The spinster and the wastrel (10 page)

"Thank you," she replied politely. Since she had inherited the money, all the local merchants found pleasure in her business.

When Annette headed back to her cottage with the candy package in her hand, she assured herself she was well satisfied with the day. Even if that baronet did not want to acknowledge it, he had to admit her school was doing well. Filled with determined righteousness, she declared, "I know how to handle the money. Now I need to consider the next project."

Posture held upright, she tramped home along the wet lane and never noticed she did not claim the fortune as her money.

(Laptev (Seven

Annette anticipated that spring farm chores would interfere with her school's attendance. However, when for the third day in a row, only five students appeared, she knew something was wrong. This was only the third week of February, for goodness' sake. The weather was wet and cold and muddy. Too early for spring planting.

She called Jack to her. "Do you know why the others are not here?"

"Yes, ma'am." He shuffled his feet, while she waited patiently. "They must work, ma'am."

"Work? At what? Spring planting is weeks away."

More feet shuffling. He had washed his face and hands before coming, and his hair was combed but still ragged. "I don't right know what, ma'am."

Annette took pity on his obvious reluctance. "You don't need to be afraid to tell me," she said gently. "I cannot help if I do not know what the difficulty is."

"I don't know what they're working on," Jack burst out. "I couldn't think of anything to do so I came to school."

The words echoed in the almost empty room. She over-

looked the implication that school was his last resort. Something was seriously amiss. Placing her arm about his shoulders, she asked, "Why do you need to do anything? What is wrong? Is there sickness?" If so, it would be odd that no one had yet come to her for assistance.

"No, no sickness. It's the rents."

"The rents?"

"They've gone up."

Annette wasted no time debating the fact. "How much?"

He seemed more at ease now that the news was out. "A lot. Me pa owes an extra ten pounds—by March quarter end. Where is he going to get so much money so fast?"

'Ten pounds? In addition to the regular rent?"

Jack nodded.

"That's outrageous!" Her arm dropped from his shoulder, and she sputtered with indignation. "I expected some changes, but not this!"

"Then you can do something?" Hope lit Jack's thin face. The other students also gazed at her as if torn between hope and fear.

She asked them, "Are your families also facing such steep increases in their rents?"

They nodded.

She knew they understood her concern for them. "And the children who are not here, are their rents also raised?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jack answered.

"There must be a mistake." Annette squared her shoulders. "I will speak to the baronet about this."

"Will speaking do any good?" The boy appeared to have become the spokesman for the class.

"My words will because this mistake will be cleared

up," she promised. She patted him on the back as she sent him back to his seat on the bench.

Within her burned the need to confront Sir Gerard immediately. Obviously there was something wrong, some error committed. It was her duty to correct it.

Perhaps he meant to raise the rent by ten pounds over the year and somehow it was reported as per quarter. With prices so high due to the war on the Continent, even an additional pound every three months would be a hardship to Jack's parents. The other tenants faced the same difficulties. She must make the baronet understand how impossible his intentions were. As soon as she dismissed the school, she planned to do just that.

The stables at Hathaway Hall continued to have the power to attract the baronet. The memory of Nat the groom hung over the familiar stalls, along with the air dusty from the straw and heavy with the earthy smell of horses. Remembering the acceptance he had found here, Sir Gerard felt at ease in the rustic surroundings.

He brushed his stallion's smooth gray coat. Beneath his hands, he felt the strong muscles bunch and relax. Silver Shadow tossed his head, shaking the white mane his master had just combed.

"Does it feel good, old fellow?" He rubbed the bristles of the brush behind Silver Shadow's ear.

The horse snorted in response. Smiling, the baronet resumed his task. Taking care of his horse was one of the small joys in his life. He lived in the social world of the haute ton, but he was equally at home in the simple world of the stable. After all, Silver Shadow had always accepted him without judgmental reproach.

Behind him, he heard a splash as someone crossed the

stable yard. Turning, he saw the money-lender, Mortimer Wallace, picking his way passed the puddles.

