Free The Country House Courtship by Linore Rose Burkard Page B

an earl, for that matter!
    It did his heart good to see this firsthand evidence of prosperity in the world; it reminded him that there was always a great deal of money, somewhere, and that playing one’s cards correctly might well result in ending up with a greater share of it. If he could succeed in influencing Mornay for the prince, he might well be on his way to a bit more of a fortune than he had at present. If more money was not given him, and it was unlikely it would be, he could at least be sure of a continued welcome into the circles of the upper class, and enjoy the bounty of others.
    And Mr. Barton did have wealth. But his fortune was not endless, whereashis gaming habit was. He had discovered, moreover, that fortune alone did not always ensure acceptance in the
bon ton
. His sister was apparently wiser than he, for selling their family home had been a grave mistake, but one which he had willingly committed, thinking only of the assets it would give him to settle in Mayfair. His foolishness was evident to him now, but too late. Looking at Aspindon looming stately and elegant before him, he hoped his luck was about to change.
    The groom finally appeared, allowing him to hand over the ribbons and head toward the great front door. His pulse quickened at the prospect of what lay before him. He hoped he was about to find the man at home. He hoped, more, that he would somehow gain his favour—a much trickier thing to procure than a mere audience with him. His sister might indeed be useful in that matter, however, for he expected that Mrs. Mornay was short enough of genteel company to be delighted to learn of her new neighbours.
    He straightened his coat, checked his cravat with his hands, and reached up for the knocker. The next hour would no doubt be most illuminating as to whether his hopes had any chance of succeeding or not. He took a breath and rapped firmly on the door, twice. And waited.

Six

    A note, sir, by special messenger, from Warwickdon.”
    Freddie handed the missive to his master, and even Mr. Mornay seemed surprised to be receiving a second urgent letter in two days. He opened it right there in the parlour, letting Ariana read it with him, for they were seated side by side. Mrs. Royleforst’s small eyes opened as wide as they were capable of while she waited, hoping to hear the contents.
    Mr. Mornay’s brows rose while he read, and he and Ariana shared a look of surprise.
    â€œUpon my word!” she exclaimed.
    Mr. Mornay looked at his aunt and explained, “Mr. Epworth, the magistrate at Warwickdon, reminds us that our neighbouring parish is going vacant of its rector, and a vicar is needed, directly. Mr. Hargrove is above anxious to take up a living in his town of birth in Yorkshire. He is the rector of the parish, you see.”
    Ariana exclaimed, “We knew he planned on leaving, but thought he had a replacement secure. It seems that arrangement has fallen through. Did you ever hear of such a thing? A rector looking for a clergyman just when we have got us one! And,” she added, smiling, “if we grant Mr. O’Brien Glendover as well, he could hire his own curate for Warwickdon! That will put him in a splendid way to afford a wife and family, to be sure!”
    Mr. Mornay held up one hand. “You run ahead of yourself, Ariana. I am perfectly happy to recommend O’Brien for Warwickdon, despite the fact that it means our endless pest shall be a mere two miles away at all times. (“I said that affectionately!” he assured her, when she rolled her eyes at him.) But keeping him on my own property is another thing, entirely. I should think you would welcome this news as a means of satisfying your hopes of doing him some good; he will be a vicar, have the glebe, a comfortable vicarage, and the lesser tithes.”
    â€œIt is rather
extraordinary
,” put in Mrs. Royleforst. “That two neighbouring parishes should fall vacant