Three months to prevent a bastard.
‘We’ll be fine, Cedric,’ she said, her voice strong. ‘I have it all worked out.’
‘Really?’ he said, sarcasm fighting hope in his voice. ‘Please tell me.’
‘He’ll be back in time. His letters say he’s nearly finished.’
God, he prayed that was true. ‘Does he have family money? Any way to support you?’
She stiffened. ‘He’s an engineer. He’s working!’
In other words, no.
‘His grandfather is Viscount Copekett.’
Copekett, Copekett, Copekett. He wracked his brains for who that was. And when he finally placed it, he groaned out loud. The family had tons of children. There was no way this Eric would inherit the title. Worse, theirs was middling money, all reserved for the title. Nothing at all for the cousins and second cousins. At best, they could get a good education among the elite. At worst, they could end up no better than the average labour man.
Eric, apparently, split the difference. He was educated, but not flush.
‘Do you have a place to live?’ He couldn’t imagine raising a child in a home with half the roof caved in. He hated it for his sisters!
Cora extended her hand to her brother. When Cedric touched it, she tugged him out of the damaged section of the house. ‘We can talk over dinner.’
‘I think I want the answer now. I get the feeling everyone’s trying to hide things from me.’
She turned to him. ‘We’ll live on old Samson’s farm.’
‘What!’ he exploded. His sister—the daughter of an earl—would live in a tenant’s cottage? He imagined a vermin-infested hovel. He knew how badly his father had neglected those homes.
‘Oh, don’t get high-handed with me. Do you think this is better?’ She gestured behind him at the damaged area of the house. ‘Besides,’ she said as she flushed pink. ‘It’s private.’
He did not want to think about that! Instead, he focused on the facts of the situation. ‘You cannot want to live there,’ he whispered.
‘It’s the best we could manage,’ she said flatly.
‘You cannot raise a child there!’
She shrugged. ‘Then repair this house.’
‘I sent you every penny I made!’
‘I know,’ she said, her tone softening. ‘Thank you, Cedric. It’s because of you that we have managed at all. But we are living people. Life must go on for us.’ She set her hand on her belly. ‘And it has.’
She was happy with her fiancé and her growing family. He could see that. But all Cedric could think was that the child was another mouth to feed. Another generation to raise. There would be more children who would grow. They would need a propereducation with tutors and eventually school. All of that cost money.
He never realised how heavy that burden felt until the weight doubled at the thought of the next generation.
‘He’s a smart man, Cedric. There is not a waterway, bridge or lock that he cannot improve. He’ll get work all over the country. Yorkshire is just the beginning.’
‘That’ll take him away from you.’ And the child. God, could this get any worse?
‘I’m not the one you should be worrying about,’ Cora said, her voice tart. ‘Lilianna has met someone.’ She sighed. ‘Someone very unsuitable.’
Cedric groaned as he collapsed down into the nearest chair. He’d never felt more weighted by responsibilities.
He spent the next day and night inspecting Eric’s work on their canal (impressive), Cora and Eric’s future home on Samson’s former plot (not as bad as he feared) and going over the family accounts which were every bit as disastrous as he’d imagined. He wouldn’t have understood it before, but thanks to Lucy’s tutelage he understood exactly how desperate the situation.
As for Lilianna’s gentleman, the man was no gentleman at all. A little investigation turned up the man’s other wife and children in a neighbouring county. Lilianna was crushed, but that only emphasised the need to get her to London for a Season. And that required coin.
Which left him with the only solution as the one he’d already been working on. He must marry an heiress. Nothing was more important or more urgent. Indeed, he wanted to have a woman’s dowry in hand by the time Cora and Eric married, which had to bebeforeshe gave birth. He would not let that child spend his first years shivering in a tenant’s hovel or a dilapidated manor home.
Which meant any dream of marrying Lucy was gone.
He accepted that fully now. What tiny portion of him had hoped was now smothered beneath the weight of the account books.
Despair hit him hard. Despair and fury and crushing responsibility.
That made him rash. And stupid. And completely, bull-headed.