December Heart

by Merry Farmer

  The way she laughed and sent him a sultry look made him wish they were miles away from everything. “I suppose that explains a few things,” she said.

  “Such as?”

  Her lips twitched in a coy smile. “Such as how a desiccated mummy can have such a powerful physique.”

  It was as perfect a compliment as he’d ever received, and it made the effort he’d put into staying healthy worth it. But Mariah’s admiring gaze was captured by something else entirely as they turned a corner, rode out from behind one of the hedge-lined gardens and onto an open lawn. The castle loomed to one side in all its sunlit glory.

  “It really is a castle,” Mariah gasped, her eyes wide.

  She pulled Lady Jane to a halt, and Peter stopped beside her. He’d grown up in Starcross Castle, but it wasn’t hard to imagine what the first sight of the place could do to people. It had been too dark for Mariah to see it properly when they arrived the day before, but now there it was, the original keep with its crenelated towers, the Georgian extension that blended so well with the rest of it, and the modern wing that made it look like something out of a storybook. It was magnificent, if he did say so himself.

  “Behold, my lady. Your castle.”

  Mariah swallowed, and her dazzled smile became overwhelmed. “I don’t know if I’m ready to be mistress of all this.”

  “Of course you are,” he said, nudging Charger to walk on and Lady Jane to follow. “Your father assures me you are not only competent, but that you need something to keep you occupied and useful.”

  Mariah shook herself out of her trance and laughed. “Dear Papa. He’s right about that.” She sent him a fetching grin.

  Peter was surprised at how quickly the world set itself to right without the threat of William looming over him. He took Mariah around the castle itself, then picked up their pace to venture farther afield, toward the mines and some of the tenant villages. Charger was in a mood to gallop, so he let him, only to find Mariah doing an admirable job of keeping up. It was enough to make him consider taking her somewhere other than Starcross Castle for their honeymoon period after all.

  And yet, there was so much to do in Cornwall.

  “Is this the mine?” Mariah asked as they rounded the crest of a hill and looked down to a valley that was built up with purposeful, stone buildings.

  “One of them,” Peter answered. “This is Carleen.”

  She blinked at him. “You have more than one mine?”

  A twist of pride filled him. “Yes, the estate has had quite a few mines over the years. This area of Cornwall is rich in ore.”

  She continued to look as though pieces were falling into place in her mind. “But that must mean…that must mean that you have quite a bit of money.”

  “We have more than enough to suit our needs,” he told her, downplaying the extent of his wealth. Riches had never mattered to him apart from what they could do for those who depended on him. He’d been more concerned about who he would leave them to than enjoying them himself.

  Mariah frowned. “If you have so much money, why not pay off William’s debts so that he’ll go away?”

  The cheer that Peter had been feeling flattened. Charger danced sideways at his change in mood, which gave Peter the blessed seconds he needed to gather his thoughts. “I have paid off some of them, but for men like William, all the money in the world still wouldn’t be enough,” he said, meeting and holding Mariah’s gaze. “I’ve seen men my age take a prosperous estate that is hundreds of years old and squander every last farthing. Money is challenging to earn, but far too easy to waste.”

  Mariah hummed in agreement and nodded. “I think I know what you mean. Like the man in Parliament who my father is always butting heads with, Mr. Turpin. Papa says he squandered a large fortune on cards and horses.”

  “And bad investments,” Peter added. He hoped Edmund had been wise enough not to tell someone as innocent as Mariah how else Turpin had lost everything he’d inherited. To explain would mean talking about Theodore Shayles, and no one as pure and innocent as Mariah should know anything about Shayles and his world. “Which is why I refuse to give William the money he says he needs.”

  “Because it would be opening the floodgates,” Mariah said.

  Peter nodded. “I’m glad you understand and that you don’t think I’m some sort of horrible, old skinflint.”

  A grin tweaked the corner of Mariah’s mouth. “I think we’ve established that you’re not as old as others seem to think you are.”

