Virginia Henley (13 page)

“London’s too far away.”

“What the devil is he doing in London?”

“Looking for a new position, since he no longer works for you.”

“Damn it, Dottie, you’ve insulted the fellow!” he accused.

“I warrant you did that when you didn’t pay him.”

Rupert had the decency to look guilty for a moment. “But I’ve been so short lately. It was an oversight I fully intended to rectify once my allowance was increased.”

“Sit down, my boy. It is the allowance I have come to discuss.” She lifted a neckcloth with her ebony cane and flipped it out of the way, then sat down on the bed. “Life is filled with ups and downs. . . . Everything on earth has its advantages and its disadvantages. . . . We must take the good with the bad. . . . Oh, plague take it, enough platitudes! I’ll cut the palaver and be specific. You inherited your grandfather’s title, Viscount Longford—”

“And I have tried to live up to it,” Rupert assured her.

“Indeed you have, my boy. Russell would be proud. You’ve managed to go through a great deal of money in an amazingly short time, following in his hallowed footsteps.”

Rupert rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me I must go on a budget and cut corners, just when I’ve been expecting an increase! Are you telling me that I shall have to divide the interest into even smaller amounts so that it will last longer?”

“You’ve spent the interest, Rupert.”

“Good God! Don’t tell me I’ve been dipping into my principle?”

“Plunging would be a better description.”

“How much is left?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” He jumped to his feet, a note of panic in his voice.

“Nothing,” Dottie confirmed.

He paced across the chamber, considering for a moment, then concluded, “Well, in that case it is quite obvious that the amount my grandfather set aside for me was inadequate. I throw myself upon your generosity and beg that you make arrangements more befitting to my station as Viscount Longford.”

“When I married Russell Longford he was a wealthy man. He pissed away half his fortune on drink and women. The gaming tables got the other half.”

The look of hope was wiped from Rupert’s face.

“Blessedly, there was a large amount of money set aside for your mother’s dowry.”

Rupert’s look of hope began to return.

“Your father, Johnny Sheffield, pissed that away.”

Rupert’s face fell, his expectations once more dashed. He sighed with deep resignation. “It is most fortunate that you are a wealthy woman in your own right. I throw myself upon your mercy, Grandmother. My fate is in your hands.”

“No, Rupert, your fate is in your own hands. My money is a mirage, a myth, I am afraid.”

“It cannot be true! After all these years of thinking I’d inherit a fortune and be able to spend like a nabob? I’ll be a bloody laughing stock! I won’t be able to face my friends—I’d rather put a bullet in my brain!”

“I wouldn’t try, Rupert. Too small a target,” Dottie advised.

“What am I to do?” he asked blankly.

Dottie gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Typical male response! Not
What is my grandmother to do?
or
What is my dear sister Alex to do?
The remedy, rather like you, Rupert, is simple: Marry an heiress. The county seems to be chockablock with such gels.”

A glimmer of renewed hope dawned on Rupert’s face. “The sacrifice might not prove too overwhelming, since I would wed an heiress regardless. It will simply have to be sooner rather than later,” he said decidedly, demonstrating amazing practicality. “Our money troubles must be kept secret, Dottie. My friend Kit would drop me like a hot chestnut if even a whisper of this got out.”

“You cod’s head! I shall be as silent as the tomb, my dearest boy. Especially where young Hatton is concerned. Alexandra would have no chance of becoming Lady Hatton if she were a pauper. Now, Rupert, I am trusting you to keep your lip buttoned around your sister. Under no circumstances is Alexandra to know that we are no longer wealthy. If she thinks like an heiress and acts like an heiress, then everyone will assume she
is
an heiress.”

 

The “heiress” in question left Hatton Hall and headed in the direction of the Bath Road, hoping to meet up with Nicholas on his return ride from Slough. As she cantered along the banks of the River Crane, she wondered why he had gone to see John Eaton, his father’s financial advisor. Perhaps he was clutching at straws, hoping Eaton would find some sort of a loophole, she reasoned, or perhaps he was trying to borrow money. Whatever his mission, her heart ached for his plight.

