by Deb Marlowe
So she talked instead of the choking ivy that they’d had to tear down, the sagging columns that had barely supported the first-floor balcony, the gradual replacement of the casement windows and large sections of the slate roof. She used every excuse to pull away, to walk ahead and remove herself from danger.
To her relief, he paid close attention, questioning her about the house and grounds, and when they circled back to the veranda he took his seat once more with a shake of his head.
‘I admit to being suitably impressed,’ he said to Dorrie as he held Portia’s chair. ‘Portia’s descriptions are so vivid that I can nearly see the sad state of disrepair that she first encountered here. The enormity of what you’ve accomplished is humbling.’ He gazed about at the tranquil scene. ‘I can only imagine the hue and cry and mess of reconstruction. It must have taken an army of labourers.’
Dorrie chuckled. ‘That’s exactly the remark that all visitors make.’
Conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the refreshments. Portia poured: tea for Dorrie and coffee for Mateo. Strong, hot and sweet—she recalled exactly how he liked it. The quirk of his lips told her that he noticed. He sat back with a sigh of satisfaction.
‘I’m glad you realise the scope of the work we’ve done here, Mateo,’ Portia began, ignoring her own tea. ‘We started with the neglected fields first, and the orchards and the dairy. Once we had an actual income, we began on the house and the gardens.’ She leaned forwards. ‘But we’ve never had an army of hired workers. Everything we’ve done has been through the effort of our small staff and tenants. We’ve all worked hard and made something useful and beautiful. I know that you, of all people, understand what happens when people share goals, work and rewards.’
He stared. She thought he looked curious and a little resentful. ‘I think I know what you are trying to say, Portia. You’ve done an admirable job here.’ He pressed his lips together once more. ‘I suspect you mean to retain your control of Cardea Shipping, but before you decide, I ask that you listen to me, please—’
She cut him off. ‘No, what I’m trying to convey is that we are a family, Mateo. All of us here at Stenbrooke.’China clinked as she pushed her cup to the side. ‘And that is why I need you to help me save it.’
Mateo sat upright, jolted out of his customary lounge by the startling unpredictability of Portia’s words. In fact, that was not remotely what he’d been expecting her to say. He’d thought she’d been laying the groundwork, preparing him to accept her as the head of his company. Instead—
‘Save Stenbrooke?’ he asked. ‘From what? Explain please.’
Her pretty face twisted with pain. ‘You’ve complained that your father betrayed you. I find myself in complete sympathy, for mine failed me.’
‘I’m going to require a more thorough explanation than that.’
‘First I will tell you one last time—I have had no hand in your misfortune. I had no earthly idea of what your father was about, to will me controlling interest in your business.’
‘It is true, Mr Cardea,’ chimed in her companion. ‘I was here when her brother’s solicitor arrived bearing the news. I can testify to her utter shock.’
‘I panicked, in fact,’Portia said. ‘I thought something dreadful must have happened to you.’
Mateo saw sincerity in her eyes and an urgent need to be believed. ‘I’ll accept that—since we’ve met again, I already strongly suspected it. But what does it have to do with Stenbrooke?’
‘Nothing yet.’
Mateo caught his first glimpse of hesitation. He leaned forwards.
‘I was bewildered, but Anthony’s man didn’t have any answers. I sent a letter with him back to Hempshaw, thinking my brother would have them—or at least have news of you.’
‘And did he?’
She shook her head. Mateo watched several heavy strands of her honeyed hair fall from confinement and curl against the slender column of her neck. ‘No, neither. So I immediately sent a message to you, asking you to come and help me decipher this mess.’ Her gaze fell away. ‘I realise it might have been short, and perhaps awkward. That was precisely how I felt, considering how long it had been…and especially considering the nature of our last contact.’
Her hand rose and hovered near the bodice of her gown. Mateo recognised her obvious unease and thought back to her letter. It had indeed been curt and cryptic—and it had helped fuel his rising fury and suspicion. He sighed. It didn’t matter now, he supposed, but he was surprised at the intense relief that came with the knowledge that she had not conspired against him.
