Justin nodded. “Remove the dowry then. This has nothing to do with the wager and everything to do with protecting not only Miss Mossant, but your other daughters and your wife as well! Good God, man, don’t you realize they’re about to be chased out of London, out of the ton forever? You’d simply sit by and watch that happen without doing anything to help them?”
“I could care less what happens to them.” Mr. Mossant finished perusing the document and then signed with a flourish. “You see all that I have here?” He gestured to the room, the house. “It will all go to my brother’s sickly scamp. A good for nothing whiny rat. Time after time, my wife presented me with only daughters. And simply because she had some difficulties birthing, she refuses me. She’s taken the girls and run off. They are not my problem. Let them rot in the gutters for all I care.” And then he reached for a long thin pipe and inhaled deeply.
Justin wanted to lay the man out flat. No, he wanted to shake him first, give him a piece of his mind, and then lay him out flat.
Instead, he took up the signed document and blew on it to be certain the ink had dried. Satisfied it wouldn’t smear, he folded it neatly and returned it to his pocket. “Good day. I’ll find my own way out.”
An hour later, Justin returned to the village and located an out of the way table at the local pub for something to eat and drink. He didn’t wish to speak to anybody. He needed to think.
The meeting with Miss Mossant’s father had left him more than a little unsettled.
“You look hungry, my lord.” A pretty barmaid leaned over the table to get his attention, her ample bosom level with his gaze. How would she know to ‘my lord’ him? He shook his head in disgust.
“An ale and stew, if you have it.”
Women didn’t normally act so brazenly around him. Ah, but he’d not worn his collar today.
She winked and flipped her hair. “Anything for one so fine as you. Will you be needing a room for the night?”
Justin grimaced.
What he needed to do was meet with the solicitors regarding his financial situation. This was the niggling that bothered him.
He took a swig of the bitter ale and pulled the contract out of his pocket.
No dowry.
It shouldn’t trouble him, the lack of dowry, but guilt pricked his conscience.
Others depended upon him now. Not for spiritual guidance, but for shelter, food, security. And he imagined a great deal of other vital necessities required by ladies of qualities who now fell within his care.
And his fiancée.
And possibly her sisters and mother.
“I’d be happy to share mine with you.”
He’d forgotten the barmaid’s question. Meeting her pretty gaze, he shook his head. “Not tonight, Miss.”
She pursed her lips into a sultry pout at his words.
He’d make a stop at Carlisle Manor before returning to London. It wasn’t too far out of the way, and upon doing so, he could at least know what he was dealing with.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
One Small Obstacle…
“But of course, under normal circumstances, we’d be more than happy to host a pre-wedding ball at Prescott House.” Sophia’s mother-in-law had made one of her rare appearances at the main manor that morning to add her two pence to the wedding plans. “But it hasn’t yet been a year.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Rhoda’s mother chimed in.
Sophia’s gaze met Rhoda’s apologetically.
“We really needn’t have a pre-wedding ball,” Rhoda insisted. She wished Carlisle had not been so adamant about a London wedding. Lucky Emily!
She missed Emily and hoped she and Blakely returned before her mother dragged her back to London.
Just the thought of facing the ladies who’d ignored her at the garden party, even worse the gentlemen who had not, sent her innards flip-flopping.
She was engaged now, though. Surely, that ought to put a stop to all that nonsense.
“My father’s house in Town has a good-sized ballroom. We could host it there,” Cecily suggested.
Rhoda’s mother’s grimaced.
Cecily’s father, although immensely wealthy, wasn’t ton.
“Or not,” Cecily muttered.
“Doesn’t Carlisle’s new estate come with some sort of property in Town? It’s an earldom, for heaven’s sake. Surely, the former earl would have maintained a residence for when Parliament is in session?”
Sophia wasn’t usually the practical one, but Mrs. Mossant apparently saw this as a viable option.
“But of course, he must have!” she exclaimed. She turned to Rhoda. “As soon as we are back, you must have your betrothed take you to examine the residence. See if it is large enough.”
Ah, large enough. Her mother had drawn up a guest list of over three hundred people and this was just for the ball. She wished to invite close to five hundred of her dearest friends to the wedding breakfast.
Rhoda hadn’t realized her mother even knew five hundred people.
“It will be the first thing I ask when I see him again,” Rhoda said with an expressionless face.
Cecily lifted a hand to cover a choked laugh.
“I do wish he hadn’t asked us to wait here,” Rhoda’s mother complained. “Not that we don’t appreciate your hospitality, Your Grace,” she said apologetically to Sophia’s mother-in-law. “It’s just that there is so much to do.”
