The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  "The banns are being read today, and he won't wish to wait. You shall be wed by the end of the month, no later. And if you need an excuse that will convince them to expedite matters, tell them you are with child."

  She gasped and glared at him. "I didn't gambled myself away! I can't see how I can be obliged to agree to such a monstrous arrangement! And I shall certainly not do even further harm to my reputation with that ghastly lie."

  "And I've told you, if we don't hurry, Clifford Stone will turn us out of here," he lied.

  "I will speak with him-"

  "He won't see reason. I'll be left with nothing. We'll both have to move out of here by the end of the month. Stone will either turn us out, or everyone in the neighborhood will have nothing more to do with us, since we will be branded dishonorable for reneging on the wager." Gerald grew more puce with every word.

  "Please reconsider before all is lost. If you don't do this, I'll have no choice but to throw myself in the river or hang myself. Without my estate, I have nothing, and therefore nothing to live for." He managed what he hoped would sound like a convincing sob.

  Vanessa gazed at her handsome but dissolute half-brother and judged him to be in a desperate frame of mind. "There are many who have far less than you, Gerald. You have only to look at the poor people on badly run estates, or the beggars in London. Or the veterans who fought in the Americas and on the Continent and came back wounded, and are expected to live on a paltry pension that would barely keep a cat alive. The coat on your back would feed several families for a year."

  Gerald glared at her, but hung his head humbly, hoping he looked sufficiently abject for his kind-hearted half-sister to take pity on him.

  "On the other hand," she said, looking at him thoughtfully, "it would be difficult, though not impossible, for you to adjust to such a life, to lose all that has been familiar to you. Since I'm in a position to prevent that from happening, I shall do so."

  He began to grin smugly then, but she fixed him with a hard stare.

  "However, make no mistake, Gerald. This is the last time I will assist you in such a way. Thus far you have made nothing of all of your privileges and advantages. I'm ashamed of your gambling and your weaknesses. I refuse to pay a penny more to encourage you in your life of reckless abandon.

  "If I agree to marry Clifford Stone, then there are certain terms you'll have to agree to. After all, it won't be enough to alleviate those debts. Even if I paid off the entire mortgage, you need to have some sort of steady income. You need to find a way to earn a living. You encumbered this estate without any thought for the morrow. The house has been left to fall into ruin since Father's death. The farm has been sadly neglected, when it could have gone a long way to providing for your wants if only you had taken the trouble over it. If the family home is so important to you, you need to stay away from the gaming tables. And if you can't be bothered to husband your own resources, then we need to find you a good steward who can stop your life of endless squandering."

  Gerald's bland smile hid the seething inner workings of his devious mind all too well. "Whatever you say, Sister," Gerald forced himself to reply meekly.

  All the while his brain whirred at the prospect of steady income for the first time in ages with which to fund his endless rounds of pleasure.

  Even if Vanessa remained adamant about not helping him, he could cause trouble for his new brother-in-law in all sorts of ways if he did not help him. And of course, there was his lucrative little hobby on the side... Risky, but he did enjoy it so. And some of the benefits were even more pleasurable than money.

  Vanessa looked at her half-brother carefully, then rose to pace in front of the fire restlessly once more. She was appalled at the situation she had found herself thrust into, and completely at sea.

  But Gerald expected some sort of an answer. She was sure she would get no peace from him until she gave one.

  "Very well," she said at last, sitting down once more and crossing her arms over her chest. "I'll do as you ask, and have the papers drawn up. However, you won't be setting the terms as you had hoped. You aren't married, and have no heir. Cousin Peter is well off enough in his own right. There was never anything in Father's will to prevent a female from inheriting.

  "Therefore you will sign this estate over to me, and live here as a life tenant, with the property to revert to any heir you may have, male or female once we're both gone. Or to my heir if you die childless. Failing both of those circumstances, one of our cousins or their children, if they ever marry, can inherit."

  Now it was Gerald's turn to get up and pace. "I don't understand, what am I to do if I sign-"

  "In return for the property, you'll be granted an allowance, which shall be no more than one half of the income of the estate. You must learn to live within your means, and learn how to manage the estate. You must ensure that none of the tenantry are left to suffer, as they apparently have."

  Gerald opened his mouth to protest, but she forestalled him with her raised hand. "You've left me no choice, so I am leaving you none. If you want me to save you from penury, you'll do as I say. If you work hard, you'll prosper. If you choose to continue on as you have done, you'll have no one to blame except for yourself. And I shall do nothing to assist you ever again."

  "But Vanessa--" he rasped, reddening with anger once more.

  She sat her ground as he drew near, though all of her instincts screamed that she should flee. "It's your choice, Gerald. If the Hawkesworth estate goes into the red by so much as one penny, I shall turn it over to a more worthy tenant who will value it and accord it the respect it deserves. Our father loved this house and land. I wonder you can profane his memory by treating it all with such utter disregard."

