by Cheryl Holt
“How did Miss Bates track you down?” Richard inquired—when he probably shouldn’t have. “Why would she feel free to poke her nose into this situation?”
“Does it matter?”
“She has some nerve, accosting you.”
“Only you would think so.”
“I sent those children away because my sister begged me to, and I won’t apologize for it.”
“I’m not seeking an apology from you.”
“Then what is it you want?”
“I’m trying to figure out how we should muddle forward.”
“I am your agent. If you don’t like the procedures I’ve implemented, then I guess you ought to terminate me.”
“All right, you’re fired.”
Richard gasped with offense. He’d offered himself on the chopping block as any competent manager would when faced with his boss’s displeasure. He’d confessed his sins and given reasons for them. Peyton—if he’d been a rational, sane employer—should have jumped to insist there was no need for theatrics or drastic measures.
Instead, Richard had dangled bait, and Peyton had swallowed it whole.
“I’m…I’m…fired?” Richard sputtered.
“I suppose fired is a tad harsh. We’ll say we’re making arrangements for your departure—and the sooner the better.”
“But…but…my sister is here. My mother is here. I live with them. Benton is our home now. You can’t just chase me away.”
“I can’t? You’re confused, Richard. Who is your boss? Who owns Benton? Who is earl? The reply to each of those questions is Peyton Prescott.”
They engaged in a staring match Richard could never win, and tears flooded his eyes. They were tears of fury, not of sadness, but they were tears nonetheless. He was so overcome that he wondered if he might break down and bawl like a baby.
“Prick,” he spat before he could bite down the horrid word.
Peyton laughed. “That’s the second time in two days I’ve had that moniker flung at me. Perhaps I should wear it with my other medals.”
Barbara took that moment to rush in. Instantly, she recognized something was terribly wrong.
“What’s happened?” she demanded.
“I’ve been fired,” Richard told her.
“By who? By him?” She pointed a condemnatory finger at Peyton.
“Yes.”
“Absolutely not!” she huffed. “I won’t allow it.”
Peyton merely tsked with exasperation, and he glared at Richard. “You and I just established the name of the true owner at Benton. I’ll leave it to you to explain it to her.”
Barbara forced a smile. “Can we discuss this?”
“No.” Peyton stood and threw his napkin on the table. “Your brother tells me that the estate is almost bankrupt.”
She cast a scathing glance at Richard. Early on, they’d agreed that they would provide no information to Peyton unless he dug it out of them with a shovel.
“We have some minor financial problems,” she claimed. “It’s not serious.”
“Nice try, Countess, but I’ve had accountants scouring the books, and it’s much worse than either of you would ever have admitted.”
“How would you know?” Barbara unwisely scolded. She never liked to be chastised. “You rode in for your first visit a few weeks ago. You’re in no position to strut about and hurl accusations.”
“I won’t waste my breath arguing with you.” Peyton looked very fierce, very determined. “I will be sending a team of investigators to complete an inventory and property examination. While I wait for reports from them, funds for running the house will be severely curtailed, and the pair of you will no longer have access to any of the bank accounts. I suggest you start cutting back.”
Richard leapt to his feet. “Now see here, Peyton!”
“No, you need to see, Richard. You shouldn’t have crossed me, but you chose to, so now, you have to pay the price. I won’t toss your sister out on the road—as you did to those children—but I’ll give you a month to make plans for yourself.”
“What sort of plans?”
“One month from today, you’ll have to be living elsewhere. I’ll be locking the estate office so you won’t be permitted to use it.”
“You can’t stop me from doing my job! I’ll…I’ll smash a window and climb in.”
“Don’t be absurd, and don’t be difficult. You had to have known I’d find out about your shenanigans. You had to have known what the result would be if you were caught.”
Richard sank down in his seat. The actual fact was that he’d never imagined Peyton would discover Richard’s scheme. Who would have notified him? And if someone had, why would he have cared? Those children had been a pain in the ass for years, and Richard had relieved the family of their unwanted presence. Why quibble?
Barbara frowned at Peyton. “What have you found out? What are you talking about?”
“Your brother can explain that too. The major issue for you is that I’ll be opening the Dower House. You and your daughters will have to have moved there by the time your brother departs in a month.”
“Move! To the Dower House? I won’t!”
“Fine, then. You can depart with your brother. Your daughters will remain at Benton without you though. They’re my wards, and you can’t flit off with them.”
Barbara blanched, then reined in her temper and her attitude. “I realize you’re angry with us, and I truly apologize for any misunderstanding. I’m stunned to learn you’re unhappy with Richard. Perhaps we could have him step out so you and I can confer in private.”
“I have no desire to confer with you on any subject, and you couldn’t change my mind anyway.”
“Please let me try.”
“No. I’ll be in town and staying at Benton House. My investigators will show up tomorrow—unless the weather prevents them from traveling. I’ve already spoken to the housekeeper to have rooms organized for them.”
“What tasks will occupy you in town?” Barbara sounded almost hopeful.
“I’ll be meeting with my bankers and lawyers. Once I’ve gathered all the pertinent information, I’ll be back, and we’ll discuss your situation further. In the interim, you will prepare to move. You have thirty days.”
