Richard delayed the visit until late afternoon, giving himself time to consider every angle. He wanted to make certain emotions weren’t ruling his actions. The last time he’d allowed that to occur, Maria had betrayed him, Dumont had been killed, and Richard injured. He couldn’t permit such a thing to happen again.

Yet even thoughts of that terrible night hadn’t changed his mind about his current intention.

After Daniel’s visit yesterday, he’d realized the time had come to make wedding plans. The gossip might be quieted if they set a date at the very least.

The idea of Caroline being harmed in any way because she’d attempted to protect him was inconceivable. He’d already hurt her by practically accosting her on the terrace at the Southbys’ ball. Another blow to her reputation was unacceptable.

The situation might not be completely his fault, but he intended to make it right. Merely proposing hadn’t been enough. The new gossip required additional action.

This was definitely the right thing to do. He just hadn’t expected to be this anxious about it. Setting a date and making a few plans seemed a monumental step, taking the idea of a wedding to reality.

Surely his visit wouldn’t come as a surprise to Caroline. Not only was he looking forward to seeing her again, he welcomed the chance to see her family as well, especially her father. Richard had requested additional details about Gold from an associate at Whitehall who had excellent connections in the shipyards. Hopefully a report would be forthcoming to give him further insight into the family’s situation.

He couldn’t help but smile as he climbed the steps of their home. Some of Daniel’s comments regarding Caroline might have been questionable—especially her longing for him—but her beauty and intelligence couldn’t be denied. That much Daniel had gotten right.

Richard waited in the drawing room while Barkley checked to see if Caroline was receiving. This room matched the foyer and the library with its slightly faded décor, only two paintings displayed on the walls, and just a few knick-knacks.

Several minutes passed before the butler returned. “Sir Gold would like a few minutes of your time in the library, my lord.”

Richard entered the room to find Caroline’s father behind his desk. The older man started to rise, but Richard waved him back. “Good afternoon, Sir Gold. Please do not rise on my account.”

“Aberland. Good to see you again.” The man smiled. “I was wondering when you were going to make things right with my Caroline.”

Richard hesitated, uncertain to what he referred. “Sir, I’ve come today to speak with Caroline about setting a date for the wedding. You might remember I proposed on my last visit.”

He frowned. “Oh? It must’ve slipped my mind.” He shook his head. “So many things do these days.”

“The busier we are, the more things slide through our grasp.” Richard could tell the man searched his memory. What a terrible feeling to both forget things and be aware of it happening. “We have yet to decide when to hold the ceremony. I would appreciate hearing your opinion on a date.”

“A date? Yes, that would be good.” He tapped a finger on the desk as though considering the question carefully. “A date. Yes.”

Richard had to wonder if he knew what the date was, but Richard couldn’t think of a way to mention it without insulting him. “Perhaps in four weeks? Would that be acceptable?”

Sir Gold’s gaze shifted to the wall just over Richard’s shoulder. Richard couldn’t help but turn to see what he looked at. A seascape painting hung there.

It looked out of place, but he couldn’t think why. At last, he remembered that a fine painting of sheep grazing in a meadow had been there on his last visit.

“I believe I prefer the sheep,” Richard offered since Gold continued to stare at it.

“As do I. Why did someone change it?” He stood to ring the bell, his upset obvious—a mix of anger and concern.

When the butler arrived, Gold was still standing, his gaze riveted on the painting.

“Barkley, where is the sheep painting? That was painted on my country estate. Those were my sheep. They provided wool for our soldiers’ uniforms, you know.”

“I believe Miss Caroline might have that information. Allow me to fetch her, sir.”

“Now then,” Gold said as he took his seat. “Are you going to make things right with my Caroline?”

Richard realized just how difficult the family’s situation was. Sir Gold was obviously declining mentally.

~*~

Caroline hadn’t been expecting Richard. When Barclay advised her of his arrival, she’d taken a few minutes to change her gown.