  "Not disregard. It was a run of bad luck--"

  She gazed at him with undisguised scorn. "People make their own luck, Gerald. You'll have a spell of good luck if you shun the gaming tables and your drinking companions, and devote your considerable energies currently occupied with hunting, fishing and wenching to accounting, tilling and sowing instead."

  "But Vanessa, a gentleman-"

  She shook her head. "I don't wish to hear your definition of a gentleman. Not after you have determined that the debauched Clifford Stone of all people is a good match for me. And certainly not with the way you behave."

  He came closer to stand over her almost menacingly. She rose from her seat and skirted past him, declaring as she did so, "I'll have the papers drawn up and the wedding shall go ahead as soon as possible by special license. I don't want to have the banns read out week after week and have everyone in the neighborhood tittering at my being made such a quiz of."

  "Vanessa, please--"

  She turned at the door to gaze at her half-brother levelly. "I'm sorry to be so blunt and harsh, and to set these terms. But if your burdens ever seem too onerous, please just recollect that it was your own folly which brought you to this pass. You may resent my decision, but given the fact that debtors' prison is your only other alternative, I expect you to be appropriately grateful."

  "But Vanessa--"

  "There is no more to be said upon the matter."

  Vanessa turned on her heel without another word and went upstairs to her chamber, dark and heavy in navy blue with mahogany furniture. She had always found the chamber oppressive, but her father had insisted it was the best room in the house, and had taken her mother's chamber after her death as his own. She recalled his kind, gentle face with a pang, the way he had reassured her during her many nightmares as a small girl.

  But he was not here now to rescue her from this one, she thought with a sigh. She stared at the adjoining door wistfully, almost fancying she could see the knob turn, and him coming in with a candle and a little gift or treat.

  Vanessa sat down at the dressing table heavily and gazed at her pale reflection in the mirror. Though she had managed to appear outwardly calm, she had a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. She felt cornered, like a rabbit confronted by a
stoat. She was sure in her heart of hearts that no good could come of this marriage. Yet what choice did she have?

  She tried to remember anything she knew about Clifford Stone apart from what her half-brother had told her. Recollections of him as he had been at twenty-one, tall, as fair-haired as Adonis, handsome, were her only memories. He had always been kind to her, especially just after her mother had died, and again when she had returned from Dorset for her father's funeral several years later. He had not had the impatience for a young child of eight that her own brother had possessed, and had been exceptionally gallant to a gangling fourteen year-old who wept like a watering pot at the least little thing. He had been so kind, had seemed to listen to her attempts at adult conversation with a willing and patient ear.

  Could he have changed so much? Metamorphosed into the depraved degenerate Gerald and their servants now whispered about? Gambling, wenching, drinking, committing depredations on their estate? She had heard he'd been in the Army. Had he come back scarred by that experience in mind if not body?

  Vanessa shook her head. She had no idea what to think. The only logical approach to the problem would be to meet with him, attempt to get him to be reasonable. No man with any common sense would want to wed an unwilling bride, though she had to admit her fortune would tempt even the most intelligent and morally upright man. Tempt them despite the rumors of her eccentricities. In fact, that might be all the more tempting: to have an enfeebled wife completely at his mercy.

  Vanessa gave a determined lift of her chin. She might be unworldly and naive after her sheltered life in Dorset, but she was no fool. She had good solicitors who were experienced men of business. They were well aware of the nature of marital relations amongst the upper crust in England.

  But with any luck, Mason and Rogers might not even have to get involved. She could only try her best to reason with her neighbor. If she failed, well, then she would pay the piper.

  If Clifford Stone would accept nothing less than all his money back immediately, she would have to keep her promise to her brother and wed the fiend.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Gerald sipped his brandy moodily in his study. Clifford Stone had the most damnable luck. Of all the people to win her! What the hell was he going to do now?

  Vanessa wasn't the addlepated ninny he had thought her to be after all. And his neighbor was certainly not going to relinquish the little pigeon now. It wasn't supposed to have happened like this. Not at all. They had all talked it through, even rehearsed it several times. Yet somehow his perfect plan had backfired...

  Hell and damnation. There had to be another way to seize her fortune. He had to stop panicking, and simply think things through. The trouble was, Gerald was not very good at thinking. He had had what appeared to be a foolproof scheme, and it had gone very badly awry.

  He saw red, and his hands began to tremble. Women. They were all the same. Foiled him at every turn. Tried to boss him around, stop him from having fun...

  Carping hags, the whole lot of them. They were only good for one thing, and sometimes not even that.

  He tossed back the rest of the drink and stood up, stomping towards the door. He would show Vanessa. She might be the most clever woman in England, but no one had outwitted him yet. He needed to come up with a better, more cunning stratagem. He was a man of the world. He would just have to think things though a bit more to find a way out of this muddle once and for all. He had never met an obstacle he couldn't surmount.