  He laughed, wishing they were closer to home and his bedroom.

  Mariah grew more serious. “And I think I understand what you mean about William. Would it hurt you if I were to say I don’t like him?”

  Strangely enough, it did fill Peter with a sense of disappointment. Not because Mariah didn’t give her approval, but because he hadn’t been able to make William into someone likable. He shook his head. “I only regret that I didn’t have time to explain the situation more fully or to prepare before he descended on Starcross Castle. Believe me when I say I didn’t think he’d be here to greet you.”

  “I believe you.” Mariah sent him a smile that was far kinder than he deserved. “And anyhow, I’m not sure any amount of time would have prepared me for William.” Before he could reply, she went on with, “Why don’t you show me your mine so that I can get an idea of where our wealth and opulence comes from?”

  She was back to flirting, for which Peter was grateful. “Right this way, my lady,” he said, nudging Charger to start down into the valley. He could forget about the looming problem of William for a moment. The way things were, with William stubbornly refusing to leave, the best he could do was to spend as much time with Mariah in his sight as possible.

  * * *

  The back room of the County Arms in Truro wasn’t crowded in the middle of the afternoon, which was just what William needed. Most of the regulars wouldn’t arrive at the inn and its pub until after dark, meaning no one who counted would see him slip into the smoky room to sit at one of its three small tables with two strangers.

  “Do you have the money?” the shorter of the two men asked.

  “Now, now, Poole.” William’s casual smile hid the panicked drumming of his heart against his ribs. “I told you these things take time.”

  “Shayles doesn’t have time,” the other man, taller with reddish hair, growled.

  “Robinson.” William shook his head and clucked his tongue. “Lord Shayles has faith in me, and so should you.”

  “Shayles’s faith has its limits,” Poole went on. “He wants his money.”

  “I’m still the heir to the Dunsford title and fortune,” William reminded them with feigned casualness.

  “Not for long,” Robinson snarled.

  William shook his head, leaning forward, elbows on the table. “Listen. You tell Lord Shayles that he has nothing to worry about. The chit my uncle married is as weak as milk toast. There isn’t enough of a spark between the two of them to light a match.” Although, after what he’d witnessed in Peter’s study, he wasn’t as confident of that as he’d been upon first meeting his new aunt. He was risking everything on the bet that the new wife was just for show and that his uncle was well past breeding. “Even if there was,” he went on with a shrug, “I’ve got my contingency plan primed and ready to go.”

  Poole and Robinson exchanged flat looks. “You mean the nonsense in your father’s will about you getting half the estate if your uncle gives you the boot?”

  William swallowed hard, shifting in his chair as though it were covered with tacks, pointy side up. “You know about that?”

  “Shayles knows about it, and that’s all that matters,” Robinson said.

  Poole leaned across the table in imitation of William’s posture. “Shayles doesn’t put much stock in your so-called contingency plan. He wanted us to tell you that your uncle has ten times the backbone you have.”

  “Lord Shayles is wrong,” William snapped.

 
Poole and Robinson laughed as though William had shared a bawdy joke. Poole shook his head. “Look. It’s simple. Shayles wants his money back, and he doesn’t care how you get it. You can try to get Dunsford to kick you out, but the boss won’t wait forever.”

  “What do you mean?” William asked, squirming even harder.

  “Shayles wants to be paid in full by June first.”

  “June first? He said I had all summer.”

  “June first,” Poole repeated.

  “That’s less than a fortnight away.” Panic squeezed at William’s throat, turning his stomach and his blood to ice.

  Robinson shrugged as though he didn’t care. Poole shook his head. “It didn’t take you more than a fortnight to spend five hundred thousand pounds, so it stands to reason that it shouldn’t take you that long to raise it, right?”

  William wanted to argue that it’d taken him years to sink five hundred thousand pounds into the hole, but his protest would have fallen on deaf ears. “What if I get my uncle to declare me his heir regardless of any child this new wife of his might have?”