“What kind of flowers will you have, Rho? Not rhododendrons.” Leave it to Coleus to make such a ridiculous suggestion. Rhoda could have knocked her upside the head. Instead, she glared ominously in the younger girl’s direction.
“Of course, she’ll have rhododendrons.” Mrs. Mossant frowned at her middle daughter.
“It’s not very romantic, Mother.” They’d had this argument before. “For heaven’s sake, it’s practically a bush! And it means ‘danger’ of all things!”
“A warning for your groom,” Coleus teased. “Beware of your future bride.” She sent herself into a fit of giggles.
“It’s a beautiful flower,” her mother insisted. “And I’ve imagined decorating your wedding with them since the day you were born.”
“You know,” the older duchess spoke up again. “I believe there are several growing on the grounds at Prescott House. What a charming idea.”
It seemed Rhoda was to have no part in the planning of her wedding ceremony.
“Now, for your dress, something pink, I think, to match the flowers.”
“Not pink!” Rhoda hated pink. “Green. I want an emerald green.” She’d assert herself on something, anyhow.
“I do wish I could come to London with you.” Sophia and Prescott were going to wait at Eden’s Court for Emily and Blakely’s return, as were Cecily and Mr. Nottingham.
“I wish you could, too.”
And Emily. Rhoda missed Emily more than she would have thought.
Was Emily already married? They’d left three days ago. They likely were already on the road back.
“We’ll come to London in a few weeks’ time,” Cecily assured her. “You won’t be alone for long.”
Rhoda wanted to ask Cecily if she thought it would be safe yet, if she thought the wager would be canceled with news of her betrothal, but she didn’t wish to have that conversation in front of the duchess, her mother, and her sisters.
“Don’t take any longer than necessary.” She winced.
Already she wondered if Lord Carlisle regretted his proposal. He’d have met with her father by now.
Sitting in the lovely drawing room discussing the exciting details of her own wedding, Rhoda wanted nothing more than to escape. Her wedding day was growing into some horrific spectacle. Normally, she would have welcomed it, but not now… not after having all of the ton judging her most personal of affairs.
She could do nothing to stop them. They would gleefully examine her every move. Believe what they wanted and then repeat it to another.
Her chest tightened as
if an elephant had sat down on top of her.
She’d control the only thing she could.
“Just not pink,” she murmured. “I refuse to wear pink.”
They’d made the journey to London the day before and it had barely taken more than four hours. Not knowing what she would face had tied her nerves into knots. She’d almost wished the journey had been a longer one.
Her mother had gone to visit a close friend and taken Coleus and Hollyhock with her.
It had been five days now since she’d bid Lord Carlisle farewell. He’d promised to call upon her when he arrived back in London.
Rhoda glanced over at the clock. Nearly noon. She and her mother had an appointment that afternoon with Madam Chantal. Normally thrilled at the opportunity to be fitted for a new dress, Rhoda wished she could remain hidden inside today instead.
She was afraid.
And she hated it. She absolutely hated being afraid.
All year, ever since pushing Dudley off that blasted cliff last summer, she’d been afraid of the truth. She’d finally faced that and now she was afraid to face a handful of supercilious debutantes, their mothers, and a bunch of dandies.
The men of the ton were bored, vile, and cruel. They were ridiculous creatures.
They considered their pranks harmless, but a man might just as well send a woman to a nunnery as cast aspersions upon her reputation.
Rhoda wasn’t ready for that.
The trouble was, she wasn’t certain as to what exactly she would face when going out. Would she be given the cut direct? Would gentlemen persist in harassing her?
“Miss Mossant, a visitor.”
Rhoda spun around. She hadn’t heard the butler slip into the room.
Lord Carlisle stood behind him. Really, what was Leo thinking? Presenting a gentleman to her without warning?
Rhoda touched her hair and smoothed her dress, feeling suddenly self-conscious. She’d donned one of her prettier gowns this morning, assuming he might make an appearance, but even so, would have appreciated a moment to prepare herself.
He looked as though he’d come straight to her from his travels, his blond wavy hair tousled, and his clothing wrinkled.
“My lord.” She dipped into a stilted curtsey. He’d kissed her five days ago as if he’d been leaving for the battlefield. At the time, she’d felt as though their souls were one. Today he appeared as though a stranger.
“Miss Mossant.” He bowed.
When she finally met his eyes, she immediately saw regret. Her heart sank. He’d changed his mind. He didn’t want to marry her after all. And yet, she knew that he would never cry off. He was far too honorable for that.
The hope she’d allowed to flicker disappeared, leaving a trail of smoke.
She gestured for him to sit upon the loveseat and lowered herself onto a stiff-backed chair facing him.
