Wild Lily (Those Notorious Americans Book 1)(24)

His mother caught a handkerchief to her eyes. “Disgraceful. The house will be a shambles. How will we manage?”

The old man shook his head. “You could pick up a feather duster.”

“You’re mad,” she seethed.

“Right you are. So then! No more monthly shipments of wine. No refurbishment of the upholstery in the drawing room.”

“Absurd!” his mother objected. “I cannot imagine. How can we attract a proper match for Elanna?”

Julian winced. Leave it to his mother to use Elanna as an excuse to get what she wanted. The woman had no scruples. Few motherly instincts, either.

“Ba!” His father put a hand on his hip. “She turned down two men last year. Old Wayland’s whelp who has a bit of money.”

“He’s not yet out of dresses,” the duchess objected.

He prefers men. Julian shifted. “He’s not right for our girl.”

“And Lord Canfield was—is a rogue,” Elanna added. “With bad breath.”

Julian stifled a laugh. “Marriage is too important to demand that Elanna take whatever comes her way.”

“Like Carbury?” their mother said with the arch of one long brow and a pointed gaze at Elanna. “Why not? He’s eager. Likes her. He’s not bound himself up with debts, and he’s out of mourning.”

Elanna shifted. “He’s very nice. But I dare say I cannot find it in my heart to—”

“Not for you, is he?” the duke asked. “Well, then. Would you be able to find it in your heart to take a position as governess?”

“What?” his mother gaped.

Elanna fell back in her chair.

Julian cringed.

“Or teach in a girl’s school?”

“Surely, Seton,” said the duchess, waving her handkerchief in a frantic beat, “you jest. You do. The girl will not, I say will not lower herself to turn to anyone’s employ. Surely, surely—” She was on her feet, pacing the window, back to face her husband before his desk. “You cannot make her do that. It’d ruin us. Utterly.”

The old man simply crossed his arms and studied her.

“What will people say, good sir?” she beseeched him.

“I applaud your social instincts, my girl. Thought you’d lost them. Sent them out to roost with all our money.”

“Stop.” She hung her head and stomped her foot. “Do. Stop.”

“I cannot. As for doings here, there are enough funds for the ordinary teas, a few dinner parties, a musicale, if you wish. But no balls.” His tone turned maudlin, almost apologetic. So very unlike his normal boisterous self. “I’m sorry, Elanna, but you’ll have to dance at other people’s invitation.”

“What of the sale of Cardiff Shipping?” his mother asked, her handkerchief to her temple. “Will you do it? That could save us.”

“Save us? You think so? Oh, if only that were so. Last winter, we had two offers. Neither of them was worth a prayer on Sunday. The better of the two came from the American. Hanniford.” His father turned to him with a tilt of his head.

“I haven’t seen him since Paris last autumn. And he has not contacted me.” Julian hadn’t wished to open that relationship again. Instead, he’d called upon their London lawyer and estate agent Phillip Leland last week in the City. On official business for himself to monitor his own investment in railroad expansion in the Cotswolds, he’d taken the occasion to ask if any news had come from Killian Hanniford lately. None had and Julian was happy for it. He did not wish to be reminded of Hanniford’s beguiling daughter.

Julian brushed the wool of his trousers. “Leland believes if we hold out for another six months or until the new year, we would receive a better price for the company than is the current offer.”

“How much better?” his father asked.

“Twenty percent more.”

“Healthy.” His father arched his brows. “And why would that be?”

“Leland courts two buyers. One wants the company to expand his own reach. The other wants it to gut it.”

“And the twenty-percent advantage would come from stalling?”

“Exactly. Selling it to the first man who will see over time that the second man would not be favored. Not for his objective.”

The duchess fretted. “Are there no other answers?”

“Certainly, there is only one other asset.” His father arched a sardonic brow at his wife.

“My—my diamonds,” she whispered, touching the base of her throat where her most precious necklace of all her jewels would adorn her on many an occasion. “But King Charles gave them to my great grandmama. I must not, nay cannot part with them.”

“But will.”

Her eyes popped wide. “If…if things are this bad—”

“Never doubt it, madam.”

“No. Would you sell them? I won’t allow it.”

“You have no choice,” his father said to her.

“But I’d have nothing to wear.”

His father scoffed. “However, the sale alone could keep us until—oh, shall we say? January. At most.”

“Oh, George.” Her tears spilled over her lids.

“We are, despite your tears, in dire straits. I have done what I could for the time being. You will abide by my orders to trim your expenses, all of you. Anything else you wish to cut, do. There is no other solution. And know, too, that what I have done will not be the end of it. I cannot change the weather. I cannot improve the crops, not by much in any case. Elanna, you will find a husband. Madam, you will give me your diamonds. Come to think of it, your pearls, too.”