The river ran through Hatton Grange, and Alexandra’s sense of fairness became outraged at the thought that the thriving horse farm had been snatched away from Nicholas and bestowed upon Christopher. She reined in Zephyr to a slow trot as she passed through the lush fields of the Grange, but when she saw the foals with their dams, the temptation to stop was too great to resist. She dismounted, climbed the wooden rail that surrounded the meadow, and held her hand out to a dappled gray mare that was cropping the grass. The horse ambled over and Alex laughed when the colt followed its mother and attempted to suckle.

Presently, the mare pricked its ears, and Alex lifted her head and shaded her eyes with her hand as she scanned the distance. When she spotted the rider mounted on the powerful black Thoroughbred, her heart lifted with joy as she recognized Nicholas. Nobody rode as well as he did. She waved to him, and the anticipation of their meeting made her breath catch in her throat. Excitement bubbled up inside her, causing her heart to flutter and her pulse to race madly. She couldn’t wait to lay her ingenious plan before him; it would solve every difficulty and change their lives forever.

Nick, deep in thought over Jeremy Eaton’s taunt about the name
Harm
suiting his brother better than
Lord,
didn’t notice Alexandra perched upon the meadow rail until she began to wave madly. His dark brows drew together, and he hoped nothing was amiss as he galloped toward her. A feeling of relief washed over him when he was close enough to see that her face was lit by a radiant smile. He dismounted and tethered Renegade. As he drew close he saw the smile fade and tears flood her eyes. “What’s wrong, Alex?”

She slipped down from the rail and dashed the tears from her eyes with an impatient hand. “Nick, I simply cannot bear what your father did to you!”

His steps slowed to a halt. “So, Rupert couldn’t wait to tell you.” Nicholas was angry that Alexandra had been told of his misfortune, yet he knew it was inevitable. The news would spread faster than wildfire, for gossip was far more difficult to contain. Suddenly, Alex smiled through her tears, and he was reminded of the sun coming out from behind a dark cloud.

“It’s all right, Nick. I have the solution to all your money troubles. You don’t need his rotten money—you can have mine!”

“Yours?” The cool note in his voice held a warning.

“I’m an heiress. If you marry me, you’ll be rich!”

Nicholas Hatton stepped back from her as the slight anger he was feeling exploded into fury. She was actually crying tears of pity for him. The profound insult was like a blow to his solar plexus. The idea that a woman, any woman, could feel sorry for him mauled his pride. The thought that this particular woman who was so dear to his heart felt sorry for him was unendurable. “Alex, I shall pretend I did not hear that,” he said stiffly.

“Piss and piffle! It is the solution to all your problems.”

His jaw clenched like a lump of iron, and he tried to suppress the rage he felt. If a man had uttered such a thing to him, he would have struck him. With rigid control he demanded, “What on earth gives you the notion that you must solve my problems?”

“Because I care about you, Nicholas!” she cried passionately.

His wrath turned to chagrin. He had no right to be enraged at Alexandra. She was so sweetly innocent and touchingly naive, to say nothing of overwhelmingly generous, it brought a lump to his throat. It did not diminish his humiliation, however. Without knowing it, she had struck at his very manhood. She saw him as a victim, a pathetic victim who needed her charity. “How can you cast me in the role of a fortune hunter who would marry you for your money, when you have feared such a fate all your life?” His voice was so deep, it sounded like a growl.

She closed the small distance between them. “Nicholas, I care about you more than I care about money!” She gripped his arms with her small hands to emphasize her words and looked up at him in supplication.

“What sort of a man would I be, if I allowed you to sacrifice yourself through some sense of misguided sympathy?” His eyes were the gray of storm clouds.

