Rich Man (Rich Man | Poor Man | Beggar Man | Thief Book 1)

by Laura Landon

  “Oh, Blake.”

  His grasp around her shoulders tightened.

  “My mother died a few weeks later. I’ve hated the man who sired me ever since.” Blake looked down and caught her gaze. “Do you blame me?”

  She shook her head. “How could anyone blame you? You were only a child.”

  Willow tucked her head back beneath his chin. “What happened then?”

  “That is a story for another time. For today, it’s only important that you know this much about me.”

  “I’m glad you told me. Although it doesn’t change anything. I can’t marry you, Blake. No matter how much I want to. I can’t. It’s impossible.”

  “Because you love someone else?”

  “No. Because my life is not my own to do as I wish.”

  “It is. I want to marry you, Willow. I promise, you’ll never lack for anything. You can design gowns for the rest of your life and Madame Boulereau will see that they are made.”

  Her heart was breaking. He was offering her everything she wanted. Everything she’d always dreamed of having. But how could she ever be happy knowing she’d ruined her brothers’ chances for happiness?

  “Marry me, Willow. I love you. I don’t want to live without you.”

  “Don’t!” she cried out. She pushed herself off the bed and stood far enough from him that he couldn’t reach her. “Don’t Blake. I can’t marry you.”

  “You can! I’ll take care of you. I’ll provide for you. I’ll—”

  “No! Don’t torture us like this. I can’t marry you. I’m engaged to the Marquess of Kendrick.”

  Blake’s face paled, then turned a violent purple. His hands clutched the covers on his bed until his knuckles turned white. Before he said anything, a growl echoed in the room that could have melted stone. Then…

  “No!” he bellowed. He threw the covers back and tried to stand. “No!” he bellowed again a second before his feet regained the floor. But his legs gave out from beneath him and he tumbled to the carpet like a spent arrow.

  Chapter 17

  Blake pushed himself to get stronger. He had to talk to Willow. He had to stop her from marrying Kendrick if it took kidnapping her and running away with her.

  She loved him. Blake knew she did. He’d heard her admit it when she didn’t think he was conscious. Even though he remembered very little from the time right after he’d been beaten, he remembered her saying that she loved him. How could he forget words that were that important?

  “What are you doing?” Liam asked when Blake made his way out of his bedroom and into his office.

  “I’m getting out of that room. I’m only getting soft staying in bed.”

  “Didn’t you hear the doctor? He said rest was the best thing for you.”

  “I have been resting. That’s all I’ve done for more than a month now.”

  Liam pushed himself out of Blake’s chair behind the desk and pointed. “Then make yourself useful. Enter these invoices into the ledger.”

  “How are things going?”

  “You’re becoming bloody rich, my friend. The manufacturing of ready-made garments has been a gold mine for you. And the fact that you got in at the very beginning has established you as a leading manufacturer. Your problem is going to be whether or not we can keep up with the demand.”

  “We’ll keep up. Order more sewing machines if you think we need them. Hire more workers if you need to. Do whatever it takes to meet the demand.”

  “That’s what I’ve done. Fifty more sewing machines should arrive within the week. And Madame Boulereau has hired that many more sewers. Our most pressing problem is going to be where to put the fifty machines. We can get them in the room with the machines we already have, but it will be crowded. And there’ll be no more room to add any more machines. You might have to think of buying another warehouse close by.”

  Blake sat behind the desk. He stared at the numbers without really seeing them. “Have you or Georgette seen her?”

  Blake didn’t explain who he was talking about. He didn’t need to. He knew Liam would understand.

  “No,” Liam answered with a shake of his head. “She hasn’t been here since that last time.

  “Who’s been selecting the fabrics for the ready-made gowns?”

  Liam hesitated long enough that Blake was on alert. “Madame Boulereau has.”

  “And the rest of what you’re not telling me is?”

  “I’m not sure how they’ve worked everything out, but Madame Boulereau gets fabric samples to her, and Willow matches the fabrics with the patterns and sends them back to Madame Boulereau.”

  “She can’t stop, can she?”

  “If you mean Willow, no. She can’t stop. She loves the work too much.”

  “Have you heard anything about her engagement?”

  “The Earl and Countess of Wyndfield are hosting a ball in a week to announce the engagement of their daughter to the Marquess of Kendrick.”

  Blake slammed his fist on the desk, then threw his pen across the room. “Over my dead body,” he yelled. He pushed his chair away from the desk and bolted to his feet. “What hold can he have over her? Somerset has nothing to offer her!”

  “He must think he does,” Liam said.

  Blake stopped short. “Or she thinks he does.”

  . . . .

  Her heart shouldn’t ache as much as it did before, but every day she hurt more. Though she tried not to think about him, she couldn’t stop herself from remembering the feel of his arms around her. His lips pressed against hers. The warmth of his body next to hers. Willow wasn’t sure she could survive another day without him, let alone a month. Or a year. Or a lifetime.

  “Aren’t you going to eat anything again today, Willow?” her mother asked. She stared at the uneaten food on Willow’s plate and looked at her with concern on her face.

  “I’m not hungry, Mother.”

