It was then that Parkins, the Devon House butler, entered the morning room.
“Excuse me, my lady, but there is a Mrs. Delilah Remington here to see you. I have her waiting in the library.”
Colette and Simon exchanged surprised glances.
“This is an interesting development,” she said. “Thank you, Parkins. Please let Mrs. Remington know that I shall be down to see her momentarily.”
She was curious to know what Meredith’s aunt had to say for herself. Before she left the drawing room, she hugged her son once more.
“I love you, Simon,” she whispered. For the first time in a long while, she felt that her younger son would be all right.
“I love you, Mother,” he said. “And I want you to know that no matter what anyone has said about you neglecting us as children in favor of the bookshop, that they are utterly wrong. I know it’s something that worries you. But you should never worry or regret how you raised Phillip and me. You are, and have always been, the best mother. We’re lucky to have you.”
Tears filled her eyes. She had worried. And the fact that Simon was aware of her feelings touched her deeply. “Those words mean more to me than you could ever know, Simon. Thank you.”
With her heart full of swirling emotions, Colette had to wipe the tears from her eyes before she made her way downstairs to meet with Meredith’s aunt.
Delilah Remington was pacing rather nervously when Colette entered the Devon House library. Her nervousness at calling on Phillip’s family was quite apparent. Colette felt sympathy for the woman, knowing how embarrassed she must be.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Remington.” She greeted her with a warm smile. “It’s a pleasant surprise to have you visit today.”
“I rather doubt that,” Delilah stated, her face lined with worry. “But it’s very kind of you to say so.”
“Of course I’m happy to see you. Please, have a seat with me. They’re bringing us some tea.” Colette ushered Meredith’s aunt to the leather chairs.
As they each took a seat, Delilah relaxed somewhat.
“Thank you for taking the time and for being so nice. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me after all that has happened. No one else in this city wishes to see us.”
“I’m so sorry. It must be dreadful.”
“It is absolutely dreadful,” Delilah said wearily. “And again, you have more reason to be upset with me than anyone else. I appreciate your compassion, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive Meredith and me.”
“I do forgive you both,” Colette sighed in sympathy. “We all make mistakes at times, even when we have the best intentions at heart.”
“Thank you for trying to understand, your ladyship. This has been devastating for us, and I came here today to try to explain to you and express my deepest apologies for the embarrassment my foolishness has caused your family especially.”
Delilah removed a lacy handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed at her eyes daintily.
“Thank you, but my family is fine, although I am quite worried about Phillip. How is Meredith faring?” Colette ventured to ask.
“She is simply heartbroken about Lord Waverly. I don’t know what to do or how to help her. I wish I could fix this appalling situation, especially since it is entirely my fault.”
Filled with curiosity now, Colette questioned, “How did all this start, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“It was my idea, my great plan,” Delilah began, sniffling a little. “Meredith never wished to go along with it, but she did so for my benefit. The truth of the matter is . . . we just let everyone continue to believe what we were. When her father died, Meredith should have been an heiress to his money, just as I was supposed to have inherited my husband’s half of the company. The Remington Oil Company was supposedly worth millions. Unfortunately, after the accident, we discovered we were not as well-provided for as we expected to be.”
Delilah took a breath as a footman brought in the tea tray.
“That must have been quite a terrible shock,” Colette said, pouring them each a cup of tea.
“Oh, it was! We were left with nothing. We had to sell our house in New York. My one option was to come back to England and live with my sister,” Delilah explained. “I have my two young children to think about, as well as Meredith. The only way out that I could see was for us both to marry well.”
“And pretending that you still had money?” Colette prompted.
There was no shame in not having money. Colette herself had been in that position herself once. But to pretend and put up a façade that one possessed millions of dollars when one did not? That part didn’t make sense to her.
She certainly understood and sympathized with the Remington ladies’ plight. Many women faced a similar fate after the death of a husband or father. Colette had discovered her family was in dire financial straits after her father died. It was only by sheer determination, hard work, and good luck that she managed to save Hamilton’s Book Shoppe.
Her father, Thomas Hamilton, had barely left them enough to live on. She distinctly recalled the constant fear and worry and the daily struggle to keep the bookshop open and to support her mother and younger sisters. Then there was the great pressure from her own aunt and uncle, pushing Colette and her sister Juliette to find wealthy husbands to support them. Colette had been fortunate enough to have a small source of income in the bookshop. She was even more fortunate to fall in love with Lucien Sinclair.
She understood completely why Delilah and Meredith believed their only option was to marry when they discovered they were broke. Colette would have had to do the same.
What she didn’t understand was perpetuating the lie that they were still wealthy.
Delilah Remington sighed heavily. “Pretending that Meredith was a wealthy heiress and that I was a wealthy widow was my idea. It was part of my great plan, which, as it turns out, was not so great after all. All I knew was that we needed to marry as soon as we could, and I thought we would draw more suitors around us quickly, and have a better selection, if gentlemen believed we were rich.”
“But you also had to beware of fortune hunters,” Colette pointed out. “And of course, your lie would most certainly have been found out as soon as either of you actually married someone.”
