Ravished

by Virginia Henley

  Before long, Georgiana/Julia was describing her husband’s extravagant gambling, a vice in which she too indulged because her husband soon became bored with her. As Alex turned the pages she realized that Georgiana’s chief complaint against her husband was the lack of romantic love.

  My person still invites his caresses … but for the softer sentiments of the soul … that ineffable tenderness which depends not on the tincture of the skin … of that, alas, he has no idea. A voluptuary in love, he professes not that delicacy which refines its joys. He is all passion; sentiment is left out of the catalogue.

  Alex again thought of Nicholas Hatton and was taken by a delicious shudder. She couldn’t understand why the woman was complaining when she admitted that her husband was all passion and a voluptuary in love. Alex shook her head in disbelief as she realized that Georgiana had turned from her husband to the Prince of Wales for the softer sentiments of the soul. Prinny was a figure of fun, a caricature of a man. How could Georgiana have been so foolish? She finished the book and returned it to Dottie. “You were right; it is pure twaddle. I had a devil of a time trying to finish it.”

  “Georgiana conveniently solves her heroine’s problems by having her husband kill himself. Unfortunately, in her own case, the Duke of Devonshire wasn’t quite as obliging.”

  Alexandra’s lips twitched with amusement. “Admit it, you gave me Georgiana’s novel to discourage me from trying to write my own. It won’t work, of course; mine will be of a much higher calibre.”

  “Yes, darling, and as a result it will be much more difficult to get published. Mediocre claptrap appeals to the masses. My advice would be to concentrate on lowering the quality, not elevating it.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by Rupert’s arrival. His friend Kit Hatton had called earlier and the two had gone out riding. When the handsome Hatton twin had appeared at Longford Manor, Alexandra’s heartbeat had become erratic until she realized that it was Christopher seeking out the company of Rupert.

  Her brother had the sort of open, friendly countenance that could never hide his thoughts. Newly returned from his ride, Rupert threw his tall beaver hat and his riding crop onto the hall table and strode into the sitting room. His face showed clearly that he was bursting to tell them something of great import.

  “The Hatton solicitor came yesterday to read the will,” he blurted. “Christopher has inherited!”

  “Heirs usually inherit,” Dottie said dryly.

  “No, no, Christopher has inherited everything! The title, Hatton Hall, Hatton Great Park, Hatton Grange horse farm, the money, the investments, and even the London town house. The old man cut Nicholas out of his will completely!”

  “I don’t believe you. That is impossible! Have you been drinking, Rupert?” Alex asked, suddenly suspicious.

  “No … well, yes, Kit and I took lunch at The Cock and Bull so we could drink to his great good fortune. But I’m not making this up; Christopher has inherited everything!”

  The color drained from Alexandra’s face. Dottie curled her lip. “A leopard never changes his spots; Henry hated his second son before he was even born. This is his petty revenge.”

  “Nicholas gets nothing?” Alex whispered through bloodless lips.

  “Not a sausage!” Rupert confirmed, eager to expound on what he had learned. “Kit has invited me to London. He has immediate business at Barclays Bank, of course, then we shall paint the town! Kit’s fortune is Nick’s misfortune—get it? Missed-fortune.”

  Rupert’s attempt at humor horrified Alexandra.

  “When men have imbibed, darling, they think everything amusing.”

  “Please don’t try to excuse him; he’s loathsome!” Alex snapped.

  “Men have an inexhaustible supply of loathsomeness, I’m afraid.”

  Rupert gave his grandmother a speculative look. Emboldened by the liquor he had consumed, he decided to broach the subject of his allowance and thought it amusing to refer to himself in the third person. “By the by, if Viscount Longford is to accompany Lord Hatton to London, he will need to be considerably more plump in the pocket. The viscount has been wondering why his allowance wasn’t increased when he turned twenty-one, four months ago.”

  “Tell the viscount that I shall be happy to discuss the matter with him when he is sober,” Dottie replied.

