William raised his hand, stilling the solicitor’s words. “I have heard enough. I will give you one more month to bring me someone to run the orphanage. If you do not, you will no longer be in my employ.”
“If you would broaden your requirements, then I might have more success finding someone.”
“I tire of your excuses,” William barked. “Just do your job.”
Mr. Mason rose. “I am doing my job, but I contend that the woman you are looking for does not exist.”
“She does,” William replied. “You just haven’t found her yet.”
“The pay is generous, but any lady who accepts this position has committed herself to a life of spinsterhood.”
“Not every lady is fortunate enough to find a match.”
“That is true, but they can become a governess to a respectable family,” Mr. Mason pointed out, “whereas you are asking someone to willingly live in the rookeries.”
William came around his desk. “I am late for a meeting, and we are going in circles,” he said.
“I will do my best.”
“Do better,” William urged. “I have no use for ineptitude.”
Mr. Mason tipped his head. “I understand, my lord.” He picked up his satchel. “I will make this my utmost priority, and hope to report back to you with good news.”
“I hope so, as well, for your sake.”
After Mr. Mason departed from his study, William walked out and saw his butler standing in the entry hall. Thorne was a tall man with a rounded face and a big nose, his once-black hair now peppered with white.
Thorne stepped forward and announced, “Your coach is waiting out front, my lord.”
“Thank you for seeing to that.”
“It was my pleasure,” Thorne said, extending a black top hat. “I do hope you have a pleasant time at White’s.”
William stifled a groan before it could cross his lips. His friends had been adamant that he join them for a drink tonight, despite his many excuses, but they had been relentless, and he’d eventually run out of reasons for not attending.
Thorne opened the door, and William stepped out of his townhouse and into his coach. He had been fortunate enough to have developed these friendships at Eton many years ago, but lately, he found their outings to be tedious.
He knew they were worried about him. Ever since his mother died nearly a year ago, he had craved solitude. Being alone was comfortable. It was familiar, and he didn’t want to weigh anyone else down with the overwhelming grief that he felt. It was all-consuming, taking with it nearly every ounce of joy he had once possessed.
The coach jerked forward and started rolling down the crowded street, which was surprisingly busy despite the late hour.
William pulled open the drapes and stared up at the night sky. What wouldn’t he give for a moment of reprieve?
When had life become so hard? It wasn’t simply the passing of his mother, as these feelings had settled upon him before then. He had watched her wither away until he hardly recognized her. She’d grown so thin, so weak. All he could do was watch as the life drained out of her. He couldn’t help her; no one could.
And then she was gone. The one constant in his life just… left.
How did one move past tragedy? Did the numbness in your heart ever truly go away? Or would he be left with unrelenting grief for the rest of his life?
The coach came to a stop in front of White’s and a footman stepped off his perch. The door opened and William stepped out onto the pavement. He stared up at the gentlemen’s club and debated about climbing back into the coach and returning home.
The opportunity disappeared, however, when his friend, Lord Hawthorne, approached him with an obnoxious smile on his lips. “Grenton,” Hawthorne greeted, “you came!”
“Did I have a choice?” William grumbled.
Hawthorne chuckled. “You always had a choice.”
William relaxed a little. “Did I?” he questioned. “Because you made it nearly impossible to refuse.”
