Anything but Love (The Putney Brothers Book 1)

by Elizabeth Bramwell

  "He's cashed in her capital," said their father, not mincing his words.

  This time it was Charles who swore.

  "How is that possible?" asked John. "Her money was tied up in investments and funds, and it's notoriously difficult to cash those things in."

  "It seems that Hillis did not choose the more trustworthy of bankers to take care of his fortunes," said Sir Joseph as he took another sip of wine.

  "Who, Fauntleroy?" said John. Everyone looked at him in surprise. "What?"

  "How did you know where Gordon banks?" asked Charles. "He's my closest friend in the world, and I'd struggle to tell you where he keeps his money."

  John rolled his eyes. "Don't you remember me telling you all about Marsh & Sibbald? Some of my fellow officers had entrusted their earnings to the son of the owner, Henry Fauntleroy, and were making exceptionally fine returns as a result. Perry almost doubled his investments when we got back from Waterloo and was able to purchase his next rank as a result."

  "I remember that," said Harry. "I thought you were crackers at the time. No bank can make that kind of profit."

  "Marsh & Sibbald are," insisted John. "Lord, it puts a whole new picture on how much Headley has stolen from Marianne."

  "Indeed," said Sir Joseph, studying his middle son with a grim expression. " Hillis invested both his own fortune and Marianne's at Marsh & Sibbald, under the direct supervision of Fauntleroy. That's why her cousin was able to steal so much from her."

  "Nonsense, it's the same bank as I use, and I've never had any cause for complaint," said John. "It's perfectly above board, Father. Fauntleroy is considered a genius with money, and has made excellent returns for us all."

  "Why you would not trust Child's with your fortune is something I cannot comprehend," said Sir Joseph, momentarily distracted. "If it's good enough for Charlie and Harry to follow my advice, why wouldn't you?"

  "Because I have a deep dislike of Lady Jersey knowing my financial worth to the penny," said John, practically glaring at them all. "She has not forgiven me for turning down her proposition, although I suspect it was my uniform rather than my face that attracted her."

  Sir Joseph shook his head. "If you must go outside of Childs then so be it, but at least consider another bank, my boy. Any bank but Marsh & Sibbald! You cannot trust Fauntleroy; he allowed Mr Headley to withdraw all of Marianne's wealth until she is down to her last hundred. He cashed out every investment, even the bonds, and took the lot."

  "Gordon would not have given him such power, surely," said Harry in disbelief. "He'd have to state explicitly that Headley had such power."

  Sir Joseph's smile twisted. "According to Fauntleroy, a note from Hillis stating that Headley could withdraw sums for Marianne whenever she had need of pin money was enough to be considered permission to withdraw the lot. After all, Fauntleroy couldn't know what needs Marianne would have, so he relied on Mr Headley's integrity."

  Charles gripped the arms of his chair. The desire to go haring down to Clun and beat Cuthbert senseless was almost too strong to resist, and only the knowledge that the wretch might not be there kept him in his seat.

  "You can hardly blame Fauntleroy under the circumstances," said John, oblivious to the look of utter disbelief Harry was throwing at him. "There was a letter granting permission to Headley, after all."

  "Because any fool would know the intention behind that note was not for the girl's fortune to be used to repay Headley's debts," snapped Sir Joseph. "Any court in the land will find that he stole from the girl, and at best, your friend Fauntleroy is guilty of being negligent in his duty. Use your brain, boy! A bank willingly letting go of their investments in such a way? No, there's something rotten at that bank, mark my words."

  "I'll have to marry her," murmured Charles, but no one paid any attention to him.

  "What about Gordon's investments? Did Headley take those?" asked Harry. "I would guess he added a clause making his own money available to cover any incidentals while he was away."

  "Yes, but considerably less than he has stolen from Marianne," said Sir Joseph, his expression returning to a grimace. "Thankfully most of Gordon's money is tied up so tightly in trusts and legal binding that Headley could not dip into it without drawing too much suspicion on himself."

  "But Fauntleroy-" began John, but their father cut him off before he could finish the thought.

