Amanda Scott (30 page)

Worst of all was the fact that she realized on the instant that she could not explain her concern to him without first knowing what, if anything, he had been told about relations between male and female persons. Not having the least wish or desire to explain such things to him herself, even if he allowed her to do so, all she could say in the end was, “Mrs. Flowers is not a suitable person for you to know, I’m afraid.”

“I will be the judge of that, thank you.” And with that, he turned abruptly and left the room.

Anne fought down the urge to run after him and box his ears; however, his continuing attitude of arrogant disdain over the next few days made it impossible for her even to sympathize with him when Michael returned from Castleton and responded to Mr. Pratt’s complaints of his pupil’s frequent unexplained absences and otherwise dilatory behavior by sternly commanding Andrew to accompany him into the library after dinner.

Lord Ashby, always the boy’s champion, protested vehemently. “Dash it all, Michael, you can’t always be condemning the lad merely for knowing his own worth. Pratt drives him devilish hard, and so do you, by Jove, so it don’t take a genius to see why he chooses to play least in sight instead of keeping his nose glued to his books all day.”

“He will learn to do as he is bid,” Lord Michael said grimly, watching Andrew stride across the hall and into the library. “I have no intention of allowing him to grow up to be the care-for-naught his father was.”

“Here now, don’t forget you are speaking of the dead,” Lord Ashby said, shocked.
“De mortuis nihil nisi bonum,
my boy.”

“In Edmund’s case,” Michael interrupted sharply, “it’s more a matter of
de nihilo nihil,
sir—nothing comes from nothing. You were not left his snarls to untangle, if I might remind you of the fact. Nor have you been of much assistance in untangling them. I’ll also point out that had I possessed the same general lack of scruples as my brother, I’d have taken the easiest way around all the difficulty. Indeed, I might still have to—”

“By Jove, you wouldn’t sell off the unentailed land!”

“I haven’t sold anything, sir. Not yet. But only by agreeing to outrageous demands have I been able to avoid that course. I do not know how much longer it will be possible if some of the other holdings do not begin to produce their maximum income.” He cut off Lord Ashby’s next question abruptly, pointing out that Andrew was waiting for him in the library.

Anne, listening in dismay to their exchange, concluded that matters were even more serious than she had believed. Once again, she was tempted to approach Lord Ashby for answers, but noting that he had transferred his attention to the decanter at his elbow, and collecting her wits, she decided that she had first better attempt to learn what she could from her husband, and perhaps convince him to share some small part of his burden with others who were willing and able to assist him.

Knowing that Andrew would prefer not to encounter her again that night, she waited in the little salon off the upstairs hall until she heard him emerge from the library and pass by on his way to his own room. Then, gathering her courage, she went back downstairs, and finding that the boy had left the library door ajar, she silently pushed it open.

Michael stood staring down into the fire. One booted foot rested on the fender, one hand gripped the mantel. Some small noise she made must have warned him that he was no longer alone, for he straightened and turned. The annoyance on his face softened when he saw her. “Come in, sweetheart. I hope you have not come to continue my uncle’s protests against my treatment of that young scoundrel, for I warn you, my patience will not stand it.”

Anne shut the door quietly and, moving toward him, said, “I must own, sir, that Andrew’s behavior during your absence may well have justified anything you chose to do to him tonight.”

The weariness in his expression vanished, replaced by a frown. He said sharply, “Was he discourteous to you?”

She smiled ruefully. “I think my notion of courtesy does not march precisely with that accepted in dukes of Upminster, sir. Certainly, what passes for his customary attitude would not suit my father; and my grandmother would have sharp words to say to anyone, duke or commoner, who dared speak to her in the tone Andrew employs in merely responding to a casual greeting.”

Michael grimaced. “My brother chose to be amused by his cocksure posturing when Andrew was scarcely out of leading strings, and my sister-in-law denied him nothing. Thus, his servants came to think the arrogance was expected of him. And, indeed, Edmund himself behaved in much the same way, so Andrew’s demeanor is not to be wondered at, I’m sure.”

