The Heiress Convenient Husband

by Regina Scott

  After his man left, he waited until the house was quiet, then ventured down to the caves. The boat still sat at the high-water mark, as if taunting him. He thought it would be a long night as well.

  ~~~

  Eva was up ahead of him the next day. She was already dressed in a pretty pink muslin gown, and her hair was piled up behind her. He came to wish her good morning.

  She patted the seat beside her. “Will you sit? We must talk.”

  Something pressed down on his shoulders, and he sat more heavily than he had intended. “What about?”

  She fiddled with her cuff, as if studying it for flaws. “We must, of course, deal with the earl, and with the matter of who has been using the castle. But another thought kept me awake last night. What is to become of us, James? Our marriage, our future?”

  Could she have reached the same conclusion he had? His pulse quickened, and he twisted his neck to see up into her face. It was pale, as if she hurt. Disappointment tugged on him.

  “What’s wrong, Eva?” he asked. “Are you regretting our decision already?”

  “No,” she hurried to assure him. “Well, yes, but not for the reason you might think.”

  He straightened. “And what do you believe I think?”

  She licked her lips, drawing his attention to the pink. “You might think I regret pledging myself to a Howland.” She glanced up to meet his gaze, her own wide and bright. “And I don’t, James, because it’s not any Howland. It’s you. What I regret is agreeing to a marriage of convenience.”

  Something shot through him, like sunlight stabbing into the darkness. But before he could respond, someone rapped at the door, and Yeager hurried in.

  “Forgive me, ma’am, sir. It’s the earl. He’s had some sort of attack. Pym’s gone for the new doctor. His lordship is asking for your company, Mr. Howland.”

  James shook his head. “Of course he is. Did you believe for one minute he was telling the truth? He’s merely trying to garner sympathy.”

  Yeager made a face. “I did wonder, sir, but he should have acted at Drury Lane, he’s that convincing.”

  “He would be.” James nodded to Eva. “I’ll deal with this.”

  “Be careful,” she said as he rose, “and let me know if you require reinforcement.”

  He smiled his thanks and followed Yeager from the room.

  The earl had taken a large suite with its own sitting room on the same side of the castle as the room James had originally been using. James found his lordship’s valet and a footman in attendance. Lying on the great box bed, his face pinched and grey, the earl looked surprisingly frail. Very likely he’d planned it that way.

  “James, my boy,” he said. “Thank you for coming. The rest of you may go.”

  Even said feebly, the statement was a command. The servants trickled from the room, Yeager with a commiserating look to James.

  “Yesterday too much for you?” James asked, venturing closer.

  The earl slowly turned his head to look at him, as if even that little movement was an effort. But the blue eyes were as piercing as always.

  “Yes, if you must know,” he said. “My physicians advised me against travel of any sort. The trip from London followed by the exertions of the wedding and the constant attention to my duty took their toll.” He nodded toward the chair that had been drawn up near the bed. “Sit down. I won’t crane my neck to converse with you.”

  Of course not. James took a seat.

  The earl drew in a breath, chest shaking in the effort. “Now, before that ham-handed country physician arrives, I will have your promise, sir.”

  “What promise?” James asked, crossing one leg over the other. “I thought Eva and I made it clear we need no blessing from you. We owe you nothing in return.”

  “Some might disagree,” he said. He aimed his gaze at the canopy as if evoking Heaven’s help. “I am still her trustee.”

  “Only until we provide evidence of our marriage,” James said. “Then Eva and I control her fortune.”

  “You mean you control it,” he spat out, gaze spearing back to James and fire dancing in the blue. “That isn’t lost on me, boy. You’ve played your hand masterfully. I’ve tried being conciliatory, but you’ll clearly have none of it. Yet you forget—you’re still a Howland.”

