Amy Lake by Lady Reggieand the Viscount Page B

hushed us at that moment, Helen winked at me, and we all returned to our examination of the books available, although in my case I barely read the titles. 
    I had no particularly objection to Lord Davies wishing to . . . well, have marital relations with me, as they say.  I suspected I might enjoy the endeavour.  But was that the sum of his interest?  We seemed to have ended up in each other’s arms at every opportunity.  Did he like me otherwise, at all?
    * * * *
     
    The next day I received a visit from our man-of-affairs.  The visit was unexpected, as Faulkes had sent me the latest reports only a week previous.  The reports had not been good, of course, but with the economies I had recently made in household expenses I thought we would continue to muddle along for a bit longer. 
    “Lady Regina,” said Faulkes, finding me in the music room once again.  He swept his hat to his feet in a charmingly old-fashioned courtier’s bow.  “I am sorry to bother you, but—”
    “Oh, dear, what this time?” I sighed.  “Has Lord Wilfred purchased more brandy?”
    I’ll strangle him, I thought.
    “I’m afraid it’s rather worse than that.”
    It was.  When Faulkes had finished explaining, and taken his leave, with promises to assist me to the best of his abilities, I collapsed onto the music room sofa and wondered whether to cry, or break into laughter.
    Hysterical laughter, I might add.
    My brother, dear besotted Freddie, had attempted to negotiate with the Duke of Wenrich, a man well-known not only for being pockets to let but also for having a bitter and ruthless nature.
    My brother had made certain promises to his grace, the precise nature of which our man-of-affairs did not know.  What Faulkes did know was Lord Wilfred had somehow convinced the earl to transfer a substantial sum of money—the amount made me gasp—into the duke’s coffers.  In exchange, one assumed, for the hand of Lady Celia.
    The more usual procedure was, of course, for the bride to provide a dowry as part of the marriage settlements.  The reverse, albeit less common, was not unknown.  But in this case—
    “Are they mad?” I exclaimed, to Faulkes.  “The earl has not the resources to survive such a transfer!”
    Our man-of-affairs was aware of this.
    “I must speak to my father at once.”
    “I spoke to him at some length prior to the exchange of funds.”  Faulkes’s expression suggested this was not a happy interview.  “He remained adamant.” 
    I tapped my toe nervously, and suddenly remembered what Cassandra had told me.  About a Mr Richard Avendale, who wished to purchase a hunting lodge in Northumberland—
    “Faulkes, how much would Three Stags sell for, do you think?”
    “The lodge?  A fair sum, I should imagine.  The house itself is nothing grand, but the accompanying land is considerable.”
    “And ’tis not entailed.”
    “Indeed not.”
    “Would it be enough to pay this debt?”
    Faulkes had frowned.  “Perhaps.  Has the earl suggested such a sale?”
    “No.  But I happen to know of a buyer.  Perhaps I can convince him.”
    * * * *
     
    But the earl was not at home, and I paced the floor in frustration, waiting for his return.  Impossible, I thought.  Even my parents must see that this is disaster.  Why would they choose to impoverish themselves?
    They must sell Three Stags. 
    This notion, which had seemed but a faint possibility when Miss Barre first mentioned it, now appeared as our only salvation. 
    They must sell it.  They have no choice.  No matter how much Freddie loves the place.
    But it was my own choices in life that were about to be restricted, although I did not know this until a few hours later, when my father—who I barely spoke ten words to in the course of an average week—finally returned, and requested that I attend him in his study.
     

Chapter 16: The Earl’s Announcement
     
    “Sit down,” said the earl.
    I sat in the armchair to the side of his desk, and