Page 10 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
He gave a small shrug. “I am sorry, Amelia. Your mother knows best in these things. You should listen to her.”
CHAPTER 3
“Thanks for agreeingto meet with me. I must say, I’m surprised to see you away from your wife,” Andrew said to the Duke of Ashford as they met outside the entrance to the Regent, the gentleman’s club of which they were both members.
Vaughan grimaced as the doorman held the door for both of them. “I’d rather not be in London so soon after Lilian’s birth, but I had an urgent business matter that needed attending to. I’ll return to the country as soon as possible.”
They shucked their coats and passed them to an attendant.
“A private room?” their host asked, bowing deeply.
Andrew glanced at Ashford. For the conversation he had in mind, privacy would probably be best. “Yes, please.”
The host led them through the foyer and down a corridor. He turned into the third room on the left, which contained only two well-padded leather chairs and a small drinks table.
“Brandy?” he asked.
“Yes,” Ashford said. “Thank you.”
The host nodded. “A server will be with you momentarily.” He bowed again and backed out of the room.
Andrew dropped onto the chair farthest from the door, ensuring he’d be able to see anyone passing by. He did not wish for gossip of his changed circumstances to spread.
“How is the lovely Emma?” he asked, gesturing for his friend to join him. “Is she recovering well after the birth?”
“She is incredible.” The corners of Ashford’s mouth twitched up. On anyone else, it could hardly be considered a smile, but for him, this was practically beaming. “She is wonderful with Lilian, and she’s already up and about the house. She’s taken a couple of walks outside, but I’ve asked her not to do so while I’m gone so I don’t have to worry.”
Longley grinned. “You’re smitten. And this from the man who didn’t want to wed.”
“Marriage agrees with me,” Ashford said simply.
A server entered, carrying a tray on which stood a decanter of brandy and two glasses. He placed a glass in front of each of them and filled them, then retreated to the corner to await further instruction.
Andrew raised his glass and inhaled the sharp scent of brandy along with the underlying hint of cigar smoke that permeated the Regent. He sipped and then set the glass down. He steeled himself. If anyone could understand his situation—at least in part—it was Ashford.
“I hope marriage will agree with me too,” he said, watching the duke for a reaction.
Ashford frowned. “I distinctly recall you saying last season that you did not intend to wed for quite some time.”
“Yes, well, circumstances have changed.”
Ashford picked up his brandy and cradled it between his palms. “How so?”
Andrew glanced at the server, who was gazing at the wall, obviously listening but doing his best not to appear as though he were. “Excuse me,” he said.
The server looked over.
“You are dismissed. Please close the door behind you.”
His face creased with disappointment, but he sketched a quick bow and glided out.
“This is confidential,” Longley murmured to an intrigued Ashford. “The only other people who know are my mother and the company that manages my affairs. I’ve lost almost our entire fortune.”
Ashford’s eyebrows flew up. “I beg your pardon? How can that be?”
Andrew grimaced. “We are not near to the poorhouse, but unless I take drastic action, we will have to release the majority of those employed by the Longley estate and begin selling off our higher-value items.”
He briefly explained the situation with Mr. Smith and his mismanaged and misappropriated funds.