  “Howland is my surname,” James acknowledged. “A fact that I regret some days. But you can no longer use it as a sword hanging over me.”

  “If not a sword, then a cudgel.” He paused to cough, and red drops appeared on his fingers.

  James stiffened. Everything else about his supposed sickness the earl might contrive, but blood?

  As if ashamed of the matter, he quickly tucked his hand under the covers. “You have some affection for Thorgood, I believe.”

  James steeled himself. “The viscount and I have always been on good terms.”

  “And Lady Miranda, so much like her dear mother?”

  He could feel the noose tightening. “Of course.”

  “Then surely you would not see them penniless.”

  “Hardly penniless,” James pointed out. “You have the house in London, the country estate in Somerset, the castle.”

  “And little left to support them.” His voice was heavy with sorrow. “The castle here is entailed, but we may have to sell the rest. Why do you think I ordered you not to start a militia? The leader is generally required to pay some of the cost. We no longer have that luxury. The crops have done poorly the last few years. My investments began to sour the moment that Irishman died.”

  He likely meant Eva’s father. “I have seen little trace of penury here in Dorset.”

  “Which tells me I have undervalued your abilities,” the earl assured him. “All I ask is that you use those abilities and your newfound wealth to benefit your family.”

  James leaned back in the chair. “You just admitted you invested poorly. Why would I pour Eva’s money after bad?”

  His gaze darkened. “Everything you have you owe to me—your position, your income, your very name. You will do as I say.”

  James rose. “That argument no longer sways me. I will leave you to recover.”

  “Wait!”

  Turning for the door, James paused and looked back at the earl. He had propped himself up, and sweat stood out on his brow. Seeing he had James’s attention, he collapsed back against the pillow.

  “I’m dying,” he said, tugging the covers closer. “The fools in London give me another month at most. That chit was my last hope of leaving my son and granddaughter solvent. You stole that from us.”

  “That chit is my wife,” James said. “Her name is Eva, and she deserves far more than to be some pawn in your game. If you wish to lay blame for this mess you’re in, I suggest you look in the mirror.”

  The door opened then, and the earl’s valet hurried in with the doctor. “Doctor Bennett, my lord.”

  James intercepted the physician as he straightened from his bow. “My cousin tells me he is dying and has little time left. I would appreciate your thoughts on the matter.”

  Doctor Bennett searched his face as if looking for motive. “Of course, Magistrate. If you would give me a moment.”

  James withdrew to the other side of the room, but he wasn’t about to leave. He knew how easily the earl might convince the doctor to further his lies. He watched as Doctor Bennett listened to the earl’s heart and chest, checked his pulse, and peered into his eyes, nose, and mouth. Then he stepped back and considered the man on the bed.

  “Let me be clear,” he told the earl in a voice designed to carry. “My obligation is to my patient first. I expressed my concern for your health when you visited the spa yesterday, but you assured me your physicians had the matter in hand. What have they told you?”

  “A scirrhus of my lungs,” the earl admitted. “Tending toward the cancer. It’s in its final stages. We’ve managed to keep it quiet, but I imagine that won’t be possible now.” He shot James a malevolent glance.

 
“Based on a limited examination, I must concur with their diagnosis,” Doctor Bennet said. “Peruvian bark may give you some relief for a time. I’ll prepare a mixture and send it up to the castle. Do you have laudanum?”

  The earl nodded.

  “Then there’s nothing more I can do.” He turned to James. “Does that satisfy you, Mr. Howland?”

  James’s throat felt tight. “Yes, thank you, Doctor Bennett. I’ll see you out.”

  “Think on what I said,” the earl called after them.

  As if James would think of anything else.

