Fantasy 01 - Secret Fantasy (29 page)

"Margaret will be found and informed of her fortune," he declared. "The trust will be vested m her. I've already written to my London solicitor, Mr. Thumberton, to have the arrangements made, with himself installed as the new trustee."

"Why would I care?"

"Penelope and Charles can wallow in the poverty they deserve."

"What do you mean? Your father is an earl."

"Yes, he is—an earl who is flat broke and being chased across the country by creditors. The sole chattel he still owns is his carriage—which he will keep so long as he's not caught, so your daughter can join him in it as they flee from one village to the next."

She wanted to groan in disbelief. While she was humored to hear of Penelope's predicament, she was reeling at her own bad luck. If she couldn't reside at any of Kettering's properties, what would she do?

Gad! She should have been nicer to Jordan! Was there any chance he might take her in? How could she convince him?

"As to you ..." His voice trailed off.

The phrase sounded ominous, and she shifted uncomfortably, swamped by the knowledge that she'd made every stupid choice. She cursed Horatio for dying, Kettering for his penury, Robert for leaving, Penelope for marrying above her station, and Margaret for being richer than all of them combined.

"What about me?" she sneered.

"I am determined to find Margaret and bestow what is lawfully hers, so you have one minute to tell me where she is."

A paltry minute? Why ... the bastard was using the same tactic she'd utilized in coercing him to settle on Penelope! Well, the joke was on him! She was made of sterner stuff, so his ploy wouldn't succeed.

"She was staying with my aunt, but they had an argument, and Margaret left without a word as to her destination. I don't know where she is."

"If you apprise me of her whereabouts, I shall intervene with your banker and ask him to give you six months to vacate the premises before he forecloses."

"My banker? Why speak with my banker?"

"Mr. Mason tattled, Vinnie, so don't pretend with me. I'm fully cognizant of your dire straits."

"I'm perfectly fine," she blustered.

"If you refuse to cooperate," he continued, "I shall advise him to immediately proceed with the eviction, and you'll be tossed out in a matter of days, with only the clothes on your back."

"You wouldn't!"

"I would. You should also be aware that serious criminal charges can be leveled—or not. If you assist me, I will work to see that the scandal is private and the penalty small. But if you decline ..."

His voice trailed off again, but his warning was clear. She could be prosecuted! Oh, the repercussions were too terrifying to contemplate!

"I can't help you!" she insisted.

"Have you ever toured a British prison, Vinnie? Can you imagine yourself incarcerated in one? Your sixty seconds start now."

His gaze shifted to the clock, and she could hear it ticking, each click seeming to nip away at her life. Her mind screamed at her to make up a credible lie that might buy her a few weeks or months, but then what?

This was all Margaret's fault, and Lavinia would get even if it was the last thing she ever did!

The minute ended, and Jordan steepled his fingers over his chest. "Well?"

Lavinia gnawed on her lip, feeling like a rat in a trap. "She went to Brighton."

"Are you certain that should be your answer?"

"Yes."

Years earlier, she'd visited the town, and she remembered the names of the major thoroughfares. She grabbed a quill and jotted down a fabricated address.

"She's there."

"You realize that I'll investigate, don't you?" "She's there! I swear it." "We'll see."

"You'll find her," Lavinia asserted with such confidence that she almost believed it herself.

"Will I? I doubt it, and when I learn that she's not in Brighton, I will return to Gray's Manor, and I will personally throw you out and lock the doors behind you."

Lavinia trembled with a rage that she dare not vent; then, regal as any queen, she swept out.

Margaret! she seethed. Would she never be shed of her bothersome niece?

Eventually, Jordan would locate Margaret, and when he did, Margaret would receive what remained of Lavinia's money. But Margaret wouldn't have it for long. Lavinia would follow him and recover it, so Margaret had better hope that Jordan's search was a lengthy one, because once he found her, there was no telling what might happen.

“Anne Wait!”

Charles frowned as Anne walked by, headed

toward the foyer. When he caught up with her, she was standing next to her packed bags. He hadn't seen her since his coup in Penelope's bedchamber, and with the wedding having just concluded, they ought to be sipping champagne and celebrating his stroke of fortune, but she'd been markedly absent.

He supposed she was upset that he'd wed again when he'd specifically promised he wouldn't, but money didn't grow on trees. He wasn't a magician who could pull cash out of his hat. His marriage to Penelope had rescued them both. Why wasn't she smiling? "Darling," he said, "what are you doing?" "I'm leaving you." "You're joking." "No, I'm not."

"But... but. . . how will you get on without me?" His confident facade slipped for a moment. "I imagine I'll get on just fine." "Where will you go? What will you do?" "Actually, I'm about to marry, too," she claimed. "You are not."

"Yes, Charles, I am. I figured if you can do it, so can I." "You're being absurd."

"I'm not. For once, I'm being totally rational. The blinders are off, and I'm doing what I should have done years ago."

"Which is?"

"Run away from you as fast as I can."

"There's no need for insults," he huffed.

"No, there's not. Good-bye."

She turned as if she planned to go that very second, and he grabbed her arm. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing. I'm better than I've ever been."

He gazed into her beautiful brown eyes and felt as if he was staring at a stranger.

"I married the girl for us, Anne. For us! So that we could get back on our feet." He clasped her hands in his and linked their fingers. "I'm so wealthy now! It will be just like the old days. There'll be no more traipsing about the countryside, no living in cheap hovels, or sneaking out of town in the middle of the night. I've secured our future."

