Mandy Goff - Engaging the Earl

“I never liked you working for that puffed up snob anyway,” Olivia, the Marchioness of Huntsford, announced as she entered the room, talking over Emma’s attempts to apologize for the early hour. “You are far too good for those terrors she calls children, and besides, she gave you scarcely any time at all to come by and visit me.”

“This isn’t exactly good news, Olivia.” Emma felt compelled to interject. Although her friend’s enthusiasm had a grudging smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Nonsense, this will be like a holiday, having you here—because, of course, you’ll be staying.” Olivia continued. “And none of your protests about it being extra trouble, or me being too kind. I’m being entirely selfish in looking forward to having you stay with me. Mathis will have a maid prepare you a room in no time at all, won’t you, Mathis?”

“Certainly, my lady,” the butler replied with such assurance that one might have supposed he always kept rooms at the ready for newly dismissed governesses.

“There, you see?” Olivia said as she seated herself on a sofa. “Now, while Mathis takes care of that, why don’t you sit down here with me and tell me all about it?”

Relief and gratitude poured over Emma in a wave as she all but collapsed onto the seat next to her friend. Soon, the whole story had come out—oversleeping at her parents’ house, rushing back to the Roths’, the confrontation with Lady Roth ending in her swift but final exit. The only thing Emma left out was her meeting the man—Mr. Fairfax. But surely she could be forgiven for glossing over that. It had, after all, been merely a chance encounter with a gentleman she’d likely never see again.

Olivia listened with her usual amount of patience—which was to say, none whatsoever—interrupting frequently with exclamations of surprise and outrage on her friend’s behalf. Emma was used to constantly having to bite her tongue around Lady Roth and the little terrors masquerading as children, and around her parents. Frankness was a sure way to offend the former and hurt the latter. Despite the bleakness of the situation, it was relaxing to finally say exactly what she thought without fear of the consequences. If Olivia were the type to be easily offended, they never would have become friends in the first place.

Granted, a marchioness and a governess were an odd pairing for a friendship. The origins of the friendship had been equally unique. During a walk through the park a few months earlier, David, one of the Roth children, had flung a handful of mud at his sister, Marie—only to have it miss and hit the unsuspecting Marquess of Huntsford as he and his wife were strolling. Emma had been suitably mortified, but the Huntsfords had been cheerful and gracious.

Since then, Olivia had been a stalwart friend. A stalwart friend who was now entirely too eager to find a silver lining in Emma’s situation.

“We just need to build the proper strategy,” Olivia continued.

“For what?” Emma asked, her dread rising as she wondered how much of the conversation her reminiscing had caused her to miss.

“For finding you a husband.”

“Olivia,” she said in a warning voice. Considering the evening she’d had, and the early hour, Emma could think of a hundred reasons not to have this conversation. Maybe a thousand reasons.

Her friend paid her no mind, which wasn’t surprising at all. “Emma, it’s a good plan.”

“Your suggestion hardly constitutes a plan,” Emma argued. “Besides, who would have me?”

The question was met with a blank stare. “You must be joking, Emma. There are no end of eligible bachelors in Town for the Season. It will be a small matter to make one of them fall in love with you.”

“But do you think I’m going to find it that easy to just fall in love with someone myself?” And Emma prepared herself to receive a lecture on how she shouldn’t be choosy. Not only was it much too early for the plan, but for lectures, as well.

But Olivia didn’t chide. She looked rather crestfallen. “I’m sure there’s someone out there who you might find …”

“Never mind, Olivia. I know,” Emma said gently because she couldn’t stand how her friend looked when she thought her brilliant plan—that wasn’t so much of a plan—wasn’t going to work. “But I still don’t see how I can be expected to compete with the other eligible ladies.”

“They’ll be foolish to try to compete with you ,” Olivia insisted. “You’re beautiful—no, don’t shake your head, it’s nothing more than the truth—you’re kind, generous, practical, good with children and you’re from a highly respectable family.”

“A highly impoverished family, you mean. Uncle is the one with money, and he doesn’t speak to Papa.”

Olivia waved the problem away. “He’s a recluse. He doesn’t speak to anyone. No one will expect you to be his closest correspondent. Simply the fact that you are his niece and therefore, eventually, his heir will earn you entrance into many circles.”

“But my uncle won’t be the one to provide me with a dowry.”

“So we’ll find you suitors who don’t need to gain money from marriage.” Olivia reached out to take hold of Emma’s hands. “Truly, Emma, a husband is what you need. As a governess, you will always be subject to your employer’s whims. You’ll never have security, never have stability, never truly be able to help your parents in any lasting way since you’ll never be able to guarantee your income from one month to the next.”

The last bit was a low blow, but Emma had to admit everything Olivia said was the truth.

“I know this may not be exactly what you’d planned for your life, but can you at least try?” Olivia asked. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll figure out something else.”

Olivia looked so hopeful, Emma could only nod. “I suppose I can try,” she said grudgingly.

“Wonderful!” Olivia exclaimed. And her mouth quirked into a smile, and her eyes sharpened. “It really would be the perfect solution. A handsome, wealthy, godly gentleman will fall madly in love with you and all of your problems will disappear.”

“But I wouldn’t get my hopes up, Olivia.?… My agreement to try doesn’t mean …”

It was no use; her friend was hugging her as though Emma had fulfilled her most earnest desire.

“I’ll put together a list of the most suitable gentlemen, and we’ll go from there.”

“And how am I to meet these suitable gentlemen?” Emma couldn’t help but ask. She covered her mouth to hide a yawn.

“Leave that to me,” Olivia insisted. “I have just the man in mind to help.”

Two days after the incident in Cheapside, Marcus wasn’t in any better mood. There had been no further news on the status of the ship, so he’d spent his time reviewing his accounts, trying to determine just how badly he’d be impacted if the ship was truly lost.

Very badly indeed, as it turned out.

“So you’re convinced the ships are lost?” Marcus asked during his morning meeting with Grimshaw and the Fairfax family solicitor, Mr. Wilbanks.

“I’m afraid so, my lord,” Grimshaw said with a sigh.

It was clear that this financial struggle concerned Grimshaw just as much as Marcus. Marcus had learned that his estate manager’s cousin was one of the timber merchants involved with the investment. That explained why so much had been funneled in a single project—Grimshaw had seen the opportunity to help his cousin and benefit his employer with a potentially highly profitable venture. He’d acted with only honest intentions, but his family loyalties had made him disregard the risk.