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Reginald allowed himself a small smile. “I suppose the wine in my cellars isn’t good enough for you?”
“I didn’t saythat.”
“You’re welcome to request as much as you like,” Reginald said. “I’m so far in a hole that I don’t think it can possibly get any deeper at this point.”
“You know Emma and I are simple people,” Matthew replied.
“It’ll be good to see her again,” Reginald said. “And the children. I feel more like I know what I’m supposed to do with you around. My only support here is Marcella, and although I adore her, I still don’t really know her. Not enough to confide things like this to her.”
“You seem to be keeping a lot from her.”
“I’ve made efforts to be more honest,” Reginald said.
“Good. I hope you continue to make those efforts. I don’t mean to lecture you, but a marriage built on a foundation of lies doesn’t make for a happy life. For either of you.”
“You keep saying that to me,” Reginald said, a tad defensively. “It’s good advice, truly. But difficult. You’ve never had anything whichneededlying about, and if I tell her…”
It would end poorly. Beyond poorly. While some women of thetonwould be upset but ultimately understanding, Marcella wouldn’t be. If Reginald told her that this marriage had nothing to do with pleasing his father, fulfilling promises, or even desire, she would hate him for it. Once, that might’ve not bothered him as much. He had the desired money.
Now, though, he couldn’t help but think of Marcella’s lovely face. And the way she smiled as if she had so many secrets. Reginald thought of her expression, alight with wonder as she gazed at the library, and he would hate himself forever if he ever hurt her.
“She’ll be angry,” Reginald concluded. “I’m quite sure I’ll have lost her forever, so until I can find a way to approach the manner more delicately, there is no point in expressing it to her.”
“I’m sure she will be angry regardless of when you tell her,” Matthew argued, “and the more you delay, the worse the result will be. Waiting is foolishness.”
You certainly overcame the awkwardness caused by my title rather quickly.
Reginald replied, “But what if I can—I mean, does it matter so much? I do like her now. More than that. I love her, truly.”
Matthew sighed and looked askance. Reginald could sense that the clerk wanted to keep arguing. He was a man of morals and utterly uncompromising in them. Reginald generally admired those values, but they weren’t so wonderful when turned against him.
“Returning to the matter at hand,” Reginald said. “What am I to do with the mess my cousin has made?”
Even as Reginald tried to turn the conversation once more to business, he saw Marcella’s beautiful face in his mind’s eye. He saw her luscious curves, hidden teasingly beneath her gown. And when she was writing at her desk, the light from outside shined over her and brought out the rosiness of her fair face.
“I’ve given you all the solutions I can think of,” Matthew said quietly. “It wouldn’t hurt to find a good solicitor to help you. The longer you delay in paying the creditors, the more vicious they’ll become.”
“They sound like theton,” Reginald replied dryly.
He wondered, though, if he wasn’t more like thetonthan he really wanted to admit. Only someone in high society would marry for money over everything else, and even if he’d grown to love the lady, it would never change the fact that their marriage was built on lies and a desire for money.
* * *
It was hours past nightfall, and already, Matthew Smythe had retired for the night. Nearly everyone had, in fact, save for Reginald. He remained in the study his father had occupied during his childhood. The receipts surrounded him, mocking him with their presence.
A light knock sounded at his door, and Reginald raised his head from the same list of expenses which he’d looked over for what felt like the hundredth time. It was as if a small part of him genuinely thought the numbers might change into less distressing ones through the sheer force of his will.
“Come in.”
The door creaked open, and Marcella entered. She wore her white dressing gown, and Reginald felt his chest tighten. He envisioned her spread over the bed, coyly removing the garment, and that presented much better prospects for his night than agonizing over his cousin’s mistakes.
“Have you resolved to sleep at your desk?” Marcella asked.
She curled her small hands around the back of a chair, and Reginald spied the splotches of ink on her fingers. “I see that you considered the same sleeping arrangement,” Reginald said. “You’ve also been at your desk this evening.”
Marcella smiled. “I thought of the most wonderful phrase when speaking with Adeline, so after she retired for the night, I thought I ought to write it down immediately, lest I forget it.”
Reginald quirked an eyebrow. “All that ink is from one phrase?”
