"Pardon?" Beatrix felt her face scrunch in confusion.
"The bastard says he has the right to marry you to attain your fortune," Lord Neville spoke through clenched teeth.
Beatrix felt her eyes go wide as she studied Lord Neville.
"Well, that is absurd." She shrugged after taking a moment to settle herself. Smoothing her skirt, she turned to Mr. Sheppard. "My father did not speak with his brother. They were estranged. He died without an heir before my mother and father. And he certainly did not make a marriage contract between this… gentleman and myself."
"Miss Lamont, while I have not seen the documentation myself, that such a claim has passed from the local magistrate clear to London lends to the assumption that there is some validity to his statement. However, you are correct on one point. The marriage stipulation is not for simply you, but one of the Lamont heirs."
Beatrix swallowed, pressing back the urge to shiver at the thought of any truth to this man's claim. "But Bethanny is married, so that would leave myself and Berty, but she is far too young—"
"To be married immediately, yes…" He let the words linger.
Her heart stopped. "They could force her into a contract with a stranger? She's only ten!"
"Indeed, but contracts can be drawn up at birth, Miss Lamont."
"This is preposterous. And this is with the assumption that this — this Kirby gentleman is even valid in his assertion!" She stood and began pacing.
"Let us address a separate question for a moment. You said that there was no reason to continue her ruse because her whereabouts were already known. How did his happen? Especially when it took me quite a while to discover the truth myself," Lord Neville asked, his tone businesslike.
"It would seem that Sir Kirby has been scouring the countryside as well — rather, his men have been. It was only a matter of time, Neville."
"Damn," he swore quietly.
"So, if I'm understanding this correctly… Sir Kirby is out scouring the countryside for me, thinking he has the correct documentation to prove that I'm destined to be his wife, all so he can inherit my family's fortune. And if I refuse, then there's a chance that my little sister could be forced to enter into a betrothal contract with him?" Beatrix paused in her pacing, heart beating fast as her gaze flickered between Lord Neville and Mr. Sheppard.
"That about sums it up. Yes." Mr. Sheppard nodded once then stood. "But that doesn't mean that it is set in stone. He has no power to enforce anything at this point.
"Which works in our favor." Lord Neville stood as well, a determined gleam in his eye.
"Exactly." Mr. Sheppard tucked his hands behind his back and paced, his face thoughtful.
"What if… we give him what he wants?" Lord Neville locked gazes with Mr. Sheppard, and both stopped pacing.
"You mean—"
"Yes."
"And then—"
"Quite possibly."
"We'll have to move quickly."
Lord Neville snorted. "Is there another way?"
"Not that I can imagine. Is she up to it?" Mr. Sheppard's gaze flicked to Beatrix then back to Lord Neville, searching for answer.
"Yes."
"Am I up to what? For heaven's sake, gentleman, will you please explain yourselves?"
"I do think that there's no other option." Lady Southridge stood as well, surprising Beatrix. She had quite forgotten the lady was present, so uncommon was it for her to be so silent.
"Am I the only one who has not gone mad?" Beatrix threw her hands down in a frustrated gesture.
"You, my dear, are going to London," Lady Southridge explained in a quiet tone, completely unnatural for her. Beatrix glanced to her beloved friend, a grandmother to her in so many ways.
"Why?"
"Because you have a wedding to plan." Lord Neville spoke darkly as he turned to face her.
"A wedding? You cannot mean for me to marry Sir Kirby—"
"Bloody hell, you are! You're marrying me. I do believe I've explained that enough the past few days. You truly are difficult on my ego, Miss Lamont." A small smile tipped the corner of his mouth, reminding her for a fleeing second of his flavor.
"I'm… confused," Beatrix replied, her gaze darting between the three people in the room.
"We're going to continue the ruse, only in a different manner…"
"Oh heavens, no more Bev!" she all but cried.
"It wasn't that bad," Lady Southridge replied, her tone slightly offended.
Beatrix shot her a glare.