  “You weren’t hungry yesterday morning. Or last night. Or the night before. Are you ill, Willow?”

  “No, Mother. I’m perfectly fine. I’m just not hungry.”

  “You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you, dear?”

  Willow smiled a small smile. “Yes, Mother. I’d tell you if something was wrong. But, nothing’s wrong.”

  Thankfully, Wilkins entered the room carrying a silver tray and their conversation was halted. He stopped at Willow’s chair. “A message for you, my lady.”

  Willow took the message. “Thank you, Wilkins.”

  “What is it?” her mother asked after Willow had read the message.

  “It’s from Mary. She says Madame Boulereau has opened a new shop and wants me to go with her to see it. She wants my help in selecting fabric for a new gown.”

  Willow’s mother placed her hand atop Willow’s. “You’re going, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I’m anxious to see Madame Boulereau’s new shop.”

  “I’m glad. It will do you good to leave the house and be with your friends.”

  Willow smiled without answering. How could she tell her mother that nothing would help? Nothing other than time. Years and years of time.

  Willow went to her room and retrieved her gloves and a parasol, then went down to wait for Mary. When Mary’s carriage pulled up, Willow left the house.

  The driver had stepped down from the carriage and lowered the step. Willow entered the carriage and released a startled cry when beside her on the seat was a man with long legs.

  “Hello, Willow,” Blake said in his smooth, silky voice.

  Instinct had Willow pressing herself into the corner. “What are you doing here?”

  She looked from where Mary sat opposite her, back to Blake.

  “Mr. Edison said he needed to speak with you, so I offered to help him.”

  Willow glared at her friend. “How could you?”

  “How could I not? You’ve been miserable since the last time you saw Mr. Edison. He said he needed to talk to you and I thought it couldn’t hurt for you t
o see him.”

  The carriage traveled down the street and Willow watched out the window. “Where are we going?”

  “Where I told you we were going. To Madame Boulereau’s new shop.”

  “Good,” Willow said. “I need to look for material for my wedding dress. This will give me the perfect opportunity.”

  “Don’t, Willow,” Blake said. “You won’t need material for a wedding dress. . . unless it’s for our wedding.” His words were measured, filled with assurance, and for a moment they launched a ridiculous hope in Willow.

  She turned an angry look in Blake’s direction and saw for the first time how much his bruises had healed and how much stronger he looked. She wanted to reach out her fingers to touch his cheek. She tried to ignore how she felt sitting next to him. Tried to ignore how her body tingled where their shoulders touched in the too-narrow carriage. But some things are just patently impossible.

  For a time the carriage traveled down the street and no one spoke. Even Mary, who usually had much to say, was silent. At last, the carriage slowed, then stopped.

  Blake opened the door and jumped out. Her eyes couldn’t help but follow his youthful, muscular presence as he bounded down. He lowered the carriage step and held out his hand for Mary to take. She accepted his assistance, but when it was time for Willow to dismount, she ignored his outstretched hand. She knew if he touched her every nerve in her body would shatter.

  She reached the ground and without giving Blake a second glance, entered Madame Boulereau’s new shop. She looked around and spotted Madame Boulereau assisting two young ladies. The moment the dear lady saw Willow, she called over an assistant to take her place and made her way to where Willow stood. She came toward her with outstretched arms and gathered her in a warm embrace.

  “My lady,” she said, grasping Willow’s hands. “What do you think of my new shop?”

  Willow took in Madame Boulereau’s new surroundings and smiled. “It’s wonderful, my friend. Much larger than your old shop, and it has more windows. It’s much brighter. That is a welcome improvement.”

  “Yes, it is. Blake helped me find it.”

  In a rush the world seemed to shrink at the mention of Blake’s name. Madame Boulereau didn’t notice, however. She turned to grasp Mary’s hands.

  “You are here to select material for the pattern you chose when you were here yesterday, non?”

  “Yes,” Mary said.

  “Then let us look. Monsieur Blake has gone to the back room and wishes to speak with Lady Willow privately.”

  “And if I don’t wish to speak with him?” Willow couldn’t keep the frustration out of her voice.

  “You must, my lady. You will never forgive yourself if you do not. Please, hear him out.”

  Willow tried to ignore the warning in Madame Boulereau’s voice, but there was something in her expression that told Willow the seamstress considered it necessary that Willow listen to what Blake had to say. Perhaps she thought there was something he might say that would make a difference. Something that would change Willow’s mind. She couldn’t know how impossible that was.

  “He waits for you in the back room. Go around the counter and through the door. You won’t regret it, my lady.”

  Willow hesitated long enough to convince herself that she wasn’t being foolish. She needed to sever all ties with Blake or the feelings she had for him would haunt her for the rest of her life. It might as well be now.

  She walked away from Mary and Madame Boulereau and went through the door to the shop’s back room. Blake stood before the room’s only window with his back to her. He slowly turned to look at her when she entered.

  Her heart shifted cruelly and the reality of their situation slammed into her with unrelenting brutality. There was no way she could ever pretend she didn’t care for him. No way she could tell herself that she didn’t love him. Or that she never would. All she could hope was that she would be able to convince herself that she could survive living her life without him.

