Page 32 of Wild Lily
“What of the sale of Cardiff Shipping?” his mother asked, her handkerchief to her temple. “Will you do it? That could save us.”
“Save us? You think so? Oh, if only that were so. Last winter, we had two offers. Neither of them was worth a prayer on Sunday. The better of the two came from the American. Hanniford.” His father turned to him with a tilt of his head.
“I haven’t seen him since Paris last autumn. And he has not contacted me.” Julian hadn’t wished to open that relationship again. Instead, he’d called upon their London lawyer and estate agent Phillip Leland last week in the City. On official business for himself to monitor his own investment in railroad expansion in the Cotswolds, he’d taken the occasion to ask if any news had come from Killian Hanniford lately. None had and Julian was happy for it. He did not wish to be reminded of Hanniford’s beguiling daughter.
Julian brushed the wool of his trousers. “Leland believes if we hold out for another six months or until the new year, we would receive a better price for the company than is the current offer.”
“How much better?” his father asked.
“Twenty percent more.”
“Healthy.” His father arched his brows. “And why would that be?”
“Leland courts two buyers. One wants the company to expand his own reach. The other wants it to gut it.”
“And the twenty-percent advantage would come from stalling?”
“Exactly. Selling it to the first man who will see over time that the second man would not be favored. Not for his objective.”
The duchess fretted. “Are there no other answers?”
“Certainly, there is only one other asset.” His father arched a sardonic brow at his wife.
“My—my diamonds,” she whispered, touching the base of her throat where her most precious necklace of all her jewels would adorn her on many an occasion. “But King Charles gave them to my great grandmama. I must not, nay cannot part with them.”
“But will.”
Her eyes popped wide. “If…if things are this bad—”
“Never doubt it, madam.”
“No. Would you sell them? I won’t allow it.”
“You have no choice,” his father said to her.
“But I’d have nothing to wear.”
His father scoffed. “However, the sale alone could keep us until—oh, shall we say? January. At most.”
“Oh, George.” Her tears spilled over her lids.
“We are, despite your tears, in dire straits. I have done what I could for the time being. You will abide by my orders to trim your expenses, all of you. Anything else you wish to cut, do. There is no other solution. And know too that what I have done will not be the end of it. I cannot change the weather. I cannot improve the crops, not by much in any case. Elanna, you will find a husband. Madame, you will give me your diamonds. Come to think of it, your pearls, too.”
Once more his mother put her hand to her throat. Her eyes wide, she looked as if her husband wished to cut her throat. “George. They were your wedding gift.”
“What a sorry investment that was, eh?”
Tears cascaded down her cheeks. She struggled up from her chair. With a turn of her heel and a swish of her skirts, she raced from the room.
Silence reigned.
Elanna rose to her feet.“I will do my duty by you, Papa. I will help. I swear to it. I’ll choose a husband. One you will like.”
His gaze was for once paternal and held pity for his only daughter. “Elanna, do me and yourself a favor. Search diligently. But like him for yourself.”
Julian witnessed Elanna thank her father and, for the first time in many years, she rushed to kiss him on the cheek. Then she hurried away, a hand cupping her mouth.
“Help her, can you?” The duke asked him as he watched her leave the room.