‘It was only a day or so later that yet another solicitor came calling—but for a very different reason.’ Portia exchanged a pained look with Miss Tofton. ‘He carried with him a deed of conveyance and informed me that Stenbrooke was no longer mine.’
Mateo shook his head. His brain hurt from the sudden shifts in this conversation. ‘How can that be?’
‘That was exactly our reaction,’ Miss Tofton said indignantly.
‘It could be—’ and now Portia’s voice rang with bitterness ‘—because of my rotten blighter of a husband.’
‘Portia!’
Mateo felt inclined to echo her companion’s gasp of shock.
‘I beg your pardon, Dorrie, but you are well aware of my feelings and Mateo might as well be, too.’
‘But to speak so of the dead…’ She shuddered.
‘Will not bother him in the least,’ Mateo assured her. He turned to Portia. ‘Please, go on.’
She nodded. ‘As you said, Stenbrooke came into my possession on my marriage. It was meant to be secured to me and my children in the marriage settlements. Somehow, my father failed to see it done.’ She fought to keep her resentment from overpowering her. ‘I have no notion how my father could have neglected to take care with the single most important thing in my life, but the fact remains that he didn’t. Stenbrooke therefore became my husband’s property, according to law.’ She paused. ‘And I had no idea. It was an oversight that no one saw fit to inform me of.’
Drawing a deep breath, she continued. ‘J.T. knew of it, obviously. He used the estate as a stake in a card game. He lost my home over a hand of faro—another fact that he neglected to tell me before he went and got himself so ignominiously killed.’
There was not enough room in Mateo’s head for all his myriad reactions to this conversation. A whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and feelings set his temples pounding. Ridiculous, then, that the one at the top was an ugly sense of satisfaction that perhaps Portia had not loved her husband.
‘I am sorry to hear it,’ he managed to say.
‘Oh, but you don’t even know the worst of it!’ Miss Tofton exclaimed. ‘This new owner is craven. He didn’t even have the decency to face Portia; he merely sent along a newly hired solicitor to deliver the news. And that dreadful man was in turn evasive and cruel. He said that his employer is an experimental agriculturist who is always in search of new ground for his research. He said it was quite likely that all of this would be ploughed under if ever he got his hands on Stenbrooke!’
Mateo narrowed his focus, and watched Portia intensely.
‘I want you to help me,’ she said simply.
He exhaled sharply. ‘And how do you expect me to do that? Portia, you must know why I’ve come. I want to make arrangements to buy back your interest in Cardea Shipping.’
She shook her head. ‘I won’t sell it to you.’
He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the twisting of his stomach. ‘Perhaps just the Baltimore office, then. I started that branch myself, in the face of my father’s opposition. I confess, I don’t have enough ready capital of my own to buy you out completely, but I could likely manage just the one office.’
She shook her head again.
Now there was anger churning inside of him along with everything else. ‘Portia—’
‘No.’ She interrupted him yet again. ‘There will be no sale.’ Tension shone apparent in the thi
n line of her mouth and in every stiff angle of her body. ‘Instead I propose a simple trade. Stenbrooke for Cardea Shipping.’ Her hands gripped the end of the table until her knuckles whitened. ‘Buy Stenbrooke, Mateo, and sign it back over to me. Give me my life back, and I’ll give you yours.’
Portia clenched her teeth, her fists, and every muscle at her command as she waited for Mateo’s answer. He would agree. Of course he would. He had to.
His gaze, staring so boldly into hers, broke away. He exhaled sharply and pushed back from the table, crossing over to the stone balustrade. Leaning heavily, he stared out over the garden and beyond for several silent minutes. Portia’s head began to ache with the strain.
‘Why do you not go to your brother for assistance?’ he asked at last.
‘I have,’ she said, helpless against the bitterness that coloured her tone again. ‘Nothing there has changed since we were children. I am still the youngest, the baby of the family, and a woman besides. What need have I to live alone on my own estate?’ She rose to her feet and crossed over to the potted rosa rugosa. With quick, sharp movements she began to pick fading leaves off it, keeping an eye on his bent, still form all the while.