  Rupert bowed solemnly. “Very good, ma’am. I must find my valet and have him pack my things for London.”

  That should prove a sobering exercise, since you no longer have a valet. Dottie sighed. The time had come when she must apprise Rupert of the financial facts.

  “My God, how could Lord Hatton do this to his sons? It will set them at each other’s throats!” Alexandra began to pace up and down. “He was nothing but a devious, loathsome, worthless swine!”

  “Not worthless, darling. He has left his heir a fortune.”

  “But it is so unfair! Nicholas must be devastated! What the devil has he ever done to deserve such cruel, vengeful treatment?”

  “Shot his father, perhaps?” Dottie reminded her.

  “That is a vile thing to say!”

  “Men are loathsome, women vile … it is our natures.”

  “I’m going to Hatton Hall,” Alexandra said with resolve.

  “Wise decision,” Dottie agreed. “Lay your claim on your future husband now, for once the wealthy Lord Hatton arrives in London, every Society matron with a whey-faced daughter will set a matrimonial trap for him.”

  Alex rolled her eyes in exasperation. Her grandmother deliberately tried her patience. Surely it was obvious she was going to see Nicholas. She ran upstairs to change into a riding habit, wondering wildly what she could say to make him feel better. Nothing came to mind as she saddled her palfrey Zephyr and rode to Hatton Hall. It was only after Mr. Burke told her that Nicholas had gone to Slough to visit John Eaton that an ingenious plan came to her. She laughed out loud as she thought about it—it was the perfect solution!

  * * *

  Nicholas Hatton, astride his brother’s hunter Renegade, took the Bath Road to Slough and shortly thereafter rode into the courtyard of Eaton Place. When Kit had suggested that he visit the Hatton financial advisor and pass himself off as his twin, Nick hadn’t taken him seriously. This morning when Kit still refused to deal with John Eaton, Nick decided that he would ride up and speak with their father’s cousin himself.

  He had no intention of passing himself off as Christopher until he encountered his second cousin in the stables. When Jeremy looked down his long nose with contempt and said, “Hello, Kit. It didn’t take you long to sniff out the money trail, I see.”

  Nicholas was furious. He had always disliked the youth. He was an absolute snot and obviously resented the fact that Kit had come into a title. Nick decided to rub salt into his wound. “I prefer to be addressed as Lord Hatton,” he said in his most arrogant drawl. “Be a good lad, Jeremy, and tell your father I’m here on business.”

  Jeremy’s eyes narrowed. “The name Harm suits you far better than Lord Hatton.” His glance slid over Renegade. “Nice mount … the one you rode in the fatal hunt, I believe.”

  Nick was instantly aware that the young snot was on a fishing expedition and decided to nip it in the bud immediately. “Are you accusing me of something?” When he received no reply, Nicholas deliberately turned his back upon his cousin and handed Renegade to an Eaton groom. When he turned around, Jeremy was gone.

  Nick was greeted at the front door by a majordomo wearing livery so fancy he had a difficult time hiding his amusement. As he looked around the entrance hall, he was surprised at the luxury of the furnishings. Though Eaton Place lay only a few miles west in the next county, he had not had occasion to visit in years, and he was amazed at the show of wealth. Directing the finances of others must assuredly be a most profitable profession, Nick concluded.

  John Eaton greeted him warmly. “Come along to the library, my boy. You are looking much improved since the funeral, Christopher. I am glad you are bea
ring up, under such difficult circumstances.”

  “Thank you, John. I only just learned that Father named you sole trustee to his will. His … my solicitor, Tobias Jacobs, advised me to consult with you immediately.”

  “Ah, no hurry my boy. I shall take care of business for you, just as I did for Henry. No need to worry about it at all.”

  Nick was immediately aware that Eaton’s cold, agate eyes belied his words. They were far more paternal than their father’s had ever been and rang false in his ears. “I’m sure I need not worry. I am simply here to go over the investments I have inherited.”

  John Eaton smiled and wagged his finger. “Ah, Christopher, I detect a note of censure in your voice. You feel slighted that your father did not make you a trustee, but under the circumstances it is far better that he did not.”

