That Despicable Rogue (22 page)

Hannah’s mind was reeling at his reading of the situation. ‘I never tried to seduce you!’ She had not really been averse to it, but she had never gone out of her way actively to pursue him—until now.

‘Of course not!’ His tone was sarcastic. ‘You just happened to wander down to the pond, strip yourself naked and cavort there right in front of me. And like a fool I fell for it. You knew damn well I was watching you.’

‘I have been swimming in that pond since I was little girl and I had no idea you were watching me!’ Hannah could not understand how he was coming to such preposterous conclusions.

‘You suddenly opened your legs for me because you hoped that I would do the right thing by you!’ he bit out cruelly. ‘That was an even better scenario than having the house to yourself. You’d get to benefit from my fortune, knowing I have to spend a great deal of my time in the city on business. How perfect. You would be the lady of the manor again in return for a few well-timed and convincing sexual favours. It’s only a shame that you would have had to have married so far beneath you. But after your own scandal I don’t suppose any self-respecting gentleman would touch you. Better to settle for someone who is not a gentleman but who has a fortune to lavish upon you. No wonder you welcomed my touch so enthusiastically.’

‘What happened between us happened because
you
instigated it. I am in love with you, Ross—that is why I allowed things to develop the way they did. I wanted you as much as you wanted me. For goodness’ sake, I gave my virginity to you. You have to believe me.’

‘You gave me a false name, wore a disguise, forged your references.’ He counted each of her crimes off on his fingers. ‘You opened my mail, broke into my trunks and accused me of cheating, stealing and of being a drunk. So, no,
Lady
Hannah, I do not have to believe you!’

He closed the distance between himself and the door in three quick strides and tore it open.

‘I cannot bear to look at you, Prim. You disgust me... I want you to pack your things and go.’

Ross slammed the door behind him, leaving Hannah to stare blankly at it, wondering what had just happened.

It took several moments for the horror of what had transpired to sink in fully. When it did all she could do was slump onto the chesterfield in shock. She had no strength left to do anything else.

Over an hour ticked by as she stared helplessly at the wall. Everything he had accused her of had been true—apart from his dismissal of her feelings for him. Under the circumstances he had every right
not
to believe her. Viewed through his eyes, her actions must appear callous and calculated: when one plan failed she had simply switched to another. A woman cold like that would think nothing of using her innocence and her body as bait if it got her what she wanted.

The worst part of it was that she had only herself to blame. She should have told him the truth and fallen on his mercy the very moment she’d found the solicitor’s letter. If she had things might well be very different.

How was she ever going to make this right?

Hannah tried to think of how she should approach Ross again. There was no point in trying while he was so angry, but she had to make him realise that she did love him. Even if he could not bear to look at her again, he had to believe that her feelings for him were true. Perhaps when he was calm he would be more inclined to listen.

Then again, in only a few minutes his clever, strategic brain had created a terrible scenario that was so plausible he had believed it instantly. The longer she left him to stew, the more damage might be done. It was probably best to hunt him down now and beg, plead and reason with him until he had no choice but to listen.

The door opened quietly and Captain Carstairs stepped in. Without acknowledging her presence, he walked stiffly to the bank of cupboards she had had installed and rifled in one of them for something. They were now so well organised that he found what he was seeking almost instantly, then stood and walked towards her, doing very little to conceal the disappointment he felt at her cruel betrayal of his friend. He held out a ribbon-bound document.

‘Ross has instructed me to give you this.’ He thrust the parchment into her hand and she stared at it blankly.

It was the deeds to Barchester Hall.

Hannah had not thought it possible to feel any more wretched. Even now, when he was so convinced of her guilt and manipulations, he was still trying to do the decent thing.

‘I don’t want it,’ she said, her eyes suddenly filling with tears.

A few weeks ago she would have grabbed them with both hands, but now they meant nothing to her. Without Ross she did not want the house. She pushed the deeds back but Carstairs refused to take them.