‘Anthony cannot spare the expense, and if he had that sort of ready income, he’d be honour bound to put it into his own estate. He sees no reason why I should not be happy to pack my things and move back to Hempshaw. His countess is overrun, you see, exhausted from birthing four boys in six years, and could use a bit of help with keeping them in hand.’
Mateo let loose a sharp bark of laughter, although there was little humour in it. ‘That is Anthony all over.’
‘Yes,’ she said flatly. ‘But I won’t have it. I am tired of being let down by the men who are supposed to have my best interests at heart. I want my home, Mateo. I want my independence.’
‘At the very least she should be allowed to use the London house,’ Dorrie complained. That had been her favourite plan for their future. ‘But her brother is adamant about saving expenses and has leased it out.’
Finally Mateo turned and looked at her.
‘The rest of the world would no doubt agree with my brother,’ she said. ‘But I had hoped that once you were here, and saw what we’ve done, you would understand. We’ve both had everything we wanted in our grasp, only to have it snatched away.’
His expression was carefully blank, but she could see the tension in the stiff line of his jaw. ‘I don’t have enough to purchase an estate like this.’ He gestured about him.
‘Perhaps not, but between the two of us, together in possession of a company like Cardea Shipping, surely we could, ah, liquidate some assets?’ Her spine had gone as rigid as stone, but she would not plead, even now. ‘I realise that the prospect is not pleasant, but it must be better than the alternative.’She let the unspoken threat hover.
But Mateo’s head had come up. ‘I suppose it could be done. We’ve the Lily Fair just in at Portsmouth with a cargo of flax-seed and fine walnut. And the agent there is as good as any we have in the company. The cargo itself will fetch a fair price, but once she’s unloaded, we could put it about that we’d like to sell her.’ His hands clenched on the balustrade behind him. ‘Dio, but I hate to give her up. She once made the run from Philadelphia to Liverpool in sixteen days, just two off the record.’
He stared unseeing at the terrace. ‘Her captain will be fair disappointed. I’ll have to reshuffle, offer him something special to keep him and his crew content. I’ll have to see her refitted, renegotiate with the insurers.’ He sighed then, and met her gaze. ‘But there’s no doubt she’ll fetch a fine price—perhaps enough so that with what I have set back, we won’t need to sacrifice any others. I’ll start the process.’ He grimaced. ‘And with both of our signatures upon the papers, there can be no questioning the order.’
He abandoned the balustrade and began to pace, his expression lighter than she’d yet seen. ‘There’ll be no need for me to linger, though. With her reputation, she’ll sell quickly. Our agents can handle the rest. And all you really need is funds. My own ship is waiting. A few days to draft up the exchange, leave instructions for proceeds from the sale to be sent to you, and I can be on my way.’
‘No,’ Portia said yet again.
Mateo stopped. He pivoted on his heel and turned to face her.
‘You must stay,’ she explained. ‘My brother is seriously annoyed that I will not let Stenbrooke go. He tells me there is nothing to be done and has forbidden his solicitors to aid me in this. After all the strife following his death, my husband’s solicitor will not even admit me any longer.’
Now she was on her feet and moving. ‘I have serious questions about the validity of this conveyance, but no one will give me any answers. I broached the subject of buying the estate back with the new owner’s solicitor, but he would not even agree to present the idea to his employer. This whole transaction seems cloaked in mystery, and no one will see it.’ She turned away, allowing sour frustration to leak into her words. ‘I am shushed like a child, patted on the head and ordered to pack my things.’ She spun back. ‘I am sick to death of it.’
She watched Mateo draw a deep breath. The excitement drained from his face even as it began to settle into an expression of exaggerated patience.
‘I’m afraid you don’t understand,’ he began. ‘There are business matters—’
She fought back a gasp. ‘Don’t you dare!’ She could not believe it. How did he dare to patronise her after all she’d told him? ‘Do not even think to speak to me in that reasonable tone! I’ve reached my limit, Mateo. I tell you now that I do not care what pressing business awaits you in Philadelphia. It has become painfully obvious that no one will take me seriously in this matter. Well, I am done being bullied, silenced and ignored. Clearly I need a man to aid me in this—and you are the only viable candidate.’
