by Tamara Gill
Hugo leaned back in his chair. He could feel his temper rising and took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself. “I think you’re forgetting the clause that I’m only to marry an heiress.”
“Are there not plenty of those about town?” His uncle dabbed out his cigar. “I’m sure you could marry some chit who’s after a coronet and can offer blunt in return.”
The image of Miss Fox came to mind, the very woman who could do exactly that. The thought left Hugo cold. He didn’t want Miss Fox. In fact, he didn’t want to marry a woman simply because she had money. “Of course there are women about town like that.” But he didn’t want one of those. Hell, he’d resigned himself to do just that so he could save his tenants and employees–a noble sacrifice–but then he’d gone and kissed Lizzie Doherty, and she’d opened his eyes to how great a sacrifice his actions would be. He wanted to marry a woman who was kind, passionate, and caring. One with whom he could converse and laugh freely, someone with whom he personally melded. He wanted her.
His uncle stood. “I’m sorry, my boy, I know you wanted the meeting today to go a different way, but alas it will not. I’ll not change my mind, so I suggest you marry a rich debutante sooner rather than later, for you only have a week left before I claim the money. If you need me for anything, I’m staying at the Grand Hotel in Covent Garden until I sail on the first of the month.”
Hugo watched him leave, and all his hopes along with them. “Well, that puts paid to that,” he said to Mr. Thompson, meeting his solicitor’s gaze and hating the pity he read in his visage.
“I’m sorry, Lord Wakely. I know this wasn’t what you wanted to hear.”
“No, it wasn’t.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. Whatever would he do? However would he manage the estates without sufficient money? Without funds, it would be impossible to maintain the estates and provide a living for the tenants and staff. And with the homes entailed, he wasn’t able to sell them. They would, over time, simply rot.
“If I may be so bold as to ask if you’ve considered an heiress? A wedding can be arranged in under a week if need be. You may best your uncle yet and keep your money while satisfying your father’s last request.”
“By marrying an heiress, I will lose the woman I do care for. A woman who deserves so much more than what I’ve given her.” He was to meet Lizzie tomorrow, and the thought of telling her the outcome of today’s meeting left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. Although they had not spoken of marriage, the affection he felt for her, the hints he’d given to her, would no doubt have alerted her to his wanting more. And now he could give her nothing, for he was ruined. She deserved so much better than him.
Hugo stood, taking his gloves and walking stick from a waiting clerk. “Thank you, Mr. Thompson, for your assistance today. I’ll see myself out.” He left, and, making the street outside, stood for a moment in the warm afternoon sun. Still, he was chilled. What was he going to do? Could he place Lizzie before all who relied on him for their livelihood? Would she even marry him knowing all that he stood to lose?
He hailed a hackney and called out his address. He needed time to think about it all, to figure out what his best course of action would be. His steward was also arriving today to discuss the financials of his estates. Once that was completed he would know the best way forward, but whether the best way for the estates would also be the best way for him was yet to be seen.
Lizzie sat atop her white mare, quietly watching the other riders on Rotten Row. Some were enjoying a slow canter, while others, like her, were simply sitting, watching, waiting… She spied her groom waiting patiently a little way away from her, and frowned.
Where was he? She looked about the park again but couldn’t see Lord Wakely approaching either on foot or horseback. She checked the time once again and her stomach knotted. Lord Wakely had sent a missive to meet him here–had something happened to him? He was over two hours late.
She turned her mare toward the northern gate. She would return home. Maybe there was a missive waiting for her. A reason as to why he hadn’t come.
The thought crossed her mind that it had been a deliberate snub, and she shook it aside. She didn’t want to think like that. It was neither helpful nor nice, and until she knew for certain, then and only then would she worry about it.
But upon returning home and finding no note, she couldn’t help but surmise his meeting with his uncle and the solicitor the day before had not gone well. Which meant Lord Wakely had a decision to make. Marry Miss Fox and her thousands of pounds, a marriage of convenience and little affection, if any. Or, he could marry her, a woman whom he believed to have no dowry, but would love him unconditionally until the day she died. If only he’d prove his worth and choose her.
The thought again crossed her mind that she should tell him she would have enough dowry to satisfy his father’s will, and therefore no money from his estate would be lost to his uncle. Hugo did care for her a great deal, and maybe more than she believed. He wouldn’t be struggling with his choice if he did not. Maybe she ought to bring it up with her cousin Lord Leighton and seek his counsel. See if he thought it time that Lord Wakely knew the truth, especially in light of him being on the brink of losing his inheritance.
There were so many people reliant on Lord Wakely’s estate. In total he would have hundreds of people, with hundreds more counting their families, who needed employment, and who would suffer if they were to lose their positions. Knowing all this, surely Lord Leighton would reconsider his decision on keeping her status as a wealthy woman secret. The last thing Lizzie wanted was to be the cause for so many people suffering when she had the power to stop it.
She thought back to their times together. Other than not turning up today, he’d never done anything that would give her any cause for alarm. He was attentive and trustworthy. Surely knowing she was an heiress wouldn’t be the sole reason why he would offer for her. She usually had a good understanding of people’s characters, and Lord Wakely’s, for all his roguish past, was good-natured and honest.
