Charles frowned as he dropped the letter into his lap. “You do not think this will spoil my appetite for dinner, Hodges?”
The man cleared his throat. “The dinner gong was rung two hours ago, Your Grace. It was rung thrice, and when you did not appear at the table, we assumed you were too engrossed in matters of the estate.”
Charles blinked. “Goodness, are you sure?”
“It is almost nine o’clock now, Your Grace,” Hodges said politely, gesturing at the clock over the mantelpiece.
Charles glanced at it. It was ten to nine. “My word, you are right. Thank you, Hodges, I had not noticed… I was a little lost in paperwork. The biscuits and cheese are most welcome. You may go.”
Charles looked at the letters scattered across the settee, his lap, and in some cases, where they had slipped onto the floor.
Well, much as he hated to admit it…his mother had been right.
He laughed bitterly in the silence of the empty room as his hands picked over the letters. Why did he even doubt her? She had never been wrong.
What a shame that, of all situations to be right in, it was this one.
Ignore it as much as he wanted, he could not deny the truth in these papers.
His questing fingers found the letter he was looking for, and as Charles brought it up toward his face to read, he sighed deeply. Not what he had wanted to hear from Mr. Green, his personal banker.
To Charles Audley, Duke of Orrinshire, Baronet of Edinburgh,
Your Grace,
I regret to inform you that the Orrinshire Estate continues in dire financial straits, despite the efforts of this bank to inform your mother of the danger of profligate spending and inattention to the mortgage on the property.
The debt to the bank is now at thirty thousand pounds, all placed on the property on the Orrinshire estate, Scotland, and London. Inadvisable borrowing on the part of your grandfather and then father have unfortunately been coupled with poor investments that have not given the return expected by your ancestors.
After conversations with your mother seven years ago, four years ago, and last year, it is the opinion of this bank that a cash injection into the Orrinshire estate by means of matrimony is the only surefire way to prevent reclamation of your assets by the bank.
I must be plain, Your Grace. Unless twenty thousand pounds is found by the end of the year, then it will be impossible for the bank to sit by. We will need to take Orrinspire Park to satisfy the debt upon the estate.
I am at Your Grace’s leisure to discuss this in more detail, should you wish it, and can provide evidence and documentation of the accumulation of these debts.
Should you wish to bring an accountant or advisor to said meeting, that would be most agreeable.
I remain, as ever, your most humble servant,
Mr. Colin Green, Esq.
Charles brushed his fingertips across the carefully ordered letters.
Mortgaged to the hilt. Charles could not understand it – this was what happened to other people, families with gamblers, drinkers, rascals in the family line. Look at poor Axwick. It had taken him years to repay the debts his father and brother had accumulated.
But the Orrinshires? His father had died when he had only been fifteen or so. He had not known him as a man, not had some of those more serious conversations.
They had thought there was all the time in the world.
His eyes darted back down to look at the letter once more.
I must be plain, Your Grace. Unless twenty thousand pounds is found by the end of the year, then it will be impossible for the bank to sit by. We will need to take Orrinspire Park to satisfy the debt upon the estate.
He sighed. So this was what his mother had meant. It was hard to deny that marriage to Miss Frances Lloyd and her twenty thousand pounds would put a huge dent into the mortgage and give the bank reason enough to delay any embarrassing actions.
He could just imagine what the papers would say if the Dukedom of Orrinshire lost its southern estate.
A log cracked in the fire, making him jump. He could almost believe he was completely alone in the house.
Charles rubbed his eyes wearily. How was this possible? Proliferate spending? True, he had happily allowed his mother to manage the estate without ever looking at the numbers. What did a young gentleman just about to enter into society care about percentages, interest rates, and borrowing?
That same disinterest had continued, though, hadn’t it? He thought ruefully of his time at Oxford. He had not cared then either, more interested in leaving home properly for the first time, tasting the first fruits of freedom.
Before he had left for his Grand Tour, he and his mother had not even discussed the financial affairs of the estate. It had just been assumed, by then, that she would continue to take care of everything.
If only he had asked. Charles balled his hands into fists, so furious at himself, he hardly knew what to do. If he had just taken two minutes to ask about…debts, maybe?
Damn and blast it. He did not even know what to ask; he was so ignorant.
He should have found out. He should have known months ago, years ago, perhaps, that bad harvests and even worse investments had brought the Orrinshire estate to its knees.
Something rumbled, deep and low. Charles glanced at the window, curtains pulled together. It had not felt like a thunderstorm earlier today.
The noise grumbled again, and he almost laughed. It was his stomach. Well, he had not eaten for almost ten hours; no wonder he was hungry.
The plate of cheese and biscuits had been placed on the settee by Hodges, and Charles fell upon it, giving his famished stomach some relief.
Marrying for money. Even the thought disgusted him as he drank from the glass of port. He had always looked down on ladies who had done so, even if he had not said
