The spinster and the wastrel (3 page)

As the newest Baronet Westcourt, Sir Gerard did not think he was being accorded the respect due his rank. After the initial cordial greeting, Piers Keller's face had smoothed into a blank gaze. Even the wrinkles seemed to disappear, Sir Gerard thought irritably. Nothing remained to give away the solicitor's thoughts. The stuffy smell of leather books permeated the office, crowded with piles of papers. Although Sir Gerard was used to hunching over a green baize table to gamble, he felt hemmed in. Yet he would not allow such discomfort to interfere with his mission. He intended to get his money back.

Piers Keller made a steeple of his hands, but Sir Gerard met the man's assessment with a level stare of his own. He would not be intimidated by such manners.

"You wish to break the will?" the solicitor asked.

Sir Gerard determined there would be no misunderstanding. "Yes. The money belongs to me and to the estate. It was wrong of my uncle to separate the two. I regard it as proof that his mind was unhinged."

The other man tapped his fingers together. "Sir Nigel

had full use of his mental faculties when he ordered the conditions of the will."

Sir Gerard snorted. "I take leave to doubt that. Look at the results. He must have been mad."

More finger-tapping. "You will find it a difficult proposition to have him declared thus. Until the day of his heart seizure, Sir Nigel remained as alert as any other man. Indeed, he was sharper than most." Keller leaned forward. "Since you were in London, how do you propose to prove your assertion? All the witnesses are here where Sir Nigel lived and where you did not visit."

In frustration, Sir Gerard slammed his fist on the desk, making the quill pens bounce. "You are a solicitor. Certainly I can hire you to overturn the will."

Mild interest appeared on the other man's face. "Do you have the funds to pursue such a course? For I believe it is my duty to warn you the case will be both lengthy and expensive."

Time and money. The two things he could not afford now. Back in London, gambling debts howled to be paid, and that money-lender would not wait forever.

At first his uncle's death had appeared to be a fortuitous blessing, now he faced social ruin if he did not honor his notes. Still the solicitor's attention boded well for his hopes.

He settled back in his chair as hope began to stir within him. "Why should it be so difficult and costly to get the money back? After all, Miss Courtney appears to be only a poor spinster. If I offered her a settlement to avoid the legal hassles, I should think she would be quite happy to return the funds."

"The will is a solid document, designed to withstand challenges."

Sir Gerard permitted himself a smile. "It can still be overturned. If you are not capable of undertaking the task, I will hire someone who is. London has many capable lawyers."

The solicitor stiffened. "/ wrote that will, and it will not be overturned. Not even if you bring your hired legal experts from London. You may regard my abilities as only suitable for the country, but the law rules even in the farthest corners of England. Even in Upper Brampton village."

"That will is a miscarriage of justice!"

Keller stood and frowned. "You will not break this will. No matter how hard you try. It is as solid as the rocks in the ground. Should Miss Courtney ask, my advice will be to refuse any of your settlements. They were not the intentions of Sir Nigel. He was my client for many years, and I will not disobey his wishes."

Sir Gerard heard the conviction in the man's voice and believed it. He could always spend the resources of time and money he did not possess, but the end result would still be his defeat. Although he enjoyed gambling, he knew better than to place his stake against a certain outcome.

The next minutes passed in a blur. Somehow he managed to stand and say all the correct things as he took His farewell of the stiffly polite solicitor, but all he could envision was the social abyss that yawned before him. Nothing, it seemed, could save him.

When Sir Gerard opened the door to exit the office, he met the solicitor's next client. The woman waiting there was now the bane of his existence. Although he glowered at her, Miss Annette Courtney's smile of greeting lit up her rather plain face, and he felt ashamed of his rudeness. It was definitely not proper ton to display one's emotions.

In an effort to recover his manners, he bowed to her. "Good afternoon, Miss Courtney. I trust you are well."

"Thank you, sir, I am." Her voice was crisp with each syllable clearly enunciated. There would be no misunderstanding in her speech.

