Forbidden in February (3 page)

She imbued those two words with such incredulous scorn, Robert actually winced. From the panicked expression on Isabel’s face—no, he must think of her as Miss Durham—it was clear his mother hadn’t been truthful with him when she’d written to tell him about her new friend. She’d mentioned that Miss Durham was her companion, but she’d made it sound as though she were training the woman to become a courtesan. She’d even invited him to visit, hinting broadly that the young woman would be very
pleased
to receive him.

Pleased, he thought, his lips twisting with derision at his own gullibility. The poor woman seemed terrified of him. He looked away, trying to think of a way to reassure her that he wasn’t about to pounce on her, although, if he was being honest with himself, the thought held more than a little appeal. He supposed that the best course of action—the only course that would set her mind at ease—would be to retreat.

Now that his mother was no longer there to answer for her prevarication, he wouldn’t lay the blame for his misunderstanding at her feet. He could give her that, at least, even though it chafed at his pride to accept sole responsibility for his boorish behavior.

He took a step back and didn’t miss the way the stiff set of her shoulders seemed to ease with the movement. “I’m afraid I misread the situation between you and my mother. I apologize.”

She inclined her head briefly in acceptance, but she continued to watch him closely. In her place, given the way he had behaved toward her, he wouldn’t have let his guard down either.

“I’ll take my leave now. I have a meeting with my mother’s solicitor first thing tomorrow morning, after which I plan to return. I hope that’s acceptable?”

She gave a stiff nod. “The rest of the staff have the day off today, but they’ll be here tomorrow. I’m sure they’ll be eager to hear about your plans now that you’re the master of the house.”

With his own future up in the air with respect to his position as valet to the Duke of Beckworth, he could relate to their feelings. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her what she knew about the household finances, but surely she, along with the rest of the staff, wouldn’t still be here if they weren’t receiving their salary. And the longer he remained, the more afraid of him Isabel would become. He found that it bothered him more than a little to think she feared him.

He took his leave then, moving to the desk chair to retrieve the coat he’d removed and slung over its back before exiting the room. He didn’t miss Miss Durham’s soft exhalation of relief when he crossed the threshold. His mother had a lot to answer for, but he should have realized she hadn’t been completely honest with him. When had she ever been?

Robert was early for his appointment with Mr. Greaves. As he waited to be shown into the solicitor’s office, he couldn’t stop thinking about the previous day’s events. Recrimination at how he’d treated Miss Durham had weighed heavy on him, keeping him from sleeping well, and in the clear light of a new day he was no closer to resolving his mixed emotions.

His anger at his mother for continuing to manipulate him even as she neared her death only served to make him feel even guiltier for not having visited her sooner. And the fact that his mother’s companion—the person who’d been entrusted with her care when she needed it most—was now afraid of him left him feeling oddly unsettled. He was certain of one thing, however. Somehow he would make things up to her.

He was surprised when Mr. Greaves came out to greet him. He’d never even heard of the man until he’d received his correspondence informing him of his mother’s death, hadn’t even known that she had a solicitor. The man before him now was older, his posture stooped from too much time spent behind a desk, and Robert couldn’t help wondering how long he’d known his mother.

“My condolences on your mother’s passing,” Mr. Greaves said as they entered his cramped office. Books littered every surface save for the empty chair positioned across from the man’s desk.

Robert wanted to demand why it had taken so long for the man to write to him, but restrained himself, accepting the man’s sentiment with a curt nod of his head. In the end it didn’t matter if he’d arrived the day after her passing or months later. His mother was dead, and he was still the ungrateful child who hadn’t seen her in years.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice,” Robert said. His mother didn’t possess a great fortune, and he’d expected to be kept waiting while the man devoted the majority of his time to his wealthier clients. Although from the shabby state of Greaves’s office, he doubted the man had any clients that would fit that category.

“Of course. I hated to send you the news in a letter, but seeing as your mother had been sick for some time, I’m sure the news of her passing wasn’t unexpected.”

Robert almost cringed, but he couldn’t detect any censure in the other man’s face. Clearly Mr. Greaves didn’t know about his estrangement from his mother.

The man dragged a sheaf of papers from one corner of his desk onto the center and placed a pair of spectacles on his rather large nose. “I have here your mother’s will—”

“What?” Robert frowned at the small stack of pages. He’d expected something short, a few pages at most.

Mr. Greaves looked at him over his spectacles. “It is customary for individuals to have a document outlining how their assets are to be distributed after their death.”

Robert made a small sound of annoyance. He may be in service, but he wasn’t lacking in wits. “I know what a will is.” Then the other part of the solicitor’s remark sank in. “I was under the impression that my mother’s possessions aside from the house were modest.”

Mr. Greaves removed his spectacles and leaned back in his chair. “It is true that Mrs. Milton kept her expenses modest, but a not-insignificant amount of money was settled on her after your birth. Let me see…” He donned his spectacles again and shifted through the first few sheets of paper. “Here it is. In the twenty-eight years since your birth, that amount has grown.” He removed a page from the pile and handed it to Robert.

Robert looked down at what appeared to be a statement from his mother’s bank account. The balance, while by no means a fortune, was much larger than expected.

“She never told me about any of this.”