  Or mount, he thought with a leer, before heading up to his room to count his wealth, look through his papers, and weave a new web of deceit.

  A tap at the door some time later interrupted Vanessa's worried pacing to and fro.

  "If you please, Miss, your cousins have come to pay a visit."

  "Thank you, Simms."

  "I've put them in the gold sitting room, Miss."

  "Lovely, thank you. And some tea, perhaps? I know it won't be long before supper, but I fancy a cup myself and it is only hospitable, after all."

  "Yes of course, Miss." He bowed out of the room deferentially.

  Only after he was gone did she allow her annoyance to show on her face. She didn't know why she had felt required to explain herself to a mere servant.

  Nor did she really wish to see her cousins. But she had fobbed them off the last few times that they had called since she had returned to Somerset. She had felt them just too wearing to be with considering her grief.

  Yet sooner or later she was going to have to face them. She might even find allies amongst them. Surely they could not have approved of Gerald's behavior at their own soiree. It was true her Aunt Agatha had been no relation of theirs, but Peter assiduously courted people's good opinions. He would respect her mourning, and do his best to put out the fires of the scandal, she felt sure.

  She checked her appearance in the glass, and thought with a little lift of her heart that perhaps her youngest cousin Paul, not much older than herself, might be with Peter and Toby. She hoped he had not left for Michaelmas term yet at Cambridge.

  But when she arrived downstairs she saw only two men clustered around the tea table. They looked anything but friendly.

  "I'm astonished that you should not send for us at once, Cousin. Nay, call upon us in your time of dire need," Peter Stephens said after the usual pleasantries had been exchanged.

  His features were even more thin and sharp than she remembered, and he oozed disapproval from every pore. Yet he looked every bit the dapper man about Town in his fine cutaway coat in a rich hunter green velvet, with buff breeches and a sienna waistcoat.

  "Dire need?" she echoed in confusion.

  "Why, Gerald's appalling behavior last evening at our ball, of course," Peter replied swiftly, whilst Toby seated her and thrust a chipped cup and saucer into her hand.

  "We would have come sooner, dear Vanessa, had it not been for having so much to prepare."

  "Prepare?" She looked from one to another and wished she didn't sound so much like a parrot.

  "Of course. You cannot possibly stay here after what Gerald has done. Mother will be so delighted to have a fellow female in the house at last, and--"

  "Pray give Aunt Helen my very best wishes, but you can't possibly mean for me to come stay with you."

  "Why not? You cannot remain here without a chaperone. Think of your reputation. Gerald has made your situation completely untenable," Peter asserted with a firm air, as if the matter were a foregone conclusion. "You may recover your situation at least in part by leaving this house and having nothing more to do with your half-brother until you are safely married."

  "But the impropriety--"

  His brows lofted skywards. "Whatever do you mean? Who better to live with than your father's sister?"

  Vanessa looked at his stern expression and sighed inwardly. She bit her lip. He had to know that living under the same roof with three unmarried young men, aunt or no, could potentially be far more damaging than remaining with her half-brother. She had the sinking feeling they were not exactly going to ally themselves with her, so much as fight over her as if they were a trio of hounds and she a juicy bone.

  "Peter, Toby, I thank you for your concern, but this has all been one mull from start to finish. You need have no fears on my account. My solicitors and I shall be taking steps to recover my situation as rapidly as possible."

  Toby, ever blunt and outspoken, emitted a braying laugh. "Impossible. It's bad enough everyone saying you were mad after your childhood tantrums and brain fever. Now you've been gambled away by Gerald like an African slave upon the auction block. Gambled by your own brother. Just how on earth do you think you can ever hold your head up again in decent society without the support of the more respectable members of your family?"

  Vanessa quirked one brow. Surely Toby wasn't including himself in that category? Why, he had been rusticated from Cambridge three times in his very first year for his daring and outrageous pranks. Even the substantial fines and bribes his father had paid
to Trinity College had not been able to save him from the ignominy of being sent down after the fourth and final time, long before he ever even made it to the third term.

  She looked at his florid face. It wasn't even night yet and he already looked the worse for drink. His burgundy cravat was askew, his linen hardly looked fresh, and his wine-colored coat was so dusty and wrinkled she was sure it had been slept in. This is how he paid calls on people in the district? she wondered with dismay.

  She was astonished that her aunt let him. But then the poor woman had been browbeaten to a nonentity by her male-dominated family, though she recalled that Aunt Helen could be shrewd when she wished to be.

  Both men gazed back at her fixedly, waiting for her to accede to their requests.

  At length she replied, "I've done nothing wrong, Cousins. I was here safely at home with my reading and knitting for the poor whilst the debacle was going on. Surely if the more respectable members of my family were so concerned, one or the other of you should have prevented the whole situation from going too far in the first place. It was your ball, after all, Peter."