He came around the table and took her hand, forcing her to put the book she was holding back on the table. “I believe Sir James is about to find for me.” He grimaced. “I never imagined it would come to this. That I would become the marquess.”
“Not even when Louis claimed the title?”
He turned away, shrugging carelessly. “It crossed my mind. But only as a passing thought.” He sighed. “I was intent on my military career.”
“Do you have to sell out?”
He nodded dolefully. “I must marry and start my nursery. In many ways, I envy you. You have the chance to make your own future. Mine is set out for me. I have to restore this estate and make babies.”
“Do you have your eye on anyone?” she asked brightly. He would have his pick of the crop next season.
“I’ll go up to London and make my selection. That’s how it is done, isn’t it?” He brightened. “I could court Miss Childers. She’s a very beautiful woman, and healthily rich. What more could a man want?”
Dorothea laughed. “Many men have tried before you and failed. She refuses to marry.”
William raised a dark brow. “I have not courted her yet.”
She’d heard men say that before. Dorothea let the topic drop and busied herself closing the tomes. “I had thought to read through all these, but I’m not sure we’ll have the time.”
“You’re not planning to stay?”
She shrugged, surprised how little the place meant to her. The house was lovely. Most women in her position would have been thrilled to become a marchioness, but that didn’t matter next to the prospect of being with Ben and making a new life with him. “We’ll probably take ship for Boston as soon as we can. It’s September already, so Ben won’t want to delay for long.”
“Good.” Deep satisfaction colored William’s voice. “And you’re sure you found nothing in these?”
She shook her head. “Nothing except a detailed history of the family. No additions to describe the current generation.”
His eyes gleamed as he closed a book. “We’ll have to see about continuing the story. How would you describe our recent problems?”
“A confusion over inheritance.”
He opened one of the books she’d just closed and flicked through the pages.
Lifting the next two volumes, Dorothea went to the bookcase and slid them onto the shelf. But these proved recalcitrant; something was stopping them from resting in their proper places. She put the books on the floor and reached to the back of the dusty shelves, bracing herself for the scurry of a spider, or worse, a dead rodent blocking the space.
Instead, her fingers met paper. Excitement sparkled along her veins. Was she about to make a dazzling discovery? Ancient documents, perhaps? Carefully, so as not to tear the delicate items, she drew out the sheets. Behind them was a large leather-bound volume, tucked well back and pushed flat against the wall.
Stacking the loose papers on top of the volume, she turned to take them to the table, where the light was better.
But standing before her, preventing that, was William.
“Ah,” he said regretfully. “I wish you had not found those.”
* * * *
Stepping into the munitions room, Ben shivered. If he stayed, he wouldn’t keep the valuable family documents here. There were better ways of ensuring their security while providing a much more comfortable working space. He’d seen a likely room with narrow windows that could have bars set in the stone sills. This dank room couldn’t be good for the documents, some of them ancient, as old as the title.
He flipped open the latest ledger and frowned at the accounts. There was a pattern here, something he wasn’t seeing, but he felt it. He knew something was wrong, and it had been bothering him for a while. Perhaps if he could discover his concern, he could leave with a clear conscience. He’d have done his best.
Becoming engrossed in the book before him, he traced the lines with the tip of his finger.
Yes, there it was. Ah, yes. Why in hell had he not seen this before?
Every month Louis sold something, but the dates didn’t align with the recording of the purchases, the extravagant spending that had been Louis’s downfall. And the debts that had been increasing in frequency in the last two years, the ones he suspected were due to gambling. There was no notation of where the debts were incurred. From what he knew of his late cousin, Louis wouldn’t have been desperate enough to visit the hells. He had no need. His club and the coffeehouse provided ample ways to dissipate a fortune. But if that had happened, the debtors and the places would surely have been recorded.
And they should not be here, in the estate ledgers. They should be in the private accounts. They were in a different hand, barely noticeable in the elegant copperplate, but the pen dug deeper into the paper, and the ink was blacker. The flourish Louis customarily used wasn’t there.
That was it. The different handwriting.
He was onto something. His excitement growing, Ben dragged a piece of paper to where he stood and dipped a fresh quill in the standish. He scribbled a few notes, recorded the debts separately. Looked at them for a pattern.
And he found one.
A swish of silk announced the arrival of Honoria. Ben bit off a curse. Just as he was getting somewhere.
He should have closed the door. What point was a secure room with an open door? Any room he designed would have a self-closing door at the very least, easily accomplished with levers and weights. Too late now.
Without bothering to hide his distrust of her, he stepped behind the table. “May I help you, Honoria?” He stood ready to defend himself, if it should become necessary. After all, he had not discounted Honoria from his list of suspects.
She wasn’t dressed in deep, dramatic black, but her gown was plain and subdued, and she wore no paint on her face. Except for the deep shadows under her eyes, she could be the girl who had first stepped into a London ballroom, excited for her first grown-up ball. “I merely wanted to apologize.”