‘Neither does Ross. You have ruined this house for him.’

The tears fell then. Hannah covered her face with her hands and let them fall.

‘We will ensure that all his personal belongings are removed within the week, Lady Hannah,’ Carstairs continued coldly, indifferent to her tears. ‘After that, you will become responsible for the financial upkeep of Barchester Hall, including paying the wages of the staff. Ross was going to continue doing so until the end of the month, but I cannot in all conscience see his good nature abused like that. You have made enough of a fool of him already. Congratulations, my lady, things could not have turned out better for you.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

The Captain’s words cut through her despair like a blade. Hannah shot to her feet and launched herself like a banshee. He was not expecting her to push him squarely on the chest and stumbled backwards into the chair behind him. She braced both her hands on the arms of the chair, caging him beneath her furious glare.

‘Captain Carstairs, you may say what you want about me. I deserve every one of your petty insults—and probably more—but if you ever refer to Ross as a fool again I will knock every one of those pretty white teeth of yours down your throat. Do I make myself clear?’

He stared at her, dumbfounded, and then his expression turned curious. ‘Interesting...’ he said, tilting his head to one side. ‘Perhaps you are not a dead loss after all.’

Hannah snatched up the deeds. ‘I shall save you the bother of giving these back to Ross—I will do it myself. If he thinks he can just benevolently foist this house on me because he is such a decent, nice and honourable person—and expect me to accept it—he has another think coming.’

She turned on her heel and marched out.

Several minutes later she had searched the entire house and found no sign of Ross. She stalked into the morning room and found Captain Carstairs with Viscount Tremley.

‘Where is he?’

‘He has taken the carriage and gone back to London,’ Carstairs replied. ‘It is a good thing that he kept his bachelor quarters, isn’t it? Although I dare say you would have preferred to see him homeless.’

Hannah sat down heavily at this news. ‘Oh.’ So much for having it out with him here and now. ‘What time will he be returning?’

Carstairs shook his head. ‘He won’t be.’

She should have been upset to hear this, she supposed, but in actual fact the information fed her temper more. What
was
it about men that they just did things without first listening to her? Her former fiancé had called off their engagement without listening to her, their solicitor had tossed away her home without asking her, her father and brother had never, ever consulted her and now Ross was preventing her from having her say.

How typical of him to avoid confrontation. That appeared to be his stock answer to everything—just walk away and leave all the badness festering until it turned to poison. Hannah was sick and tired of it all.

‘Then I am going to London,’ she declared to the room in general. ‘And he will deal with me there.’

Viscount Tremley smiled. ‘I would be happy to drop you there in my carriage, my lady. We can leave within the hour.’

Carstairs glared at him in warning, but Tremley laughed. ‘Don’t look at me like that, John. If Ross had not intervened in my shambolic life then it would be a mess right now. If he had not won back my marker from Denham then I would be ruined. But he did—and then he made me go home and face my responsibilities while I paid the debt back. Had he not intervened I would still be in London, penniless and feeling sorry for myself. At the time his interference annoyed me, but it did not take long for me to see that what he was doing was for the best. It turns out he was right. There are much more reliable ways of making money than at the gaming tables.

‘Now I have become quite the farmer, thanks to Ross. Of course that first year I had to plough, sow and harvest the crops alongside the few paltry labourers I could afford, because I had less than nothing to my name. Oh, how I hated him then! But the second year I was able to hire a few more hands and plant even more. Three years on and it appears I have a knack for growing the right things and selling them at a profit, just as he showed me. I have not played a game of cards since that night...

‘He might not thank me right away for interfering now, but I saw how upset he was. He obviously has deep feelings for this lady or else he would not have reacted so badly—so if there is even the slightest chance that they can be happy together then I think she deserves to be heard. I quite like the idea of repaying him in kind. It makes me feel almost noble.’

‘Thank you.’ Hannah beamed gratefully at Tremley. ‘I shall gather my things and I will meet you at the front of the house.’

