Nicholas: Lord of Secrets by Grace Burrowes Page B

face and fortune.”
    “What does that leave, if you discount funds, brains, and appearance?”
    “Your heart, little Sister. Your inherent virtue, your goodness or lack thereof, your humor or kindness or graciousness toward others. Those things should count for something with the man who seeks to marry you.”
    Emily’s expression became solemn. “I do not mean to be unkind, Leah, but you chose a man based on such qualities, and look what befell you. I do not want to end up like you.”
    “Well said.” The Earl of Wilton stepped into the room, his smile of approval for Emily only. “Your older sister was selfish, foolish, and properly made to suffer for her sins. You will be wiser than she, and life will reward you for it.”
    “I hope so, Papa,” Emily murmured, careful not to look at Leah.
    “Excuse us now, Emily,” the earl bade her.
    Emily was out the door before Leah could blink, for which Leah could not blame her. With Wilton looking on, Emily did not dare show Leah too much deference.
    “You think to corrupt your younger sister, miss?” The earl remained standing, his hands tucked behind his back while Leah sat before him.
    “I think to encourage her to be happy.” Leah bent her head to her embroidery hoop but did not yield to the urge to cringe.
    “Your example has proven instructive,” the earl said, beaming a malicious smile. “It did not occur to me you would have value as a cautionary tale, but it appears you do. I bring you words of caution as well, Leah.”
    Leah raised her gaze to his and felt her chest constrict at the hatred she saw. “I am listening.”
    “Hellerington rescheduled his appointment with me last week, but today I have his note postponing the meeting indefinitely. This tells me you have failed to secure the attentions of even such a one as he, who would at least have taken you off my hands and perhaps paid modestly for the privilege.”
    “I’m sure you’re disappointed,” Leah said, trying to keep her voice even.
    “Sending you into his waiting arms would have had a certain appeal, and you might yet end up there,” the earl replied. “Without benefit of matrimony.”
    “You would condemn me thus?”
    “Happily,” the earl snapped. “And when I hear you spouting off to Emily about choosing a man for his character… Your days under this roof are numbered, miss. I will choose Emily’s husband and the terms upon which she weds, make no mistake about that. I had hoped… well, no matter. I’ve had indications this Lord Reston might be seriously interested in you, and because he is soon to assume his papa’s title, I will take some time to consider the matter of your future. You, however, would be well advised to flirt your way into some man’s affections sooner rather than later. I care not whether it’s Reston or some wealthy merchant. Consider yourself forewarned.”
    He left, sparing Leah the effort of a reply.
    He’d warned her, at least. She could be tossed into the streets, her only recourse to impose on Trent, or perhaps retreat to Darius’s little place in Kent. As her options were truly narrowing, Leah felt the foreboding in her chest congeal into dread. To be not just a spinster daughter, but a poor relation cast out of her own home…
    God in heaven, what had she done to deserve such a fate?
    And God in heaven, what was she going to do? She had four sovereigns to her name. What in the world was she going to do?
    ***
    “Sir.” The butler waited until Ethan Grey looked up from his ledgers. “A gentleman to see you.”
    Ethan waved the salver away. “Tell me who it is.”
    The butler, without raising a brow, read the card. “A Lord Reston,” he pronounced, “and the corner is bent.”
    “Ah, Jesus.” Ethan sat back and saw the usual sea of ledgers, correspondence, and documents covering his desk. First that audience with Bellefonte, now Nick knocking at his door—in person—when there was work to do.
    “Show him in.” Ejecting Nick would