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A single silvery brow arched. “I assume the bolts and patterns you sent to me were to the same end?”
“Those I sent because they were beautiful and I thought it would cheer you.”
“And it certainly won’t hurt our pockets if my friends wish to imitate me, either,” she added with a knowing smirk.
“My first desire was to lift your spirits.”
“Of course it was,” she said, eyes twinkling. “You’re a good son and a shrewd businessman. I’ll wear the gowns and gladly tell everyone where they can find the material as long as you can promise they’ll never find out we’re profiting from their covetousness.”
“No one will ever know,” he assured her. “The shops purchase the material from a distributor. He gets it from ships whose captains know only that they work for the Triple Crown fleet, which is managed by a man I pay handsomely to keep the identity of its true owner a secret.” A man he trusted because he knew his life was forfeit if he ever revealed that information to anyone other than the king himself.
“You must pay him a pretty sum indeed,” she said, eyeing him.
“He is well content with his lot. I’ve made him a rich man.”
“I thought you said we needed to be cautious,” she said, frowning. “How rich?”
“Rich enough to marry into quality,” he said just to poke at her “delicate sensibilities.”
“Heaven forefend,” she said with open contempt.
He shot her a quelling look. “Earning an honest living should bring shame to no man. Many of our peers will fall because of their overweening pride.”
“And yet pride has its place,” she replied, her chin rising. “Your father would have sooner suffered gentle poverty than abandon his.”
“A fool’s pride!” he snapped, his patience drawing swiftly to an end. “Woe to the man who holds to his pride while doing naught to prevent his ship from sinking, for hunger and regret will be his chief companions in the days to follow—if he does not immediately drown. Anyone who romanticizes poverty shows a privileged ignorance of its brutality.” Now that they were safe, it was time she knew. “Five years ago, poverty knocked at our gate, Mother. Father’s stubborn refusal to modernize, or to at least employ better economy, very nearly ruined him, and us along with him.”
Her expression grew stricken, and he softened a little. “I did not share that knowledge with you because I did not wish to tarnish your memory of him while your grief was yet fresh. Much as he had done, I continued to shield you from the dire reality of our circumstances.”
“Dire?” The word was small and filled with disbelief.
“Our debt was monumental,” he said quietly. “I sold off some of the smaller unentailed assets in order to fund my recent endeavors as well as pay at least some of the amount owed to the worst of the creditors lest our situation become public knowledge. And I have since worked tirelessly to drive poverty off our doorstep. If my efforts are discovered, then so be it. I will bow my head in shame to no man.”
She had no chance to respond, for they had reached the church.
Sorin disembarked in haste, still fuming. Had Father lived, they would be in the same, if not worse, situation as the Aftons and Dembys. He ground his teeth. It had taken five years of careful planning, stealthy negotiations, and some bloody hard work, but he’d turned their fortunes around.
He hadn’t told Mother, but the estate now had more income than ever before in its history, so much in fact, that it would have been an easy matter to pay off all their debts at once. He would have done so, save that such an act would be equivalent to announcing his activities in The London Gazette. Instead, for the past two years he’d been paying creditors off in small enough increments to keep them satisfied without tipping his hand. They now owed no more than anyone else and certainly far less than most, and no one knew it wasn’t “old” money being us
ed to pay it down—which was exactly how he wanted it.
Well, almost no one. There was one other person privy to his secret. Two, actually. Charles, who’d invested along with him in order to save his own family’s fortunes, and Eleanor. Eleanor, who’d been quiet witness to their early discussions. Eleanor, who’d told them it made more sense to risk Society’s censure than to accept hardship and pretend it was anything else. Eleanor, who was practical and wise beyond her years. If he could find a woman even half as sensible…
He let out a loud snort of self-derision, and a passerby shot him a startled glance. Such thinking was useless. Not only did he not want any other woman—much less one with only half her sense—but it was likely that any female from the loftier circles of Society would be mortified to learn that her noble husband’s income was newly minted.
Any woman but Eleanor.
Even as he thought it, his eyes found her. Her cheek curved as she turned to say something to Rowena, and he knew she was smiling. He yearned to see it, to feel its warmth directed at him. But there was little hope of that, given their most recent interaction.
“Well? Are we to stand here all day or are we going in?” asked his mother, who’d come up beside him.
In answer to her testy inquiry, he offered his arm.
Chapter Five
He’d arrived. Even if Eleanor hadn’t felt the prickle of awareness on the back of her neck, she’d have known it thanks to Caroline, who’d gone all stiff beside her before proceeding to primp and preen. Determined to ignore his presence for as long as possible, Eleanor kept her hands folded in her lap and her eyes fixed on the pulpit.
Dear Lord, please help me not to make a fool of myself today.