  “Thank you for coming, Willow. I’m grateful that you’re willing to speak with me.”

  “Talking won’t do any good, Blake,” she said, believing her words. “There’s nothing you can say that will change anything.”

  “I can’t let you marry Kendrick,” he said, as if saying the words would make that happen.

  “There’s no way you can stop me. I don’t have a choice.”

  “Why, Willow? Make me understand.”

  “Very well.” Willow breathed a heavy sigh. “As you know, I have four brothers. My oldest brother Jonathan will inherit the earldom and the family estate. He already draws a good living from it. My next older brother will inherit a property father owns which is not entailed. He and his wife reside there even now. Which leaves my two younger brothers, Joe and Phin.”

  Willow moved to stand near the table in the center of the room. The table separated them. “Phin is in love with my friend Lady Jane Maynard. And she is in love with him. But neither can act on that love because Phin has nothing to offer her. Not even the prospect of a home. If Joe has his eye set on anyone, he hasn’t made it known because as he says, he’s better off not caring for anyone, than caring for someone he can never have.”

  Willow lifted her head and her gaze locked with the questioning expression on Blake’s face.

  “How can you help your brothers?”

  Didn’t he understand? Did she have to put what she had to do into words. “The Duke of Somerset is desperate for money. The money that will come with me when I marry.”

  “Your dowry,” he stated as fact.

  “Yes. A massive dowry my grandmother left me to ensure I made an advantageous match. That money will go to my husband when we marry.”

  “To the Duke of Somerset via his son, Lord Kendrick.”

  “Yes.”

  “And in return?”

  “The Duke will hand over deeds to the two estates he has that are not entailed. Estates that father will in turn hand over to Joe and Phin.”

  “So, you consider yourself responsible for your brothers’ happiness.” The expression on Blake’s face changed, as if she’d said something that shocked him.

  “I have the opportunity to provide my brothers with estates that will support them and their wives and children for the rest of their lives.”

  “Even if that means you will be miserable.”

  Willow lowered her gaze. “How can I choose happiness with you knowing that my brothers will be miserable?”

  Blake turned from her and stood looking out the window. “What estates does the duke have that he’s willing to give over?”

  Willow shook her head. “I don’t know. I only know that my marriage to the Marquess of Kendrick will give my brothers a future.”

  Blake turned, then took a step toward her.

  “Don’t Blake.”

  “Why? What are you afraid of, Willow? Surely you aren’t afraid of me?”

  “No, not you. I’m afraid of me. I’m afraid that you’re going to kiss me and I won’t be strong enough to stop you.”

  He took another step closer to her. When there were only inches separating them, he placed his hands on her arms and brought her near him.

  “Oh, Willow,” he sighed and wrapped her in his arms. “I can’t let you go. I can’t give you up. Don’t you know that?”

  She shook her head and prayed that Blake wouldn’t test her resolve. But he did.

  He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. The second his mouth touched hers, her resolve faded to the background and she returned his kiss.

  Willow wrapped one arm around his neck and the other around his waist. She held on to him as if he were a lifeline to save her. Except his kisses didn’t have the power to rescue her, but to destroy her.

  Again, and again he kissed her. Each kiss pulled her deeper and deeper beneath the surface until she couldn’t breathe. Her gasping breaths gave evidence of the passion that consumed them. She shouldn’t have kissed him the
first time. That was her undoing.

  Blake deepened his assault and skimmed his tongue over her lips, urging her to open her mouth. She did. She allowed him entrance to search for that magic part of her that connected them with an unbreakable bond.

  Wave after wave of violent emotion coursed through her. She couldn’t give enough of herself to him. She couldn’t take enough of what he offered unto herself. She loved him. No matter how long she lived, she would never stop loving him.

  When neither of them could draw a steady breath, Blake lifted his mouth from hers.

  “Oh, Willow. Don’t say you’ll leave me. I can’t give you up. I need you too badly. I love you too much.”

  Tears filled Willow’s eyes. Tears she couldn’t stop from spilling down her cheeks. “You can’t have me, Blake. How could I marry you knowing that my happiness resulted in sadness for my family?”

  “What if I told you that I could offer your brothers the estates that they desire?”

  Willow shook her head. “My father would never accept what you have to offer. My brothers would never accept your offer.”

  “Why? Is it because I’m a bastard? Would that be the only reason?”

  “No, it would not! How could he go back on his word? He’d already given the Duke of Somerset his word. Not only would I be ruined, but he would be ruined, too. His word would mean nothing if he went back on the contract he’s signed.”

  “Which means that the Duke of Somerset will have to break the contract.”

  “Which he will never do. He’s too desperate for my dowry. Rumor has it he’s so far in debt he will lose everything if his son doesn’t marry well.”

  Blake turned to stare out the window. He hung his head between his outstretched arms braced on either side of the window. The tension in the room grew thicker. After what seemed an eternity to Willow, Blake turned to face her.

  “The Duke of Somerset will not honor his part of the marriage contract, Willow. Your brothers will not receive estates from him. The Duke of Somerset will have your inheritance and your brothers will be left with nothing.”