  "Fauntleroy was not so foolish as to draw the attention of lawyers and Gordon's trustees to his bank. The result is that while Hillis has suffered a small loss, his sister has been rendered penniless."

  "You cannot blame the bank for the actions of Headley, and least of all Fauntleroy, who is generous to a fault," said John, showing a rare display of temper. "No doubt Headley will be forced to pay everything back-"

  "With what?" demanded Sir Joseph. "He's spent it, you fool! He's to his eyeballs in mortgages and loans, even after he used Marianne's money to stave off the worst of the pending disasters. because he went straight back out and incurred even more debt than he originally had!"

  "He bought that Tilbury last year," muttered Harry. "He was driving it around when he attended the races last year. All show and no substance, much like his horses."

  "Just because I did not follow your advice over investments does not mean that I'm ignorant on financial matters, nor does it mean that my ability to judge a man's character is lacking," John snapped at their father.

  Harry winced, and there was a brief silence as Sir Joseph's anger started to gather like an oncoming storm.

  "Is Headley still a danger to Marianne?" Charles demanded loudly.

  It had the desired effect, and his father's rage disappeared as he turned his focus back to the matter at hand.

  "I believe so. If he marries the poor girl, Hillis will be forced to repay the most pressing of Headley's debts in order to protect Marianne."

  "But you don't think that's his intention, do you?" said Charles grimly.

  His father hesitated a moment before shaking his head.

  "I'm afraid that he'll kill her in order to keep his treachery a secret," said Sir Joseph. "John, do not argue with me on this matter! Fauntleroy will remain silent because he has no wish to draw attention to his behaviour during this incident. The only person that can prove the money was withdrawn without Marianne's approval is Marianne herself, and if she were gone, then his troubles are as well."

  "Murder is hardly something a normal person would do," said Harry, looking ill at the thought.

  "But it's something a desperate man might try," said Charles, his eyes locking with those of his father. "He's a threat to Gordon as well, isn't he? Headley would inherit everything with both siblings dead."

  Which meant that wedding Marianne would not protect her.

  Charles had no idea how that made him feel about anything.

  "This is madness," said John, thrusting a hand through his hair. "This is utter madness!"

  "I hope that's all it is," said Sir Joseph, finally getting up to his feet. "This ball is a ridiculous idea under the circumstances, but there's nothing we can do to cancel it now. Phillips will make sure there are enough men on the estate to watch the house, people we can trust. I want you all on your guard from this point on, and whatever you do, don't let Marianne leave the ballroom! Tomorrow we'll tell her everything, and set out to find her brother. Until then, my boys, her life is quite literally in your hands. Do not disappoint me!"

  "As though we'd let anyone hurt Marianne," scoffed Harry.

  Charles couldn't have put it better himself.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It quickly became apparent that when Lady Putney threw a small party, she actually meant she was hosting something on a far grander scale. Not only was every neighbour Marianne had met been invited, but several more of various ranks, including the Earl of Powis himself.

  Where she had found a band to play in the ballroom, or how she had been able to hire extra footmen and maids to attend to her guests, Marianne could not guess. She
was casually informed by Lizzie that there would be five or six couples staying with the Putneys overnight, the Earl among them, for their journey was a little too far to make the return trip now it seemed like bad weather would reach them.

  "A storm, tonight of all nights," Lady Putney had muttered as the family formed up for the receiving line. "Perfect weather all week, of course, but now we must have a storm!"

  "It will not prevent anyone from attending, my love," Sir Joseph had replied. "As much as I wish many of them would stay at home, no one can resist partaking of your wonderful entertainments!"

  Eustacia had commanded Marianne to keep her company in the ballroom until guests started to arrive. "Hester is always twittery before these events. She knows in London that people will attend, but in the country, where there are greater distances for guests to travel, she worries that they will not make an effort."

  "Has that ever happened?" asked Marianne.

  "Not for thirty years," said Eustacia, "but she had never forgotten the one time that it did. Now, have you got your dance card to hand?"