"No, no more Bev. You'll be Miss Lamont, but you're going to buy us some time with the ruse that you're open to the idea of marrying Sir Kirby."
"No."
"Yes."
"No." She stomped her foot.
"Did she just stomp?" Mr. Sheppard asked in an amused tone, but she paid him no mind. Her gaze was in battle with that of Lord Neville's.
"Yes. Because we need to solve this if you wish to ensure that you and your sister are completely free. This is the easiest and most viable solution. Curtis and I will address everything else, but we need time. Can you give us that, Beatrix?"
Her heart stilled at the sound of her name on his lips. His green eyes pulled her in, captivated her as he implored her, demanded, yet at the same time gave her the freedom of a choice.
"Yes," she whispered.
Lord Neville closed his eyes and nodded once. "Thank you." He met her gaze once more.
"There will be no shortage of sparks with you two, will there?" Mr. Sheppard replied, his tone a bit uncomfortable.
"You have no idea," Lady Southridge answered, her tone ironic.
"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I do believe I have to pack." She curtsied and turned to the door.
As she passed Lord Neville, he reached out and grasped her arm, pausing her exit. "We will get to the bottom of this, and you will not marry that man." He spoke with a determined edge.
She cut her gaze to meet his. "See that your promise is not idle. Because my sister will not be forced into such an arrangement. If you truly are set on my hand, you have no other option." She kept her voice resolute when tears threatened to make her weak.
Pulling her hand free, she quit the room and ascended the stairs, salty tears trailing down her face.
She'd allow herself one moment of weakness.
One hour of shedding tears.
Of feeling fear.
Then she'd put it behind her, face her future, and pray that Lord Neville would live up to the reputation he possessed.
He had to.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"DO I DARE SPEAK, OR WILL YOU ATTACK?" Curtis asked with far too much amusement.
Cutting a scathing glare, Lord Neville rose from his frozen posture and strode meaningfully toward the low-burning fire in the grate. The scent of dry heat assaulted his senses as he stared at the glowing embers. The ladies had long ago retired after dinner, leaving him and Curtis alone.
"I didn't realize you had formed such an… attachment. I must say that after seeing you two together, however, I can see that you're quite firm in your convictions concerning your intentions. I simply wasn't aware that you were even more than acquaintances with the lady." Curtis's tone was conversational as he approached Neville's side.
"It started at the blasted Greenford Water's house party," Neville replied, taking a tight breath as he fought against the awareness of all that they would be risking in the near future with Beatrix at the heart of it all.
"Ah, was that the one where Graham—"
"Yes."
"Brilliant. Nothing like a house party to… hurry things along."
Neville cut a glance to his friend, who raised a knowing eyebrow.
"Because you've been so close to marriage that a house party has enticed you to sacrifice your bachelor status on the altar of matrimony?" He knew his voice conveyed his tension. Damn it all.
"No, I cannot say I've had the pleasure of being so… enticed." Curtis's tone was light, but he turned away, shielding h
is expression.
Neville cocked his head in curiosity. Was there a lady who had somehow captured Curtis's attention?
Unlikely.
Which would make it all the more fantastic.
The whole idea that the bachelors most opposed to matrimony fell the hardest was indeed accurate.
And Curtis was one of the most dedicated bachelors he'd met in some time. Neville only hoped he was able to witness at least a portion of his fall. It would be undoubtedly epic.
"You do realize that your possessive behavior earlier cannot be repeated once we leave this estate?" Curtis replied, turning back to him, his face half-shadowed and half-illuminated by the fire's glow, adding a sinister twist to his words.
"I'm mindful."
"You cannot even be seen with her. It could jeopardize the entire operation." Curtis took a step toward him, as if trying to convey the importance of his statement.
"I'm bloody aware!" Neville all but shouted and, turning away, ran his fingers through his hair. "Hell… this is hell. Do we have anything on this Kirby bastard?"
"There's speculation, but—"
"Speculation doesn't produce results."
"Exactly."
