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“I do not,” the Earl replied in a clipped tone. “You’re an intelligent man, Candleton. You know very well that even with cheaper grain, your operations will never again fund your estate properly.”
Touché. “Yes,” he admitted quietly. “That’s why I approached you a few years ago to invest in your firm, isn’t it?” The Earl hadn’t raised this fact when he could have, but William chose to do so. If they were to be political partners, they would need honesty and understanding between them, however uncomfortable at times. William knew some shame over his market speculations, but he had also understood it had been necessary to protect his and his children’s—and his descendants’s—futures. Britain’s railways and mills were producing profits to fund the marquessate, not cattle.
“Then you ought to understand, my good man. Your work in Parliament is admirable. Necessary. But so is my work, whether or not the peers of the realm wish to acknowledge it. You called me a particular species of peer—and you were correct. I labor at something besides hunting or playing or whoring, or whatever else our university chums are using to fritter away their existences and resources.”
“Why?” William raised his chin. “Why do you do that?”
The Earl scoffed. “You might as well be blasphemous and question God about His will. I’m simply inclined to trade, not by birth but by circumstance and happenstance. I’m not ashamed to say I’m good at it. Far better than I would be at politics.”
“I disagree. You could apply your keen mind to the questions our country faces—rather than making profits!”
The Earl’s muscular jaw pulsed before he turned away. “So you’re no different than everyone else—looking down upon my base commercial activities, all the while wishing to profit yourself. No, don’t fear. I won’t withdraw your investment from my ignoble firm. Your funds are safe—for the same reason I accepted them in the first place.”
“Because Beatrice is friends with Clara.”
“Quite. The same men who gossip behind my back or shoot daggers across ballrooms are the same who come begging for a chance to invest secretly in my firm. I turn them all down—except for you.”
William shifted in his seat. “I mean no contempt, Anterleigh. It’s out of respect for you that I’m proposing what I am. Your family honor is not beyond rehabilitation! Channeling yourself toward the House of Lords will redeem the Chadbourne name. If not for yourself, consider your sister. I should like for her and Beatrice to be at liberty to continue their friendship.”
The Earl flicked some lint from the hem of his coat. “Your instincts have not failed you, my lord. You have hit upon the very subject I hold dearest. My sister.” He made a deep but brief sound of wonderment in his throat. “Perhaps you’re right that I’m suited to politics, for I find myself about to engage in a degree of nastiness I do not enjoy, but from which I shan’t refrain. I believe the situation warrants it. Your veiled threat about the friendship between your wife and my sister did not go without notice.”
William sat silently, unable to deny the Earl’s words and knowing he had failed in his efforts to bring the man deeper into the political fold.
“You won’t interfere in their friendship, Candleton. If Beatrice’s affections for Clara aren’t enough on that account, your investment in my firm should suffice. You can ill afford to lose that, nor do you wish for your speculation activities to be known.”
“Checkmate,” William said good-naturedly after a time. “My offer remains open should you ever change your mind. I’m disappointed but not shocked you aren’t inclined. No harm was intended on my part, and I hope you’ll forgive me for causing any offense.”
Tilting his head back, the Earl regarded him coolly, but nodded eventually. “I ask you, too, to forgive any offense I have caused. You have not misunderstood my loyalty to Britain. But my way of saving Anterleigh and the many who depend on it is to continue on my path. You can count on me to vote my conscience, which most often means supporting you.”
On the journey home, William was as immersed in disappointment as he was his own foul odor. He’d cleansed with a wet towel in the changing rooms at the tennis club, but the efforts weren’t sufficient given his exertions.
You have Anterleigh’s vote and his efforts toward a prosperous Britain, he reminded himself.And you’re returning home to a loving wife—more than the Earl has.His thoughts lacked spite and were aimed entirely at raising his own mood, which they did rather effectively. Two healthy children also awaited at home. However taxing this year had been at Parliament, William had a great deal for which to be grateful.
He was smiling widely as he sat in the carriage outside his house, awaiting word from the footman. Over time, he and Bea had settled into this tradition. Upon his arrival, word was sent to her wherever she was in the household, and she met him at the door.
Today was no different. She welcomed him home wearing a happy expression and a fresh gown. He completed their ritual with the veneration to which they had both become accustomed, and which he believed she enjoyed as much as he. The unhurried kiss to her forehead completed, he straightened, staring down into her eyes.
Only today, her nostrils twitched.
Good God, my stench!“Forgive me, my lady.Tennis!I’m afraid I—“
“You needn’t apologize, my lord.” Her voice softened. “I don’t mind your scent. It’syours.”
Before he could protest her words sheepishly, her eyes dropped indecently to his shoulders, and she even ran her hand along his arm, closing over his bicep.
Heat rushed over him, both his body and his spirit. This woman desired him and accepted him in a way they both should find obscene. He was no better than she—he not only craved her like no other, he could deny her little, whether it was the way she was raising their children or her friendship with Clara.
“All day, I have anticipated your return. Not only for the game of cards you promised.” Her eyes flashed.
Images passed through his mind like a kaleidoscope—her thighs spread, her mink-covered sex as he pressed into her.
Bloody hell!
It was at times like this he envied the baseborn. The butchers. The farriers. The farmers. The clerks. What unimaginable freedom to live without the strictures that had been sewn into the flesh of his soul since birth.
Freedom to starve,he reminded himself harshly. Was he truly so selfish and idiotic as to wish he could be poor just so he could fuck his wife like an animal?
Yes.
