s different. Men age differently. Lady Fieldhurst is almost past her child bearing years, and your purpose is to produce an heir.”
“I find her fascinating,” Josie said.
