The Devil and the Heiress

by Harper St. George

  “Is everything all right?” Helena asked.

  Violet nodded, but she didn’t know.

  “I don’t have to tell you how much this means to us. We can help to improve so many lives. Many more children will be able to be raised by their mothers instead of given away. We can train and educate even more women to improve the jobs available to them.”

  “Yes, it’s wonderful. I shall tell Christian myself how his gift has been received.” It was wonderful. The unease swirling in her belly was due to the fact that he hadn’t told her any of this.

  Helena smiled. “You must be very proud of him.”

  “Well, yes . . .” There was something more in Helena’s eyes, something lurking behind that statement. “Why do you say that?”

  Helena rose and walked over to the desk where newspapers had been left to pile up in various stages of being read. Rifling through them, she retrieved the one she was looking for. “He had an essay published on the need to reform married women’s rights. It’s caused quite a stir among the stodgy set.”

  Violet accepted the newspaper from her. She had stopped reading the papers when the gossips had decided her relationship with her husband was too much to ignore. When they had begun to write of the rift between them, she had told Winston to keep all the papers for himself.

  The article’s headline read, “Marriage Turns Devilish Earl into a Saint for Women.” The reporter began by outlining the argument Christian laid out in his essay: that married women should possess their own legal identities and be allowed to control their own assets. The reporter referred to the essay as “a love letter to his wife.” She couldn’t help but smile at that. Was that why Christian had written it? Was he wanting to win her back, or did he really believe those things? Or were both possible?

  The piece went on to discuss speeches Christian had given earlier in the summer regarding protections for women and children who worked in factories. She hadn’t known about those. While some supported his stand, the newspaper maintained that many were offended by his insinuation that those needs exist. The article even commented on the fact that the Belgravia house was staffed by only women, as if it were further proof of Christian’s taking the side of the women. The assertion wasn’t quite true, given that Winston and Thomas still held their positions, but close enough to the truth to print, apparently.

  “Leigh’s essay is on the next page if you want to read it,” said Helena.

  Violet turned the page and skimmed his words, hearing them spoken in his voice in her head. He admitted with humility that he had not deigned to notice the abysmal state of the law in regards to women until his own wife had been forced to hand over complete control of her finances to him. He had been unable to find a legal way for her to even receive an allowance from her family without it passing through him. He had looked! A tender ache swelled in her chest. If he was so troubled by the law, then certainly he had been telling the truth about not wanting her settlement. Love unfurled in her heart after months of shielding itself.

  “He has changed so much since your marriage, Violet. You’ve influenced him for the better.”

  She saw his face as it had been that night in their tiny bedchamber above the Mitchells’ kitchen when she had mentioned marriage. A shy and tender sort of hope had passed over his features as he had offered his heart to her. These actions she would believe from that man. Perhaps that man was who he really was. Perhaps the man before, the man who had schemed to marry her for his own will, the man who had lied to her, was not who he was at all, not underneath where it mattered.

  “I don’t believe that people truly change,” she said.

  It was true of her parents. This mercenary side of them had always been present. Violet had realized that over time as she had examined their actions here in London and compared them to their actions back home. They were the same people, but circumstances had changed. Perhaps the same could be said of Christian. Perhaps he had been warm until circumstances he had faced as a child had made him cold to protect himself. It didn’t mean that the warmth was gone, only that it had been hidden deep. She had gotten too many glimpses of his warmth to think it had never existed.

  “This side of him has always been present.” No matter what else had happened, that much was true. She was certain of it.

  “Well, you certainly brought more of it out of him, my dear.”

  She had. Being together had brought out the best in both of them. If she was right about that, then she had wasted so much time.

  “Helena, I’m sorry, but I must be going.” It was late afternoon, and she still had to drive home to retrieve her ledger before going to Mr. Clark’s office before he left for the day. She would get to the bottom of this right now. Knowing where he had acquired the funds for the donation would answer a few of her questions.

  “Of course.” The woman rose with her. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  She called out a quick goodbye and hurried to her carriage, giving her direction to her driver. On the entire drive, she wondered if perhaps she had been as right as she had been wrong. Infatuation would have passed, so what she still felt for him was love. It wasn’t a spell or a trick. It was her own heart. But how could she trust him if he had done what logic said that he must have? If he had used her funds for the donation?

  Traffic was slow, and with the stop at home it was an hour later when she stepped into Mr. Clark’s office. She had only been here once before, because he usually came to her home. She wasn’t surprised that his clerk failed to recognize her.

  “Good afternoon, madam.” The young man stood and gave her a respectful once-over, though the creases in his forehead wondered what she was doing here.

  “Good afternoon. I do not have an appointment, and I apologize for bursting in like this, but I must speak to Mr. Clark at once.” She glanced toward the closed office door beyond, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man through the glass.

  “My apologies, madam, but he is extremely busy. If you would like, I can make an appointment for you.” He was already pulling an appointment diary from underneath the papers littering his desk.