Chapter Twenty-Four

T
hankfully they were on the road within fifteen minutes.

‘I have something that belongs to you,’ said Hannah as they turned out of the drive, and she handed Tremley the gambling marker she had found. ‘I originally thought that Ross had ruined you—
and
my idiot brother—but I cannot help thinking there is some link that binds us all together.’

Tremley turned the small, yellowed piece of paper over in his hand and smiled wistfully. ‘Three years ago I was well on the way to completely ruining myself. I lived quite carelessly then, and gambled away far more than I had. I was down to my last few pounds that night, and yet still I did not have the sense to stop. I kept thinking that I could win everything back if only my luck would change—a ridiculous notion, I know, though at the time I believed it sincerely.

‘Viscount Denham actively sought me out and offered me odds that were too good to be true. For a stake of two and a half thousand pounds on my part he would double the pot if I beat him. I should have realised that I did not stand a chance—Denham is never beaten at cards—but I was desperate. Needless to say I was trounced. Denham took my marker and demanded that I meet with him on the morrow to discuss how I would pay it. Ross was there.

‘I did not know it then, but there is bad blood between him and Denham. It goes back years, and Carstairs has suggested that it has something to do with Ross’s sister, but other than that I am none the wiser.’

Hannah knew instantly, but kept her own counsel. It was not her secret to tell, but it was clear Viscount Denham must be the vile aristocrat who had paid for his sister.

‘Anyway,’ Tremley continued, ‘Ross wandered over and threw a ridiculous amount of money in front of Denham against my marker. Denham happily accepted, because Ross has a reputation for losing more games than he wins. Much to Denham’s disgust, Ross won every trick. He saved me. If Denham had kept my marker I would have lost everything. That man is completely ruthless and he preys on the foolish, weak and desperate.’

He said this with such venom that it was a surprise when he coloured and apologised.

‘I am sorry, Lady Hannah, I did not mean any offence.’

‘Why on earth would I be offended?’ she asked, genuinely confused.

Tremley regarded her quietly. ‘I thought you knew. Ross only played against your brother that night because it was Viscount Denham who was going to take the house. Ross stepped in and took it instead. There is no way that he actually
wanted
the house. He just wanted to beat Denham. I know Ross would have wanted to help your brother see the error of his ways, like he did me.’

Hannah felt a rush of love. ‘My brother was indeed foolish, weak and desperate. Had he not been such a pathetic coward then I know Ross would have helped him regain his life just as he did you. But George never gave him the chance to do so—and that is entirely his fault. Not Ross’s.’

* * *

When the carriage pulled up outside her solicitor’s office in the heart of the city, she said her goodbyes to Tremley. He had offered to stay with her on her quest, but she had refused. Whatever happened between her and Ross, she did not want to spoil the friendship the two men had.

Steeling herself for her first confrontation of the afternoon, Hannah marched up the three short steps to the door of Messrs Compton-Lewis and Stroud, Attorneys at Law. Before she faced Ross it was high time she knew the real truth.

A bespectacled clerk greeted her sedately and bade her to wait while he enquired if Mr Compton-Lewis was in. Moments later, the clerk asked her to follow him into a dark and austere office, where the solicitor greeted her with his usual pompous disdain.

‘Lady Hannah. I thought you were still rusticating in Yorkshire?’

‘I was never rusticating, sir, as well you know. I was banished to Yorkshire by my brother after a scandal. It was all over the papers, if you remember, and I was painted very black indeed.’

She watched him blink in alarm at her bold statement, but she could not find it in herself to be remorseful. She had come here for answers and there was no point beating around the bush.

He motioned for her to sit, and only after she had done so did he follow suit. He rested his elbows on his desk and made a steeple out of his fingertips. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, my lady?’

‘I wish to know why you refused to accept an offer to restore Barchester Hall to the family on my behalf, and why you wilfully neglected to inform me about it in the first place.’ She stared at him levelly. ‘It should not come as a great surprise that I am not very happy about your decision. Tell me, on what authority did you begin making my decisions for me?’