“Oh, dear.” But now she realized she shouldn’t have delayed. The knowledge that her father visited with him was alarming enough. Knowing her father was distraught about the painting made things so much worse. When upset, his behavior became especially volatile.

“I’m terribly sorry.” Barclay might appear calm, but she could see the concern in his eyes. “I thought perhaps he’d take the explanation of the painting better from you than me.”

“It’s not your fault, Barclay,” Caroline reassured him as they hurried down the stairs toward the library. “Mother spoke to him about it already. Obviously, he’s forgotten.”

Richard probably knew the truth by now—that her father’s mental fortitude had failed significantly. Somehow, she knew she could count on Richard to hold his silence. He was a man of honor—so different than Stafford. She would never forgive the viscount for revealing their secret.

Though she’d vowed to put her family first, that didn’t mean she could set aside her commitment to Richard. They were tied together even more tightly than before after her reckless behavior.

Drawing a deep breath to prepare herself, she opened the door of the library.

Richard rose as she entered, acknowledging her curtsy with a bow. Then he reached out to take her hand and tuck it in the crook of his arm. The gesture surprised her as there was no crowd here to fool. What was he about? Did he offer her comfort? Sympathy? Support? She didn’t know but appreciated it all the same.

“Caroline, what happened to my painting?” Her father’s booming voice interrupted her thoughts. “That was my favorite. Those were my sheep on my country estate.”

Caroline glanced at Richard, not wanting to state its whereabouts in front of him. She didn’t want to embarrass her father or do anything to upset him. Nor did she care for Richard to know the direness of their situation by admitting they’d sold it.

“Perhaps we can discuss that after Aberland’s visit,” she suggested.

“I would know now.”

A closer look at him revealed the confused look in his eyes, never a good sign. When he sensed a loss of control over his world, his first reaction was anger. Unfortunately, he often directed that anger at the nearest target.

“I’ll check the other rooms for it.” Though her offer was akin to lying, she was willing to do nearly anything to diffuse the situation. She’d try to tell him the truth again when he’d calmed.

“That’s one of my favorite paintings. You shouldn’t have removed it without my permission.” He was like a dog with a bone, refusing to let go.

“We discussed it several days ago, but we’ll talk about it again after the earl’s visit.” She glanced at Richard, wondering what he must be thinking of this awkward conversation. Had he realized the depth of her father’s confusion?

As though sensing her distress, he smiled. “I was just telling your father that I think the seascape is impressive as well. Nothing like the fresh air of the sea. Very invigorating.”

Her father frowned, staring at the painting with eyes narrowed.

“The roll of the surf, the spray of the water, the horizon stretching as far as the eye can see are not to be missed. It clears one’s mind.”

Her father slowly nodded, his frown easing as a faraway look crossed his face as though he remembered the sensation.

Caroline sighed with relief, grateful for Richard’s thoughtful words that calmed her father.

“I wasn’t expecting you to call,” she said quietly, hoping to see him to the door as quickly as possible, in case her father had one of the rapid shifts in behavior that seemed to occur more frequently.

“I came to see if we could select a date for the wedding.”

“Oh?” A well of panic filled her, threatening her ability to breathe.

Despite what her mother had said, Caroline still couldn’t believe this was happening. She’d been so certain she was meant to wed the Duke of Wayfair, that his wealth and connections would secure her family’s future.

Yet as she looked into Richard’s eyes, she could no longer remember the duke’s face, nor the color of his eyes. All she could see was Richard.

“Four weeks?” His whispered words startled her. Or was it setting a wedding day that did so?

She swallowed hard. “Four?”

But of course. He wouldn’t be able to afford a special license to allow them to marry sooner. A common one would have to do. She was surprised he hadn’t wanted to simply have the Banns read in each of their parishes. That would’ve saved him the cost of any license and taken the same length of time as he’d just suggested.

“That would provide time if you’d like to write to anyone you’d like to invite.”

The idea of doing so gave her heart palpitations. “I was thinking of just our immediate families attending.”

“Very well.”