"There's no other party that could have a motive to raise a threat against the Lamont sisters. Sure he is behind—"
"That's the idea, the speculation… but without proof." He let the phrase linger.
"We could create a carriage accident…" Neville spoke in a low threat.
"And undermine your integrity? My integrity? No. And you wouldn't even if you had the opportunity."
Neville snorted.
"What's the damn plan? I'm assuming you have one." Neville pinched the bridge of his nose. Where was the brandy? He marched to the liquor cabinet, a rich mahogany side table, and withdrew a crystal bottle of the amber liquid he so desperately needed. Pouring himself a generous portion, he glanced to Curtis, raising his eyebrows in question.
"Please, and yes, I do have a plan. Thank you."
Neville poured another snifter and handed it over to Curtis.
Lifting his glass, he took a deep drink, letting the burn of alcohol ignite his throat and leave a fiery trail to his belly.
Curtis took a long sip and walked over to a chair. Sitting, he balanced the snifter on his knee, his fingers caressing the stem. "We'll leave in the morning with instructions for Lady Southridge to travel several hours after our departure. That way we are not associated. We'll take the road that circles around the back of London then approach it from the opposite direction than that of Lady Southridge, as if we were in an entirely different part of the country."
"Sounds easy enough, but what of when we arrive in London? We will have to work quickly to discredit Kirby's claim. You know that as soon as Beatrix is known to be in London, he'll be sniffing around her skirt. And with her directions to appear amicable to his suit…" His tone grew dark, and he knocked back the rest of his brandy.
"True, but women require wooing, do they not? He'll not expect her to agree to his suit immediately, especially with his claim still being validated before the regent."
"Heavens above, I hope so. Surely that would buy us some time. Do you know if he is currently a man of means, or is his only claim to fortune that which belongs to the Lamonts?" Neville asked then strode back to the brandy, where he poured himself another generous helping.
"Careful, old man. We need you to be thinking clearly," Curtis warned.
"When did you become my bloody keeper?" Neville shot back.
"Is Miss Lamont aware of your wicked temper? Or have you only shown your docile side, which I might add, I still question exists since I've never seen it with my own eyes?"
Neville growled.
"Brilliant." Curtis chuckled. "However, back to your question. From what I can understand from my sources, he is not a man of means, but neither is he destitute."
"Does he have a relation or friend in the ton who will insure his invitation to the various social gatherings that Beatrix will attend?" Neville swirled the brandy, inhaling its spicy scent.
"He has some connection to Lord Burgh, but it's questionable. They were seen in White's early last week, but when Kirby's hand won at cards, it was a considerable loss to Lord Burgh, and it is well known that he is not deep in the pockets presently."
"So that might cause a rift if there is any friendship. This is good."
"Indeed, but I left Henry with the express instructions to follow him upon my departure. I sincerely hope that he has additional information upon our arrival to London."
"Henry? Do you think he's up to the task?" Neville considered his friend.
"Yes. The lad has proven himself quite capable in the past few months. I felt it was a wise choice."
"Lad? The boy's nearly eighteen." Neville shook his head. "When did that become so young to us? Are we truly that old?"
"I'm not certain about myself, but you being of the ripe old age of thirty and one…" Curtis let the words hang in the air.
"Bastard. You're only a year younger," Neville replied with no heat, simply an irritated grimace. "But it's true that somehow… I'm ready. No, that's the not word… I'm…" He took a deep breath. "I was so reluctant to face the idea of marriage again after Mary and the situation surrounding it all… I simply wrote it off, thinking that marriage…that love was equal to those circumstances. But it's not. Maybe I am getting older, maybe I'm simply healing, but I find that Miss Lamont — Beatrix — has somehow shown me a completely different perspective. It's passion and heat, desire and lust, but it's also play, fighting, growing, actually enjoying the other person when she doesn't even like you… because even if she isn't to that point yet, you love her enough for the both of you… because you know she'll get there."
"That doesn't sound like you're a creeper." Curtis raised his glass in jest.
