One Last Season by Aileen Fish

Author:Aileen Fish
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: 0
Published: 2015-10-19T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

The next morning, Trey asked Uncle Harrow to find the address for Sir Job Wilkinson. Uncle’s man did so in short order, and Trey was allowed to leave right away.

He took a hackney to Hannah’s and asked to borrow their carriage, not knowing how long he’d have to argue with Sir Job, and not wanting to keep the hack waiting indefinitely.

“Would you like me to come with you?” Oakhurst asked while they waited for the carriage to be brought around.

Trey shook his head. “I can handle Sir Job, and I think the fewer of us to suffer the berating I expect to receive from Mr. Clawson, the better.”

“You don’t really expect him to be ungrateful, do you?” Hannah looked astounded.

“From the tales Amelia has related to me, I expect the worst. The man has no generosity of spirit, no willingness to acknowledge his own role in any misfortune.”

“I cannot fathom it,” Hannah said. “We’re so lucky to have such loving parents. I’ve asked Amelia to come stay with us here, or take Ruth with her to Bridgethorpe and let her parents deal with Hetty and their financial straits. She won’t do so, though. She insists it’s her duty to marry a rich man so her sisters can also marry well.”

Oakhurst stopped his pacing and spun to face Trey. “Has he no inkling of the disaster his middle daughter is causing as he berates Amelia over nothing?”

“He sees Amelia more like a servant than a daughter. I don’t know the why of it, I simply know what I’ve seen and heard.”

Oakhurst’s butler appeared in the doorway. “The carriage is ready, my lord.”

“Thank you,” Oakhurst said. He walked with Trey into the entry. “You’ll send word how this pans out?”

Trey grinned. “Are you afraid I won’t return your carriage?”

His brother-in-law gave him a wry look. “It appears I am. We’ll be waiting to hear all is well.”

Giving the coachman the address Uncle Harrow had given him, Trey watched the buildings pass outside the window. Oakhurst’s carriage was rather grand for a baron, but then his wealth even before he inherited the title put the Bridgethorpe estate to shame. As they entered a less-prosperous neighborhood, Trey wondered what the residents must think of the coat of arms and bright red wheels. Likely they believed Trey was much more important than he was.

The carriage came to a halt. Trey glanced at the house number while the coachman opened the carriage door.

He walked quietly up the two steps to the door, noting that the knocker had been removed, as many of the ton were known to do when they returned to their country estates. Was Sir Job hoping to convince his creditors that he was away, or did he just not wish to be disturbed.

Not caring which it was, Trey pounded on the door with his fist.

Nothing made a sound beyond the door. Trey pounded again.

A man’s voice muttered something as footfalls came down the staircase within. A few moments later, the door opened. Sir Job stood there, his waistcoat and cravat missing, his shirt haphazardly tucked in.

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