About to ask about what in particular, he bit off his sarcastic words. They were the last thing she needed now. “There’s no need.”
Her shaky laugh struck him to the heart. This was the first time he’d seen the old Honoria since he’d arrived at Cressbrook House. This was the woman he’d courted and fallen for all those years ago. The society beauty with a sensitive soul, not the sophisticated woman of fashion, excelling at hiding her true self. Or the woman crazed with getting her own way. Did she have a knife somewhere about her person? Would she take the insane risk of trying to kill him now? She wouldn’t have brought a pistol. The shot would bring servants running. Unless she had a plan that would involve implicating him.
Damnation, why had he not taken his own advice and brought someone with him?
He kept the table between them.
“On the contrary, there is need. I know I provoked you and Louis to fight seven years ago. Back then, I thought it was exciting. But I came down to earth quickly when I discovered the results of my flirting. I will not say which man I preferred, and in truth, I did not know. You were the future marquess, and the man my parents preferred. But Louis was the heir, and he thrilled me.”
“So your heart chose him.” That knowledge would have devastated him once. Not now. Perhaps he had pursued her too vigorously or made his attentions too passionate. Now, she was his cousin-in-law, and that was all.
“Yes, it did. And after he died I went out of my mind. I thought of the children—yes, I know people think I abandoned them, but I didn’t. Truly, I haven’t. I just don’t make my attentions too obvious. I dislike people who make their children the center of attention. That happened to me, you know.”
“You must have been a lovely child,” he said without considering what he was saying.
“Yes, I was.” There was no vanity in her voice, just plain fact. Sh
e would have been paraded and indulged. Not the best upbringing for a child. He’d never considered that before, and now guilt suffused him when he recalled how wrapped up he was in his own concerns, his own importance. He’d wanted Honoria, so naturally she would come to him.
Ben ducked his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve misjudged you.”
“Society does that.” The matter-of-fact tone hurt. She was right, especially where women were concerned. His jewel of a wife had been judged too tall, not pretty enough, and then too old. And she’d been forced to accept that fate. Yet she had intelligence, grace, and beauty—yes, beauty.
Honoria continued. “I will return to my parents and take the girls with me.” Her lips twisted. “My father will probably have me married to someone else before the end of the year, but at least the girls will be safe. Whatever happens, they’ll stay with me.” She gave him a wry smile. “I have to admit you made me angry when you arrived at dinner with your new wife. But it is your choice, and the deed is done. Isn’t it?” She sent him a questioning look.
Ben nodded. “I’m very happy.”
“At least one of us is.”
A thought occurred to him. “The estate still holds several small properties. Louis didn’t sell them all. You could take one of those.”
“No.” A bitter tone entered her voice, and she blinked. “If it wasn’t for William, he wouldn’t have had to sell half of what he did. At least half. We spent, but we bought furniture, jewels, clothes, and they can be sold again. They were investments.”
His breath caught in his throat. “What does William have to do with it?”
She stared at him as if he knew something he did not. Except he did—he had just discovered it. Honoria had dropped the final piece onto the chessboard. Now he could see the whole game.
The penny dropped, heavily. Understanding shot through him with the force of a bullet. “When did he incur the debts?”
She rolled her eyes. “When did he not? Every time he went on campaign. Once he had the taste for it, he rarely left the tables before dawn.”
Military men were renowned for betting. Wagers on everything under the sun, even which of their company would die first, although of course that particular wager was banned. It didn’t stop them doing it. “Cards?”
“Dice.”
The word fell like a hammer of doom between them. “So Louis felt obliged to pay his debts?”
She nodded. “The estate he inherited from his father is largely sold, or mortgaged. If Louis inherited, he could have paid off William’s debts and found a way to stop him gambling.”
So William had never conquered his habit. He had merely kept it quiet and told people that he had done so. The youthful folly that both Ben and Louis had grown out of as they found other interests had remained with William and grown to command his life.
And with Louis’s death, that source of income was cut off. If William got the estate, he would wager away the unentailed parts in a fortnight. Ben had seen men—and women—taken with gambling fever. Once it got into the blood, there was no going back, no stopping. William would end his life in a debtor’s prison, perhaps the Fleet, where that fraudulent cleric had pretended to marry Ben’s parents. A strange irony, that.
Ben tried to tell himself he didn’t care, but it wasn’t true. When he’d thought he’d left the estate in safe hands, he was happy to move away. But the blood of his ancestors flowed through his veins. How could he leave the estate for someone to throw away?
He had to. He had no choice.
A drop of black ink fell from the pen he was still holding to the paper below. The one that had revealed the debts had been worst when William was in the field with the army. Only when he’d recalled the pattern of military disputes in the last few years, and where William’s regiment was stationed, did he see it.
But that wasn’t enough to prove anything. Even if he could prove William was a complete and utter villain, Sir James wouldn’t find against him. Primogeniture ruled his thinking. A shame a man couldn’t choose his heir, but even if he could, Ben’s technical illegitimacy would rule him out.