  Poole and Robinson snorted and rolled their eyes.

  “What earl in his right mind would declare someone other than his own son to be his heir?” Robinson said. “Even if the law would let him.”

  “All right, what if I have him declare me heir until whatever phantom child of his comes of age?” William scrambled for another way out. “My uncle is ancient already. Even if he does have a son—which is doubtful, given that he couldn’t get his seed to grow in Anne’s garden for twenty years—Uncle is sure to die years before the brat comes of age.”

  “Shayles wants his money now,” Poole insisted, growing visibly impatient.

  “And…and what if I can’t get it?” Sweat dripped down William’s back and began to bead on his brow.

  “Your money or your life,” Poole said with a smile. Robinson underscored the point by leaning back in his chair, brushing his coat aside, and revealing a shiny revolver in his belt.

  “This isn’t the Wild West of America,” William said with a snort, hoping he came off as dismissive and not ready to soil himself.

  “It doesn’t have to be,” Poole went on. “Shayles wants his money. If he can’t get it, he’ll use you to send a message to others who try to default on their loans.”

  William swallowed the rush of bile in his throat. Words failed him. All he could do was stare at the gun. Damn Peter for marrying that young bitch. Damn him for not accepting the way things should have been. If he thought he could get away with cutting him out of the inheritance that was rightfully his, he had another thing coming.

  “June first?” William repeated, forcing himself to look calm, even though he raged and quailed in equal measure on the inside.

  “June first.” Poole nodded. “Or else.”

  “Not a problem.” William knocked on the table and stood. “Shayles will have proof that my uncle still considers me his heir or a note from his solicitor stating that he has defaulted on the terms of my father’s will by throwing me out by the end of the month.”

  “You really think you can get your uncle to turn on you now when he hasn’t after all these years?” Robinson asked.

  William grinned. “He hasn’t exposed his flank as egregiously in all these years. The old cheat might think he’s thwarted me by taking a young wife, but all its done is shown me how to strike him where it hurts. And I intend to strike hard.”

  Chapter 11

  By the time they returned to the castle, the sun was beginning to set, and Mariah was starving. Not just for supper either. Seeing Peter astride a horse, in command of all he surveyed, had fired Mariah’s blood. As Ginny helped her to change out of her riding habit and into supper clothes, she had half a mind to slip through the dressing rooms into Peter’s room.

  “You should, my lady,” Ginny whispered, winking.

  “You don’t think he’d mind?” Mariah asked, hesitating to step into the dress that Ginny held out for her.

  Ginny clutched the dress to her chest. “Mind? My lady, he’s probably waiting with his ear pressed to the door for you to go to him.”

  Mariah raised a hand to her mouth to hide her giggle, glanced from Ginny to the door leading to Peter’s dressing room, then tip-toed over to it.

  But when she tried the handle, it was locked.

  “That’s odd,” she said, trying not to feel disappointed. She walked slowly back to Ginny, glancing over her shoulder at the door.

  “Perhaps Mr. Wright locked it accidentally,” Ginny said. “He’s not used to anyone using these rooms.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  She finished dressing and had Ginny fix her hair before she went downstairs for supper. She intended to ask Peter about the locked door before they ate, but as it turned out, he’d never made it back to his room. One of the men from the mine had been waiting in his office when they returned. They were still engaged in conversation, which meant Mariah had to continue on to the dining room alone.

  “Well, if it isn’t the Countess of Dunsford.” William was seated at the table, already being served by a footman. He looked worse for wear, as though he’d been outside but the sunny May weather hadn’t agreed with him.

  “Lord William.” Mariah nodded to him, then glanced over her shoulder and into the hall, hoping Peter would finish with his business soon, before going in to take her seat.

  “Abandoned, are we?” William asked with a lascivious flicker of his eyebrow as Mariah sat across from him.

