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Perhaps Selena was right. Perhaps Jo needed to consider extending their arrangement…
She wouldn’t take a townhouse from him; she would not become his property. But if he wanted to continue their liaison for a longer period, beyond the house party, then perhaps she could prolong this fleeting happiness she’d found.
* * *
“Richard, my boy! You have grown up into a fine young man! Oh, your parents would be so proud.” Mr. Fowley patted Richard on his shoulder, took out a handkerchief, and wiped at his misted spectacles.
Richard smiled. “Have a seat. Do you want some tea? Coffee? Whisky?”
The man laughed, propped his spectacles back on the bridge of his nose, and sat across from Richard. “Just a dollop of whisky would do, thank you.”
Richard went to the sideboard to pour the old man a drink, his mind troubled. A part of him thought—no, hoped—that his bride would cry off at the last minute, but the jovial nature of Mr. Fowley’s arrival crushed his hopes.
He sat the glass of whisky in front of the man and the latter sipped on it with delight. “I haven’t had good whisky in years,” the man said. “Too expensive.”
Richard cleared his throat. “You know that you’re always welcome on my estates,” he said.
“Oh, of course, of course. But it’s not easy to travel. Especially with four girls in tow. Now that you’ll be marrying my Beatrice, we shall absolutely be visiting more often.”
Richard stifled a grimace. What the man meant, of course, was that without the luxury of wealth, he could not risk traveling just for the sake of good whisky. Traveling to a house party required considerable spending. So they’d probably emptied their coffers for this trip.
But once married into the Gage title, they would be able to rely on Richard’s generosity.
“Your father would be so proud of you. That you haven’t forgotten about his old friend and thought to help us in our time of need speaks highly of your character and that of your heart.”
“I hope you know that had I known of your state of affairs, I would have come to you earlier,” Richard said earnestly. “And I do not mean marriage. I would have happily helped you with any other need.”
“Oh, I know, I know.” The man pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. “But it’s not your burden to bear. As the man of the house, I had to rely on myself. You know how it is. But I am happy to be giving away my daughter to you in marriage. I am confident that she is in caring hands.”
Richard swallowed. He felt that the old man’s confidence was quite misplaced. And yes. Unfortunately, Richard knew exactly how it was. Aristocrats and local gentry were too proud to ask for help. They would rather starve than do so. That was why Richard’s offer of a hand in marriage to Mr. Fowley’s daughter must have seemed to him like a miracle.
Only his trust in Richard had hollowed a pit in his stomach.
Just a moment earlier, Richard had been hoping that the man would cry off. Now that any notion of that happening had been erased, Richard was regretful and quite lost.
I am confident that she is in caring hands.
He hadn’t been very caring to Jo. And he hadn’t thought of Mr. Fowley’s daughter at all during the time that he’d been carrying on an affair with the tantalizing actress.
The man was completely wrong about Richard’s character. He’d only been thinking of himself. And had his father lived to witness it, Richard was not so certain he would have felt proud.
Richard ran his fingers through his hair, not quite certain what to say to the jovial old man who believed with all his heart that he was doing the right thing for his daughter. So he said the only thing that would not break his soul. “More whisky?”
The old man grinned and handed him the empty glass.
* * *
Jo wore her most beautiful gown for dinner. It was the color of fresh raspberry lined with golden lace below her bosom and at the edges. The decolletage was almost indecently low and the silhouette hugged her body perfectly, accentuating all her curves.
She finished the ensemble with golden gloves and a matching shawl. Her hair was collected at the top of her head in a collection of intricate curls. She let a few of them loose here and there, making sure they bounced with her every step.
She was happy, she was joyful, and she was in love.
She’d learned earlier that Lady Ashbury and the Duchess of Somerset had left the house party to go to the funeral of the duchess’s cousin and this news strengthened her resolve concerning Richard. Life was too short to ignore the happiness she’d found.
Mary, the duchess’s cousin, was only one year older than Jo when she had passed. She had been a sickly girl, if what Jo heard had been true, but nobody was safe from accidents and illnesses. If Jo had died in a year, would she have regretted the affair with the viscount, or would she have regretted missing the fleeting happiness she might have had?
Jo opted to have experiences instead of regrets. Experiences of happiness.
