A chuckle escaped the earl. “I doubt she would let you stray anyway. She’s an obstinate one.”
“She is,” Evander agreed, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “But I love her.”
“Well,” his father said with a sigh, “I’m glad for you. Truly. You deserve some measure of happiness.”
Evander gave him a look of mock suspicion. “How hard did that rock hit you, exactly?”
The earl barked a laugh, some of the tension breaking. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to find purpose.”
“I hadpurpose,” Evander said. “At Oxford. In academia. But you told me—repeatedly—that I was wasting my time.”
The humor fled from his father’s face. “Because you should have been here. With me. With Bryon. That was the path laid out for you.”
“No, that was Bryon’s path,” Evander responded. “I was the second son. I had to make something of myself without relying on inheritance or title. And I did. I was made a Fellow.”
His father looked down at his glass. “You don’t think I understand that? I didn’t want this life either, you know. I only inherited the title after my brother died. If he had lived, I would have been?—”
“What?” Evander asked, genuinely curious. “What would you have done?”
A wistful smile curved his father’s lips. “I would’ve become a barrister. My Uncle Alexander was one and I admired him.”
“Because you enjoy arguing?” Evander teased.
“Partially,” his father admitted, “but mostly because I wanted to make my own way, not just inherit power. Alas, I became an earl instead.”
“I’m sorry you never got the chance.”
The earl waved a hand, brushing the sentiment aside. “We all sacrifice for the family. That is our duty.”
“Duty,” Evander echoed bitterly. “I’m so very tired of that word.”
His father leaned forward and set his glass on the side table. “I have failed you, Son.”
“In what way?”
The earl’s expression sobered. “I wasn’t going to tell you. But after today, I believe you deserve to know. The estate is… struggling. Gravely.” He paused. “I invested in a scheme I believed in. I trusted the wrong men and lost nearly everything. What little remained, I poured into that indigo plantation. It is our last hope.”
Evander’s mouth felt dry. “And Olivia’s dowry?”
“It’ll sustain us for now. But it’s not a solution. The indigo plantation is the solution. Long-term.”
Evander sat back, stunned. “How much did you lose?”
His father winced. “Fifty thousand pounds.”
“Fifty thousand?” The number hit like a blow. “That’s a fortune.”
“I’m aware. And I wasn’t the only fool. The late Lord Harwood invested, too—and lost it.”
Evander rose, walking over to the drink cart with slow, deliberate steps. He poured himself a drink, the clink of glass echoing in the tense room. “There must be another way. Something that doesn’t depend on land thousands of miles away. Something that doesn’t risk lives.”
“If you think of one, do let me know,” his father said wearily. “Bryon and I spent many a night at this very fire, asking the same question.”
“What about selling off some of the properties?”
“Most are entailed.”
“Yes, but with my consent?—”