He walked out, and Barbara peeked out the door and watched him vanish down the hall.
“Well…I never!” she muttered after he’d disappeared. She came to the table and sat down next to Richard. “This is a disaster. What should we do?”
“There’s nothing we can do,” Richard said. “As he so ungraciously apprised me, he is boss, owner, and earl, and we are out in the cold.”
“I will never surrender Benton to him!” Barbara vowed. “Where would I go? He can’t suppose we’ll cram ourselves into an apartment in town with our dear brother, Roger.”
“You say that as if Roger would welcome you and Mother. I doubt he would. Mother, especially.”
“Why is Peyton so irate?”
“He arrived in a snit. Apparently, he heard that I evicted Neville’s bastards—after he told me I shouldn’t.”
At the comment, Barbara was so livid that Richard wondered if the top of her head might simply blow off.
“What did he expect?” she raged. “Was his intent to continue shaming me as his brother always had?”
“I can’t guess what he expected. He’s a madman. The trouble was caused by Miss Bates, Daisy’s aunt? She tracked him down somehow and tattled about how we kicked them out.”
“Miss Bates! That little tart! How dare she!”
“She seemed the type who’d be accursedly loyal, and she’s very pretty. Peyton obviously enjoyed acting as her champion.”
“We’ll just have to get even with her, won’t we? We’re so far above her in station. She has to comprehend that there are consequences when a common person like her crosses people like us. What retribution could we extract that would harm her the m
ost?”
“I have no idea.”
“Don’t worry, Richard. I’m certain I can devise an appropriate penalty.”
* * * *
Jo was standing on a sidewalk with Daisy. They’d been shopping, and they were tired and eager to return to Benton House. She was anxious to hail a cab so they could ride back. It wasn’t that much of a distance, but the sky was threatening, thunder rumbling, and it looked as if it was about to pour.
Peyton—no, Lord Benton; she couldn’t think of him in a more familiar manner—had risen early and trotted off to parts unknown. Mr. Newman had mentioned he’d be out for hours which had meant she and Daisy were on their own again. It might have been awkward, as their first day had been, but Jo had pushed the notion aside.
She wasn’t a child who needed a nanny, wasn’t a debutante who sought constant amusement. She was used to being alone, and she could definitely entertain herself. Lord Benton was a busy, important man, and he didn’t have to loaf with her to ensure she was happy.
To her surprise and delight, he’d left her some pin money. When Maud had tossed them out, they’d trudged away with what had been stuffed in their two bags, and it had been a pile of haphazard choices, so much of what they required was missing.
If she’d been prouder or shyer, she might have refused the money or have been too bashful to spend it. Most of what she’d purchased had been for Daisy anyway, and Daisy was his niece. There was nothing wrong with him buying her clothes.
As to Jo, she had a complete and beautiful wardrobe in Telford—if Maud hadn’t donated it to the church basket by now.
She’d like to have all those garments. Dare she ask Lord Benton to help her retrieve them? If she could once again dress like the young lady she’d been raised to be, she wouldn’t feel like such a charity case.
Thunder rumbled again, and Daisy jumped and snuggled close. “I hate storms.”
“Will we find a cab before any raindrops fall?” Jo asked. “Shall we bet on it?”
“Betting is a sin, Aunt Jo. Our vicar at Benton regularly sermonized about it.”
“The vicar in your tiny, rural church preached about wagering?”
“Bobby said he wasn’t really concerned about wagering. He just despised my father for his bad habits. I guess my father liked to gamble.”
“I can’t believe any vicar would be that brave. A preacher shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds him. What if your father had found out he was being denigrated from his own pulpit? The parson probably would have lost his job.”
Daisy scoffed. “My father wouldn’t have heard any scolding. He never went to church.”
“If he’d strolled through the front door, he’d have been struck by lightning.”
“Aunt Jo!”
“Well, he would have been. I won’t lie about it.”
She couldn’t persuade any cabs to stop. With the weather so inclement, everyone was hurrying off the streets, so the vehicles were all full.
When Jo had announced she was going out, Mr. Newman had begged her to take a carriage—and a maid too—but she was determined to not be a nuisance, so she’d declined them. Yet with the clouds so dark, she was kicking herself.
Why was she so stubborn? Newman had offered what he would have supplied to any guest, and as a raindrop plopped on her nose, she resolved to be less obstinate in the future.
“Let’s walk around the corner to the next block,” she said. “Perhaps we’ll have more luck there.”
“If we get drenched, I’m claiming it’s your fault.”
“I shall deflect the accusation. I’m the adult in this pathetic duo. If anyone asks why we were so negligent, I shall state that you, the child, convinced me to traipse off without coach or parasol.”
“You would not.”
“I might.”
They started off, and as they passed a shop, the door opened, and to her great astonishment, Maud hastened out so briskly that they nearly ran into each other. There was an awkward pause, where they couldn’t figure out the correct greeting. Jo wasn’t about to pretend all was fine or that she was glad to see her sister.
She wasn’t. If it had been her choice, she would have continued on, but Maud was intent on chatting.
