“I am tired of living like my life could fall apart at any moment. I need security, Tom. Not mere stability.”
Tom threw his hands in the air. “Then you should’ve taken a job as an accountant.”
My heart raced up my throat. This couldn’t be happeningto me. Not when I had everything planned. Not when, for once in my life, everything had all fallen perfectly in place.
What can I do? How can I fix this? What am I missing?My mind raced in one continuous, relentless circle. I needed money. No, I needed time. I needed the Brighton investment.
“Perhaps the seller will lease the land to me instead, then I can purchase in increments—”
“Graham.” Tom’s voice was steady, and I realized my own was shaking. “Think about this.”
I had enough money to start. I’d have to rely on buyers as they came, but with time ... “I could sell the plots before I’ve even bought in full.”
He shook his head. “Sell the land before you even own it? Are you mad, Graham?”
“One hundred percent of the profits would be mine.” It was mad, yes, but it could work. “And I wouldn’t need Mr. Lane. We’d be fine. Better than fine.”
How could he not see? I spun around to face him.
Tom looked at me like I’d truly lost my mind. “You are making plans for a future based on assumptions. And without a partner to make the financial sacrifice bearable.”
“Perhaps, but if I took the risk, I would own Brighton land and control the income. This big of a hit would never happen again.”
“If, if,if.” Tom hit the desk with his palm. “Ifyou can sell the plots.Ifthey sell quickly and not one at a time over years. Whether or not you pay at once, you tie up all your money in one fell swoop if you agree to this purchase. You risk too much.”
But without it? How could I support my family, let alonea wife who was accustomed to luxury, and later, a family of my own? I neededmore. Lest I lose everything.
“I must consider it.”
He stood abruptly, red crawling up his neck, his tone clipped and harsh. “You are not thinking with your head. I don’t know when it happened to you—this pride, this greed—but stability used to be enough. Stability was what drove you to invest in the first place.”
His words struck me like daggers, and I reared back.
Tom’s face fell. He rubbed his forehead, then looked up. “Forgive me. As your banker, I’ve overstepped.”
Heavy silence pulsed between us, pulling our frustrations taut.
“But as your friend ...” Tom shifted his feet, his jaw set. “Your family is safe. They are happy. Don’t risk that.”
He let himself out of my study, and I sank back into my wooden chair. True, my family had survived on less. But I’d worked so blasted hard to give us more. Tobemore. And I had finally had everything I’d ever worked for—a house to be proud of, servants employed, and Anna. I had Anna.
What had I to offer her now beyond food and shelter? A tattered sofa, secondhand furniture, not even a pianoforte. Replacing them would mean taking from savings. Without the steady income from the Bradley account, we could not live as we’d been living the past two years.
I stood, my breaths so shallow my head felt light and full of wind. Tom was right. But how could I tell Anna? How would she look at me if she knew I’d just lost half my income and would have to substantially alter my budget in order to live?
My future as I’d seen it only hours ago slipped away,like water through my fingers. No matter how hard I tried, I could not hold it.
I hated my father for abandoning us. Hated him for leaving me with a dying farm and no means by which I might save it. I hated how embarrassed I’d been, arriving on Mr. Lane’s doorstep with nothing more than my late grandfather’s name and hope for a connection. Yet, he had kindly received me, and oh, how desperately I had wanted to be like him.
Look at me now,I thought. Nothing has changed. I was still the same worthless boy barely managing to keep his family together.
No, some men weren’t born to have it all. Some of us were destined to pretend.
Pretend such meager savings were large enough that I could walk side by side with men whose unfathomable wealth spanned generations. Pretend I hadn’t restructured half my house and its holdings with my own two hands instead of hiring out. Pretend I deserved a woman so beautiful, so rare, despite the countless nights I’d lost sleep trying to keep the money coming in.
She deserved a better life. She deserved to want for nothing.
Heat engulfed me, my pride a welcome pool of relief. I could not tell her the whole of my misfortune. I would simply have to find an alternative before asking for her hand.
