William slumped on the pub bench, South and Folly watching him across the table. They hadn’t spent time together in weeks. Both men looked rather grim, almost as grim as he did, as he shared the news about the ruined ship’s cargo.
Folly shook his head. “’Tis horrid, like one last slap from the grave, if I may say so.” His friends both knew William had lost respect for his father once he saw the state of the family’s estate and how hard his mother had to work to get him through Oxford. Only memories of his very early childhood saved him from hating the man. His sister did not have those but neither had she been forced to deal with the repercussions of his abandonment of his responsibilities.
South swung a hand with a glass and a cheroot in it. “Well at least ’tis the last. Hear, hear.” He raised the glass and they all toasted.
William was sure that anyone listening would have thought them—him, especially—the coldest of men, but he could not give a fig. They did not know what he had had to deal with, nor did they understand what he faced going forward.
He sighed. “He’s undone over a year of work. I am just thankful I had gained enough ground that we aren’t begging on the street.”
“Yes, well done, chap. I confess I must have missed that class at university, I’ve had nowhere near the returns on my investments that you have.” South made a quick air toast before sipping his ale again.
“Perhaps you drank more of them away?” Folly murmured, and got an elbow in his ribs.
William smiled, although the curve of his lips was tinged with sadness. “’Twasn’t Oxford, South. ’Twas Charlotte, Lady Peterborough to you. The lady you doltishly addressed as a wench in her own home.”
South rolled his eyes. “I apologized for that, old chap. Are you ever going to let me forget it?”
Folly jumped in, getting back to the import of William’s statement. “You are saying that Lady Peterborough helped you invest?” His voice was incredulous.
“Yes, actually. Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Are you sure they weren’t her husband’s investments?”
William frowned at his friend. “Her husband died three years ago, Folly. The steam locomotive had not been invented then, as one example. Yes, I am quite sure.”
“Right, sorry, Will. Hmm…”
South tossed his arm around William again.
William watched his friend’s beer. The height of sloshing liquid told him it was still only his second or third, a remarkable feat for this time of evening. The funeral must have sparked sobriety.
“You know, we haven’t seen you here much these past months. You’ve been at the ever-so-lovely Lady Peterborough’s.” South and Folly toasted his overly careful reference and snickered. “Why are you not there now?”
William shook his head, lips turning down. “She won’t see me. As far as I can tell she is not even home.”
“Wait, do you mean that she found you inheriting an earldom awful enough that she hied herself off somewhere?” South snickered, while Folly raised his brows.
“What, was her first marriage to an earl so horrible it put her off for life? Or is she wealthy enough to want to keep a string of young men to play with, but never wed?” Folly added.
“Watch it!” William sat up. “I’ll not have you speak of her like that. Do you really think I’d be someone’s plaything?”
Folly shrugged, muttering almost to himself, “If the sex was good…”
South roared with laughter, swinging his drink dangerously again.
William shook his head at them. And his Mistress calledhima puppy? She would have their attitudes straightened out in no time, not that he wanted them anywhere near her. “Ugh. You two. Seriously, I should like nothing better than to continue to court her, even to wed her. But she’ll have none of it. I’m open to ideas to get her back.”
“Why did she turn you away?”
“Heirs.”
“Riiiggghhht. She was with Peterborough for almost a decade.” South prided himself on knowing details of Ton gossip. “And whilst heirs are a vague, future concern when you have all the time in the world, they become much more real when you gain the title. Credit goes to the lady for being honorable. Not all ladies—or gents for that matter—would willingly step back from someone they liked.”
“No one could ever doubt her character.” William’s lips twisted.
Folly shrugged. “Tree climbing was the extent of my knowledge for how to win a lady.”
South’s glass swung again, albeit a little less wildly. “There are plenty of fish in the sea, Will. The lovely countess aside, marriage does seem like the expedient solution. Heirs and blunt, what?”
