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Chapter Ten
James sat in his study, looking closely at the ledgers before him and hoping that his secretary was wrong. “Are you entirely sure?”
Mr. Jenson gave him a pitying look. “I’m afraid so, milord. Unless you come into some great amount of funds very soon, there is nothing to do but to sell it.”
He grit his teeth and resisted the urge to pour himself another drink. This morning’s confrontation with Aircourt had already set him on edge, and this news from Jenson regarding yet more debts hidden by his father threatened to send him into an utter rage. While his main estate had gone to Wardely after his father had failed to deliver Sophie for marriage, there was a smaller property producing an income that, while modest, kept his finances solvent when combined with the new economies he’d put in place. But that had been before today’s discovery. Thousands upon thousands of pounds worth of loans unpaid for years on end had been meticulously hidden by the former viscount, so much so that James was shocked he hadn’t been taken to court yet. He’d always wondered how money for various extravagancies had seemed to appear out of thin air, and now the answer lay before him.
He was ruined. Utterly and completely ruined. It was now no longer a mystery why his mother had attempted to stick herself so tightly to Wardely. “I suppose the townhouse should go as well?” Though it was likely even that wouldn’t stave things off for very long.
“For now, the other estate might cover the worst of it,” Jenson replied. “But you should begin thinking of the long term.”
At the secretary’s pointed glance, James frowned. He had an idea of what the man was getting at and did not like it one bit. “What do you mean?”
“You are young and have a title. Even with the family’s… special reputation, I am sure there might be a wealthy gentleman or two hoping to buy a title for their daughter.”
Having been in the employ of the family for a good ten years, Jenson was often frank in his speech. While James normally appreciated such candor, today was not one of those days. “You wish me to fortune hunt. Again.”
The secretary coughed, as if realizing his blunder. “Certainly not, Milord. I merely wish to convey that such arrangements are made every day. There is nothing untoward when all parties are aware of the circumstances.”
But he wouldn’t have it. “No. I’ll not trade my morals for financial security, not after I’ve redeemed myself.” He’d be damned if he was forced into such a transaction, one that his bride may or may not even have a choice in. The image of Sophie, pale and terrified after he’d confessed their father’s plot, would forever burn in his mind. She’d been lucky in finding a husband she consented to before the plan could succeed. Other girls were not so fortunate. Even if he became a pauper, James would be unburdened by the sin of taking part in such a sordid transaction. Not to mention Eliza. Oh, God. How was he ever to face her after this?
“There may not be a choice, Milord,” Jenson replied gently.
“There is always a choice.” Needing some air and time to think, he rose and left the study, ignoring the secretary entirely as the man desperately called at his back. James made it about halfway across the foyer before Polly came skidding to a stop before him.
“Milord,” she gasped as she caught her breath. “It’s terrible!”
“What is it?” he asked impatiently, wondering what in the world could possibly make the situation any worse.
“Lady Dalton has disappeared. She must have fled in the night with Mrs. Needly’s help.” The maid produced a letter from her apron. “This was in her room. It’s addressed to you.”
James snatched the letter with shaking hands. Likely, the housekeeper had caught wind of his plans to sack her and aided his mother in some fit of revenge. “I take it Mrs. Needly has left?”
“Yes, Milord.”
“Inform Markham that the list is to be put in action immediately.” Who knows who else aided his mother in whatever scheme she was pulling, and James was not keen on having anyone loyal to her in his house any longer. He wouldn’t be able to afford many servants soon, anyway. Polly nodded and scampered off, though James hardly noticed as he all but tore open the letter. Somehow, its contents were even more alarming than he’d expected.
Dalton,
I’m leaving this home, and you, for good. Wardely is leaving for a tour of the continent, and I have decided to go with him. I love him, and we will marry regardless of your wishes on the matter. One day, I shall be happily ensconced in your former estate and you will rue the day you ever neglected your mother so cruelly. Even George had never humiliated me as much as you have. All of society will castigate me, and I am pleased to receive their derision if it means you suffer as you deserve.
Viscountess Dalton, soon to be Baroness Wardely
“Oh, mother. How stupid you always are.” If the woman thought for even a second that Wardely would marry a disgraced older widow with no money, then she was even more foolish than James had thought. But perhaps the woman really was in love and beyond reason. If so, James pitied her immensely. He put his hands over his face, digging his palms into his eyes to stem the burning. First his finances and now his reputation. So much of the progress he’d painstakingly made was about to be obliterated in the blink of an eye.
Lost and more than a bit melancholy, he left the house and wandered aimlessly about the neighborhood. Without him realizing, his feet brought him in front of Eliza’s home. He stared at the massive façade, but made no move to approach it. How was he to tell her of the mess his life had become? Just this morning he’d left her, full of hope and optimism, and now everything had gone to shambles. There was movement in one of the windows, and his breath caught as he spotted her staring out into the street with a familiar frown of impatience, likely waiting for some tradesman or another concerning the ball. He wondered if he’d even be able to show his face at that event at all once his mother’s scandal got out. His lover looked beautiful, even obscured by the window, and it took everything he had not to trot up behind the house and sneak in through the garden to see her. He was in no state for a rendezvous, and it was the middle of the day, regardless. No doubt they’d need to be even more clandestine in the coming days.
If she would even see him at all.
The possibility was upsetting enough to make him turn around and continue walking, lest she spy him idling on the street. Their days together had been such bliss that he hadn’t realized the hold she had on him until it was too late. Now, he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. The thought of her slamming the door on him, never to open it, was perhaps even more devastating than the ruination itself. But what other choice was there than to end the affair here before she became entangled with him? He loved her far too much to be so selfish as to stay by her side in such a scandalous way. That inward admission and the ease with which he’d thought it brought his steps to a halt once more. Dear God, he loved her. What a hopeless sod he was.
“Dalton?”
James blinked, realizing his eyes had begun watering, and turned to the source of the voice behind him once he was assured that his emotions were under control. “Amberwood. Hello. I didn’t see you there.”
“I’ve been calling you since I was halfway down the street. For a moment, I thought you were giving me the cut for some bizarre reason.” The marquess finished the sentence with his usual cheerful grin, which fell once he got a better look at James. “Is anything amiss?” he said, tilting his head with obvious concern.
James let out a depreciative chuckle lest he lose his composure. “Everything, actually.”
