Free Wedding of the Season by Laura Lee Guhrke

giving the word an odd inflection. “I suppose you could call it that. Like yours, my estates are barely holding their own these days. This beastly agricultural depression continues to affect us all. And my main source of income has rather dried up.”
    Will frowned, uncomprehending. “I don’t understand. I thought you had an income through Susanna.”
    “I did, but not anymore.” His expression hardened. “Susanna and I have separated.”
    “What?”
    “She went to Newport in May. She said it was to visit her parents.”
    Will appreciated the choice of words, and when he looked into his friend’s suddenly wooden countenance, he felt a glimmer of Paul’s pain. “But it wasn’t?”
    Paul looked away. “Her father died while she was there and she decided to remain in the States indefinitely,” he said, and began to tidy his desk as if that task was suddenly of vital importance. “She informed me of this in her last letter, which I received two months ago.” He returned a quill to the inkstand and straightened a stack of books. “Last month I heard from her attorneys in New York. My income through our marriage has been discontinued. It violates the marriage settlement, but—” He shrugged. “If I sue to have it reinstated, the family will be dragged through the scandal sheets. Susanna knows I would loathe a scandal of any kind. She knows I won’t fight her.”
    “Hell.” Will raked a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me about this in your last letter?”
    “My marital difficulties are not something I find easy to share. And until the question of divorce is settled—”
    “Divorce? Surely it hasn’t come to that?”
    “She has no grounds to divorce me, but she might try. The only reason for me to pursue such a course would be remarriage, and I can assure you marriage is not something I am looking at in a favorable light nowadays.”
    Will didn’t know what to say. What could a man say? “Hard lines, my friend,” he said at last. “I’m sorry.”
    “Yes, well . . .” Paul stilled, his fingers curled around the edges of the blotter before him. He looked up, but he didn’t quite meet Will’s gaze. “That’s the nature of love. It isn’t meant to be everlasting.”
    The bitterness in his friend’s voice rather echoed his own opinion on the subject. “No,” he agreed. “I suppose not.”
    Paul folded his hands atop the blotter. “Let’s return to your situation. Can’t you raise funds elsewhere? Find someone else to sponsor the excavation?”
    “No. I tried. We’ve found some amazing items, some of them with immense historic significance. There’s a frieze from the Second Dynasty that shows—” He broke off, knowing Paul probably didn’t want a lesson in Egyptian history. “The problem is that we’ve found precious little in the way of gold and jewels. It’s difficult to find a sponsor when all you’re digging up is pieces of pottery and clay tablets,” he said wryly. “Gold and jewels are much more exciting. I didn’t want to come to you, given the situation with Trix, but I didn’t know where else to go for funds. I’ve been away from England so long.”
    “What about bringing in a partner?”
    He shook his head, everything in him rebelling at that notion. “I don’t mind a sponsor, but I don’t want a partner. Tut’s mine. No one finds him but me.”
    Paul shrugged. “Then you have only one option. Marry an heiress. Unfortunately the season is over. Parliament’s in recess, and everyone’s gone to the country. Not the best time to go heiress hunting.”
    “Marry an heiress.” Will repeated the idea with distaste. “Whore myself in the fine British tradition of our forefathers? No, thank you.”
    “I married an heiress,” Paul reminded him, sounding understandably testy.
    Will expelled a harsh breath. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just that—” He broke off, searching for a way to explain why