“Oh yes, I know,” Delilah said brightly. “We were very careful of men who needed our supposed money. And as I said, we were meant to have that money. We only found out the truth after the accident. All we were doing was changing the timeline a little. Once Meredith and I married, we were going to explain we received a letter from our lawyers in New York informing us we were bankrupt. We always planned to tell the truth . . . just a little later after the fact.”
“I think I see now,” Colette murmured, although still a bit befuddled by Delilah’s sense of logic.
“But from the start, Meredith was against it,” Delilah continued, stirring her tea. “I pressured her to do it for my sake. As a widow at my age with two young children, I needed a little something extra to capture a man’s attention. I’ve already been married twice, you know, and money is a great motivator.”
Again Colette nodded. Delilah wasn’t wrong.
In general, most gentlemen did prefer younger women. The Duke of Havenfield was a classic example of this. He was much closer in age to Delilah Remington, who had experience as a mother, shared a common background and upbringing with him, and would be a perfect fit for a duchess. Yet whom did the duke wish to marry? Meredith. He chose a girl twenty years younger than he was, who had nothing in common with him!
“I do see what you mean,” Colette said, and sipped her tea.
“As soon as Lord Waverly asked to marry her, the first thing Meredith wanted to do was tell him the truth. But I begged her not to do it just yet. I needed more time to find the right man to marry. It was all well and good that Meredith found your son so quickly. She’s young and beautiful and unmarried, so of course she would have, even without the allu
re of her millions! But I still had my future and that of my children’s to think of. I’m still stunned I’m back on the market. For a third time!”
Yes, Colette was beginning to understand the position Meredith was in and the pressure she was under to please the woman who raised her. Knowing Meredith as she did, Colette surmised how she would feel responsible for the welfare of her aunt and young cousins, whom she loved.
In truth, it was all a rather ridiculous situation. Yet they had infuriated the Duke of Havenfield, upset everyone who knew them with their lie, and ruined their reputations.
Still, Colette couldn’t help but think something could be done to rectify the situation. Phillip must somehow be made to understand Meredith’s position in all this. He was so busy nursing his wounded pride, that he wouldn’t listen to reason. She also feared that if they didn’t act soon, her son would end up back in the clutches of Lady Katherine Vickers.
“And I know what I did was wrong, even foolish, but I did not know what else to do. No one wishes to hear my side of the story.” Delilah’s expression was contrite. “You’re very kind to hear me out, your ladyship.”
“Please, won’t you call me Colette?”
“Thank you, and you must call me Delilah.” She smiled for the first time since she arrived. “I’ve been beside myself with worry, between Meredith being so devastated about the engagement being called off and all the effects of the scandal. She has barely left her bedroom and spends all her time writing away at that silly book of hers.”
Colette’s sympathies were all for Meredith. The poor girl must be as heartbroken as Phillip. She hated to think of either of them apart from each other this way.
“My sister Lavinia is hardly speaking to me, because her friends are upset with her too. I shall never be able to find a husband in London now.” Delilah sounded almost despondent. “So, my sister is sending us back to New York.”
“Both of you? Is Meredith leaving as well?” Colette’s voice rose with alarm.
“Well, of course. We can’t remain here now, can we? Although to be frank, I’ve no idea what we shall do in New York either.”
Colette knew she had to do something quickly to help her son. If Meredith left for New York, there would be no chance of reuniting her and Phillip.
26
By the Book
Olivia stared at the handsome man before her in utter disbelief.
“You are Huntley?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, I am.”
“But all this time . . . I thought you were someone else. Why did you save me?”
He looked at her intently, his eyes flickering, and he took a step closer to her. He reached out his hand.
“You needed saving,” he whispered in a voice that took her breath away.
She backed away, confused. How could this man be a cold-blooded murderer? How had he whisked her away to safety and then declared himself the killer?
“But the police are after you, Huntley. . . . Everyone knows that you strangled those innocent people. Everyone knows what you’ve done.”
“Everyone thinks they know what I’ve done, but they are mistaken. I told you. I’m not who you think I am.”
“Then who killed that family if it wasn’t you?” she demanded.
The door to the cabin burst open, and Olivia screamed. A man stood there. A man who looked exactly like Huntley. Identical, in fact. She stood there glancing between the two handsome twins, hardly daring to breathe.
Which one of them was the killer?
Or was it both of them? Could such a thing even be possible?
* * *
Finally, Meredith finished the painstaking work of neatly recopying the final draft of her manuscript. It had taken hours and hours of tedious work, and she was practically covered in ink stains, but since she had nothing else to do except hide away in her tiny bedroom at Aunt Lavinia’s, the time-consuming work was completed at last.
Her book was finished! She had completed The Edge of Danger, by M.R. Remington.
She had written her first novel and was quite proud of herself. Now to pack it up and send it off to John Murray, the publisher that Colette Sinclair had told her about. Meredith almost squealed with the excitement of it all. She knew in her heart that her book would be published.