After the stuffy atmosphere of the office, her brisk manner cut through the fog surrounding him like a brilliant lantern. He peered more closely at her and caught a whiff of her perfume. It was a light scent, which seemed to be at odds with the serviceable dark dress she wore and the practical bonnet. No fashionable woman of his acquaintance would be caught dead in such a contraption. The contradiction between the sweetness of the violet perfume and the severe clothes puzzled him.

To detain her from entering the office, he asked, "Are you here to consult with Mr. Keller?"

"Yes. There are papers I need to sign and plans I wish to discuss."

With his money, but he noticed she did not emphasize the fact. His smile became stiff. He did not begrudge her a new wardrobe, at a modest cost, of course. It was those unspoken "plans" that filled him with dread. Despite the solicitor's warning, Sir Gerard determined he would offer a settlement to this woman, before she wasted his inheritance.

"I have a proposal to place before you," he said.

Her eyes widened in shock. "A proposal?"

Damn! An unfortunate choice of words. Now the adventuress probably anticipated acquiring his title along with his wealth.

"No, not quite a proposal..." He started to clarify his meaning and then paused. Perhaps the title would lure her into listening to him. Once the actual negotiating over the

settlement commenced, certainly her true nature would be revealed. The difficulty would be getting her to agree to only a portion of the money when she now possessed all of it.

Sir Gerard swallowed and began again. "Let us say, an idea I think you will find to be of interest."

"Indeed, sir, you intrigue me greatly."

/ will wager I do interest you, he thought cynically. In the dim lighting, he could not be certain, but he assumed there was a mercenary gleam of interest in her eyes. He stepped forward to look more closely and again caught a whiff of violets.

"Why wait, then? Let me call on you now to discuss my idea." He extended his arm, prepared to escort her from this office.

The solicitor cleared his throat. Sir Gerard had forgotten the man remained in the room.

"Miss Courtney," Keller said, "acting as your representative, I would advise you not to listen to the baronet. He can be a charmingly persuasive man."

She dropped the hand she had placed on Sir Gerard's arm. "Forgive me, I nearly forgot I have an appointment to see Mr. Keller."

An oath struggled for expression within Sir Gerard, but he managed to maintain a polite smile. "Of course, you must keep your commitments." He understood commitments. They were something he was striving to fulfill with regard to his debts.

"I endeavor to be punctual," she said in a prim tone.

"Another time, then, I look forward to being the appointment you keep. Will you be punctual with me?" From his habit of dealing with women, he winked at her.

She drew her breath in sharply at his flirtatious gesture,

and a pleased feeling filled him. He would bet she had not been the recipient of much coquetry, not and yet remain a spinster. At that instant a suggestion sprang into his mind. He would use his charm to regain his money. It had provided for him in the past. It could do the same now.

"But... but of course," she replied, flustered. "Punctuality is a virtue."

"I am certain you are always virtuous." The words left a sour taste in his mouth. It was such self-righteously virtuous people like his uncle who judged him without a hearing.

"No one can be virtuous without God's help."

If her eyes had been cast down, he would have suspected her of false meekness, but she met his gaze directly. Pinned by the surety in her clear brown eyes, it was his turn to feel flustered. "Er, yes, of course. You will not forget I intend to call on you to discuss my ... my proposal?"

"I will not forget," she promised.

He believed her, for she was the type of woman who kept her word. Although unable to prevent her meeting with the solicitor, he thought he might still salvage something from this mess.

"Until then." Sir Gerard bowed his farewell.

When he straightened up, he caught the trace of that elusive violet perfume scenting the air. It was so out of place in the office that he nearly sniffed like a hunting dog. Maintaining his composure, he retrieved his hat and gloves from the clerk and stepped outside. The cold air stung his cheeks, clearing the stuffiness of the solicitor's rooms from his mind. Pulling his hat lower on his head, he welcomed the chill because it served to sharpen his wits. He would need every bit of cleverness he possessed to wheedle his money free from this adventuress.