Later that afternoon Lizzie sat before her cousin Lord Leighton in his library. He idly flicked through some papers and she waited patiently, her mind a whirr of thoughts over how to go about explaining this predicament so that she might change his mind regarding the secrecy about her dowry.
He placed the papers into a folder, then, clasping his hands on his desk, gave her his full attention. “Sorry, Lizzie. I just had to finish that piece of business. Now, what was it you wished to talk with me about?”
Nerves pitted in her stomach and she pushed them aside. Her cousin would see sense, he was a good man. She was sure of it. “I wanted to speak to you about a gentleman whom I believe I would like to consider marrying. And before I tell you who it is, I need you to promise me you’ll not get angry with me. He’s probably not who you thought I would look toward to be my husband.”
Lord Leighton leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. Lizzie ignored the fact it was a defensive stance and instead steeled herself to remain calm and discuss the situation like the grown adults that they both were.
“Who is this gentleman?” he asked, his voice weary.
“The gentleman is Lord Wakely.” At the mention of Hugo’s name, Lord Leighton sat bolt upright in his chair, his eyes wide in shock.
“Hugo? You cannot possibly be serious. What on earth makes you believe he’s even looking for a wife? He’s not exactly the most settled gentleman in London. If anything, he’s quite the rogue.”
“I know all about his past. You’ve been friends with him for years, and I’m not blind. But he is looking for a wife, and I believe should he know of my financial situation he would offer for me.”
“You mean he would marry you if he knew you were rich. Absolutely not.” His words brooked no argument and Lizzie took a calming breath.
“Listen, there is more to the story than that. Let me explain.”
“Well, I certainly hope you will, for as it stands right now my answer is not to agr
ee to whatever you’re going to ask me.”
Lizzie threw him a quelling look and continued. “The reason his uncle is here is because of his father’s will. His sire had included a clause in his will that Lord Wakely was to marry within twelve months of his death, and also to an heiress of no less than thirty thousand pounds. If he does not, his mother’s dowry money will revert to her American family. But you see,” she continued, “he’s been courting me, believing I have no dowry, and now he’s conflicted. I could remove that conflict from his life. If I told him of my fortune, he would not be struggling with his choice, for I believe he would choose me.”
“Over Miss Fox I gather, if the talk through the ton is any indication.”
Lizzie nodded. “Yes, that’s right. Lord Wakely has so many people relying on him, so many staff and dependents. If he were to lose his inheritance, then with what would he run the estates? If he married me he would adhere to the clause, and therefore no money would be lost. I want to tell him, Hamish. Will you give me permission?”
Lord Leighton rubbed his jaw while he thought about her request. “As much as I would like to say yes, Lizzie, I cannot. I know Lord Wakely, very well, and if he really wanted to marry you he would find another way in which to raise the money required to run his estates. Surely marrying an heiress is not his only option.”
Lizzie frowned, wondering if he had considered other ways. “Even if there was another way, he’s left it a little late now. He’s to marry before the end of the month. And if he’s not married, he loses that money. I could stop that.”
“But why should you be his saviour? He’s in this situation because of the way he lived his life, something he knew his father loathed. As much as I care for Lord Wakely, and would help him if I could, I cannot allow you to be the reason he remains one of the richest men in England. Lord Wakely should have other means of income–investments, art, anything that is not entailed that would help him marry whomever he wanted.”
Lizzie bit back the tears that threatened as her future with Lord Wakely vanished before her eyes. She sniffed and Hugo shifted in his chair.
“I’ll tell you what, I shall speak to him, see what we can figure out. Maybe he’s not tried any other options, or not thought of them. I want a good marriage for you, my dear. I’ve seen too many unions within the ton that are toxic and barely civilized. Your parents’ marriage was one of them, as if I need remind you. Katherine and I love you, and want the man who marries you to love you unconditionally, not because of how much money they gain from the union.”
Lizzie pulled out her handkerchief and dabbed at her nose. “Just because Lord Wakely would marry me because I had a fortune, does not mean that he does not care for me. Love me even. He’s responsible for so many. The choice would not be easy. I would think should you have been in the same situation with Katherine, you would’ve faltered too. I know how much you care for your tenant farmers, your staff. Can you honestly tell me that you would not marry for money to keep all of that side of your life safe?”
He cringed, meeting her gaze. “You forget I married a woman who wasn’t my social equal. I broke all the rules to have Katherine by my side and I would do it all again. But as a business owner with estates such as I and Lord Wakely have, these are businesses, they are homes entrusted into our care for the next generation. I expected to run those properties, put into place secure investments, and have the best stewards around so I never needed to marry an heiress to keep it all safe. Lord Wakely has not done that, and now he is paying the price. You said he’s had twelve months. Pray tell me, what has he done in that time to shore up his homes so that he could lose the money and still marry you?”
Lizzie stared at her cousin, her mind conflicted over what to do. “I do not think he’s done anything, my lord.” All hope fled, and she didn’t think she could feel any more dejected than she did right at that moment.