Mr. Greaves smiled kindly at him. “Aside from a small bequest of fifty pounds that your mother left to the companion she hired last year, the remainder is yours. Also, I understand you sent her a small amount of money from your earnings over the years. She saved that money in a separate account that is already in your name.” Mr. Greaves handed him another bank statement as he continued, “You’ll be able to access the money in that account right away. As for the rest, I’ll being work on transferring your mother’s assets into your name, but understand that it might take a little while.”

Robert shook his head, bile rising in his throat, and pushed the documents away from him. “I don’t want the money from that settlement.”

The smile dropped from the solicitor’s face, replaced by ill-concealed disbelief. “You must not have heard me correctly—”

“I heard you, and I’m telling you that I want no part of that money.” He’d accept the money he’d sent her over the years—he’d earned it through honest work, after all. But he wanted no part of the money his mother had earned by whoring herself out to his father, a wealthy member of the gentry who hadn’t even seen them in eighteen years. The man his mother had constantly badgered Robert to approach, hoping to use him to bring about a reconciliation. He’d always thought his mother wanted him back in her life because she missed the money and jewelry he’d lavished on her during the years she’d been his mistress, but apparently she hadn’t needed his father’s money after all. Nor had she needed the meagre amount he’d sent her over the years.

Was anything she’d told him true? If he didn’t bear a physical resemblance to his father, he wouldn’t be surprised to discover she’d lied to both of them about his paternity as well.

“You are, of course, free to do what you’d like with the money. If you so desire—” Mr. Greaves gave a grimace of distaste and cleared his throat before continuing. “If you so desire, you can give the money away. But as per the terms of your mother’s will, I must transfer the funds into your name.”

Robert planned to do just that, but he’d put the other man out of his misery and drop that subject. “I want to thank you for continuing to pay the household staff until I could return.”

He needed to thank Mrs. Harris and Walters for staying with his mother despite the fact she wasn’t an easy to woman to serve. His thoughts flickered briefly to Isabel Durham, but he forced them back to the matter at hand. His mother had already seen to Isabel’s future. It was up to him to settle an amount on the others after their years of faithful service. It was a mystery to him why his mother hadn’t already done so.

Mr. Greaves shook his head. “I’ve made no such payments. They weren’t outlined in the terms of this document, and I wouldn’t presume to do so until I spoke to you first.”

The solicitor’s revelation surprised him. Isabel had mentioned that she’d given the staff the day off, which had to mean they were still employed.

The rest of the meeting passed quickly enough. Robert was just standing to take his leave when Mr. Greaves waved him back into his seat.

“There’s one other thing,” the man said absently as he attacked a stack of papers on a different corner of his desk. He gave a small exclamation of triumph when he found what he was looking for. “I didn’t expect that anyone would be at the house. You say that the staff are still there?” At Robert’s nod, the solicitor continued. “That’s curious. At any rate, I arranged to have your mother’s correspondence directed to my office. She hasn’t received much… a few bills that I took the liberty of paying, which I’ll be including in my bill. But there was a letter addressed to Miss Isabel Durham. I don’t recognize the sender.”

Robert thanked him and added the correspondence to the paperwork the solicitor had already given him. As he left the office, he wondered what in blazes he was going to do with it all. In that moment he understood why his mother had tossed all her bills and documents haphazardly into the drawers of her desk. Now it was up to him to sort through the entire mess.

After being caught so thoroughly off guard by Mrs. Milton’s son the day before, a man who hadn’t behaved at all like she’d expected, Isabel was determined to hold the upper hand when he returned. Or as much as she’d be allowed to given that her future was dependent on him. She couldn’t very well force him to allow her to remain at the house once he took possession of it.

When she’d learned from Mrs. Milton’s solicitor that she had left her a small bequest, she’d been speechless with gratitude and affection for the older woman. Fifty pounds wasn’t a lot of money—it certainly was nothing compared to what Isabel’s family had once been worth—but she’d immediately envisioned moving somewhere remote and setting herself up in a small cottage. It would require careful management, but surely she could find some type of work to augment that money. She was a fair hand with a needle and could take in sewing. She wasn’t afraid of hard work, and if she saved and was very careful, it was possible she could make that money stretch.

But those dreams had been dashed almost as soon as they’d begun to form when she’d learned that none of the other servants had received a similar generosity. It might have been an oversight on Mrs. Milton’s part. Or perhaps she’d thought that her son would keep them employed while Isabel, as a lady’s companion, would no longer have a position.

But as the days passed with no word from Robert, Isabel had essentially been forced to give up her future freedom. Instead of heading north and finding a tiny cottage, she’d remained in London and used that money to ensure that the rest of the staff, who she’d come to think of as family, would continue to receive their salary.

Despite the fact that Robert had propositioned her, she was glad he’d finally arrived. He hadn’t visited his mother once in the year she’d been employed there, and without knowing how much longer he’d remain absent or if he’d ever arrive and take over the management of the house, she’d almost admitted defeat. She’d been on the verge of telling the rest of the staff that they would need to find positions elsewhere.

As she went through the house, ensuring that everything was as it should be for his return, she tried not to dwell on the way Robert Milton had behaved toward her. She couldn’t imagine why he’d think it would be acceptable to suggest they have an affair. And she certainly tried not to imagine whether he normally had liaisons with other servants while serving as a valet. Although given how handsome he was, she wouldn’t be surprised to learn that few women had ever turned him down.

She was just returning from the kitchen when she heard the knock at the front door. She slowed her steps and took a deep breath as she waited for Mr. Walters to show their guest in. Or rather, their new employer.