Slowing his stroll to the livery, he was no longer certain his charm would work. The clarity of her gaze as it met his shook him deeply. He continued to name her an adventuress, but she was unlike the London ladies with whom he was familiar. They simpered at his coquetry and responded with outrageous quips of their own.

At the reading, he had judged Annette Courtney plain. How had he overlooked the strength and determination that were obviously so much a part of her character? From the way she held her shoulders straight, not hiding her tall height, to the way she faced him directly, even when his words flustered her, she was different. The discrepancy bothered him. It could be harder than he had anticipated retrieving his money.

He collected his beloved horse, Silver Shadow, from the stables. He rubbed the gray stallion's nose and listened to his nickers of welcome. Animals never judged him. They gave their loyalty without question.

"Did they treat you royally?" he asked the horse.

The animal nudged him back playfully. When Sir Gerard mounted and headed home, his problems still weighed on his mind, but the feel of the strongly muscled horse beneath him lessened those worries.

He exulted in the way they moved together down the wet, snowy lanes. He did not race because Silver Shadow was too precious to risk, yet he rejoiced at the sting of the wind against his face and the sound of his horse's hooves echoing in the winter quiet. He was still master here.

Amazingly, even though it was January, a whiff of springtime violets seemed to hang in the air.

Gkaptet £Mtee

Annette had expected there would be piles of paperwork associated with her inheritance, but she had not anticipated the amount of detail her new wealth required. It overwhelmed her, forcing her meeting with Sir Gerard from the center of her attention. She had signed her name so often that her pen needed re-sharpening.

Despite having lived in Upper Brampton all of her life, she discovered how little she knew of the village's financial underpinnings. Naturally, the entailed farms were not a part of her inheritance, but she could claim ownership to several prime parcels of pastureland, including the lush Green Meadow. She also held an interest in several shops, which the solicitor assured her would provide her with a steady income. The sum he quoted made her wonder how the merchants earned any profit.

"However," Piers Keller continued with his list, only this time Annette noticed an almost pained frown on his face, "you will not be receiving anything from the old warehouse. Ever since that new storage place opened down south, the farmers have preferred to take their crops over there."

"You mean that great empty building behind the general store is mine, too?" Annette had always assumed it belonged to the shopkeeper.

Keller nodded. "Yes, Sir Nigel accepted it in place of a defaulted loan, but he never kept it up. Now the repairs would be so expensive, the place could never turn a profit. You might as well let it fall down on its own."

"Falling down was not the fate I was considering," she said. Her dream of a village school leapt fully formed into her mind. She could see the children eagerly seated in rows on their benches as they learned. Perhaps now she could see those children gathered in reality.

She leaned forward to mention the school when she realized the solicitor had continued with his enumeration of her possessions.

"There is quite a bit of money tied up in securities. I would not recommend that you sell them, because they are currently giving a solid yield of two percent." He wagged his finger at her. "You never want to make the mistake of selling your capital. Live within your means."

"I certainly intend to do so," she replied, wondering how he thought she had managed before on a far littler income. "What will the amount of interest be?"

He harrumphed and stared at her sternly. "You should receive about one thousand pounds annually. I can advance you fifty pounds today. You will receive the remainder once the bank is instructed that you are the new owner."

"A thousand pounds!" Annette echoed weakly. "With fifty for today!"

She was grateful she was sitting down because the news caused black spots to swim before her eyes. The smell of book leather, paper, and candle wax over-

whelmed her as her sight faded. She had never had much use for women who fainted, but for the first time in her life, a swoon was possible.

"Miss Courtney! Are you all right?"

With a start, Annette realized she had slumped in her chair. The solicitor stood beside her. He patted her wrists, his brow twisted with concern.

"May I get you something? Water?" He hesitated. "Or would you prefer some ratafia?"

Annette smiled slightly. Her mind clearing, she doubted such a female drink would be available in such a masculine enclave as a solicitor's office. "You actually have some ratafia here?"