  Nick raised a dark brow. “Under the circumstances?”

  “You inherited everything, your twin nothing whatsoever. Under the circumstances it was best that you not be named a trustee. You may be safely confident that I have your best interests at heart. Your father took my advice in naming you sole beneficiary.”

  Nick wanted to smash his fist into Eaton’s long arrogant nose. “So I have you to thank?”

  “In no small measure, you do indeed, my boy. You are well aware of the animosity between your father and Nicholas; he made no secret of it. I knew he begrudged handing over Hatton Grange horse farm and its profits to his second born, so I advised him to make you his sole heir.”

  “A conspiracy.” Nick’s mouth curved in a half smile that did not reach his eyes. Father’s motive was hatred, but yours could only have been greed. I warrant your advice was expensive.

  “As I said before, I have only your best interests at heart. Do you see now, Christopher, why you can place complete trust in me regarding your investments?”

  “Yes, I see things clearly now.” Nicholas lusted to reveal his true identity to the son of a bitch. It would be almost worth it to see the look on his face. He clenched his jaw until it ached to keep from flinging his name in the bastard’s face. Instead, he said, “I would like a list of my investments and what interest they are earning. I would like a full accounting.”

  He saw that Eaton was momentarily taken aback. Likely he had never thought his cousin’s heir particularly shrewd. He did know however that he was spoiled and used to getting his own way, just as his own son, Jeremy, was spoiled rotten.

  “Of course I shall give you a full accounting. These things take time, you understand, Christopher. It shall be delivered to you the moment the tally is finished.”

  Nick suspected that he was stalling, but there was little he could do, other than make it clear he expected the accounting. “Thank you, John. I won’t take up any more of your time. I’ll expect to hear from you in two days. You may send it to the Curzon Street house—another bequest I no doubt owe to you.”

  The reception he had received from both Jeremy Eaton and his father gave Nicholas much food for thought on his ride home.

  At Longford Manor, Dottie walked into her grandson’s chamber and noted its disarray. Shirts and neckcloths were strewn across his bed, while mismatched riding boots and Hessians lay upon the carpet. Rupert stood jangling the bellpull.

  “Why the devil doesn’t Wilson answer my summons?”

  “I don’t imagine he can hear it.”

  “Why the devil not?”

  “London’s too far away.”

  “What the devil is he doing in London?”

  “Looking for a new position, since he no longer works for you.”

  “Damn it, Dottie, you’ve insulted the fellow!” he accused.

  “I warrant you did that when you didn’t pay him.”

  Rupert had the decency to look guilty for a moment. “But I’ve been so short lately. It was an oversight I fully intended to rectify once my allowance was increased.”

  “Sit down, my boy. It is the allowance I have come to discuss.” She lifted a neckcloth with her ebony cane and flipped it out of the way, then sat down on the bed. “Life is filled with ups and downs … Everything on earth has its advantages and its disadvantages … We must take the good with the bad … Oh, plague take it, enough platitudes! I’ll cut the palaver and be specific. You inherited your grandfather’s title, Viscount Longford—”

  “And I have tried to live up to it,” Rupert assured her.

  “Indeed you have, my boy. Russell would be proud. You’ve managed to go through a great deal of money in an amazingly short time, following in his hallowed footsteps.”

  Rupert rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me I must go on a budget and cut corners, just when I’ve been expecting an increase! Are you telling me that I shall have to divide the interest into even smaller amounts so that it will last longer?”

  “You’ve spent the interest, Rupert.”

  “Good God! Don’t tell me I’ve been dipping into my principle?”

  “Plunging would be a better description.”

  “How much is left?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” He jumped to his feet, a note of panic in his voice.

  “Nothing,” Dottie confirmed.

  He paced across the chamber, considering for a moment, then concluded, “Well, in that case it is quite obvious that the amount my grandfather set aside for me was inadequate. I throw myself upon your generosity and beg that you make arrangements more befitting to my station as Viscount Longford.”