No. It wasn’t “very well.” She had to make the best of the situation yet help her family. How could she possibly accomplish both?

“Are there any other details you’d like to discuss while I’m here?” Richard glanced at her father, but he was reading some correspondence, ignoring the pair of them completely.

“My mother would like to have breakfast here after the ceremony. If you could let us know how many guests you’ll have attending, that would be helpful.”

“I believe it will just be my brother and me.”

Caroline was relieved to hear he wasn’t inviting a large group. That made the meal much more manageable—and less expensive.

As of this moment, it was the only thing manageable about their upcoming wedding.

~*~

Caroline had never grown used to the stench associated with the shipyards and her father’s dock. The mud and filth were permanent fixtures, along with the clamor. He’d built the Brunswick Dock over two decades ago, one of a series of dock systems on the Thames, each with a high wall surrounding it to protect cargoes from river piracy.

Keeping the dock functioning and active was one more way of possibly regaining some of the wealth her father had lost.

This weekly visit with him to the dock and the office he’d once occupied each and every day was her attempt to make a statement, proving to everyone that Sir Reginald Gold was alive and well and in command of his small empire.

Her heart hurt terribly at the knowledge it was nothing but a farce, a pretense they kept up with the hope that the East India Company would keep its distance. That hope grew more fleeting each week.

The Company’s first offer to buy her father’s dock six months ago had been low, far too low for serious consideration. But each month, they came back with a new one, even lower than the previous. While she was well aware the value of the dock had dropped because of lower profitability over the past year, she refused to accept their pitiful bid. Her father would’ve closed the dock before allowing them to take control.

Besides, in the right hands, with a modest influx of funds, the dock could regain its previous prosperity.

Unfortunately, those skills eluded Caroline and apparently, her father’s second-in-command as well. Mr. Morris might have been brilliant at following her father’s orders, but he failed at having the business acumen needed to regain the ground her father had lost.

Caroline had no doubt the East India Company had a hand in encouraging her father to make those bad decisions—one poor investment after another. No doubt someone in the Company knew of her father’s failing health and felt no qualms about exploiting it, thereby reducing their competition and providing an opportunity for them to expand their hold over the docks in London.

But she felt completely out of her depth to act on her suspicions. All she could do was continue this charade and hope business would improve.

The chaos here always felt unsettling. So much movement, so many people, all in a hurry. Timber from the Baltic, foodstuffs from Canada, and all other manner of goods passed through the dock.

Timber ponds held the lumber until “deal porters”, dockhands wearing special protection for their heads who hauled the rough timber over their shoulders, moved it to the buyers’ wagons.

Multi-story warehouses held the other goods, where they were sorted, bundled, and loaded onto various conveyances for buyers.

The far building housed the offices. With a glance at her father, who appeared befuddled by this place that he’d once known like the back of his hand, she walked toward his office with a tight hold on his arm. She hoped few noticed his expression, which looked more like that of a frightened toddler than a knight of the realm.

The thought had her lifting her chin. She was determined to act as though nothing was amiss. In short order, they reached the building and climbed the stairs to her father’s office on the upper floor. He’d always enjoyed looking out his window over the hustle and bustle of the yard. He’d said the activity felt like progress and that meant improvements would be forthcoming.

“Why are we here, Caroline? Do you have an appointment?” he asked in a whisper.

She turned to look at him, shocked at the question. He’d always recognized the place, even if he’d been confused by it. Her heart twisted, wondering how much longer she’d have until the day when he wouldn’t recognize her.

She swallowed her fear and forced a smile. “This is your office, Father. Remember? This is where you used to work every day.”

He glanced about. “Oh, yes. Of course.” But no sign of recognition lit his eyes.

“Come along.” She guided him up the rest of the stairs, hoping the interior of his office would be more familiar. She knocked on the door and waited.

“Why did you knock if it’s my office?” he asked.

Her smile eased into a genuine one. “Excellent question,” she said as she opened the door.