She sighed. "I take it you haven't spoken to Jordan."

"Why should I? He'll only nag."

"You must talk to him. Ask him about Penelope's trust fund."

"What could he possibly have to say that would be of any significance?"

She drew away and flashed a pitying look. "Good luck to you, Charles. I honestly mean it."

She started out, and he snapped, "Hold it right there! I don't give you permission to depart."

"I'm not your servant, and I'm not your property. If I choose to go, it's none of your affair."

It finally dawned on him that she was serious, and he was stunned. She was the only one who'd stayed, the only one who'd been loyal, and now, after he'd wed Penelope to fix their problems, she was ready to call it quits.

He'd never understand women!

"You can't expect me to believe you have somewhere to go."

"I don't care what you believe."

"What's this nonsense about your marrying?"

"It's true. All this time, while you were trifling with Penelope and Mrs. Gray, I was fucking somebody, too. And he's mad about me."

Her admission was so outrageous that if she'd aimed a pistol and shot him, he couldn't have been more shocked. "You ... you ... had a lover? While you were my mistress?"

"Isn't it wild? Isn't it grand?"

She marched outside, her bags abandoned, and she kept on down the drive, nearly skipping with delight at the prospect of being away.

He went out on the stoop, and he hollered after her, "I won't ever take you back."

"Don't worry. I won't be back." She didn't bother to glance around at him.

"When you new ... new ... lover tosses you out, and you come crawling to me, I'll shut the door in your face. Even if you beg, it's over!"

"Yes, Charles, it's definitely over."

Shortly, she veered off into the woods, and he watched till he could no longer see her. In all the years they'd been together, they'd never quarreled, and he was shaken by the encounter. She'd always been there for him, like a comfortable pair of shoes or an old robe. Yes, he'd taken her for granted, but that was hardly unusual. She was female and a lowborn one at that.

He studied her luggage and scoffed. She was in a temporary snit, but it would pass.

A maid strolled by, and he directed her to haul Anne's things upstairs, but before the woman could move, his bride rushed down the hall.

"What did you just say?" Penelope demanded.

"Mrs. Smythe had considered leaving us, but I've persuaded her to change her mind. I've advised the maid to carry her belongings to her room and unpack them."

"That.. . that. .. hussy will not remain here," Penelope insisted, and she glared at the maid. "Have these bags set out on the road."

A muscle ticked in his cheek as he said to the maid, "Would you excuse us?" She vanished like smoke, and he whirled on Penelope, his temper sparking. "I have no idea why you would presume to countermand my orders."

"I will not have your mistress residing under my roof."

"I can see that you have miscalculated the terms of our relationship, so let me be very clear: What I do—or don't do—will never be any of your business."

"If you allow her to stay, I'll kill you in your sleep."

He laughed and laughed. "You are the most horrid, spoiled child I've ever met. Now be off—or I'll take a belt to you."

"I will not be dismissed like a common servant!"

She stamped her foot, and he reached out and yanked her close to whisper a threat in her ear.

"Have you forgotten the things I made you do last night?"

"Let me go!"

"I showed you a bit of what I'll expect. It can be much worse, or it can be much easier for you. The choice is yours, but whenever you disobey me, I shall drag you into the bedchamber and force you to do something you loathe." He shoved her toward the stairs.

"Proceed to my room and wait for me. I'll be up soon to consummate the union."

"I hate you!" she seethed.

"The feeling, my dear, is entirely mutual."

She bristled, about to explode; then she spun and stormed off, which was just as well. It had been a trying day, and he had no patience left for dealing with her. He still had to endure the ordeal of the marital joining, and he was sincerely pondering whether to have someone observe it so that there was a witness. With so much at stake, he couldn't give Lavinia any opportunity to cry foul.

He went to find Jordan, who was located in a rear parlor, staring into an empty hearth. Charles sauntered over and sat next to him.

"Look who's finally slinked in," Jordan said. "Did you say hello to your children?"

"What children?"

"Three of them arrived this morning."

"Why would they come here?"

"They didn't have anywhere else to go."

"I take it you've seen to them?"

"Don't I always clean up your messes? I realize it's your wedding day, but I really hope you rot in hell."

"Is that any way to congratulate me on my nuptials?"

"You want me to congratulate you?"

"Of course. All's fair in love and war. You know that. It was a vast sum. You can't assume that I'd permit you to have it without a fight."

"I didn't."

"It was a game; you lost. So . .. don't be surly. It's beneath you."

Jordan shook his head in derision. "My God, but you're a piece of work."

"I merely wed an heiress—as any sane insolvent man would."

"Do you ever feel remorse about anything?" "No. Why would I?"

"I have to tell you, Charles, you deserve Penelope."

"I agree. You could have raped her at any time, but you didn't. It's hardly my fault that you were timid in your pursuit."

Abruptly, Jordan stood. "Let's go."

"To where?"

"To your bedchamber. I intend to watch the consummation."

Charles had been thinking to request the very same, but still, Jordan's offer surprised him. "Why would you want to?"

"I plan to ensure that you never wiggle out of this."

"Be my guest." They walked out, when Charles pulled Jordan to a halt. "By the way, I spoke with Anne, and she made an odd comment about Penelope's trust. She said I should ask you about it."

"It's nothing," Jordan insisted. "We can discuss it later."

Jordan kept on, and Charles accompanied him, eager—in a thoroughly vain and masculine fashion— for Jordan to jealously view what Charles had stolen from him.