When Good Earls Go Bad: A Victorian Valentine's Day Novella Read Online Free PDF Page A

just having gotten up. He was already exhausted from speaking with this woman.
    And he’d have her in his immediate vicinity for an entire month.
    “T hank you for meeting with me, my lord.” Mr. Andrews leaned forward in his chair, his expression clearly meant to be pleasant.
    Matthew did not find it so.
    “My uncle tells me you have an interesting proposition.” And also wanted me to apply my rational brain to it . Matthew found it inexplicable that the thing people found the most annoying about him—his ineffable logic—was also the thing they most relied on.
    “Yes, there is a speculation opportunity that, when it works out—”
    “ If it works out,” Matthew corrected.
    “Yes, of course . . . ” Mr. Andrews said. “If it works out, it will benefit not only your uncle and his family, but generations to come.”
    “That is a bold statement.” Usually Matthew had found such hyperbole to be merely that.
    “If I may, my lord,” Mr. Andrews said, leaning down to open a portfolio at his feet, withdrawing a sheaf of papers from it.
    Wonderful . Matthew had also found that the more hyperbolic the statements were, the more paper accompanied the pronouncement. At this rate, he would be here until dinnertime.
    Which meant he would have to figure out his dinner, wouldn’t he, since he’d told Miss Tyne he could fend for himself? Why had he done that, anyway?
    Right. Because he didn’t like having people around, fussing over him. Which meant he hadn’t entirely thought it through, which meant that at this moment, it seemed like it was an idiotic decision, especially since he was hungry. Miss Tyne had made neither toast nor oatmeal, although her tea was . . . quite pleasant.
    But he hadn’t had much time this morning for such frivolity as eating a proper breakfast. He had his family depending on him, as they usually did, and food and other pleasurable things could wait.
    He’d found his way to his uncle’s offices easily enough, and his uncle had been delighted to see him, even though he’d been disappointed that Matthew had insisted on his own lodgings. But by now his family understood his need for quiet and privacy, although he suspected his new housekeeper would have to learn that. She’d spent the time after she returned from the shop with his tea following him around and talking, nonstop, about what she’d done the night before, what she planned to do today, and what she had hopes for on the morrow.
    God help him if she somehow made it to next week. But even as he thought about it, he had to smile; she was charming, guilelessly so, and he found himself almost laughing at the zeal with which she’d attacked her work.
    He did appreciate that, even if he didn’t see the point of her dusting all of the bedrooms, given that only the two of them were in the house. It was practical to just keep the rooms tidy that one wished to use; that is what he did in his own home, so that by now he just used his office, his library, and his bedroom, leaving the rest of the house alone.
    “If I may, my lord.” Mr. Andrews had finally extricated the papers it seemed he wished to show Matthew, and he was laying them out on the desk between them, smoothing each corner, which then immediately rolled up again.
    “How about we view them one at a time?” Matthew asked, squelching the urge to bark at the man. Because it wasn’t as though they could possibly look at all of them at the same time, so it wasn’t necessary for them to be out altogether.
    If only people could apply logic to situations, life, or at least Matthew’s life, would be a lot easier.
    “Of course. You’ll see, this is the initial offering,” Mr. Andrews poked a stubby finger at one of the papers, holding the corner down with his other hand. “The reasoning of the Chinese Silk Conglomerate is that we wish to bring products—”
    “Silk, I presume?” Matthew interrupted.
    “Yes, silk, of course. We wish to bring silk to England and other European