“Your sister Charlotte said that dukes of Upminster think themselves grander than God,” Anne said, smiling. “I did think before that you were too hard on him, and I’m not certain I agree even now that to keep him so restricted is the wisest course, but I do agree that he must be made to see the error of his ways if he is ever to be a credit to his position. Would it be so very dreadful to send him to school, sir, where boys his own age and older might be counted on to have an improving effect on him?”

She saw his countenance tighten and braced herself for rebuff, but even as the thought crossed her mind that he was still not ready to share his problems with her, his expression relaxed. He said, “You underestimate the thickness of the lad’s skin and his belief in his own superiority. It’s a belief he comes by naturally, of course, for Charlotte was right about the dukes of Upminster. My grandfather was at least a force in politics and held several positions of high order, but my father, though just as arrogant, was less benevolent, and Edmund … Edmund had other interests. Not many hereabouts were surprised by his end, I’m afraid. He thought himself a devil of a fellow, but in my opinion, he was no more than a reprobate who went his own way without regard for himself or his family.”

“Was that why the duchess killed herself?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “No one knows why she did it.”

Encouraged by his apparent willingness to talk, she said, “Will you tell me why you are so concerned about money, sir? My father said you had reason to retain control of my portion, and though he did not explain, I have seen for myself that you are in a constant worry about the state of Andrew’s fortune.”

“Your dowry is not being used in Andrew’s behalf,” he said quickly, almost gruffly. “Moreover, it will be repaid.”

“I don’t question its use or repayment,” she said. “I merely asked because I believe there are economies that can be practiced in the house, and in the garden as well now, but without knowing what is required, I cannot judge whether they would be worth the effort to arrange them.”

He smiled. “Do you still find yourself at loggerheads with the servants whenever you wish to instigate change, sweetheart? I had thought that problem resolved.”

“There is always resistance to change, sir,” she said, not thinking this quite the moment to tell him that her decision to order a new fireguard for the kitchen fire had been accepted by the housekeeper with such enthusiasm that Anne did not think even Bagshaw would quibble over the expense. Moreover, since Mrs. Burdekin had warmed to her considerably since the kitchen maid’s accident, Anne did not anticipate further difficulty from that quarter. Choosing her words carefully now, she said, “What I mean to say, sir, is that I’d like to know if saving five or ten shillings a month will help solve the problem you face.”

“In short, no, it won’t. The problem is much greater than that. Twenty thousand pounds, to be precise—a debt my dear brother incurred in a wager at the October meeting at Newmarket. Aye, you’ve every reason to gasp. I did myself. The full amount ought to have been paid at once, of course, but the bet was with Jake Thornton, and with Edmund’s death coming so soon afterward, Jake gave me until midsummer quarter day to repay it. That’s less than three weeks from now. In view of the enormous sum, I did ask him for more time, but he refused, so unless I can think of another way, I will have to sell off at least a portion of Andrew’s property. The unentailed parts—which are the only ones that
can
be sold—are unfortunately also the ones upon which his income most largely depends. So now you know the worst, and you must agree there is nothing you can do to help.”

“But I don’t understand. How could anyone bet such a vast sum on a horse race? And if Edmund made the wager at the October meeting, which is generally the first week of the month, why had he not already arranged to pay it before his death, which did not occur till at least a fortnight later? My brothers have frequently said that debts of honor must be paid at once.”

“Your brothers are perfectly right, too, but Jake explained it to me when he informed me of the wager, by saying they had engaged in a second bet after the first. Had Edmund won the second one, he would have wiped out the whole debt.”

“But even if they bet on a second race—”

“They did not bet on the horses,” he said with a sigh.

“But you said the wager was made at Newmarket.”

“I did, and it was, but according to the vowel—which was properly witnessed, by the way, by none other than Wilfred, Viscount Cressbrook—Edmund’s bet was that Jake would not induce a certain lady of title to … to yield to his charms.”

“What lady?” Anne demanded before she could stop herself.

