never lied, especially when recorded by an employee as meticulous and honest as Mr. Oliver.
The land agent flipped through the ledger until he found what he wanted, then shoved the book in front of his employer.
âMy lord, you have very little income, and certainly not enough to support two households. The town house in London,â he glanced again at Bathsheba, ârequires significant upkeep and maintains a full complement of servants. You will recall that you and her ladyship agreed some time ago that it was imperative to keep up appearances in town, so as not to draw attention to the considerable debt left by the previous earl.â
Matthew rolled his eyes. âOf course I remember. Iâm not an idiot. But weâve spent next to nothing these last three years on the improvement of the estate here in Yorkshire. Nothingâs been refurbished or replaced. I canât even remember the last time I bought a book.â
Mr. Oliver didnât even blink. âMy lord, you obtained several rare volumes just last month. I have the bills right here.â
Bathsheba snatched the papers from Mr. Oliver, quickly scanning them.
âOh, Matthew,â she groaned. âHow could you? You spent over five hundred pounds on books just last month.â She riffled through the bills with growing disbelief. âDid you really need another edition of The Canterbury Tales to add to the three you already own?â
The earlâs long face drooped with guilt. âI suppose not, Sheba. But it has such magnificent illustrations.â
He lurched from his chair to retrieve the text from one of his carefully organized bookshelves. Returning, he cradled the large volume in his arms as tenderly as an infant.
âSee?â He pointed out an elaborate and beautifully drawn illustration of the Wife of Bath. âThe workmanship is priceless. Iâve been waiting years for Samuel Thompson to let go of this.â His eyes pleaded with her to understand.
Bathsheba had to swallow twice before she could answer. âYes, dear. Itâs lovely.â But not as lovely as paying off some of their mountain of debt would have been.
He beamed, but his smile faded as he examined her face. He sank into his chair with a sigh.
âIs it really as bad as all that?â
She reached across the desk and took his hand in a comforting grip.
âMatthew, we were forced to retrench last year because all the crops failed after that horrible summer. We hoped the harvest this year would correct the situation but, according to Mr. Oliverâs figures, we will not be so fortunate.â
Matthew still looked confused. Though the sweetest man she had ever met, he had the worst head for business in Yorkshire. Never expecting to be a lordâafter all, everyone had assumed Bathsheba would give her husband an heirâMatthew hadnât trained for it, and still spent most of his time with his nose buried in antiquarian texts. He had always been more than content to leave the business of managing the Yorkshire estate and the town house in London to her.
His face suddenly brightened. âBut what about our investments? Youâve done a bang-up job managing them these last few years. Surely Oliver exaggerates. Why, youâre the smartest female Iâve ever met. You always take care of everything.â
Guilt burned through her veins like fire. She hadnât managed things well at all, not since the Earl of Trask abandoned her as his mistress two years ago. That had been the first disaster, and more had piled on ever since.
âIâm afraid there have been problems with our investments,â she admitted. âI was forced to fire our man of business just last week. Mr. Gates saw fit to invest the vast majority of our funds in speculative ventures, all of which came to naught. I didnât realize how risky these schemes were until it was too late. We have nothing left. Nothing but debt, and I have only