Page 55 of Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love 2)

He tapped her on the nose. “Now I suggest we get dressed as best we can and go home. I find I am up for a repeat of tonight’s activities. Only this time I would prefer a nice, soft bed.”

It was encouraging that they agreed on some things, Arabella thought, as she riffled through the pile of discarded clothing. She needed to appear somewhat dignified when they walked into the house.

Chapter Eighteen

Three weeks later, Nash sat behind his desk in the library, gazing out the window at the cloudy day. The prior evening, the second meeting for the investors in the Indian cloth venture had gone well. The man who’d conducted the meeting had laid out a plan that involved a certain amount of risk, but in the end, could reap a tidy reward for those willing to take the chance.

Nash was willing.

He’d agreed to invest a good portion of Arabella’s dowry, leaving the rest for needed repairs and new equipment to improve production on his tenants’ farms. Which led him to thoughts of the audience his man of business had requested this morning. He’d set Mr. Bowers on a quest to gather as much information as he could about Mr. Jones and his son, who had been collecting the rents and only turning over part of it.

Although irritated at being duped, he at least had a sense of his financial situation not being as dire as he’d thought. Once he placed a trustworthy man in the steward’s position, things should begin to turn around.

“My lord, Mr. Bowers has requested an audience.” Quinn stepped aside as his man of business entered the room.

“Thank you, Quinn. Please have Cook send in coffee and some pastries.”

Quinn bowed and quit the room. Nash waved to the chair in front of him. “Have a seat. I’m anxious to hear your report.”

Bowers removed his spectacles and rubbed the lenses with a handkerchief. Once they were sufficiently polished and adjusted to his satisfaction on his face, he picked up his papers and studied them. Nash held in a smile at the way Bowers prepared himself for meetings.

The man cleared his throat three times, then began. “My lord, it appears you were correct, and Mr. Jones, the younger, has been assuming his father’s duties as steward for the past many months. It was during this time that he raised the tenants’ rents.” He stopped and looked up at Nash. “Without your permission. And kept the extra money for himself. He also received more money for the crops and livestock than he entered in his books.”

Bowers drew out his handkerchief and mopped his face. Taking a deep breath, he continued. “Notations made for repairs on buildings, fences, and roads were all false. Most repairs were made for a good deal less than reported, and some repairs were never done at all, although he took money for them.

“I had someone make an inspection of all the farms and outlying areas encompassing your estate, and I am sorry to report there are repairs that need to be done immediately, as well as some improvements that would help the farmers, and in turn, yourself, that should have been done already.”

His man continued on, reading from his notes, and although Nash’s mind began to drift from his actual words, what came across quite clearly was the Clarendon estate had been robbed blind.

Once Bowers finished, Nash rose and walked to the window and stared out at the gardens. For generations, men had lost all their money as well as un-entailed holdings due to gambling, drink, expensive hobbies, and women. Nash had always prided himself on not indulging in such pursuits. However, while he had congratulated himself, and taken care of business in Parliament, he had failed his tenants, his family, his title, and his future heirs. He’d been entrusted with the managing of his estate, and had fallen short.

He turned as Bower spoke again. “I took the liberty of notifying the magistrate of the goings-on. He said he would keep a look out for Jones, but he assumed—probably rightly so—that the man is long gone and will not return.”

“How much did Jones pilfer?”

“The closest figure I can come to is somewhere between five and six hundred pounds.”

Nash blew out a low whistle. Five or six hundred pounds! Well, he had no one to blame but himself. “That is a good bit of money. I am thinking he had been working in his father’s stead for some time. Perhaps the older Mr. Jones had turned over management to his son long before he left to live with his daughter.”

If he’d been less sure of the dowry Lady Grace would have brought him, he might have considered that his steward was robbing him—and his tenants—blind.

He returned to his chair, and leaning back, he tented his fingers and explained the details of the investment project he’d involved himself in. Laying out the plan clearly and concisely to his man of business convinced him the investment opportunity had been the right thing to do.

Bowers leaned forward, his appreciation for the investment apparent in his eyes. “That is very good, my lord. Those kinds of ventures tend to pay well. Of course, there are certain risks, as I am sure you are aware.”

“Indeed, and in all fairness to Mr. Sueade, who ran the meeting and is setting up the consortium, all of the perils involved in such an undertaking were clearly laid out.”

“That is certainly good news, my lord. Perhaps we can recoup some of the damage Mr. Jones has done to your financial state.” Bowers began shoving papers into his satchel in preparation to leave.

Nash looked up as Arabella rushed past the open door of the library. She carried some type of animal in her hands.

He sighed. Solve one problem, another crops up.

…

Arabella stood next to Lord Honeyfield at the Nightingdale soiree, who was rattling on about his problems with his man of business. Since dancing was never a part of a soiree, merely throngs of people dressed to impress while searching the crowd for something else to gossip about, Arabella decided to seek out the refreshment table. Her appetite had increased over the last couple of weeks, which she could only attribute to settling into her new life.

With Nash engaged in a deep conversation with Lord Blanchard about Parliamentary matters, she excused herself and wandered away. The scent of so many bodies pressed together in the space, along with women’s perfume and men’s hair tonic, had a dizzying effect on her. She barely made it to the refreshment tables before black dots began to gather in her eyes, and with a gentle swish of skirts, she slid to the ground.