“Perhaps he has been successful.”
Mumbling to himself, Benjamin drew his fingers through his hair, sending it awry, but he did not care. He had spoken to no one other than his staff these last few weeks, and certainly no one had come to call upon him. Why would they do so now, when they knew him to be impoverished; when there was a scandal attached to his name? Mr. Crawley was correct. There was very little hope for him or his family name unless he could find a way to recover his fortune, and remove himself from this situation of poverty, once and for all.
Resting his hands on the windowsill, Benjamin leaned forward, let out a long breath and let his head dangle. That ill-fated evening had been a very difficult one indeed. He had awoken the following day with a concerned butler standing over him with news of his evident foolishness in a letter written by his solicitors at a most early hour. With horror, Benjamin had learned that he had signed a contract, giving his fortune over to a gentleman of whom he had no knowledge. What was worse, was that he had the name of such a fellow, but when he came to look for him, he could find neither hide nor hair of the man. The name, he assumed, was false, but the fortune, however, was gone.
And all because we did as Lord Gillespie suggested and made our way to the East End of London instead of playing at our usual gambling dens.
He could not recall a single thing about that evening. it was nothing more than darkness that shrouded his mind, refusing to give him clarity no matter how hard he begged for it. The last he recalled, he had been enjoying a game of poker, but after that, there came nothing else. Somehow, in the depths of confusion, he had decided to give his fortune away in its entirety and thus had left himself almost completely penniless. At least he had not been the only one affected, or else he would have been quite lost in despair. Not only Lord Foster, but five other gentlemen were also in such a situation, having each lost their fortunes that dark night. However, all but Lord Foster had returned to their estates, with Lord Stoneleigh needing to recover from an injury sustained that evening. The rest had disappeared, ashamed, and uncertain as to what else they were to do. Thetonwas no longer their friend, turning its back on them entirely. After all, what could an impoverished gentleman offer any of the young ladies of theton, other than a creeping, grasping eagerness for their dowries? Even the thought of returning to London sent a sharp coldness through Benjamin’s frame.
“My Lord, you have a letter.”
Benjamin turned sharply, just as his butler came into the room. He had already been forced to reduce the number of servants in his home, but those who remained, he very much wished to retain for as long as he could.But Mr. Crawley stated that I can only afford them for another six weeks at the most.
“I thank you. Wait a moment until I see if it requires a response.”
Opening up the letter, he read the brief lines quickly. His heart soared high, exploding with a sudden, furious hope which seemed to lend a fresh brightness to the room, his breath catching swiftly.
“There is no reply needed, but you must make my carriage ready at once.”
“Your carriage, my Lord?”
“Yes. I shall pack my things and depart within the hour.” His voice grew a little higher as he hurried towards the door, leaving the butler to stand in the middle of the room. “I am to go to London, and I have every hope of returning with my fortune restored and my estate once more secure.”
He did not wait for the butler’s response, but pulled the door closed and hurried towards his rooms, fully aware that he would have to pack his own things, given that he had no servant to do it. That did not seem to matter much any longer, however. Lord Foster’s letter begged for him to return to London, telling him that he had found a way forward. Now, there was nothing that Benjamin wanted to do other than make his way directly to London so that he might aid Lord Foster in the recovery of his fortune and, in turn, find a little light of hope for himself.
Chapter Two
“So you are now in your second Season, Julia.”
Miss Julia Carshaw lifted her head from her book, a book which she had been pretending to read while her brother had stalked through their London townhouse looking for things to complain about. She had no doubt that one of his complaints would be her. Ever since he had taken on the title a little over three years ago, he had become increasingly irritable, with high demands and nothing short of perfection required.
Julia was well aware that she was nowhere near close to perfection. Not that such a thing mattered to her, of course, but it did to her brother, and she was expected to do a great deal better than she was at present.
“Julia. Are you paying me any heed whatsoever?”
“Yes, brother.”
Julia closed her book completely as if to show that she was giving him her full attention. Not that she had any intention at all of giving any true thought to whatever it was he was about to throw at her, but the outward appearance of it would be required to placate him.
“As I have previously told you, you are in your second Season and that is something of a disappointment to me. I had expected you to wed already.”
Julia’s lips twitched.
“I am afraid that I cannot speak for the lack of suitable gentlemen in London last Season.”
“Pshaw!” Her brother’s guttural exclamation threw aside her weak excuse. “That is nonsense, Julia. You know as well as I that there were many gentlemen interested in your company last Season, but that you refused to acknowledge any of them. Indeed, did not Lord Comfrey seek to acquaint himself with you? He very much wished to court you, did he not?” A dark frown pulled at her brother’s forehead. “At least for a time anyway.”
Julia forced her lips to remain very flat indeed. Lord Comfrey had indeed offered to court her, but Julia had quickly dissuaded him of such a desire by behaving in a manner he found most inappropriate. Lord Comfrey expected young ladies to stand quite silently, share none of their opinions, and only smile as a singular expression of their enjoyment of any occasion. Julia, on the other hand, had made certain to laugh uproariously, speak her opinion without it having been requested, and talk at length about her love of horses when Lord Comfrey had already stated that it ought to be a discussion saved for the gentlemen only. Lord Comfrey had withdrawn his eagerness to court her soon afterwards - much to her brother’s frustration, of course.
“You will find a husband for yourself, Julia. You shall find him within the next fortnight.”
Julia’s mouth fell open.
“A - a fortnight, brother?” Stuttering, she threw up her hands. “That is ridiculous. I cannot find a suitable husband in two weeks! The Season has not long begun.”
Viscount Kingston rose to his full height, pulling his shoulders back, and glaring at her as though she had displeased him by speaking so.
“Nevertheless, I have decided it shall be a fortnight. And if you do not Julia, then I have every intention of finding you a husband myself.”