  “No, I must speak with him now. Tell him Lady Leigh is here.”

  The man dropped the book, his eyes wide in shock. “I shall try, my lady.” With that he knocked on the door once before disappearing inside. When he returned a moment later, it was to nearly run into her standing at the door awaiting him. “Yes, he will see you now.”

  She walked through the open door to see Mr. Clark hurrying into the coat he had arranged on the back of his chair. Several ledgers were open on his desk as if she had caught him in the midst of working on something important. “My apologies, Mr. Clark. Thank you for agreeing to see me, and I hope to not take up too much of your time.”

  “Of course, my lady.” Pushing his spectacles into place on his nose, he indicated she should seat herself across from him. As she accepted, he hurried to close the ledgers and stack them in an orderly fashion on his desk.

  When she had first met him, she had noted he was younger than she had expected for a solicitor, probably Christian’s age. The solicitors she knew from Papa were all well into middle age with portly builds from all the hours spent at their desks. From their earlier conversations, she had gleaned that Mr. Clark seemed very capable, plus he had worked for Christian and Montague Club for several years now. Rothschild and August also recommended him. She was certain that she would get the truth from him.

  “What may I do for you today, my lady?” he asked, taking his seat behind his desk.

  “I have come because I would like to see the ledgers you keep for my accounts.”

  “Of course you have that right, my lady, but might I ask if there is something specific you are looking for?” His gaze went to the ledger she held in her lap.

  Unable to meet his gaze, since she was questioning his
very earnestness, she said, “I have brought my own ledger from home where I have kept track of the renovation outlays and my own personal expenses over the last months. I would compare them with your own records.”

  To her relief, he didn’t seem offended, but merely curious. “Is there a problem with your allowance? As you know, your renovations have come out of a different account.”

  “Yes, I know. I have kept the accounts separate here as well.” She tapped to indicate the heavy ledger in her lap. “If I may but look at your ledgers and compare.”

  He gave her a nod and rose to pull open a drawer in a cabinet farther behind his desk, his movements slow but precise as if he still questioned her intent. Retrieving a file held closed with string, he unwound it and presented her with a piece of parchment from within. “Perhaps it would be best to start from the end and work our way back if need be. This is your statement of account from July for your allowance, and here is the one for your general funds. I am content to send my clerk to your bank should you need a statement from them to verify the amounts match. If you find they are not as you expected, we can certainly delve into the ledgers to determine why.”

  She studied the papers; each of them held columns of figures labeled debits or credits along with the category the funds or expenditures had been sorted into. Max and August had spent time explaining the concept to her back when she had originally begun investing her own money with her brother’s assistance. They were not foreign concepts, and her own ledger was arranged in a similar fashion. The problem was that both totals were very near to what she had been expecting.

  “This seems to be as it should,” she said.

  When Mr. Clark was quiet, she risked looking up at him. “Forgive me, but you seem startled by that. Have I given you cause to doubt my stewardship, my lady?” Twin lines of concern formed between his brows.

  “No, Mr. Clark, you have been very kind and capable. It isn’t you that I question. It is only that I received news today, and I am uncertain what it means.”

  She knew the moment he understood what she was talking about. His brows rose and his eyes cleared of uncertainty. Taking the papers back, he stuffed them into the file and placed it upon the desk as he retook his seat.

  “I am certain you understand that I must commit myself to the confidence of my clients,” he said.

  “Yes, I understand. But I would have it confirmed that Lord Leigh directed you to donate a significant amount to a charity organized by Lady Helena March.”

  He swallowed. “I cannot betray his confidence in the matter, as much as I might wish to, my lady.”

  “Fine, but you could tell me if he used my money to do such a thing. I am correct in thinking that he could use my money if he so chose?”

  “Yes, if he chose to utilize your funds in that way, then there would be nothing stopping him, but having been acquainted with both your wishes and the wishes of Lord Leigh, I feel confident in assuring you that he is a man of character in that regard.”

  She breathed out a sigh of relief, and the fist of dread that had made itself known since her chat with Helena completely loosened its grip on her heart. “Then where did he obtain the funds for such an endeavor?”

  Lips pursed, he appeared pained by the question. “I cannot say, my lady.”

  The first gust of anger roused within her. “You cannot say. Could you say if the positions were reversed? If I were the one spending large sums and he came in demanding to know where they had been obtained, could you say then?”

  His mouth opened, but then he closed it again and could not meet her eyes. “I can no more control the law than I can control where Lord Leigh chooses to spend his money.”

  “Of course you can’t. I merely wish to know a simple thing. Where did my husband get the money for the donation?”

  “Lady Leigh, certainly you can understand the position you put me in. If Lord Leigh wishes to keep the sale of his private property to himself, then I cannot go against his will in this. As much as I wish it were otherwise, I cannot tell you.”

