Intent on helping his sisters while avoiding a life sentence with Miss Starling, Anthony had determined to make sure they were never completely alone. They could perhaps meet for tea at a public venue or walk in the park with others present. But then, much to his relief, nothing more had come of the conversation. He’d not heard from Ebberly since and had permitted himself to dismiss his concerns regarding Miss Starling.
“I’ll admit it’s not ideal,” Brody said, breaking through Anthony’s thoughts, “but a large dowry might be precisely what I need.”
“I disagree. If anyone in your family ought to marry, it should be Finn.” Anthony leaned forward and, resting his forearms on his thighs, met Brody’s gaze. “He’s deliberately making things worse for you, and as such, it makes sense for him to take the fall.”
“Perhaps, but you know as well as I that it will take an impressive title to tempt a father into letting his daughter marry a man without a fortune. Finn is a second son and a renowned scoundrel with little besides his looks to commend him. He’s the exact opposite of what one might consider eligible.”
“True,” Callum muttered. “The only sort of woman who’d wed him is one with scandal attached to her name. And the last of those was snatched up by Baron Hastings last week.”
A moment of silence followed as they proceeded to mourn the poor baron losing his freedom. Sadly, Hastings had been in a similar situation to Anthony and his friends and had chosen to walk the proverbial plank in order to prevent the loss of his properties.
“Unfortunately, I will have to sacrifice myself,” Brody said. “And the two of you may have to do the same if you want what’s best for those who depend upon you.”
Anthony knew this to be true, but the thought still made him shudder. He shook his head. One way or another, he’d have to get out of the mess he’d gotten himself into. “Absolutely not. We’ll find another way.”
“I don’t see how w—”
“Let’s allow ourselves three days to think it over,” he suggested, cutting Callum off. “During that time, we’ll all do our best to come up with an alternate plan.”
“And if we don’t?” Brody asked, his voice weary and much too resigned for Anthony’s liking.
“Then we may have to consider the unspeakable.” Anthony looked at each of his friends. “But I forbid you from doing so until we’re certain there’s no other choice. Agreed?”
When Callum and Brody both nodded, Anthony smiled with every intention of giving them hope. Even though his own had already jumped off the edge of a cliff. Optimism was the only way forward. The alternative would only lead to additional glasses of brandy and unacceptable results.
The trouble was, he decided in the following days, that every idea he came up with required funding. Even trade, which he was not too proud to engage in if it would help him and his friends maintain their independence. But attempting to start a business without collateral would be a giant waste of everyone’s time.
So far, cutting costs and selling off superfluous items seemed the most promising way forward. He’d made an inventory last night of all the belongings he could do without and had been pleasantly surprised by the estimated income they’d fetch. If he could find buyers quickly, the sum might be enough to sustain him and his sisters for the next year, provided they all curbed their spending.
But since this was only a temporary fix, he’d still require a more sustainable source of income.
He sighed as he strolled along Oxford Street, looking for inspiration in all the shop windows. His friends were due to arrive at his townhouse in less than four hours. All he could do was hope one of them had been more imaginative than he.
A futile endeavor, he reflected, his attention drawn by a handsome top hat in a milliner’s window. He dismissed the item and kept on walking, past a cobbler, a winery, and a paper supply shop where he briefly considered ordering a new letterhead.
No. He had to be frugal from now on. Whatever money he had left should be spent only on necessities.
He knit his brow at this thought while some carriages clattered by. An acquaintance of his tipped his hat as they passed each other on the pavement.
A flash of red hair up ahead made him stop so abruptly the man behind him muttered a curse before saying, “The least you could do is step aside.”
“I apologize,” Anthony told him, his gaze fixed upon the approaching woman, just to be sure he wasn’t mistaken.
The man shoved his way past and then the crowd parted, allowing Anthony a glimpse of the woman’s face. It belonged to none other than the one woman he wished to avoid – a woman whose wealth was only surpassed by her ambition – the very same woman whose father he’d been foolish enough to discuss potential wedding plans with. Miss Starling.
With a shudder, he darted down a narrow side street and broke into a run, not stopping until he’d rounded a few more corners. Lord help him, that was close! Panting lightly, he leaned against a wall and closed his eyes briefly. The clamor from Oxford Street had dimmed, giving way to fainter sounds. A cat meowed and a child’s bright laughter drifted toward him. The slow clip-clop of a draught horse echoed from somewhere nearby.
Anthony pushed himself away from the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets. If only he’d listened to his secretary. Mr. Oats had warned him. Repeatedly. But Anthony had dismissed the man’s concerns. He’d been a duke after all, with the world at his feet.
“Young and foolish, that’s what you’ve been,” he told himself with a snort of disgust. “An embarrassment to Papa’s legacy.”
Disheartened, he kept walking, making his way toward his home at Number 2 Berkley Square. A sign up ahead announced the presence of a bakery. After that, came a book shop. Between the Pages was its name.
Anthony stopped to look through the window where an assortment of books, some bound in leather and fabric, had been placed on display. The rest of the books, which remained unbound, were tilted against larger stacks to show off their titles. Frankenstein was among them – a novel Anthony had been avoiding because the subject didn’t appeal.
Next to it, of far greater interest, was Rob Roy. He’d not yet purchased a copy, and though he knew he ought to be saving his money, he couldn’t resist the distraction the book promised.
An older man with thick brown hair streaked with gray exited the shop. He carried a parcel under one arm and was turning back toward the still-open shop door when he spotted Anthony. Abandoning the door, he allowed it to swing shut before touching the brim of his hat. Interest lit up his eyes and he suddenly smiled.