She thought of his rigid honor, his unwavering integrity that made him dismiss all her pleading arguments. She shivered; he was so wickedly handsome, yet so stern and powerful. “For God’s sake, Nick, I don’t feel sympathy; you must know that what I feel is lo—”

“Alexandra!” He used her name as an invocation to stop her words, to prevent her from uttering such blasphemy. He was well aware that Alex thought she loved him, but knew he must disabuse her of such a notion immediately. His mind darted about like quicksilver, searching for a way to make her understand once and for all that he could never take advantage of a love-struck girl without coming to loathe himself. On top of everything else, Alex was taboo to him because it was known by all that she was his brother’s future bride. Nicholas did not want to hurt her, but he realized it was the only way. He had no choice.

He took hold of her hand gently and held her gaze with his. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your generosity, Alexandra, but marriage between us is out of the question. I have always thought of you as my little sister, Alex. It would be impossible for me to think of you in any other way.”

She looked up at him in dismay. His words made him seem far older than he was and emphasized the difference in their ages. Like a mature man addressing a child, he gently pointed out that the gulf between them could never be narrowed, that their feelings for each other were totally disparate.

He released her hand and patted her head, ruffling the bright curls. “This infatuation you feel will vanish like a puff of smoke once you go to London and are swept up in the social whirl.”

Alexandra wished that the earth would open up and swallow her. She had never felt more gauche in her entire life. Her cheeks were stained with the humiliation of his rejection, and inside her chest, her heart actually hurt as if cruel, ruthless fingers had just crushed it. She dropped her lashes so that he would not see the pain reflected in her eyes and brushed imaginary dust from the skirt of her riding habit. “I promised to help Dottie with dinner. . . . We are between cooks at the moment,” she said awkwardly.

Nick fought the impulse to gather her in his arms and hold her until she stopped hurting. He knew he must be cruel to be kind. He forced himself to remain still as she untied Zephyr’s reins and mounted. Her back was ramrod straight and her chin high as she galloped off in the direction of Longford Manor. Only when she was out of sight did he mount Renegade and ride home.

Kit Hatton was directing Mr. Burke and the valet he shared with his twin as they packed for London. Nick decided to wait until dinner to tell his brother of the disquieting reception he had received at Eaton Place. He went to his chamber and did his own packing, knowing that Kit would monopolize the servants.

Kit arrived in the dining room preoccupied with tomorrow’s journey to London. “Oh, I forgot you visited Eaton today. Did you have any trouble convincing them you were Lord Hatton?”

“When I rode in on Renegade, they assumed that I was you.”

“Did you learn anything, or was it a complete waste of time?”

“I learned that John Eaton lives in splendor. I learned that Jeremy envies you your title.”

Kit picked up his fork and laughed. “Who wouldn’t? Here I sit, Lord of the Manor at just twenty-one, dining on my own trout from my own river.”

Nick watched his brother covertly to gauge his reaction. “Jeremy hinted that he knew something about the hunting accident.”

Kit put down his fork. The trout seemed to have lost its appeal. “What did the snotty swine say?”

“He said the name
Harm
was more suitable to you than
Lord
Hatton.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions,” Kit said defensively.

“I challenged him immediately, demanding if he was accusing me of something.”

“What did he say?” Christopher asked, holding his breath.

“Nothing whatsoever.”

Kit laughed. “There you are then. He’s simply green with envy that I have a title and he never will!” Because Mr. Burke was otherwise employed, a young serving-maid brought in the second course and removed the fish. “What’s your name?” Kit asked, immediately distracted from the conversation by the female servant.

She bobbed a curtsy. “Ellen, my lord.”

Kit’s glance swept over her from nose to knees. “Very pretty,” he drawled. When her cheeks flushed scarlet he laughed. “Better stay out of
Harm’s
way,” he teased.

“John Eaton reassured me again and again that he had your best interests at heart and would take great care of your investments.” As soon as Nicholas spoke, the maid spied her chance to escape.

“Nothing to worry about then.”

“I didn’t believe him,” Nick said flatly.

“Father wouldn’t have used him as his financial agent if he hadn’t made money, cousin or no cousin.”

“That’s true. Father had a nose for money, and Eaton wouldn’t have dared cheat him. I tried to convey the impression that the present Lord Hatton also has a nose for money. I asked him for a complete accounting, and when he tried to put me off by telling me these things took time, I told him I would expect it in two days.”