Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,92

that he was merely a distraction from her true mission.

He squeezed her hand again. “Arthur, tell me about your lands and holdings.”

With one ear tuned to Arthur’s answer—she’d made sure the new Earl of Glanford knew his responsibilities—she helped Ben manage his peas and his pudding and watched the slow advance of the ormolu clock’s minute hand.

“You broke into my locked drawer?”

George held Fitz’s glare with one of his own. “Needs must, Lord Loughton. What did you expect would happen?”

Fitz walked to the sideboard. “Nothing but sherry?” he growled. “What the devil have you been doing whilst I was away?”

“I might ask the same of you, except I’ve already discovered the answer. You’ve been dodging your duties. You’ve been neglecting mother and the children, including your wards. Sit down, Fitz.”

“You impertinent…I ought to flatten you, George.”

“And I’d love the chance to knock sense into you. Later. After Sophie has had a piece of you.”

Fitz sneered. “Sophie, is it?”

The ass.

“It appears she’ll be in perpetual debt to you. I saw the documents. How could you loan so much money to Glanford? Father told you expressly—”

“It was my fault.” Fitz filled a glass. “The Matilda Rose.” He drained his drink in one long gulp. “Yes, George. I received your warning to get out, after I’d told Glanford all about the golden investment recommended by my wizardly younger brother. I pulled out in time, but I forgot…” He plopped down in the desk chair and rubbed his temples. “I forgot about telling Glanford. Well, and I didn’t actually know he’d invested at all, much less put all of his money in. The bloody fool.”

The night he’d arrived, Sophie had brought up the Matilda Rose. One loses in one fell swoop.

He’d recommended the investment to Fitz, and Fitz had passed on the tip to Glanford.

“I see.” Perhaps Fitz wasn’t the only Lovelace Sophie blamed for her troubles.

“The bloody, bloody fool. Always a gambler. When all of his money was gone, including the money Sophie brought to the marriage, he ran through her dower and Ben’s trust.”

“You should have talked to Father.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Rupert then. Or Selwyn. Or me.”

“So you would tell father his eldest is an idiot? Rupert and Selwyn were in London, and you were there as well when you weren’t running about the country looking for ore.”

Only Mother had known something was wrong, but she’d attributed it to Fitz’s personal woes.

Fitz heaved a heavy sigh. “The best solution for Sophie is to marry a wealthy man.”

That was the logical solution. The one he would have recommended…before. “Any wealthy man with a head on his shoulder will look into her circumstances.”

He certainly would have. Before.

“Not if he’s wealthy and head over ears in love. Cartwright couldn’t take his eyes off her.”

Sophie would marry Cartwright over George’s dead body.

“Why don’t you marry Miss Parker? Your fiancée will bring a sizeable dowry. You can forgive your ward’s debts and carry on. Why not just proceed to the altar with her?”

“Her father is shrewd, and the contracts haven’t been signed.” Fitz’s fingers drummed the desktop. “I suppose the railway scheme will turn a profit one day. How is it progressing? Cartwright was bending my ear about it.”

“We’ve hit a stumbling block.” His talk with Arthur at dinner had been informative. He still had a problem to solve there. The boy had proudly described all the Glanford holdings, and the land in question wasn’t one of them. “I’ll need to leave for Lancashire after Boxing Day and see to an issue.”

“Always on the go.”

“I’ll also need your support in Lords.”

“Do tell.”

The door creaked, drawing their attention and Mother stepped in, clutching a bundle of letters. Sophie entered behind her.

Chapter Eleven

“George,” Mother said, “bring a chair for Sophie, and all of you be seated please. I must return to Mr. Cartwright. He’s been whispering in my ear all day about matrimonial schemes.”

Sophie’s gaze—normally so cool under duress—met his, and she appeared troubled.

Had Cartwright pressed his suit on her already?

“Nor do I want Mr. Cartwright to interrupt your discussions tonight. Fitz,” Mother dropped the letters onto the desk, “I’ve read all of Sophie’s correspondence to you. I suggest you do the same. And here are the others regarding your ward’s estate business.”

George reached for the second batch. “May I see those?”

She glanced at Sophie, who nodded her permission.

Mother beamed a smile all around. “Fitz will address your concerns, Sophie, and I trust George will offer wise counsel. We shall have a very merry Christmas tomorrow. I will see you in