“Neither do I.” Lord Leighton stood and came around the desk, pulling her to stand. “I promised you six years ago that I would ensure you married a man who would love and cherish you always. I will speak to Lord Wakely and see if he’s worthy of you. Maybe he does have other plans you’re not privy to. If he does, I’ll give you my consent. If not, then I’m sorry Lizzie, but I cannot give you away to such a life. I will not release your inheritance simply to line an impoverished man’s pockets.”
Chapter 13
Later that night Lizzie ordered a bath and then declined going out with Lord Leighton and Katherine, who were attending a private dinner. She dismissed her maid for the night, wanting to soak in the bath and plan. How could she show Lord Wakely that they were perfect for one another?
After her conversation this afternoon with her cousin, all hope of a life with Hugo seemed to have disappeared. But that did not mean she could not try one last time to have him offer for her, penniless as he thought she was. She couldn’t tell him the truth, Lord Leighton had not allowed that, but perhaps if he was with her again, he would tell her of his plans to secure his estates and those who relied on him that didn’t include an heiress.
Her fingers tapped the side of the bath and, knowing what she would do, she stood and dried herself quickly. She dressed in a simple gown with buttons at the front, one she could manage without a maid, and pulled on the darkest cloak she owned.
Opening her bedroom door, she checked for servants, and seeing none, scuttled across the hall to the stairs, stopping again to check who was about. Hearing no one and assuming that the staff were eating their supper, she went down the stairs and started for the back of the house. The back parlor had doors that led out into the yard and a side gate that she could use to slip out.
It didn’t take very long to reach Lord Wakely’s house, as he lived within a couple of blocks, and in this part of London, with many couples out walking just as she was, Lizzie felt reasonably safe. Just like her cousin’s home, Lord Wakely had a side alley that one could access the backyard through. Coming to the wooden gate, she checked her surroundings then pushed it open, closing it quickly behind her.
The house was dark apart from a couple of lamps burning in the upstairs rooms. Movement behind a door that led out onto a small balcony and the silhouette which Lizzie would recognize anywhere told her it was his lordship.
She pursed her lips, surveying the home. There was no way she could climb up to his floor from the outside, so she had to find a way to sneak in from below. Pulling her cloak tighter about her neck and ensuring the cape covered her hair, she inched her way across the garden and toward the back door, of which there were two. One led into the kitchens, if the sound of clanging pots and loud chatter was any indication. Lizzie took her chances on the other door, and sagged in relief when she turned the handle and found it unlocked.
Stepping into a darkened passage, a door slammed somewhere close by. She froze as panic seized her that she would be caught. The sound was followed by silence, no hurried footsteps or staff talking amongst themselves, so she continued on.
Walking quickly through the hall, she came to the servant’s stairs and ran up them toward the first floor. Exiting through a door, she came to a shadowy, sparsely lit hall. She tried to gauge her whereabouts, based on when she’d looked at the house from the outside.
It was not easy as most of the rooms’ doors were closed, bar one that was slightly ajar and had the faintest flicker of candlelight peeking out. She took a chance and tiptoed up to the door, her stomach in knots over what she was about to do, what she was about to offer Lord Wakely.
Would he send her away? Would he take her in his arms and tell her his absence today was a mistake? She wasn’t sure how his reaction would play out. Reaching the door, she peeked through the gap to see his lordship shirtless, clad only in tan breeches. He was sitting at the end of his bed, flipping through a document of some sort. He was completely lost in his own thoughts, the frown lines between his brows indicating that whatever he was reading was complicated or troubling. Her need to go to him doubled. She’d nev
er seen him look so wretched, and if she could she’d put a stop to it tonight.
She entered the room and shut the door quickly, the snip of the lock loud in the otherwise quiet space. The shock on Hugo’s face was comical and her lips twitched.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, the papers in his hands dropping to his feet as he stood.
Lizzie swallowed, fighting to bring forth all the determination she’d felt coming over here. Tonight she would have Lord Wakely if he’d allow, and with any luck he would realize that what they had between them wasn’t like anything he’d encountered before. It was so for Lizzie at least, and she was willing to risk her reputation to be with Hugo if it meant that she could win him.
Never before had she wanted anything as much as she wanted the man who stood before her, his mouth agape, his chest rising and lowering rapidly with every breath. Should she not win his heart, it was not for want of trying, and she wouldn’t win another’s after tonight. If Lord Wakely turned her away, she would wait out her time, accept her fortune, and leave London. Travel the world, go to Italy and buy an olive farm, and adopt stray cats just because she could.
“You didn’t arrive at our ride today. I was worried.”
He cringed. “I’m sorry, Lizzie. The meeting with my solicitor didn’t go well and I forgot. Do you forgive me?”
She strode over to him and pushed him back onto the bed. He bounced, his eyes widening in surprise. She took charge and, steeling her back, climbed onto the bed and straddled his waist. “There is nothing to forgive. And as for what I’m really doing here, well,” she said, sliding her hands over his muscular shoulders and enjoying the feel of his skin beneath her palms, “I’m seducing you, my lord.”
