Evander exhaled heavily. “That’s no longer an option. My father expects me to begin working on the estate accounts immediately.” His voice was flat with resignation.
Before anyone could respond, Lord Wilton and Lord Alcott approached the table, both looking faintly winded as if they had come straight from another engagement.
“I came as soon as I got your message,” Wilton said, taking a seat beside Bedford.
Evander met Wilton’s gaze. “How is Olivia faring with Lord Harwood’s death?”
Wilton’s expression darkened. “She says she is well enough, but she hides her feelings too easily.”
“That she does,” Evander agreed softly, a flicker of sympathy stirring within him.
Wilton tilted his head. “Tell me, why did Harwood accompany your brother to India?”
Evander huffed, a dry sound devoid of humor. “It seems Harwood had acquired a few indigo plantations. He intended to assist Bryon with ours.”
Alcott let out a low whistle. “Indigo. A swift path to fortune, but it leaves the land barren in its wake.”
Evander gave a weary nod. “I know little about the trade. But my father insists I must learn.”
“Will you travel to India?” Wilton asked.
“No.” The word came out sharp, bitter. “My father will not risk losing his only heir.”
Wilton placed a steadying hand on Evander’s shoulder. “I know your path seems bleak just now. But it will not always be so.”
“Since when did you become a blasted optimist?” Evander muttered.
Wilton’s smile warmed. “Since I married Dosia. She’s taught me to see the world rather differently.”
“I daresay it was a fortunate thing you abducted her, then,” Bedford quipped with a grin.
Wilton chuckled. “It was undoubtedly the smartest thing I’ve ever done. Though she was less than pleased when she learned the truth.”
“I can imagine no woman would welcome such circumstances,” Alcott remarked.
“True enough,” Wilton agreed. “But Dosia is forgiving and I may have purchased more than a few pieces of jewelry to ease her ire.”
At that moment, a short server approached the group. “Would any of you gentlemen care for refreshment?”
Drink orders were placed, and as the server departed, Alcott turned his attention back to Evander and said, “The good news is, you haven’t a sister to manage.”
“Hear, hear,” Wilton agreed.
Alcott sighed theatrically. “They are maddening creatures, robbing us of peace and reason with every passing day.”
Evander felt his shoulders loosen slightly, the edges of his mouth twitching upward. “What has Charlotte done now?”
“She is far too independent for a girl of eighteen,” Alcott grumbled. “Always scribbling away in that blasted notebook of hers.”
“She is young,” Bedford offered.
“Yes, and she’s up to something,” Alcott asserted. “I’m certain of it, but I simply cannot discern what.”
“Perhaps you’re imagining things,” Westcott suggested.
“That’s precisely what she wants me to think,” Alcott declared. “I ought to marry, find a wife who might keep Charlotte in line.”
Wilton nodded sagely. “A wise course, indeed, but choose carefully. The wrong match brings nothing but a lifetime of misery.”