  “Peter is attending to business.” Mariah focused on Davy as the young footman served her, not on William.

  “Such is the life of a countess, I suppose,” William said, starting on his soup.

  “I beg your pardon.” Mariah was already losing her appetite.

  William shrugged. “You can expect to spend a lot of nights alone where my uncle is concerned. He has so much business to take care of.”

  “Yes, I’m sure he does.”

  They ate in silence. Mariah was halfway through the main course before Peter joined them.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said with an irritated frown, taking his place at the head of the table between the two of them. “I’m afraid the business with the mine couldn’t wait.”

  “Perfectly understandable,” William said before Mariah could open her mouth. “As long as you’re with us now.”

  “Yes, well.” Peter nodded to Davy as he served supper, then sent an apologetic look to Mariah as he picked up his fork.

  He hadn’t taken three bites when Mr. Snyder appeared in the doorway and cleared his throat. “My lord, it seems there is a matter of utmost urgency that needs your attention.”

  “Now?” Peter’s frustration was palpable.

  “Yes, my lord,” Mr. Snyder said, looking as apologetic as the man could. “It is in regards to a delicate situation involving one of the tenants.”

  Peter let out a breath and stood. “I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he told Mariah.

  She gave him a smile of encouragement as he left, but that vanished as soon as she saw the smug look on William’s face.

  “Like I said, Uncle has ever so much business.”

  Peter didn’t return to dinner, though Mariah waited for him. William gave up and left, but it was little relief. Eventually she gave up too. She headed to Peter’s library, but the door was closed. There didn’t seem to be anything else to do but go up to bed.

  Ginny had a bath waiting and her nightgown laid out, but even that couldn’t soothe Mariah’s irritation with the way the day had gone. Worse still, after she finished bathing and donned her nightgown, the door to Peter’s dressing room was still locked. So was the door to his room from the hall. It couldn't possibly be on purpose, not after the afternoon they’d had. But there was nothing Mariah could do but climb into her own bed to wait until Peter came for her.

  Whether he did or not, she never found out. She fell asleep.

  In the morn
ing, she tried the door to Peter’s dressing room again, but it was still locked. She told herself that he must have finished with his business late at night and let her sleep out of respect. She planned to ask him about the lock at breakfast, only William was in rare form as the three of them sat around the table. His bitterness and insults were so off-putting that when Mrs. Wilson interrupted to ask if she might have a word with Mariah about the running of the house, Mariah was only too glad to flee.

  Not that it did much good. She could run away from William, but the gnawing hollowness of being apart from Peter for so long followed her. She missed him, and she wasn’t ashamed to say so. She missed the heat of his body and the heady pleasure of making love, but more than that, she missed talking to him. There was so much she still had to learn about her new husband. How was she supposed to learn it all when responsibility kept them apart?

  It was one thing to be a new wife missing her husband, but it was an entirely different thing to be a new countess.

  “Here are the menus for the week.” Mrs. Wilson handed over a set of cards as the two of them sat at a small table in a room that had been allocated as Mariah’s office. “I’m a bit concerned about Thursday’s tea, if you must know, my lady,” Mrs. Wilson went on. “It’s Mrs. Harmon’s first attempt at salmagundi, and her results with new dishes are inconsistent.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Mariah smiled, wriggling restlessly in her seat. “Especially since it will just be the three of us for tea.”

  Mrs. Wilson gave her look that said she wished it were only two before going on with, “I should mention that Mrs. Harmon has been dreaming of the day when you entertain, my lady.”

  “Oh?” The very idea of having people over to Starcross Castle when things were so new and unsettled sent a quiver through her gut.

  “Yes, my lady. Mrs. Harmon prides herself on some of the more elaborate dishes in her arsenal, and she is most eager to impress you.”

  “I see. Well, I wouldn’t mind if she felt like impressing me regardless of how many people we have to dine.” She grinned.