“Jo.” Maud nodded. “I heard you had left Telford.”
“Yes, not that it’s any of your business.”
Maud peeked at Daisy, but didn’t acknowledge her. For a moment, it looked as if Daisy might say something, and Jo laid a palm on her shoulder, a subtle request to be silent.
“Why are you in London?” Maud inquired.
“That’s not any of your business either.”
Maud bristled. “Why must you always be so difficult?”
“Why must you be?”
Jo supposed a bigger person, a better person, would have leapt in to mend their rift, but she’d exhausted herself, working to placate Maud who was miserable and discontented and who had revealed herself to be exceedingly cruel too. Jo couldn’t fix any of her sister’s problems, and she’d given up trying.
She glanced down at her niece. “We should go, Daisy.”
Maud huffed with indignation. “I’m not done speaking to you, Josephine.”
“Well, I am done listening.”
“From your attitude, it’s evident you blame me for your recent problems.”
“I don’t blame you. Actually, I never think about you at all.”
A gig clattered by on the other side of the street, and Jo might not have paid any attention to it, but a clap of thunder roared, and the horse shied. They all peered over at the commotion.
There were two passengers in the vehicle, a man and a woman snuggled together on the seat, and the woman was giggling.
“Maud,” Jo said, “there’s your betrothed, Mr. Townsend. Who is he with? Why, it’s his special friend, Miss Smith. I told you about her, didn’t I? It’s interesting how frequently they socialize, don’t you agree? Have you met her?”
Panic crossed Maud’s face, but it was quickly masked. The gig raced on by, and Maud yanked her gaze away and focused it on Jo.
“I have no idea what you mean,” Maud staunchly insisted. “Mr. Townsend isn’t even in the city today.”
“Suit yourself, Maud. I don’t care if he’s a cheating dog. You’re the one who has to live with him after the wedding. Not me.”
Maud’s expression became bleak and desolate. She appeared much older than twenty-five, the stark lines carved by years of spite and temper clearly visible.
In the past, she’d had Jo in the house to advise and commiserate. With her tossing Jo out, there were consequences. Maud didn’t have any real friends, no relatives worth claiming, and Mr. Townsend rarely visited. Her existence was probably very empty, very quiet without Jo, but Jo couldn’t repair that situation for her.
“We should go,” Jo said to Daisy again.
“Goodbye, Mother.” It was the only time Daisy had ever talked to Maud.
Maud was taken aback by the sound of Daisy’s voice. She gaped at Daisy, then frowned and shook her head.
“You have me confused with someone else, little girl. I’m no one’s mother, and I’m certainly not yours.”
It was a malicious comment, but Daisy handled it well. She didn’t respond with a snide rebuke or—worse yet—burst into tears. Maud didn’t deserve any tears, and they’d both previously concurred that she didn’t.
“Miss Bates!” a man suddenly called.
She and Maud both whirled to see which one of them was being summoned. It was Jo, and a footman from Benton House was waving to her.
“Mr. Newman sent me to find you,” he explained as he rushed up. “He was afraid you’d be caught in the rain.”
“It was kind of him to worry about us.”
“The carriage is around the corner. The driver found a spot to wait. Can you come?”
“Yes, we’re finished here. We’re finished forever.”
S
he and Daisy hurried after him, and she could feel Maud staring, dripping with curiosity. Obviously, Jo had landed on her feet, and it had to irk Maud unbearably to discover that Jo wasn’t imperiled.
“Jo!” Maud ultimately shouted.
Jo ordered herself not to stop, but she couldn’t help it.
“What?”
“Where are you staying?”
“With an acquaintance,” she said, being as enigmatic as possible as she kept on.
“But what if I need to contact you? How would I?”
Jo didn’t reply. Let Maud fume. Let Maud wonder.
Lightning flashed, and huge raindrops began to pelt them. The carriage wasn’t far, and the footman lifted them in, then climbed into the box. The driver cracked the whip, and in a matter of seconds, they rolled away.
They passed the place where they’d encountered Maud, and Jo peeked out the curtain. Her sister was still there, looking lost and forlorn, as if she couldn’t decide on a direction.
Jo released the curtain, and she put her arm around Daisy and pulled her near. They were warm and dry and on their way to Benton House. If she was lucky, Lord Benton might be there when they arrived.
Life wasn’t perfect but—considering how it all might have gone—it was very, very close.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Peyton heard a creak on the floorboards, and the noise had him glancing around the dark foyer. He’d been riding all day, the lengthy hours only interrupted by his contentious visit to Benton.
He was cold, wet, weary, and incredibly glad to be in London.
It was raining like mad outside, and he’d constantly paused, figuring he should find a barn and stop for the night, but Benton House had beckoned like a safe haven. He couldn’t deny that thoughts of Jo, waiting impatiently for him to arrive, had spurred him to continue through the deluge.
Daisy was lurking in the shadows, dressed in her nightgown and ready for bed. She was being quiet as a mouse, watching him stagger in and clearly wondering if she should make her presence known or if she should remain hidden.
“Why are you still awake, you scamp?”