Surprised, Sir Gerard exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"

Wallace smoothed his jacket. "Surely you should have expected me. This is February, after all."

Although he knew what was coming, Sir Gerard turned back to his horse. "I am aware of the date. I just did not expect to see you here."

"I called at your house, but I became tired of waiting." The man's voice remained full and rich, but an edge underlay the tone. "You cannot avoid me."

"I am not avoiding you." The rhythmic brush strokes helped him keep his temper, and his fear, at bay.

"Excellent," Wallace oozed. 'Then you can repay my loan now."

"I only owe you an installment."

"I want the full amount."

"I will pay only what I owe. Nothing more."

Sir Gerard felt the money-lender's eyes boring into his back. Beneath his master's less certain touch, Silver Shadow moved restlessly. He tried to calm the horse with soothing words, but he kept his ears tuned for Wallace's next words.

"Could you pay me the installment due now?" the other man asked.

"Of course," Sir Gerard lied.

"Then I will be happy to take it in my hands and leave you."

The baronet paused in his brushing and faced the urbane financier. "Do you think I keep such a sum on me in the stables?"

Wallace smiled. There was no sincerity in the upturn of

his muscles. "Of course not. I will walk with you back to the strongbox in your house."

Knowing very well that the box was empty, Sir Gerard shrugged. "Nor do I keep such a sum in my house. I do not intend to tempt thieves."

The smile shrank a little. "Then I will accept a draft on your bank. In fact, you should have sent one to me already. I dislike having to collect it myself. This is a task more appropriate for underlings."

Inwardly Sir Gerard relaxed slightly. Without realizing it, Wallace had tacitly accepted the installment payment rather than the full repayment of the loan. Not that he could even pay the smaller sum.

"Then send your underlings."

"I am here, and I will collect your draft." The smile definitely had vanished from the man's round face.

"Later." Sir Gerard resumed his brushing, moving down one of the forelegs.

"That draft was due to me at the end of January. It is now the third week of February, and I want my money— now."

The baronet heard the implicit threat. Linton had told him of the physical problems that overtook those already burdened with financial difficulties from Wallace. A saddle cinch cut. The wheel of a carriage loosened. Footpads attacking. Misfortunes that could happen to anyone, seemed to happen to unfortunate clients of the moneylender. Even knowing the whispers of what happened to those who could not repay, there was nothing Sir Gerard could do.

Pretending a nonchalance he was far from feeling, he picked up the horse's leg and inspected the hoof. He used

the brush to wipe away the dried mud from the morning's ride.

Apparently his attitude annoyed Wallace, for anger burned through his next words. "You owe me that money, sir, and I have every right to expect repayment. Those who gamble at the tables must satisfy their debts of honor. Isn't that what you told me when you came to me for help?"

"Yes, it was," Sir Gerard replied.

"You also told me you had inherited your uncle's fortune."

"I was his heir!" He stood and faced his tormentor. "And you were familiar with the extent of that fortune."

"It is my business to know such things."

"You certainly did not know that he willed the bulk of it away."

With a wave of his hand, Wallace airily dismissed his statement. "An error on my part. Don't compound the error by welshing on your debt to me. You may not consider it a debt of honor, but / consider my repayment to be as important as any debt to a gentleman. Actually it is more important because it is owed to me."

Sir Gerard stared at the man. How could he escape this situation? There was no way to get rid of Wallace because there was no money to buy his departure.

At that moment a woman rounded the corner of the house and headed to the stables. With a groan, Sir Gerard realized it was Miss Courtney. He did not need her presence adding to his troubles.

Unlike the money-lender, she did not mince her way across the stable yard. She headed straight for him with determination, stepping across the puddles without breaking her stride. Naturally, she did not slip in the mud.

"Sir Gerard," she called. "I need to speak with you immediately."

"I can meet with you in the house as soon as I have cleaned up," he offered.