Anger flashed in his dark eyes and his jaw clenched. He moved away from the balustrade and began to pace from one end of the veranda to the other.
‘You will stay and help me with this matter until Stenbrooke’s deed is in my possession. Only then will I give you Cardea Shipping.’ Though she suffered a pang of guilt at his resentment, on that she must stand firm. ‘I am sorry to have to insist, but every other avenue is blocked.’ She tossed him a bitter glance. ‘I suppose I should not have hoped for sympathy. I doubt you have any notion how it might feel to be left without choices.’
‘Until now?’ he ground out.
She raised her chin.
‘And you would be wrong in any case,’ he continued bitterly. ‘You knew my father.’ He heaved a sigh of resignation. ‘He was a good man, as I know you will agree, but a hard one, as well, and one absolutely committed to his own path. You cannot imagine the frustration I have felt, the times I thought I must be crushed under his thumb. And now I find myself back in the same position.’ He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Albeit, under a smaller, daintier thumb.’
Portia’s breath hitched. She’d been a fool to hope that they could get through this without harming each other’s feelings once again. But she would be free at last. She was determined. She was also fully aware of the great irony here; that the one man she must force to help her gain her independence was the only one she’d ever truly wished to give it up for.
She straightened her shoulders. ‘I would not place you in such a position if I could think of another way. So I suppose it is you who must decide. In the end you will get your legacy back, but you will have to wait, and I am afraid you will have to adjust to the weight of my thumb.’ She summoned her courage. ‘So—what will it be? Will you allow my hand on the rudder? Or is it too great a price to pay?’
His eyes glittered. ‘You may have the upper hand here, Portia, but I must insist that you keep your hands off my rudder.’
Careful. His pride had already been dealt a massive blow. She must handle this delicately, but the thought of surrendering her fate into the hands of another man made her reckless.
‘
This is a crucial point, Mateo. We act as equals, or we do not act at all. I will not blithely turn this over for you to handle, while I sit at home. If you cannot accept me as a partner in this, then you will not get Cardea Shipping back.’
It was incongruous, the sight of him and his restless energy and gathering ire. He drew the eye, demanded attention, and looked completely out of place here in the midst of her green and tranquil haven. She blanched as he spun on his heel and approached her. The storm clouds were back, gathering across his brow.
‘So you do not trust me with your business, Portia?’ he asked in an acid tone. ‘No doubt you think I’ll be distracted by a stray wench and forget the weighty matters at hand.’He frowned. ‘Careful, cara, you begin to sound like my father.’
‘Nevertheless.’ Her chin thrust even higher. ‘What is it to be, then? Will you accept my terms? Or is the price too dear?’
‘Almost, it is,’ he growled. ‘Almost, you tempt me to fling your offer back in your teeth. But I will do it. As you knew I would. I’ve no choice, really, do I?’
His words cut the taut line of tension running up her spine. She collapsed, sinking back onto the support of the balustrade. Relief and a fierce, hot joy blossomed in her chest.
‘Give me a name,’ he demanded. ‘Where do I find this man and his deed of conveyance?’
It took a moment for her to gather her thoughts. A great weight had been lifted from her. For the first time in months she felt…light. Hopeful. Happy. She sucked in a breath, wanting to smell and taste and wallow in it.
‘Portia? Dear, are you all right?’ Dorinda eyed her with concern.
She breathed out. ‘Of course. Mr Rankin is his name,’ she said to Mateo. ‘He has offices in Newbury.’
‘How far?’
‘Less than an hour’s ride.’
‘I’ll see him tomorrow. You can be sure that I will only ask questions, scope the lay of the land. I’ll not make a single decision,’ he said sourly, ‘and I’ll call when I return to tell you of the outcome.’ He turned away from her and sketched a brief bow in Dorrie’s direction. ‘Miss Tofton, it was a great pleasure to make your acquaintance.’ Without hesitation he turned and strode for the steps.
