Page 16 of An Earl Like You
“He’s a bloody charlatan,” said Papa fondly, of one of his dearest friends. “I’ll be back for dinner.”
“I’m taking tea with Sophie and Georgiana today,” she reminded him.
“An excellent diversion. Remember me to both of them.” Papa kissed her cheek and left, probably not to return until the small hours of the morning. Thank goodness he hadn’t noticed her expression when she’d thought he was implying Lord Hastings might admire her. That was too ridiculous even for Papa to suggest.
Hugh tried to push Edward Cross’s mad proposal from his mind for several days, until one of his worst fears came to pass. Reginald Benwick, eldest son and heir of Lord Livingston, called on him and asked for Edith’s hand.
The moment Mr. Benwick was announced, Hugh’s mind began to race. Damn it. He’d made a little progress since the disastrous evening when twelve thousand pounds slipped through his fingers, but not enough. He could give Edith at most five thousand, and that would leave him scraping for pennies to feed his mother and sister.
“My lord,” said Mr. Benwick when he had been shown in, “I have come to treasure your sister Lady Edith very dearly. She is a wonderful, sweet-natured, beautiful lady, and I would like to make her my wife.”
“Have you spoken to her?” Perhaps Edith would save him and string the boy along for a few more days...
But no. Benwick nodded, fairly glowing with satisfaction. “I have, and she has consented. I would like your blessing.”
Hugh smiled. “If she’s given you her blessing, mine counts but little! I am happy to give it. May you share a long life together in contentment and joy.”
“Thank you, sir.” The young man jumped out of his seat. “May I go to her now? She’s been waiting very anxiously for the results of our interview.”
He raised one brow. “Has she? Ought I put you through some sort of test of valor? I’ve never done this before, you know.”
Benwick grinned. “Neither have I! And I am vastly relieved to have it out of the way.” He paused. “My father said I should tell you his solicitors will call upon yours, when it is agreeable.”
To write the marriage contract. To spell out the transfer of Edith’s dowry, which she did not have. Hugh waved one hand carelessly. “There’s plenty of time for the lawyers. If I know my mother and sister, they’ll need to begin shopping at once if they’re to assemble a grand enough trousseau by the end of the year.”
“The end of the year?” Benwick blinked. “I had hoped to marry her sooner, my lord—certainly before the end of the year.”
Hugh laughed even as his small hope that he could put this off for a few more months capsized and sank. “I never interfere between a woman and her modiste. It’s up to you to urge them on, my good man. But I suspect Edith will be an eager bride.”
His visitor laughed, too, relief coloring his face. “Oh I do hope so! Even a month will seem an eternity.” He stopped, looking abashed. “But I should go to Lady Edith—my Edith,” he repeated more tenderly. “I want to tell her right away. Thank you, my lord.” He bowed and hurried out the door.
Hugh let out a shuddering breath and hung his head. He was out of time. And he couldn’t bear to see his sister disappointed now. Somehow he had to scrape together a reasonable dowry. For a moment Edward Cross’s voice echoed in his mind:my daughter has a dowry of fifty thousand pounds... she’ll inherit half a million more...
A tap at the door made him jump. His mother, Rose, peeked in, her face wreathed in joy. “I saw young Mr. Benwick leave,” she began, then stopped. The pleased smile slid from her face. “Darling, what’s wrong?”
He heaved a sigh and made his expression even more tragic. If he told her the truth, she would be inconsolable, and incapable of keeping it from his sisters. He had lied to her for a year and a half, and now it was impossible to stop. “He’s going to take her away, Mother. Who shall tease me about my waistcoats from now on?”
She smiled again and closed the door. “Henrietta might try, if you ask her.”
“No, no.” He propped his chin in one hand. “I shall have to suffer the agony of not knowing if a blue silk embroidered with red elephants suits me.”
“Edith tells me they wish to be married soon. She will need a trousseau.”
Hugh thought of all that she’d spent at the modiste already. What else could Edith possibly need? “Oh? Of course,” he said, pretending ignorance. “I thought we could let her take her pillow, and her hairbrush... perhaps that chair she favors in the drawing room...”
“Darling,” said his mother in reproach.
“I’m teasing, of course.” He came around his desk to take her hand. “I hope she truly cares for him.”
She gripped his hand in both of hers. “She does. Your father would be so pleased. He used to say he looked forward to giving her to a man who could love her as much as he loved me—” She choked off, but waved it aside when he offered a handkerchief. “He’d be so pleased,” she repeated in a steadier voice. “A future viscountess. Do you think you can arrange the settlements quickly?”
“Er.” Hugh busied himself with replacing the handkerchief, buying a moment. “We’ll see how miserly Livingston plans to be.”
“Oh no!” His mother blinked in dismay. “If he is, then you must be doubly generous with her. Edith deserves her happiness.”
Somehow he managed to smile. “She does.”
He had been standing at the crossroads for a week, waiting, hoping, praying something would happen to spare him the choice he had to make. Now he saw there was nothing and no one coming to help him. One way lay telling the truth, tearing the veil from his mother’s and sisters’ eyes and letting them see how penniless they were. He would have to explain the depth of his father’s mismanagement and deception. He would have to tell Edith that he had no dowry to give her, and that he must tell Lord Livingston even if it caused the viscount to withdraw his consent for the marriage.