  "Yes, Godmama, and I have a sewing kit and spare ribbons in my reticule, alongside the small vial of smelling salts you insisted I bring, although why I would need them is beyond my comprehension."

  "Because waifish chits like you always faint at balls," said her Godmama. "No, I don't mean you personally, child, but young girls in general! One should always be prepared for every eventuality."

  "I have learned so very much from you," said Marianne, a wave of fond affection flooding over her. "I could almost forgive Cuthbert for stealing from me, if only because I gained a dear Godmama out of it."

  She leant forward and gave the older woman an impulsive hug, the ostrich plumes of Mrs Melthwaite's turban tickling her ears as she did so.

  "Don't be so foolish, child," said her Godmama, although there was an obvious lump in her throat as she gave Marianne a quick squeeze back. "You've made me feel ten years younger, like I still had a daughter to see suitably situated in the world. I should be thanking you for keeping me entertained!"

  Marianne drew back, the smile on her lips feeling like the first truly genuine one she'd felt there for years.

  "You are the best of Godmamas," she said.

  Her Godmama wiped a thumb beneath each eye. "Control your sensibilities, Marianne, or we shall both start crying, and I have no wish to look like a hag!"

  Marianne gave a burst of laughter and rubbed gently beneath her own eyes. Lizzie and Wilson, at the behest of the older ladies, had decided that a little powder on her cheeks and some blackening on her lashes was acceptable since she was still thin and drawn from the events of the last month. She had no wish to have her cosmetics running down her cheeks, for she'd been so pleased with the magic worked by the two maids that she did not want to ruin their hard work.

  A robe of white satin served as the base of her dress and was covered by a fine white gauze with the tiniest spangle stars serving as the only decoration on the skirts. The front of the bodice was unadorned, although the white satin sash at her waist proudly displayed the only piece of jewellery on her body - the tiny silver horseshoe broach, it's wicked pin holding it firmly in place. Her reticule, made from the scraps of white satin Lizzie had gathered from Miss Fletchley, was a simple round bag, but Marianne had not been able to resist giving it a touch of her own, so a white and silver snake now twisted about the front, and she had plans to add a dragon on the back when time allowed.

  Her hair, expertly tousled by the hand of Lizzie, would have made Caro Lamb weep with envy had she seen it, and Marianne had the pleasure of knowing that she was making a stir as the Putney's guests began to arrive by the dozen. She did not consider herself vain, or even particularly pretty when she thought about her London friends, but Marianne knew that for tonight, at least, she looked striking, and she was determined to make the most of it.

  "Marianne, you look perfect!" said Patience as she crossed the room with a wide smile. "It's enough to make me wish to crop my own hair if I thought I could be a waif!"

  "Not when you're such a long meg," said the young girl at her side. "The only way you'd be considered ethereal is if you were a ghost."

  Patience's smile froze, and she threw Marianne a frustrated look.

  "Miss Hillis, may I present to you my demon of a sister, Miss Ursula Swancoat?"

  "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Swancoat," said Marianne, mentally placing the girl at about fifteen years of age.

  "You're the reason I have to go spend time at the vicarage," said Ursula in an accusatory tone. "You could have invited me to walk around the grounds with you instead, you know."

  "Ursula," hissed Patience, but Marianne couldn't help grinning.

  "Now that I know you are happy doing something as dull as walking sedately about Putney Manor, I will, of course, invite you to join me each day," she replied.

  She could see Ursula thinking this proposition over, and examining it for traps.

  "I might accept," she said eventually. "It depends if I have something better to do. Have you met my father?"

  Ursula turned to nod towards an older man making his way slowly towards them, a footman acting as his support on the way.

  "No, I haven't had the pleasure," said Marianne, and made her bow when Mr Swancoat finally joined their party.

  "Miss Marianne, I presume," said Mr Swancoat, his voice trembling. "I have heard so much about you."

  "And I you, Mr Swancoat," she replied. "May I introduce you to my Godmama?"

