humphed. “That sounds like George. So stuffy that he couldn’t bear asking you for help.” Cassie turned her gray eyes on Julian. “You’ve been living with the curse all your life and it’s never hurt you—and you’ve never hurt the estate or the family, either.”
He managed a weak smile. “Sadly, George wasn’t me.”
“No.” Millie swung her legs down and briefly clasped his arm. “You’re made of much sterner stuff. But what about the taint? Of suicide, I mean?”
“You don’t need to worry about that. The doctor left a note saying that in the circumstances he would suggest we put it about that George died suddenly and unexpectedly of apoplexy.”
The three thought for a moment, then Edwina said, “Well, then, I suppose what we need to do next is get some mourning clothes so we can see George off in proper style.”
Millie grimaced. “True. He might have been an idiot, but he was our noble idiot and he sacrificed himself for us, so we should at least do him proud in the matter of his funeral.”
From the corner of his eye, Julian spotted a gig, driven by Jordan Draper, come bowling up the drive.
“We should go and talk to Mama,” Cassie said. “Discussing clothes might cheer her up, or at least take her mind off the manner of George’s passing.” She looked at Julian. “Have you seen her yet?”
“No. Not yet.” He paused, then said, “Why don’t you three go and distract her, and tell her I’m here, and that I’ll be up to speak with her as soon as I can?” He rose along with the girls. “I have to go and sort things out with Draper, just to get everything squared away. Tell Mama I’ll come up as soon as I’ve finished.”
His sisters nodded and hugged him again, then they all quit the parlor. Parting from the girls in the corridor, Julian surreptitiously sighed with relief; that had gone better than he’d hoped.
H e spent the next hours with the Drapers, father and son, then they were joined by Minchinbury, the family solicitor. The office was crowded with all four of them in it, but no one suggested they take their discussions into a less secure and well-shielded room.
Minchinbury confirmed that George’s will named Julian as sole executor, and also joint guardian of three-year-old Henry. In regard to the latter, Julian merely nodded and set that problem aside for later; one hellish scenario at a time.
“There’s no way around it,” Jordan eventually concluded. “No matter how we structure payments, even if we liquidate every saleable unentailed asset and devote the entirety of the estate income to said payments, the outgoings still far exceed the duke’s ability to pay.”
While they’d been going over the horrendous figures, a plan had taken shape in Julian’s mind. It was beyond outrageous, but outrageous was something he did well. Across the desk, he met Jordan’s eyes. “Factor in my funds—all of them. Liquidate my assets, all of them, and add them in, too—reduce the capital owed. Leave me . . .” He considered, then said, “Ten thousand in cash. Assume an ongoing income through me of . . .” That took a little longer to calculate, but eventually he named a sum.
Draper and Minchinbury looked startled, but Jordan only grimaced, jotted down the figures, and started reworking the complex web of mortgage and loan repayments again.
While he did, Draper and Minchinbury traded looks . . . and slowly worked out Julian’s direction. It was Minchinbury who, faintly shocked, finally looked at Julian. “My lord . . . what are you planning?”
Julian held up a finger and patiently waited while Jordan did his sums.
Eventually, Jordan blew out a breath. “We’re close. Just a whisker in it.” He looked at Julian. “You could pull it off.”
Julian hadn’t needed to explain to Jordan what he was thinking of doing; Jordan had worked for him for long enough to guess what he might, and could, do, but he was grateful for the younger man’s
He managed a weak smile. “Sadly, George wasn’t me.”
“No.” Millie swung her legs down and briefly clasped his arm. “You’re made of much sterner stuff. But what about the taint? Of suicide, I mean?”
“You don’t need to worry about that. The doctor left a note saying that in the circumstances he would suggest we put it about that George died suddenly and unexpectedly of apoplexy.”
The three thought for a moment, then Edwina said, “Well, then, I suppose what we need to do next is get some mourning clothes so we can see George off in proper style.”
Millie grimaced. “True. He might have been an idiot, but he was our noble idiot and he sacrificed himself for us, so we should at least do him proud in the matter of his funeral.”
From the corner of his eye, Julian spotted a gig, driven by Jordan Draper, come bowling up the drive.
“We should go and talk to Mama,” Cassie said. “Discussing clothes might cheer her up, or at least take her mind off the manner of George’s passing.” She looked at Julian. “Have you seen her yet?”
“No. Not yet.” He paused, then said, “Why don’t you three go and distract her, and tell her I’m here, and that I’ll be up to speak with her as soon as I can?” He rose along with the girls. “I have to go and sort things out with Draper, just to get everything squared away. Tell Mama I’ll come up as soon as I’ve finished.”
His sisters nodded and hugged him again, then they all quit the parlor. Parting from the girls in the corridor, Julian surreptitiously sighed with relief; that had gone better than he’d hoped.
H e spent the next hours with the Drapers, father and son, then they were joined by Minchinbury, the family solicitor. The office was crowded with all four of them in it, but no one suggested they take their discussions into a less secure and well-shielded room.
Minchinbury confirmed that George’s will named Julian as sole executor, and also joint guardian of three-year-old Henry. In regard to the latter, Julian merely nodded and set that problem aside for later; one hellish scenario at a time.
“There’s no way around it,” Jordan eventually concluded. “No matter how we structure payments, even if we liquidate every saleable unentailed asset and devote the entirety of the estate income to said payments, the outgoings still far exceed the duke’s ability to pay.”
While they’d been going over the horrendous figures, a plan had taken shape in Julian’s mind. It was beyond outrageous, but outrageous was something he did well. Across the desk, he met Jordan’s eyes. “Factor in my funds—all of them. Liquidate my assets, all of them, and add them in, too—reduce the capital owed. Leave me . . .” He considered, then said, “Ten thousand in cash. Assume an ongoing income through me of . . .” That took a little longer to calculate, but eventually he named a sum.
Draper and Minchinbury looked startled, but Jordan only grimaced, jotted down the figures, and started reworking the complex web of mortgage and loan repayments again.
While he did, Draper and Minchinbury traded looks . . . and slowly worked out Julian’s direction. It was Minchinbury who, faintly shocked, finally looked at Julian. “My lord . . . what are you planning?”
Julian held up a finger and patiently waited while Jordan did his sums.
Eventually, Jordan blew out a breath. “We’re close. Just a whisker in it.” He looked at Julian. “You could pull it off.”
Julian hadn’t needed to explain to Jordan what he was thinking of doing; Jordan had worked for him for long enough to guess what he might, and could, do, but he was grateful for the younger man’s
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