"Bloody hell, you know what I mean. She didn't chase me — hell, she didn't even want me. But it didn't matter because it only took a few moments, and I knew… I knew. How daft do I sound?" He gave a humorless laugh and shot back a large gulp of brandy.
"Like a lovesick swain."
"Brilliant. I always pitied those bastards."
"Well, if it makes you feel better, I pity you."
"Capital."
"But to be honest, when you two walked into the room earlier, the whole temperature shifted. One would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to see the spark — hell, the fireworks between you two! It was like Vauxhall Gardens! So often you see a man and his betrothed, and they are simply… boring! She stands with her hand on his arm, nodding and smiling, while he struts about, a pompous ass spouting his own miserable accomplishments, while the lady smiles sweetly and agrees with it all. Heaven save me from such a fate."
"Somehow I don't see Beatrix being that type of betrothed." Neville chuckled.
"No, which causes me no end of amusement. My wager is when this whole nightmare is over, and you are indeed the victor of the fair maiden's hand," Curtis stood and bowed in a theatrical fashion. "You two will create some sort of scene that will become the stuff of legends… some social faux pas that will forever shatter your reclusive lord status. I only hope I can have a front row seat." He lifted his glass as if toasting his own idea.
"That status served me well."
"Perhaps, but it's time for its end."
"I'm well aware."
"Then let us toast to the future and find our beds. Surely tomorrow will be upon us quickly, and we have much to do, old man."
"In truth, we do." Neville glanced to the final sip of amber liquid swirling in his glass. "And let us pray our victory comes swiftly."
"To a happy and quick ending." Curtis lifted his glass.
"To the end of Kirby's lies."
CHAPTER NINE
"DO YOU THINK LORD KIRBY HAS approached the duke?" Beatrix asked while she swayed with the motion of the carriage as they made their way to London. Last night they had stayed at Hare Inn, and today they'd approach Town
. It had been only yesterday that she had said goodbye to Lord Neville, yet it felt like far longer. Miserable man, he was even torturing her with his absence.
It was disconcerting, in the least, to even consider the reason for their trip to London. Was there any truth to this Sir Kirby's claims? Fear had led her to question what she remembered, what she had thought was so accurate. Was it possible she was wrong? Bethanny would surely know, as well as their family solicitor. Surely, the duke would take a protective stance.
Truly, she had no need to fear, yet, she did. Because various what-ifs circled in her mind, all stealing any security she could summon.
"I'm quite certain that the duke is fully aware of the situation. There's no need to fret, my dear." Lady Southridge reached over and placed a comforting hand over Beatrix's as it rested on her lap.
"Thank you. It's just that I — what if—?"
"What if is not what is. Remember that, dear. We can live another existence entirely if we simply dwell on what could be rather than what is. And if we do, it shall steal every ounce of joy from our lives, sucking us dry. Take each moment as it comes. Leave the unknown alone." Lady Southridge's gaze was shrewd and wise, adding to the direct tone of her voice.
"You are, of course, correct." Beatrix sighed then turned her gaze toward the window, watching as the countryside passed in a slow mix of green and grey.
"He'll not allow your fears to come to fruition. You know this." Lady Southridge's response pulled her attention back within the carriage. Turning to face her, she studied the lady's direct gaze.
"I know he'll try," Beatrix answered honestly.
Lady Southridge's expression grew amused as she shook her head slightly. "Then you, my dear, have never seen a man in love."
Beatrix withheld comment, choosing rather to ponder Lady Southridge's words.
The edge of London came into view, and they passed through the bustling city till Berkeley Square came into view. The hum of the city grew quieter as they approached the affluent area of residence within Mayfair. They stopped at the duke's residence on Grosvenor Square. Beatrix relaxed as she willed her body to quit swaying from the extended ride in the carriage. A footman liveried in the duke's colors opened the door and extended his hand for Lady Southridge's departure.
A Tempting Ruin (GreenFord Waters #3) Page 10