  "No need, no need," he said with a shake of his hand. "Good evening, Eustacia! How is your husband these days? Still importing that fine Portuguese wine?"

  "Jasper, how good to see you again," said her Godmama with real warmth. "As it happens, we purchased an excellent crate only recently, and laid aside twelve bottles just for you."

  "Father is very fond of the Melthwaites," Patience whispered

  "Fond of their wine, more like," muttered Ursula, her eyes straying about the room. "Oh, Theodosia just arrived! I'll be with her if you want me, Patience. Not that you ever do."

  Marianne tried not to laugh as Patience flung her eyes up to the Heavens to ask for strength.

  Mr Swancoat was younger than she'd first supposed. He was tall like his daughter, but too thin for a man of his height and build. Even when he was obviously enjoying his conversation with Godmama, his eyes darted about the room, as though looking for an attack, and he held himself like a deer who thought a predator was near. It was only when his gaze fell on Patience that he seemed to relax, her presence reassuring him.

  Combined with the harpy that was Ursula, it was no wonder that her friend looked so tired all the time.

  "I think Lady Putney invited the whole county to the ball," Marianne confided to her friend. "My dance card is already half full - although both John and Harry insisted on two dances each, so it's not quite the achievement it sounds like."

  "This is only half the number Lady Putney invites to the Yule Ball,” said Patience, her eyes dancing, "but then all the tenants come to that, as well as the children, so it is more a chaotic romp than anything else!"

  "How wonderful," said Marianne, immediately linking the idea. "We have always spent winter quietly with the Headleys, and I doubt we will be continuing that tradition any longer. Oh, I must tell you something, for I no longer need to worry!"

  "What is it," asked Patience, leaning close so that they could whisper.

  "Cuthbert has stolen everything from me, down to the last penny," she said with more cheer than such a theft should warrant. "Don't look so horrified - I know I should be terribly angry, but I'm not, truly. If I have no money, then my cousin cannot afford to marry me after all, so I no longer have to fear abduction!"

  "How... delightful," said Patience, looking far from happy at this disclosure.

  "Patience, please understand," said Marianne, determined to make someone see her point of view. "If I am in no danger from Cuthbert, then
Charles has no reason to marry me. In fact, if I have no fortune either, then there's no motive for marrying me at all, beyond affection and... and perhaps love."

  Her friend's eyes softened. "Oh Marianne," she sighed, but as Ursula chose that moment to come bounding back over they could not continue their conversation.

  "One of the brothers wants you," the girl said to Marianne as she studied her with a frank, probing gaze. "I would have paired you with Harry if aesthetics were the main concern, but Patience says you and Charlie are in love with each other, and I suppose you could make it work."

  "Ursula!" screeched Patience, looking mortified.

  "He needs to wear brighter waistcoats, though," continued Ursula as though her sister hadn't spoken. "Otherwise he'll look like a wall of darkness beside you. Men really shouldn't wear so much black, but apparently, Beau Brummell's opinion accounts for more than mine."

  "I will keep your advice in mind," said Marianne, desperately trying to keep a straight face. "Where must I go to meet him?"

  "The hothouses," said Ursula. "I think. Look, I have to get back to Theodosia before she decides that fainting will draw more attention to her than to Marianne. She can be very foolish, but she's my friend, so I have to take care of her."

  "I want to adopt your sister," declared Marianne as Ursula walked away with the grace of a drill sergeant.

  "Please do," sighed Patience. Then her brows began to furrow. "What do you suppose that message was all about? Is it Charles, do you think?"

  Marianne glanced at her dance card, where Harry's name stubbornly refused to exchange itself with that of his brother.

  "No, for he will be leading one of the other ladies out for the first dance, soon, and I'm supposed to partner with Harry. Not that I can see him, come to think of it? Can you?"

  Patience, using her height to her advantage, looked around the ballroom on Marianne's behalf.

  "No, I don't think I can."

  Marianne shook her head. "It's probably just some game of his," she said, "you know what Harry is like. He probably wants me to help him fix a pineapple to his lapel, or something equally ridiculous."