It was the quick handwriting of his good friend, Gregory St Vincent. Yet tonight, Marcus could not feel the usual happiness that overtook him when hearing from his friend. Tonight, there was lingering sadness.
His eyes drifted down the page, tarrying on some particular lines from Gregory.
‘My situation is not so wholly bad as you believe, my friend. I know I no longer have the position I once held, and certainly not the respect, but there are worse things to happen in this world than losing one’s money …’
Despite this insistence, Gregory had gone on to bemoan the rather small and poky condition of his new home. He had also lamented its darkness, the lack of staff, and his realization of just how much had changed.
‘… It’s strange, is it not? How much one’s condition in life depends on the money in our coffers. Even stranger when you think that such money must have been invented many years ago as a form of trade when really, it is nothing but paper and metal that we have scrawled on. We have given it a value. I must grow accustomed to my new lot in life, my friend. I will someday accept the fact that I am not the wealthy man I once was …’
Marcus found fresh paper and a quill to write a reply to his friend. For all of Gregory’s fine words, he was sad indeed. It was a future that Marcus both feared and railed against. He refused to become penniless due to his father’s poor acumen and investments.
“Oh, oh, and what are you doing now, dear nephew?” Sarah suddenly declared, trotting towards him like a horse again, her face flushed with excitement. “Are you writing to your betrothed?” she asked with a smile.
“No, Aunt. I must meet her first. I am writing to Gregory.”
“Oh.” Her smile fell away. “Poor Mr St Vincent.”
Yes. Poor indeed.
Chapter 3
“Alaina, please, you do not have to pack.”
“Someone has to pack for you,” Alaina reminded Caroline. Alaina was up to her arms in fine gowns that she was trying her best to fit into a small portmanteau, though every time she squeezed in another gown, a pair of shoes seemed to fall out, even hitting her on the arm at one point. “Ow,” she murmured quietly. “I cannot believe how many gowns you have.”
“I will not go.” Caroline flung herself down on the bed, something she had done numerous times this last week as they prepared for their visit to the Duke of Peddleton’s house. She covered up two more of the dresses, which Alaina promptly began to pull out, trying her best to free them from Caroline’s weight.
“You have said that to your father many times. Has he once listened to you?”
“No!” Caroline sat up, releasing the gowns with such suddenness that Alaina fell promptly onto the rug beside the bed. At one point, they both would have laughed at such ridiculousness. Today, though, they could only manage brief smiles. “I will not go.” Caroline pulled gowns out of the portmanteau and dropped them on the bed again.
“I don’t think you understand how packing works, Caro.”
“Ally!”
“I know, I know.” Alaina held up her hands in innocence as she stood again. “Listen, my friend. You and I have considered every opportunity this last week, but neither of us can think of a way to get you out of this.”
“What are you saying?” Caroline asked wildly, flinging her dark hair behind her head. “That I should just resign myself to being miserable forever?”
“Never.” Alaina kneeled on the bed beside her friend and rested her hands on Caroline’s shoulder. A look of sudden calmness came over Caroline’s features at this touch. “Caroline, all I’m saying is we need to think of another plan. Perhaps in the meantime, there is no harm in you meeting the Duke of Peddleton. What if you were to meet him and fall hopelessly in love with him?”
Caroline snorted in such an unladylike manner that they both giggled.
“It could happen,” Alaina said eagerly. “Love has been found in stranger places. Look at Benedict and Beatrice, Romeo and Juliet, Anthony and Cleopatra.”
“Some of them had rather unhappy ends,” Caroline reminded her hurriedly.
“Perhaps I didn’t pick the best examples,” Alaina murmured. “Yet think of it, Caro. There is always the possibility that the Duke of Peddleton is a better man than you fear him to be.”
“How can he be?” Caroline asked with sudden passion. “He has asked for my hand without ever meeting me. He has shown absolutely in one firm stroke how little he cares for me or who I even am.”
“He has asked to meet you.”
“Alaina, you are determined to think well of him.”
“I’m not, though I’d say you are determined to think ill of him,” Alaina warned softly. “All I’m saying, Caro, is that he may not be the Devil.”
Caroline abruptly stopped arguing, but she heaved with every breath. Comforted to at last have some peace, even if it was a tense one, Alaina returned to the packing. She paused once when she lifted a fine gown from the bed. It was her favourite of Caroline’s, made of Pomona green silk, so bold compared to the other pastel dresses she so often wore. Alaina ran her hands lovingly over the brocade across the bust of the dress before she laid it into the portmanteau and turned her back on it.