Mr Compton-Lewis had the nerve to be affronted. ‘I have looked after you family’s legal affairs for over thirty years, my lady. I can assure you that I had only your very best interests at heart.’

‘How would you know what was in my best interests, sir? To the best of my knowledge we have not met since my father was alive.’

He bristled at that, and peered imperiously over his spectacles. ‘Your brother entrusted me to handle
all
arrangements in the event of his death, and under the circumstances it was prudent to turn down the offer. Three spinsters would not have possessed the wherewithal to manage the estate. You did not have the money to take on such a burden. I know because your brother left the coffers empty.’

‘Apart from my inheritance!’ she countered angrily, annoyed at his arrogant male attitude. ‘You knew that was still intact because it was held in trust. My father kept it away from George.’

He glared at her as if she had gone mad. ‘Your brother withdrew those funds many years ago, upon the announcement of your engagement—as was his right as your legal guardian. He did so, he assured me, in order to give them to your fiancé as part of the marriage settlement. When the wedding did not take place he did not return them. I have always assumed that he spent the money himself, as he was wont to do. That would not surprise me. He had been trying to unlock your dowry for several years. I was reluctant to pass it over to him, but I had no choice in the matter.’

This did not make any sense. The old lawyer was clearly losing his marbles. ‘But I received the money only a few months ago,’ she explained irritably. ‘You yourself informed me of the bequest.’

He coloured and clenched his jaw. ‘That money did not come from your brother’s estate. And at no point did I suggest that it did. I merely said that you had come into the money. It was a bequest from a benefactor who preferred to remain anonymous.’

‘A benefactor?’

Why on earth would somebody send her five thousand pounds so swiftly after her brother’s death? Unless...

‘Did the bequest come
before
or
after
Mr Jameson offered the house back?’

She knew from Cook that Ross had initially expressed no intention of living at Barchester Hall. Had he changed his mind after the solicitor had refused it on her behalf?

‘I am not at liberty to say, my lady.’ Compton-Lewis became very tight-lipped, stood up and walked towards the door to his office. ‘I am bound by client confidentiality and the man was adamant that the transaction remained anonymous. I wish you a good day.’

It was a curt dismissal.

‘You said “man”—not gentleman,’ she said, mortified, as it all suddenly began to fall into place.

‘I am sorry?’

Hannah stood and walked to the doorway. ‘Why would you make such a distinction—unless he was
not
a gentleman, of course?’

Men like Compton-Lewis would always look down their noses at somebody like Ross. He would never be considered good enough to be one of them.

Hannah felt numb. It was all too much to take in, and yet it did not take a great deal of imagination to fill in the blanks. Her brother had taken her dowry and spent it—lost it at the gaming tables, more likely. Unable to pay her marriage settlement, he had concocted a terrible lie that had meant the marriage would have to be called off. Eldridge—the spineless, arrogant fool that he was—had believed him without question and done exactly that.

To add insult to injury, her brother had then banished her—either so that she would either not discover the truth or so that he would not have to live with the constant reminder of what he had done. Knowing her brother, the truth was likely to be a bit of both, and neither made her feel particularly charitable towards him. Then, being an idiot, he had lost the house.

It all made perfect sense.

Ross had offered the house back to the family, because he would have thought it the decent and honourable thing to do, and when that offer had been rejected he would have insisted on paying for it. She had five thousand pounds sitting in the bank because Ross had actually
bought
Barchester Hall from her. In his mind that would have been the right thing—and Ross always did what he thought was right.

The deeds to the house felt suddenly heavy in her reticule. All along he had behaved like a true gentleman and she was a fool—no better than her idiot brother—ever to have doubted him. Ross Jameson was unlike any man she had ever known and thank God for it.

As soon as she was outside she hailed a hackney. She demanded that the driver take her to her bank. ‘And be quick about it.’