If he couldn’t find the records of his parents’ marriage, he would lose the title and see the estate disgraced. His father’s legacy would be ruined. If he’d considered William worthy, Ben could have walked away with a clear conscience. He couldn’t do that now.
Those records existed; he was sure of it. What if—what if William had found them? Or even Louis?
“Did you help Louis destroy the proof of my parents’ second marriage?” He was taking a chance in assuming that, but it was all he had.
Honoria spun around in a whirl of skirts, facing away from him, toward the door. “I don’t know what you mean. Papers?” She gave an artificial laugh.
She knew, all right. Swiftly, Ben rounded the table and moved in front of her, blocking her exit. He was no longer afraid she would strike him. She was not the murderer, merely a coldhearted woman. “What happened, Honoria?”
Their gazes met. He wouldn’t look away. Let her do that. Let her deny what had happened.
Her shoulders slumped. “Louis didn’t destroy them. He said he’d hidden them in case he needed them. Don’t ask me where, because I do not know. He said the fewer people who knew, the better.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Ben. I couldn’t tell you before Louis...”
She couldn’t become the marchioness now. And now he was convinced she hadn’t killed Louis or persuaded someone to push the cherub off the roof. She certainly hadn’t tried to shoot him at the duck hunt, because she wasn’t there. Louis could have done that, but he had not.
William had done it all. If he, Ben, died, Sir James would find for Louis, which meant William would have his debts paid and be in a position to gamble more recklessly. If Louis died, William would become the marquess. Without the papers, he still would, but if he’d killed his brother, Ben would have to drag the family into a scandal it would never recover from. And his wife, the person who meant more to him than anyone in the world.
For a heartbeat he stopped thinking clearly. But he had to go on.
“Do you think William killed Louis?” He hated putting the question so bluntly, but he needed to know. Honoria understood the men best.
“I don’t know. He could have, but I was asleep.” She hung her head. “I find laudanum helps me to sleep better, and I’ve been getting headaches of late. That’s why I heard nothing.”
Her explanation made perfect sense. A person could sleep through volleys of gunfire under the spell of that drug. “I think they might have argued. They’ve been doing that a lot recently.” She waved helplessly, her gesture graceful even now. “Louis was at his wits’ end. That’s why he took the papers. He only did it after we knew you were back.”
Ben narrowed his eyes. “Where was he likely to hide the papers? Can you think of a clue, something he said?”
She pursed her lips in thought. “He said I would never find them because it was the one room in the house where I never went.”
A man hurtled in without warning. Schultz, his hair ruffled, his face a mask of horror, most unlike his usual calm self. “Sir, madam, one of the footmen heard a cry for help from the library. Then a scream. But the doors are locked. We can’t get in.” He swallowed.
The library! Honoria was not fond of reading, so that was the room she never went into. He’d arranged to go up there later, after he’d finished with the accounts. His wife was in the library.
Pushing past Honoria, he headed for the door at full tilt, his shoes hammering the stone passage as he made his way to the stairs. Behind him people shouted.
If they hadn’t broken that door down by the time he reached it, heads would roll. Not least William’s.
Chapter 28
Dorothea clutched the loose papers to her chest. She no longer doubted what she held. The parish register fell to the floor, landing
with a crash that shook the floorboards. It was a big book. “I have the proofs of marriage, do I not?”
“Yes, you do. I’m so sorry, Dorothea, but I must have them.”
“Why?” She furrowed her brow. Why would he want the title, when he’d been passionate about his army career?
“Because only inheriting will save me.”
That didn’t make sense. “You wanted to go back to the army. You were to become a colonel.”
He nodded. “And I still will. I can go back. I wouldn’t be the first peer of the realm to serve in the army.”
She held the future of William and Ben in her hands. And her own, come to that. She had no doubt she was holding the only official records of the second marriage between Ben’s parents; the one that made him the true heir to the title. The papers crackled as she held them closer to her chest. “I need to show these to Ben and Sir James.”
William raised the stakes when he drew a pistol out of his capacious coat pocket and leveled it at her.
She opened her mouth to call out, but warned him first. “I have a footman outside. He will come at my call.” Surely, he wouldn’t risk being caught like that.
William shook his head. “I sent him away. After all, I am the marquess-elect. And the door is locked.”
She swallowed. That meant he would have time to get away after he’d killed her.
The click of him drawing back the hammer sounded loud in the spacious room. Dorothea fought to keep her breathing steady.
Dorothea took only a second to make her decision. She wouldn’t give him the papers. “You won’t use that here. They’re already looking for Louis’s murderer. They’d think you did that if you shoot me.”
Even now, looking at his handsome face with all the kindness stripped away, she couldn’t believe William had killed his brother. She read desperation in his eyes. She didn’t know why he was doing this, but he was determined.
“He always had a temper, my brother, and he never could control it properly. Ask your husband. Why do you think that duel took place? If they’d let themselves cool down, it would never have happened. So I pushed Louis a little. Only a little.”
The Making of a Marquess Page 30