  ~~~

  Eva had breakfasted on tea and wonderful jelly rolls from Mr. Ellison’s bakery, and still there was no sign of James. But something was going on. A steady stream of servants had traipsed up and down the stairs. And, when Eva had poked her head out the door, she’d sighted Mr. Pym and Doctor Bennett heading toward the opposite end of the corridor.

  “What’s happened?” she asked Patsy when her maid came to retrieve the breakfast dishes.

  “It’s the earl,” Patsy whispered, as if she thought he was listening just outside the door. “His valet, Mr. Simmons, won’t confirm it, but I think he’s dying.”

  Much as Eva disliked the earl, she couldn’t wish that on him. And she couldn’t quite believe it, either.

  A footman appeared in the doorway. She seemed to recall him from the earl’s London house. “Pardon me, Mrs. Howland. There’s a lady here to see you, a Mrs. Catchpole. She says it’s about the staff.”

  Patsy drew herself up. “The missus has all the staff she needs, thank you very much.”

  “It depends on how big a house we take,” Eva reminded her. “And Mother Howland is still seeking a cook so Mr. Pym doesn’t have so many tasks.” She turned to the footman. “Ask her to wait in the great hall. I’ll be right down.”

  Patsy pouted, as if she was certain Eva intended to hire a new lady’s maid, but she hurried to do her job and left.

  James’s mother was in the corridor when Eva exited her room. Gowned in a simple lavender dress with a white tucker, greying hair curled loosely and wrapped in a bandeau, she looked as if she’d lost her way.

  “Is it true?” she asked, face puckered. “Is his lordship about to leave us?”

  “If you mean as he returns to London, I certainly hope so,” Eva told her. “But as to anything else, I know as little as you do.”

  She bit her lip, gaze dropping.

  Eva touched her hand, bringing her gaze up again. “I was never clear—where did your lovely harp end up with all our packing and unpacking?”

  She blinked. “Why, I think I saw it in the music room. I could play.”

  Eva smiled. “You certainly could. It would do us all good to hear it.”

  Still she hesitated. “If you’re sure the earl wouldn’t mind.”

  “If he minds, he can tell us,” Eva said.

  They continued down the stairs together, then separated as Mrs. Howland headed for the music room. Eva caught her glancing around as if to make sure no one else noticed.

  At least marrying James had prevented Eva from developing that habit.

  She pasted on a smile for the woman who was waiting for her. Young, buxom, with brown eyes sparkling with interest, she dropped a hasty curtsey.

  “Mrs. Howland. Thank you for seeing me. I wouldn’t have troubled you, but I recently discovered something of concern regarding the castle, and I thought I should bring it to your attention.”

  Was she about to relate something about the spies or Captain St. Claire? Eva took her arm and drew her closer to the fire, then held out her hands as if its warmth was the only thing that had attracted her.

  “Forgive me, Mrs. Catchpole, but how are you connected with the castle?” Eva asked, keeping her voice low and steady.

  “Oh, sorry!” She smiled. “Mr. Bent, the previous staffing agent, retired. The Spa Corporation appointed me to take his place.” She laughed. “You should have seen me mum’s face when I told her. Me, in charge of assigning staff to all the best people. Imagine!”

  Eva smiled despite herself. “I’m sure they have the utmost faith in you to put you in the position. We don’t need additional staff at the moment, though.”

  She hitched up her gown. “Oh, I thought as much. The earl usually brings his own, from what I’ve been told. No, I wanted to talk to you because we seem to have lost the key.”

  Eva blinked. “The key?”

  “To the castle.” She scrunched up her face. “Bit of a dust up there. It seems the magistrate gave Mr. Bent a key so he could send maids to clean from time to time. The last was Mrs. Bascom, who has left the area. And no one’s seen the key since. I searched high and low, I can tell you.”

  “You think she took it with her?” Eva asked.

  She shook her head, golden ringlets bobbing. “She was always a good worker, that one. We cleaned together at the Lodge from time to time. Very conscientious. Even brought a little can to oil hinges and such. But, given the trouble with her husband, I’m afeared that key ended up in the wrong hands.”

  Eva was missing something. “The trouble with her husband? Was he a servant as well?”

  “Oh, no, Mrs. Howland.” Like James’s mother, she glanced in each direction before leaning closer, and the scent of roses washed over Eva. “He was a smuggler,” she whispered, “part of the band the magistrate and the militia captured last month. What if he took the key with him?”

