Let It Be Love by Victoria Alexander Page A

did seem like a good idea originally, but now…”
    “Then we are back to choice number three,” Oliver said. “Making your fortune. It won’t be easy, especially given as we have no idea how much time we have to do so.” Absently he paced the length of the room.
    “Which eliminates any kind of investment possibility.” Jonathon’s brows furrowed in thought and he too began to pace. “Anything that would generate the kind of funding she needs would take a considerable amount of time.” He stopped and glanced at her. “Do you have any skills?”
    “I have been mistaken for an actress on occasion.” She cast him a pointed glance. “Perhaps I could go on the stage?”
    “Don’t be absurd.” Jonathon scoffed. “You weren’t actually acting. Surely there is something you are good at?”
    “There are many things I am good at,” she snapped. “I can efficiently run a full staff of servants. I can organize a dinner party for a hundred people on less than two days’ notice. I can select the appropriate fashion, furnishings or flowers for any occasion.”
    “All of which makes you well trained to be a wife but little else.” Oliver sighed. “This may indeed be hopeless.”
    “Nonsense,” Jonathon said staunchly. “It’s far too early to give up on option three.”
    “Especially as that would require acceptance of option two,” Oliver pointed out.
    “Come, now, Fiona, surely you have some sort of marketable talents?” Jonathon looked at her hopefully.
    “Only when it comes to marketing me for marriage.” She heaved a frustrated sigh. “It’s hopeless. I might as well resign myself to marrying Whatshisname and pray he turns out to be a decent sort.”
    “Not yet.” Jonathon shook his head. “Surely the three of us can come up with something.”
    “I must say, you surprise me.” She studied him curiously. “I would think you of all people would encourage me to comply with my father’s wishes. It would certainly do away with any obligation you feel toward me.”
    “Ah, yes, but the guilt.” Jonathon clasped his hand over his heart in mock remorse. “The guilt would be more than I could bear.”
    She resisted the temptation to smile. “Guilt?”
    “Absolutely. If I had gone through with my agreement to marry you, you would not have to marry Whatshisname. In addition, you requested my assistance, you asked for rescue and I failed you. I shall have to live with that guilt for the rest of my days, especially as I now know how it feels to be faced with a marriage one does not want. No.” Resolve shone in Jonathon’s eyes and he resumed pacing. “There is a solution. We simply have to find it.”
    Oliver paced in one direction, Jonathon in the other. In a part of her mind not occupied by the desperation of her dilemma Fiona wondered how they managed to avoid knocking into one another.
    “Helmsley here writes stories,” Oliver said, “although he has never sold anything or seen anything in print.”
    “Yet.” Jonathon’s voice was firm. “I have not had anything published yet. You don’t by any chance—”
    “Only letters.” Fiona blew a long breath. “In truth I have no skills beyond what any woman of my station has. I embroider, admittedly not very well. I play the piano adequately and sing better than I play, but my voice is not exceptional. I do draw rather well, but—”
    Oliver raised a brow. “How well?”
    “Very well.” In truth she was quite proud of her artistic abilities. “I have studied for years. My portfolio is in my room.”
    “May we see it?” An eager note sounded in Oliver’s voice.
    She stared at her cousin. “It’s nothing more than a pastime. I seriously doubt—”
    “I have an idea, and it might well be brilliant.” Oliver grabbed her arm and steered her toward the door.
    “But it would help if we could see your work first.”
    “I really haven’t shown many people my work.”
    “Then we shall be doubly honored,” Jonathon said in a gallant