Page 95 of How to Wed a Courtesan

‘We enjoyed it so much we have decided to relocate.’

Evander looked around the simple room, taking in the stained walls and the upturned barrels being used as chairs. The Captain would need some capital indeed—but, based on his itinerary, his journeys were carefully planned, with consideration for weather and other disasters. In all, it had the designs of a solid investment.

‘You can’t be serious,’ Kentworth said as he settled on one of the barrels.

‘I most certainly am. I’ve merely returned to settle my accounts and ensure I’ll have proper correspondence for important matters such as this.’ Evander took a seat opposite the Marquess. ‘I assumed you were going with the silver mine.’

‘Not after the way they treated you. I do have scruples, you know.’ He winked.

Evander had forgotten what a good man Kentworth could be when he wasn’t drinking. Unfortunately, that wasn’t often. ‘Oh, I do know. Thank you for being a true friend.’

‘Of course.’ Kentworth chuckled. ‘And a good thing I didn’t too. They got what was coming to them after their treatment of you.’

Evander glanced out through the dirty windows for any sign of the Captain. ‘How so?’

‘Just yesterday the entire mine collapsed,’ Kentworth said.

Evander’s attention snapped back to the Marquess. ‘Good God. I hope not too many men were injured.’

Kentworth ran a hand through his thick dark hair. ‘Not a soul. It happened some time at night. By the time the men went to work in the morning the whole thing was sealed up tighter than a virgin’s—’

The door opened and Captain Billington’s broad shoulders filled the frame. ‘Sorry to have kept you waiting.’

He approached the table—two barrels with a plank laid over them—and set down a pile of papers. ‘These are the contracts to review with your solicitors. I can meet with you both separately on the morrow, to finalise whatever needs be done.’

Though he was young to be a captain, his weathered face told the tale of a man who’d spent a life on the sea.

‘I’ll review this today.’ Evander stood up from his seat to shake hands with the other man. ‘Future correspondence will go through my solicitor, who will forward it on to me in the country.’

‘As you wish it, my lord.’ Captain Billington’s hazel eyes crinkled at the corners as he accepted Evander’s hand in his warm, callused grasp.

Kentworth did likewise, and the two exited the old wooden building together.

‘Do you fancy a fireball or a measure of whisky?’ Kentworth asked.

Evander shook his head. ‘Perhaps another time.’

‘Ah, yes.’ Kentworth nodded. ‘Your wife is no doubt waiting for you at home.’

‘You should get one at some point.’

‘A wife, or a drink?’ Kentworth chuckled.

Evander grinned at him and waved as he made his way towards his carriage.

Upon his arrival home, he discovered not only Lottie in the drawing room with his mother, but also Charles and Eleanor. Several old documents lay on the tea table, rather than a tray of refreshments, as well as an old book.

Ah, yes, the mysterious box...

‘Oh, Evander,’ Lottie gasped. ‘You’ll never believe it.’

He grimaced. ‘Please tell me it isn’t another gemstone our fathers fought over, that will require another lengthy search through those abysmal journals.’

‘No,’ they all said at once, in equal agreement, before laughing.

And they were truly laughing. The kind of bubbly, exaggerated sort that came from good news.

Evander narrowed his eyes at their curious behaviour. ‘Dare I ask what it is?’