The Earl of Inmarsh was in financial trouble. She doubted she would ever know why, what had gone wrong. But clearly their estatelay at risk, and it would likely take a great deal of money to salvage it. Which meant that for Elspeth, marriage was no longer an option.
Elspeth stepped forward to take the envelope, glancing up at Sinclair. “You remembered I had this? From six years ago?”
Sinclair tipped her head. “Extraordinary things tend to linger long in the memory.”
Elspeth looked down. “So they do.” Six years ago, one of her best friends, Eleanor, had given her the envelope before she had set sail with her new husband, Sir Gordon Rydell, for America. It was an invitation to a masque ball long since passed, but Ella had indicated it could be used as an introduction to the hostess of that ball, who had reunited Gordon and Ella after a long separation.
Elspeth turned it over in her hands, remembering that final, fond embrace with her friend, as Ella had whispered, “Keep it. It can be a salvation. Use only as a last resort. When all hope seems lost.”
Elspeth bit her lower lip, then wiped away her tears. Today definitely felt like a last resort. She ran her fingers over the letters Ella had written at the bottom of the invitation, tears stinging her eyes again.
Elspeth,
If you ever need anything out of the ordinary, send a note with this invitation to Mrs. Bessie Dove-Lyon at the Lyon’s Den. She can help.
Eleanor Asquith
Daughter of James Asquith
Newly wed to Sir Gordon Rydell
14 May 1814
A small sob burst from Elspeth’s throat as she clutched the invitation to her chest. “I still miss her so much.”
“I know you do. Lady Eleanor was such an excellent friend.” Sinclair’s soft voice shook slightly, the Scottish brogue she usually kept at bay a bit more prominent. “I-I realize I overstepped, me lady, but I thought that if ya had to marry, perhaps this could lead to someonemore your own likin’. I hear the Black Widow of Whitehall is quite powerful. And she knows more ’bout Society than most.”
Elspeth nodded, then lowered the invitation, reading it twice. She then folded it again, her mind made up. She’s right.If I must marry, let it be my own choice. It might lead to nothing, but it was worth the attempt to salvage some of her own desires and dreams. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. “Thank you, Sinclair. You are correct. I must try something and not just walk into this arrangement making no effort to stop it. If it is all for naught, then I am no worse off than I am now, and I will know I tried to do what I could. This will only take a moment.” She went to her escritoire and sat, retrieving her quill and inkpot. There was, indeed, no time to waste.
“Excellent, my lady. I thought you might prefer your luncheon to be on a tray in your room as well.”
Elspeth twisted to look at Sinclair, glancing briefly at the garments on the bed. “And then a walk in the park?” She smiled.
“To get your head on straight, of course.”
“Of course.” Elspeth straightened in her chair, then pulled a piece of foolscap onto the writing surface and dipped her quill into the ink, repeating the words in her head.Indeed. No time to waste.
Thursday, 20 April 1820
Embleton House, Mayfair, London
Noon
Timothy leaned againstthe wrought iron fence across the street from his childhood home, examining each detail of the façade. He started at the roof, which had been the location of the clay tile that had slipped free more than seven years ago, ending his father’s life andmaking Timothy’s brother Matthew the latest Duke of Embleton. That had been a hard transition for all of them, and it had first drawn Matthew away from the war on the continent, then thrust him back into it. Timothy, who had never been particularly close to either of his parents, had found his most difficult adjustment had been accepting Matthew as the duke instead of just his oldest brother. Of course, everyone knew Matthew was the heir, but no one expected him to inherit so young, still single and fighting for king and country, with no prospects for a child of his own in sight. The brother next in line, Mark, fit no one’s idea of a duke. No one half sane, that is.
No wonder their mother had developed a ferocious campaign to find them all brides.
Even him. Still. After six years and more grandchildren than she could count, all of them ahead of him in the lineage.
With a weary sigh, Timothy’s gaze moved down along the gutters, across the mock keystones over the windows, to linger on the stains on the stones from the smoke and soot of London. A typical town house built in the 1760s with only a few steps rising from the pavement to a plain front door, the structure had six floors, plus an attic with dormers that overlooked the street and the park beyond. Not a small house at all.
Still... it had seemed much more substantial when he had been a child. A mansion of royal proportions, filled with a rousing cacophony of memories from a large and boisterous family. Since that time, he had, of course, seen any number of true mansions, in America as well as well as in India and Germany, including a few castles. And while the house seemed smaller, Timothy felt much larger, in more ways than one. Taller, in truth, than he had been when he boarded the mail packet with his cousin, by almost two inches. Two stone heavier, muscle built through work and travel through the American and Canadian wilderness. But he had grown in other ways as well.
A lot can change in six years.
Such as the fact that, even though he was the youngest of eleven children, Timothy no longer needed the church or the military to provide him with a future. He had learned a great deal from Gordon, including how to manage and invest his finances—and how to keep such investments private from those around him. Especially since one of the investments that had brought him back to London was less than reputable.
That... and his mother’s relentless insistence that he return to find a wife. Some things cannot be ignored, no matter how much effort is expended in the attempt. He had to find a way to convince her to leave him be. No woman of thetonwould ever dovetail into what he wanted for the future.