  What if he’d done more? Could Mr. Bascom have been the one who had given the French access to the castle?

  “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Mrs. Catchpole,” she said. “You can be sure I will discuss the matter with Mr. Howland and the earl.”

  She grimaced as she straightened. “Well, you needn’t tell the earl unless you feel you must. He’s not one to forgive, is he now? But if you must tell him, let him know that we had no reason to suspect Meg Bascom nor her husband. She never gave the least trouble. And none of us was aware of her husband’s unsavory pastimes.”

  And still probably didn’t know the extent of them. “You needn’t worry. I won’t mention the matter to the earl unless needs require. I’m not privy to his plans, and my husband and I haven’t settled on our staffing needs, but we will contact you when we’re certain. Please let me know if you should locate that key.”

  “Oh, I will,” she promised. “And thank you.” She curtsied. As she rose, her smile brightened.

  “Now, there’s a sight any lady might sigh over.”

  Eva turned to find James and Doctor Bennett coming down the stairs. They did rather make a pair—both handsome, both distinguished. But James seemed the more vibrant. She could feel his strength, his determination as they reached the great hall.

  Mrs. Catchpole hurried for the kitchens, offering a sassy smile to both gentlemen as she passed. Eva went to meet them.

  “Everything all right?” she asked, glancing from one to the other.

  “The earl is resting comfortably for now,” Doctor Bennett said. “I’ll leave the magistrate to explain the details.” He bowed to Eva. “It was very good to see you again, Mrs. Howland. I hope you’ll both visit the spa when time allows.”

  “Sir,” Eva said with a nod.

  He saw himself to the door.

  “What did he say?” Eva asked. “Did he find anything the least wrong with the earl?”

  “More than I expected,” James said, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Come with me to our sitting room. You were right. We must talk.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  James led Eva back to their sitting room and closed the door behind her. He then checked the bedchambers on either side to be sure none of the servants was about.

  “Why the need for secrecy?” Eva asked, going to the settee. “What you know, the servants know. I realized that ages ago.”

  “The servants will shortly know that the earl is dying,” James said, coming to join her, “but I’d rather they not know what I’m considering doing
about it.”

  Her eyes widened. “He really is ill?”

  James nodded. “A scirrhus of his lungs.”

  She shuddered at the mention of the deadly internal growth.

  “Advanced, as I understand it,” James added. “He claims he has no more than a month to live.”

  She clasped her hands in her lap, face falling. “Oh, James, I’m so sorry. I know he’s done terrible things, but he is part of your family.”

  “He is, whether I like it or not,” James agreed. “My concern now is for Thorgood and Miranda. The earl claims he’s mismanaged the funds, and they are close to destitute.”

  “That can’t be right,” she said with a frown. “The earl was one of my father’s wealthiest clients.”

  “I’m guessing he disregarded your father’s advice after he passed.”

  “Arrogant,” she said with a sigh. “It probably galled him that anyone else might know more. So, how bad is it?”

  “If he’s telling the truth, economies will have to be taken,” James explained. “The London house and the estate in Somerset may have to be sold.”

  “That’s temporary,” she pointed out. “You’re liquidating assets rather than building a stable foundation.”

  He couldn’t help his smile of pride. “Sounds like your father wasn’t the only financial genius in the family.”

  Her cheeks pinked. “I may have learned a thing or two along the way, but my father never intended me to take over for him. I can point you to some other gentlemen he respected. They could help you determine what must be done.”

  “I wouldn’t want to enlist their aid until I know the whole of the problem. But it does sound as if funds will be needed and soon. The earl accused me of stealing his only hope—having Thorgood marry you.”

  She snorted. “If that was the best he could do, he’s in poor shape indeed.”

  “Still, I share his concern. I will not see Thorgood and Lady Miranda suffer for his negligence.”

  She cocked her head, sending curls tumbling down one cheek. “What can you do?”