“Sir Gold. Miss Gold. How lovely to see you both.” Mr. Morris rose from behind the desk to hurry forward to greet them. “I’m so pleased you’ve paid a visit.”

“Good to see you, Mr. Morris.” Caroline glanced at her father, hoping that by saying the man’s name, she’d helped her father remember.

“Morris, how is business?” The expression that came over his face was no-nonsense, as though he had little time for niceties. Caroline breathed a sigh of relief.

Morris leaned back on his heels, removing his spectacles as he withdrew a handkerchief to polish the lenses. “Quite well.”

Her father waved a hand. “Specifics, my good man. I need details.” He moved closer to the desk, looking over the papers lying there.

“Of course.” Morris quickly put on his spectacles and hurried to the other side of the desk to retrieve some papers. “You can see by this report that timber imports are up.”

Caroline watched the men for a few minutes to make certain her father didn’t give himself away before she turned to the window, pretending she had no interest in their conversation. Morris didn’t appreciate her comments, so she was careful to pose them as though her father had mentioned them to her and she merely reminded him of what he wanted to tell Morris.

“But, sir, if we signed a contract with this new company for timber, our profits would increase by nearly thirty percent.”

The shortage of lumber in England made imported wood from America and other countries profitable. However, the wars had made shipping an even riskier venture than previously. Between blockades and poor weather, the risks had proven greater than the reward of late.

“I’ll consider it, but we’ve done business with the other company for years. If their costs lower, they’ll pass the savings on to us.”

“While signing the other contract might be costly at first, we’d regain the difference in only three months.”

“I said I’d think on it. That’s all I can offer.” Her father turned to her, his expression softening as his confusion crept back.

“I’ll make certain he sends you a message in the next few days,” Caroline offered, well aware of Morris’s frustration.

Though he knew of her father’s poor physical health, he had yet to become aware of the extent of his failing mental state. The less who knew the truth, the better. She wasn’t certain who to trust, including Morris.

Though Caroline knew they couldn’t keep it quiet forever, if they could delay the East India Company from finding out for a time, she’d be thrilled. Somehow, she had to find a different buyer who might give them a fair price.

“We should be going, Father.”

“Yes. I suppose we should.” Her father looked about the office as though uncertain how to do so.

Before he revealed too much, she took his arm and led him to the door. “Thank you for your time, Mister Morris.”

They took their leave, walking back across the muddy yard.

“Nod at the man staring at us,” she told him.

He glanced over and gave a brisk nod, not so different than he might’ve a year ago. “Who is he, Caroline?”

“He’s worked for you for a long time.”

“Oh.” He frowned, and she could see he searched his mental files for a match with no success.

As they stepped into the carriage for the ride home, Caroline considered whether to raise the subject of the new timber contract again. The idea of improving profit margins when money was so desperately tight was appealing. But she knew business decisions should never be made out of desperation.

Though Morris seemed in favor of it, his advice hadn’t always proved the best for the business. If only she could ask the previous version of her father what to do.

“Father, what did you think of Morris’s suggestion about signing a new contract for timber?”

“The flowers are pretty, aren’t they?” He pointed to where an old woman sold flowers from a cart on the corner of the street.

“They are quite pretty.” She sighed, fearing she’d already lost him. “But about the timber—”

“I want some for my desk. Can we stop and buy a bouquet?”

“Why don’t we cut some from the garden at home? That way you can select exactly what you want.” She had no doubt he’d forget all about it once they arrived home, but she’d put a fresh bouquet on his desk all the same.

He watched the flower lady until she was completely out of sight, much like a child denied a toy who continued to stare at it.

She gave up discussing the timber contract for now. Slowly, she was learning when to press him and when to let go.

The image of Richard filled her mind, and the clever way he’d managed to distract her father about the painting. How she wished she could confide in him about her father and seek his opinion on the timber issue. She shook her head at her silly thoughts. He was a rogue. No doubt he knew nothing of business and wouldn’t be of any assistance.

But that didn’t stop her from longing for it, not so differently from her father, wishing for things that couldn’t be.