* * *

White’s was full, and frankly Ross was in no mood to be in a crowd. But Carstairs had sent a message that Prim had come to town looking for him, and the gentlemen’s club was the only place he could think of where she would not be able to bother him. They might let guttersnipes-made-good into their marbled halls, but they would draw the line at a woman. Even a titled woman.

If his heart had not been broken he would have laughed at his own stupidity. She had only wanted the house. Not him. Never him. She had been so determined she had seduced him to get a stake in it—especially if her story about her solicitor was to be believed and she had not known that he had tried to give the thing back to the family first.

The more he thought about it, the more plausible that explanation became. To start with she had been so hostile and then, just like that, she had been all friendly and gushing and telling him that he was the best man she had ever known. What a joke!

She must have realised he would follow her down to the pond. Prim had planned it to perfection. He had to give her credit for that. Every splash, siren stretch and casual bit of naked hair-brushing had been a deliberate ploy to seduce him so that he could not think straight. And all for her precious Barchester Hall.

At least his arrangement with his former mistress had been based on honesty. She had wanted money, he had wanted sex, and both of them had benefited. He had known where he stood. He had never really known where he had stood with Prim.

He did not want the house now—it would be a constant reminder of her. She had decorated all the rooms, chosen the colours and fabrics, with her own future comfort in mind. Hell, the blasted woman had turned the place into her home and made him pay for it! If he even sat in his study he would have to remember her in it—making him tea, pretending to be thoughtful, making him think that she cared about him. She could keep the house because he was done with the place—and he certainly did not want her either. No matter how much that irritating spot on his chest ached.

The fact that he was still dwelling on it this late into the evening annoyed him. With no better plan, he headed listlessly towards the card tables. The familiar pattern of numbers and strategy might be just the ticket. He would need to lose big to do that—but it would be worth it if he could forget about her for a few hours.

* * *

The hackney pulled up outside White’s and Hannah practically broke into a run as soon as she had the door open. She marched towards the uniformed doorman. ‘I am looking for Mr Ross Jameson,’ she announced imperiously. ‘Please take me to him.’

The doorman gave her a bored look. ‘Sorry, miss, ladies are not permitted in the club.’

‘I am well aware of that fact—but this is a dire emergency. I am Lady Hannah Steers, daughter to the twelfth Earl of Runcorn.’ She pulled herself up to her full height and tried to appear affronted.

‘It makes no difference who you are, my lady. I cannot let you in. I can pass a message to him for you if you would care to wait?’

Hannah huffed in annoyance. Ross was rightly furious at her. If he knew that she was waiting for him outside he would likely never come out. ‘No, thank you. I shall speak to him later. In person.’

Hannah made her way down the short steps and loitered under one of the gas lamps. This was a good spot to watch the entrance in the hope of seeing him when he finally decided to leave.

After leaving the bank, it had taken her hours to track him down. She had been to his warehouse and his bachelor lodgings. As a last resort she had bribed the doorman at his lodgings and thankfully, with a few shillings in his hand, the man had suddenly remembered Mr Jameson telling his driver to take him to White’s.

Now that she knew exactly where he was she did not want to have to start again from scratch because he had disappeared out through the back door to avoid her.

That was an idea! With fresh purpose she hurried down the street and then turned into the mews behind. It was easy to discern which building was the back of the gentlemen’s club. A few coach drivers were sitting around a makeshift table, playing cards.

She edged as close as she dared to the rear entrance. It appeared quiet, but she could not make out whether or not there was a doorman inside, guarding it. In desperation, she crouched down and hid behind a low wall and bided her time.

After the better part of five minutes the coast appeared to be relatively clear and a servant finally opened the door to inform one of the drivers that he was needed. Like a flash of lightning, Hannah shot up the narrow steps in front of the door, squeezed underneath the man’s arm and emerged into the passageway beyond. Guessing that the centre of the club was upstairs, she headed to the servants’ stairs. At least she assumed they were servants’ stairs...