  “When I married Russell Longford he was a wealthy man. He pissed away half his fortune on drink and women. The gaming tables got the other half.”

  The look of hope was wiped from Rupert’s face.

  “Blessedly, there was a large amount of money set aside for your mother’s dowry.”

  Rupert’s look of hope began to return.

  “Your father, Johnny Sheffield, pissed that away.”

  Rupert’s face fell, his expectations once more dashed. He sighed with deep resignation. “It is most fortunate that you are a wealthy woman in your own right. I throw myself upon your mercy, Grandmother. My fate is in your hands.”

  “No, Rupert, your fate is in your own hands. My money is a mirage, a myth, I am afraid.”

  “It cannot be true! After all these years of thinking I’d inherit a fortune and be able to spend like a nabob? I’ll be a bloody laughing stock! I won’t be able to face my friends—I’d rather put a bullet in my brain!”

  “I wouldn’t try, Rupert. Too small a target,” Dottie advised.

  “What am I to do?” he asked blankly.

  Dottie gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Typical male response! Not What is my grandmother to do? or What is my dear sister Alex to do? The remedy, rather like you, Rupert, is simple: Marry an heiress. The county seems to be chockablock with such gels.”

  A glimmer of renewed hope dawned on Rupert’s face. “The sacrifice might not prove too overwhelming, since I would wed an heiress regardless. It will simply have to be sooner rather than later,” he said decidedly, demonstrating amazing practicality. “Our money troubles must be kept secret, Dottie. My friend Kit would drop me like a hot chestnut if even a whisper of this got out.”

  “You cod’s head! I shall be as silent as the tomb, my dearest boy. Especially where young Hatton is concerned. Alexandra would have no chance of becoming Lady Hatton if she were a pauper. Now, Rupert, I am trusting you to keep your lip buttoned around your sister. Under no circumstances is Alexandra to know that we are no longer wealthy. If she thinks like an heiress and acts like an heiress, then everyone will assume she is an heiress.”

  The “heiress” in question left Hatton Hall and headed in the direction of the Bath Road, hoping to meet up with Nicholas on his return ride from Slough. As she cantered along the banks of the River Crane, she wondered why he had gone to see John Eaton, his father’s financial advisor. Perhaps he was clutching at straws, hoping Eaton would find some sort of a loophole, she reasoned, or perhaps he was trying to borrow money. Wh
atever his mission, her heart ached for his plight.

  The river ran through Hatton Grange, and Alexandra’s sense of fairness became outraged at the thought that the thriving horse farm had been snatched away from Nicholas and bestowed upon Christopher. She reined in Zephyr to a slow trot as she passed through the lush fields of the Grange, but when she saw the foals with their dams, the temptation to stop was too great to resist. She dismounted, climbed the wooden rail that surrounded the meadow, and held her hand out to a dappled gray mare that was cropping the grass. The horse ambled over and Alex laughed when the colt followed its mother and attempted to suckle.

  Presently, the mare pricked its ears, and Alex lifted her head and shaded her eyes with her hand as she scanned the distance. When she spotted the rider mounted on the powerful black Thoroughbred, her heart lifted with joy as she recognized Nicholas. Nobody rode as well as he did. She waved to him, and the anticipation of their meeting made her breath catch in her throat. Excitement bubbled up inside her, causing her heart to flutter and her pulse to race madly. She couldn’t wait to lay her ingenious plan before him; it would solve every difficulty and change their lives forever.

  Chapter Eight

  Nick, deep in thought over Jeremy Eaton’s taunt about the name Harm suiting his brother better than Lord, didn’t notice Alexandra perched upon the meadow rail until she began to wave madly. His dark brows drew together, and he hoped nothing was amiss as he galloped toward her. A feeling of relief washed over him when he was close enough to see that her face was lit by a radiant smile. He dismounted and tethered Renegade. As he drew close he saw the smile fade and tears flood her eyes. “What’s wrong, Alex?”