“She is mercifully unnamed. You will begin to understand now,” he added dryly, “why I have been reluctant to discuss this matter. Evidently, Jake succeeded in his quest. The second bet was whether Edmund would enjoy success in a similar venture, I believe. It was scrawled right after the first wager in what must have been Jake’s handwriting, for I remember it was different from that in which the first was recorded.”

“How distasteful, but surely, if you explain to Sir Jacob that payment of such an enormous sum will mean decimating Andrew’s birthright …”

“Jake Thornton has fewer scruples than my brother had, my dear. He cares naught for Andrew or his birthright. I put all that to him last Sunday, but he believes he has been forbearing enough merely to agree to wait till Midsummer Day for his money. He even had the brass to remind me that my own honor is at stake. To hear Jake Thornton preach honor,” Michael added grimly, “was nearly more than I could stomach. I wanted to throttle him.”

Anne could well understand that. The whole tale shocked her very much, but not nearly so much as did the news two days later that Sir Jacob Thornton had died.

A
NNE’S FIRST THOUGHT WHEN
she heard the news of Sir Jacob’s death was that Michael would no longer have to worry about the enormous (and, in her mind, outrageous) debt that the sixth duke had contracted with him. Upon that thought had followed another, much less pleasant one, however, that made her extremely glad that everyone accepted without question that Sir Jacob had died in his sleep of a heart attack.

“Although,” Lord Ashby said thoughtfully that night in the yellow drawing room when he first relayed the news to the family, and to Lady Hermione and Cressbrook, who had come to dine with them, “I should not have been at all surprised to learn that Maria Thornton had poisoned him, by Jove. Treated her like the very devil, Jake did, and what with all his goings-on about how wrong it would be ever to allow a woman to divorce her husband, he might even have been the one to put the notion into her head.”

“I am sure he treated her badly,” Anne said thoughtfully, “for not only have I heard others say so, but he had no very great opinion of the female sex in general, I think. He had a way of looking at women that was most unnerving.”

“As if,” Lady Hermione said grimly, “he were stripping one’s clothes off with his eyes. I never liked him. Indeed, if anyone were to be suspected of murdering him,” she added with an oblique smile at Anne, “it would no doubt be my humble self, for I once told Anne that, had I been so unfortunate as to have been the one married to him, I’d have bashed his head in with an anvil.”

“Now, damme, Hermie,” her brother said, “you know dashed well you’d have done no such thing. And whatever you thought of him, Jake was an excellent Member of Parliament for the district until he began to fail in health. I don’t doubt there will be scores of fine things said of him at his funeral, which, by the bye, is to be held on Wednesday. His widow don’t want to wait, and with this unseasonable heat, one don’t rightly blame her.”

“Well, I shan’t have to hear what they say,” Lady Hermione said flatly, “and it is just as well, for I never did hold with his nonsensical notions, certainly not about marriage and divorce. No doubt, there are inequities in the laws applying to the Scots and the English, but to insist that the most restrictive laws are the best ones and ought to be applied to all was utter lunacy. I had no patience with such idiotic thinking.”

Andrew, silent until now, said abruptly, “Is it true, what Sir Jacob said about Scottish marriages being legal in England, even if the same one would not be if it were performed here?”

“True enough, I expect,” Lord Ashby said.

Anne, recalling that Andrew had not been present the night Sir Jacob had expounded on the law, said, “Where did you hear such a thing?”

“Oh, I’m sure he talked of it often enough,” the boy said glibly. Turning to Lady Hermione, he said, “I don’t know why you didn’t like him. He seemed all right to me.”

“No doubt he did, for you are a man, or as near as made no difference to him. As we’ve just been saying, it was his behavior toward women that was execrable, and if he weren’t dead, by heaven, I’d still like to give him a piece of my mind.”

Lord Ashby said tartly, “We know that. You tell us all the time, old girl, but you never exerted yourself to
do
it whilst the fellow was alive, did you? You might at least give Jake credit for fighting for his beliefs and doing what he could to see them through. Not that he succeeded this time, mind you,” he added with a thoughtful air. “Read in the
Times
this morning that his amendment to the Marriage Bill failed in its second reading and won’t be brought up for a third. The House has gone on to discuss raising the duty on whale blubber, of all things.”