  She gasped at that. His private property. As far as she was aware, the only property owned by him was the house in Belgravia, Amberley Park, and Blythkirk. Perhaps also the club, but Jacob and Rothschild owned part of it as well. Since her home was safe, Amberley Park was entailed and picked clean as far as she could ascertain, that left Blythkirk, or his portion of the club. “He would never sell his portion of Montague Club. Besides, it’s his only reliable income.” Aside from the annuity from the investments Mr. Clark had arranged with the bulk of her settlement. “It would be far too early to recognize any of the income from the annuity, yes?”

  “Correct, my lady, it would be foolish of him to sell his interest in Montague Club at this time.”

  “Then Blythkirk. He sold Blythkirk?”

  “My lady, as I have mentioned, his will is that all matters are kept private.”

  She stared at him, unable to believe that Christian had sold the one thing that had meant the most to him, the one thing that had started all of this. Without his love for Blythkirk, and the fire that had nearly destroyed it, he wouldn’t have attempted to run away with her. “Blink if he sold Blythkirk.”

  He blinked.

  Chapter 25

  Lord Lucifer might have the Devil in his eyes, but his heart belonged to Rose, and she planned to keep it safe for all of her days.

  V. Lennox, An American and the London Season

  Christian grabbed the bar and pulled himself up until his feet left the floor and his chin rose over it. Pushing out the breath he’d been holding, he allowed himself to drop back down in a slow and controlled movement. He repeated the exercise in three sets of ten repetitions until the muscles in his arms, shoulders, and core screamed for mercy. Even then he did one more set to make certain he was good and exhausted.

  Physical exertion was the only way he could get to sleep anymore. It couldn’t all be alcohol induced, not when he had full days scheduled and needed a clear head. He had taken to retiring to the gymnasium in the club most nights after the majority of patrons had left for the evening. He would finish his shift on the floor and then come here to relieve his excess energy and frustrations on the equipment. The room had originally been a ballroom. It was large and still boasted the fine wallpaper, moldings, and chandelier that had graced it when Thea had presided over the house. The ring in the corner was where most of their scheduled fights among the patrons and exhibitions occurred. The rest held equipment for exercise.

  Sweat dripped from his hair and ran down his back as he let his feet touch the floor, a twinge of pain darting through his ankle.

  “Ready now, milord?” Kostas, the attendant, asked, walking over with linen and batting to wrap his hands. Hitting the sandbag was how Christian preferred to end all of his exercise sessions.

  “Yes, thank you.” Christian held the batting to his knuckles while Kostas wrapped the linen between his fingers before winding it around the cotton and his hand.

  “You simply cannot—my lady, this is not done. We have confidentiality to maintain.” A commotion sounded from outside the open double doors. Christian recognized the voice of the club’s night butler a moment before he heard a feminine voice say in a distinctly American accent, “I do not care for your confidentiality agreement. Had you fetched my husband like I asked, this wouldn’t be necessary.”

  Violet! Hand wraps not yet tied off, he hurried to the door just as she rushed into the room. She paused and looked faintly appalled when she saw him. The initial burst of joy he felt turned to caution. Shirtless in breeches and boots, his usual costume for bare-knuckle brawling matches that he had taken to wearing while exercising, he understood how he must look to her. Beastly and unrefined. His true nature. Perhaps it was only right that she saw him like this. There should be no pretending between them, not anymore.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked
. It was late, and she wasn’t dressed for a ball. He couldn’t fathom what had brought her here at all, much less at this hour. He didn’t dare think that she was here for any sort of reconciliation. He wouldn’t be able to deal with the disappointment when he learned he was wrong. Something must have happened to make her barge into the club.

  She appeared to have trouble finding her voice, swallowing several times and looking away only to look back at him. The two other men who had been using the equipment had paused to watch them. “I think so. I must speak with you now, though. Privately.”

  Assured that she was well, he began unwrapping his hands. “We can go to my suite.” At her nod of agreement, he handed the wraps off to Kostas and accepted the length of toweling in return. He wiped his face of sweat and shrugged into the dressing gown Kostas held for him.

  The butler gave a huff but left them. Without a word, Christian accepted his cane from the attendant before leading her through the empty back rooms to the corridor that led to the second floor, which was where they all kept their personal rooms. The entire time he was aware of her, silent and rigid next to him, her censure a near tangible thing. If he had held any hope that her visit was a conciliatory one, he would have been mistaken. Luckily, he had given up that hope long ago as a fool’s blind faith.

  Holding the door open for her, he followed her inside and closed it behind them. It made a deceptively quiet but ominous click. Suddenly, he was afraid to let her talk. Afraid that she would say the very words he knew to be true but had not been able to face this whole time. She wanted a divorce. He could not bring himself to imagine that she wanted anything else, not after her months of silence. If she asked for a divorce, he would be powerless to do anything except give it to her, but not before he shamed himself by falling to his knees and begging her to stay.