"This cannot wait." She arrived at the stable doorway and cast a dismissing glance at Wallace that caused Sir Gerard to smile. He did not think the man was used to being considered unimportant.

"It seems I have turned my stable into my drawing room, since I am receiving all of my callers here," he commented.

The money-lender's gaze frankly assessed the spinster. Sir Gerard wagered to himself that she puzzled the man. She wore the serviceable brown dress and severe hairstyle of a companion, yet she comported herself as if she were of a higher rank.

She said, "There has been a dreadful mistake made which needs to be cleared up now."

At her determination, Sir Gerard seized the opportunity to dismiss Wallace. "I have said all I intend on this matter. You may go."

Wallace's nostrils flared. "You don't get rid of me so easily. This is not over between us."

With another assessing glance at Miss Courtney, he stepped around the stable's corner and out of sight.

Relieved to have that difficulty sent off, Sir Gerard patiently turned to his caller. "What is wrong, Miss Courtney?"

She wasted no words in her explanation. "The rents have been raised. The tenants believe they owe much more than they should at the end of this quarter. You must correct this error."

For a moment he studied her. Her gaze was so direct

and clear that she plainly assumed he was in agreement with her. A sense of remorse flashed through him, yet immediately after Wallace's demands, he could not yield to it. "What makes you think the tenants are mistaken?"

Her eyes widened in horrified surprise. "You cannot mean to place such a burden upon your people! It is too oppressive!"

Unable to face her, he returned to his brushing of Silver Shadow, redoing the flanks he had already done. "I need that money."

"Please, you must reconsider. This is too much!"

The remorse weighed heavily upon his heart. He knew she was right. The extra rent would be an impossible burden for his tenants. Yet, he also knew not repaying Wallace endangered his own safety. He did not respond to her plea and returned to his brushing.

Watching him, his air of disinterest bewildered her. Annette was certain he cared for the welfare of his people. "Sir Gerard, why are you raising these rents?"

"I told you I needed the money."

She heard the defeat in his voice, and her own manner gentled. There was some problem here of which she was not aware. Perhaps she could help. "So you said, but not why."

Someone cleared his throat, interrupting them. Turning, she saw the large man had not left the stables, only hidden out of sight in order to eavesdrop. Now he had revealed himself. She frowned at his despicable behavior.

"Avoiding a problem again, Sir Gerard?" A sneer crossed the man's face. "Perhaps I can help you, ma'am." He offered her his card.

Annette took it. "Financier?" she read.

"Yes. I assist those who have monetary troubles."

She remained puzzled.

He explained further, "I make loans. If money causes you problems, I can help you."

"For a price," Sir Gerard interposed bitterly. "You are barking up the wrong tree with her, Wallace. Miss Courtney does not have 'monetary troubles.' She is the woman who inherited my uncle's fortune."

"Indeed!" His eyes gleamed, and he pasted an ingratiating smile on his face. He bowed low. "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Courtney. Perhaps I can interest you in some investment projects of mine."

"I am not interested in discussing investments now," she said.

Wallace glanced between her and Sir Gerard. The baronet had stopped grooming his horse and stood impassively, resting his hand on the animal's back.

"I fancy I can explain the baronet's difficulty." She heard the mocking laughter in his voice and disliked him. Still, she listened to what he said. "He owes me money, a lot of it. I'll bet he raised the tenants' rents to repay me."

She looked at the baronet with a question in her eyes. He set down the brush and faced her. "It's true," he told her quietly.

"I only wonder, Sir Gerard," Wallace continued, "since the rents aren't due until the end of March, how were you going to meet your payment past due since the end of January?"

"I would have delayed you somehow."

Wallace stiffened. "I do not like delayed payments. Surely my reputation warned you of that."

The baronet ignored him. Instead, he gazed upon Annette. "I am sorry about the tenants. I was so caught in my

own problems that I did not think about the hardship I was imposing."

She read sincerity in his dark brown eyes. "What are you going to do?"

A half smile twisted his lips. "I will rescind the rent increase."