Page 5 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
Damn it, he wouldn’t be able to continue to keep his mistress in the fashion to which she was accustomed. Depending on the state of the ledgers when he reviewed them tomorrow, there was a possibility he could still afford to provide for her, but it would require a significant reduction in her circumstances.
Florence wouldn’t tolerate that. She’d lived lavishly for most of her life—first as the bastard daughter of a marquess and a widowed viscountess, and later, after their deaths, as one of the most sought-after companions for gentlemen of the ton.
She wouldn’t respond well to being offered less. It would be better to free her to seek other protection. He ought to give her the necklace as a parting gift, but considering he didn’t know his family’s financial standing and the necklace was worth a small fortune, he simply couldn’t justify doing so.
Perhaps he could sell the necklace. The jeweler he’d bought it from may be willing to buy it back, or else he could pawn it—although if he liquidated it that way, he was certain he’d receive far less than what it was worth.
“All right.” He set his glass on a table. “Tomorrow, I will confirm how grave the damage to our financial position is. If we need money immediately, there are a few high-value items we can sell. Longer term, I will consider the possibility of marriage while we wait to hear whether Mr. Smith is apprehended and, if so, how much—if any—of our stolen money we can expect to be returned.”
The dowager nodded. “I will compile a list of potential brides with large dowries.”
He shot her a look. “No schoolroom chits.”
She scoffed. “As if I would match you with a child. Have faith in me, Andrew.”
He tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “I always do.” He wiped his moist palms on his trousers. Time to face down a very unhappy Florence. “There is something I must do. I’ll be home later.”
She tapped her cheek, and he dutifully kissed it.
“We will get through this,” she murmured.
God, he hoped so.
He left the drawing room and called for one of his morediscreet carriages. It met him out the front of the house, its simple black panels and white doors giving away nothing of who the carriage belonged to. Perfect for a clandestine meeting.
A footman opened the door, and Andrew climbed inside. He gazed through the window as the carriage began to bump across the cobblestone driving circle and back out onto the street.
The evening was completely dark except for the slight illumination cast by oil lamps. The lamps were fewer and farther between as they neared the edge of Mayfair and pulled onto a side street.
Florence resided on the second floor of a tidy house on a quiet residential street generally occupied by those on the fringes of the ton. His driver stopped outside, and Andrew waited until the footman opened the door before stepping down.
“Please wait here,” he told the driver. “I won’t be long.”
The man’s expression gave nothing away. “Yes, my lord.”
Andrew unlocked the front door—he had a key because he paid Florence’s rent—and took the stairs to the second floor. He knocked on the muddy green door and waited. It took a good minute to hear movement inside.
The door opened, and Florence’s stunning face appeared in the gap, her high cheekbones emphasized by the play of shadows across her skin. Her full lips formed a pout, and her dark blue eyes narrowed.
“You’re late,” she said tartly. “I’m not sure that I should let you in.”
He winced. “I have a good reason.”
She arched an eyebrow in a way that clearly said she doubted his explanation would be sufficient. “Do tell.”
He worried his lower lip between his teeth. “May I come in?”
She cocked her head. “That depends on whether I find your excuse to be reasonable.”
All right. He supposed he was doing this right then and there.
“Unfortunately, I received the news today that my man of business defrauded me and ran off with my remaining fortune, bound for Spain.” He spoke quietly so as not to be overheard by nosy neighbors. “As you’ll understand, we must tighten our purse strings.”
She opened the door wider and crossed her arms. “Do not tell me that you intend to abandon me.”
His stomach dropped. “It’s not like that. I can pay for your lodgings for another month. That gives you plenty of time to seek an alternative arrangement. I know you have many admirers.”
She rolled her eyes. “I do not care about other admirers. I want you, my lord.” She swayed closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, and the floral scent of her perfume washed over him. “I’m not finished with you yet. I have confidence we can come to an agreement.”