Then she would recopy her manuscript neatly once again, while she sailed back to New York, and present it to Mr. Robinson, the publisher at Scribner’s, when she arrived. Meredith would then have two chances of getting her book published!
Aunt Delilah knocked briefly on the door before entering her bedroom.
“There’s someone here to see you, Meredith,” she announced, looking inordinately happy about something. “Would you please come down to the drawing room?”
Meredith groaned. “Aunt Delilah, look at me. I’m a mess! I can’t possibly see anyone at the moment. Who could be calling on me anyway? I’m a social pariah.”
Aside from having ink-spattered fingers, the smock that covered her ordinary gray dress was covered in black ink as well. She had done up her thick hair hastily that morning, and it was now all hanging loosely down her back. It never stayed in the pins properly.
“You have an important visitor, Meredith. Someone I’m sure you will be happy to see. I shall send Smith in to help you change, clean up, and make yourself more presentable. But then please join us in the drawing room as quickly as you can.”
And just like that Delilah exited, leaving Meredith with unanswered questions. With a reluctant sigh, she quickly washed up with the good Castile soap, which helped remove the ink stains from her hands, while her aunt’s lady’s maid found a clean summer gown of apple green for her to wear. After Smith arranged her hair, Meredith was ready.
Wondering who on earth would be coming to see her and who would cause Aunt Delilah to act so mysteriously, Meredith made her way down to the drawing room looking much more respectable than she had a quarter of an hour ago.
“Mara!” she cried in surprise.
Stunned to see Phillip’s lovely cousin, Mara Sheridan, the Countess of Sterling, seated on the sofa, Meredith couldn’t help but be pleased.
Looking radiant, with the slightest curve to her growing belly, Mara smiled at her. Mara had an ethereal quality to her, with her gray-green eyes and flaxen hair, and she looked serene in a light gown of the palest yellow.
“Well now, I shall leave you two girls to speak to each other privately,” Delilah announced, rising from her chair. “Thank you, Lady Sterling. It was lovely chatting with you. Please excuse me.” She grinned at Meredith as she left the drawing room.
What in heaven’s name was going on? Why would Mara Sheridan pay a call on her now that the engagement was off? It’d been almost three weeks since she had even seen Phillip. Meredith took a seat across from Mara.
“I apologize for calling on you unannounced, Meredith. Thank you for seeing me,” Mara said softly, the hint of an Irish accent still discernible in her voice.
“Of course, I would see you!” Meredith exclaimed in protest. “And I haven’t had many visitors lately, so this is a lovely treat.”
Mara paused, seemingly unsure what to say. “You look very well.”
“Thank you. So do you. You’re the prettiest expectant mother I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh, with these babies, I’m not so sure.” Mara looked a bit flustered and embarrassed at the compliment. “I feel that I am as big as a house now.”
“Babies? You think you’re having twins?” Meredith asked.
“Yes, I know I am, and these two little ones let me know it every day. A boy and a girl,” Mara said with confidence. “But I didn’t come here to talk about me. I’ve come to talk about you. I’m terribly sorry about what happened between you and Phillip. My dear cousin has a tendency to be a bit overly dramatic about things, but even he has gone too far.”
“How is he doing?” Meredith had to ask even though she wished she could act indifferently. But she had not stopped
caring for him, in spite of everything.
She had heard from Simon that Phillip had returned to his gambling and drinking lifestyle, to the great dismay of his family. Not surprisingly Meredith was quite worried about him. She was angry with him as well.
“He’s not doing well at all, as I’m sure you must be aware of by now.” Mara shook her head sadly. “He’s worse than before he met you.”
Meredith grew quiet. She hated to think of Phillip suffering that way, but he had brought all of this on himself. He was a grown man and should know better by now. And besides, if he was upset by their breakup, he only had himself to blame. He was the one who ended the engagement, not her. If it had been up to her, they would still be getting married next week as planned.
For the first few days after Phillip ended their engagement, completely heartbroken and devastated, Meredith had cried continuously and could barely get out of bed. She hadn’t known she could cry that many tears. Shuttered in her tiny bedroom, she hid away from the world and sobbed at the loss of everything she had loved. The loss of Phillip and his family.
Then she grew angry.
Nothing she had done had been that terrible. She had perpetuated a lie and made an error in judgment, which left her in an embarrassing position socially. She had not stolen anything. She had not broken the law nor physically harmed anyone. She had not committed a grievous sin. It was nothing that couldn’t be forgiven, and Phillip should have forgiven her. If he had he truly loved her, he would have been able to look into his heart and forgive her mistake. But he hadn’t.
As her sadness turned to anger, she then channeled all that angry energy into determination to finish writing The Edge of Danger. And she’d done it too! Just thinking about her completed book buoyed her spirits.
And now she was making plans to return to New York with Aunt Delilah, for staying in London was no longer possible, nor desirable. Aunt Lavinia had been hurt by the scandal as well and thought it for the best if Meredith and Delilah returned home to New York. Delilah still hadn’t finalized their living situation, but she had sent a few letters to friends inquiring about staying with them when they arrived in New York.
The Unexpected Heiress Page 24