“I take it you’ve met with Father, then?” She would not make niceties with so much at stake.
Those blue eyes of his stared at her intently. He shifted forward and clasped his hands together, dangling between his knees. “I did.” Of course, he wouldn’t smile upon such an admission. Her father wasn’t exactly a person who inspired fond memories. “I also journeyed to Carlisle Manor, since it wasn’t far out of my way.”
He’d been dealt some sort of blow. Something had gone terribly wrong, and for the first time in ages, Rhoda didn’t think she was to blame.
“What is it? Are your cousins unwell?”
He shook his head and stared at the floor. “I’m afraid I…”
She could not remember any occasion when he’d been at a loss for words. Rhoda shifted uncomfortably in her seat and remained quiet.
He was going to call off. He would break their betrothal for some unknown reason and then forever carry the guilt of it.
“I was rather hasty in accepting your proposal.” She blurted the words out before he could say anything more. What was she doing? Her mother was going to kill her. She swallowed hard and ignored the regret squeezing her insides.
It wasn’t as though she loved him.
She hardly knew him.
But he’d glanced up sharply at her words. “You were what?” The sadness she felt mirrored the hurt in his eyes.
Now it was her turn to stare at the floor. “You were rather cornered by my situation—compelled to ask out of a misplaced sense of compassion and…”
“I did not ask to marry you out of compassion.” He spoke the words without delay and quite clearly.
Her head jerked up.
“You do not wish to cry off?” She studied him carefully. If she saw any doubts, she needed to release him. Cecily had been right to warn her and Emily against a hasty marriage. It was forever, regardless of the fact that Cecily had escaped hers.
Trapping oneself was one thing. Trapping another human being, quite another.
He was shaking his head. “I do not wish to cry off.” Except… She did see something in his gaze. Something unsettling.
“Did my father say something to you? Is that what has brought on your reserve?”
She’d not seen this side of him before. From the moment she’d first met him, he’d been uplifting, encouraging.
Strong. Dependable.
She remembered he’d gently chastised her for her hopelessness when he’d sat beside her at the Crabtree Ball.
Had that only been a few weeks ago? So much had changed!
Emily was married, happily, she hoped.
The wager would go away, upon her own marriage, she hoped.
And this matter with Dudley Scofield, well, it suddenly lacked the power to haunt her every second. She no longer woke up in a cold sweat from nightmares where a rope was dropped over her head. She’d stopped imagining herself swinging from the gallows.
Everything had changed because of him.
He rose from his chair and paced toward the window. Staring outside for a few moments, he almost seemed to have forgotten she was there.
“I’m broke.” He wasn’t facing her when he murmured the words. She barely heard them, in fact.
If he was broke, then surely marrying her might, in fact, have some benefit. Her dowry had never been large, but it would be something…
“I do have a small dowry.”
“Your father has withdrawn it.”
He did what? Rhoda took a few deep breaths to keep herself from exploding in outrage at her father’s selfish and disgusting lifestyle.
“Your inheritance?”
“Amounts to naught more than a mountain of burdens and debts.” He held his shoulders stiffly. He’d yet to turn around again to face her.
He’d apparently been unaware of the conditions of his inheritance when he’d proposed. He must have believed it had come with some sort of income.
As he’d believed she’d come with some monetary relief as well.
Unfortunately, neither were the case.
Rhoda understood the responsibilities and demands of running an estate all too well, having seen her own father ignore them for years now.
This man she’d been fretting over for nearly a week now, who’d brought so much hope into her life, finally turned to face her, those beautiful blue eyes shuttered. “I visited Carlisle House before returning. It is why I did not come to you yesterday. I apologize for the delay, but after meeting with your father, I felt compelled to ascertain the condition of the Carlisle coffers.” He ran one hand through his hair, distracting her for a moment with the glints of gold reflecting the sunlight from behind him.
“The estate itself is in dire need of repairs. Tenant payments have been neglected, as have their living conditions. And my dear cousin mortgaged himself up to his eyeballs before having the inconsideration of dying.”
Rhoda bit her lip. For him to take on a wife right now, he needed one who would come along with the added bonus of a dowry.
A significant one.
It was, in truth, the only acceptable manner in which he could address hi
s new situation.
But Rhoda wanted to keep him! There had to be a way.
The honorable thing would likely be for her to break their betrothal.
She shook her head. She couldn’t!
She had to marry him! And then it donned on her! Her mother was, this very moment, telling all the world that she had become engaged. She’d be ruined forever if she cried off now.
They’d all be ruined.
The tricky thing was, Justin wanted to marry Miss Rhododendron Mossant.
He’d only been away from her all of five days and he’d missed her.
Dark circles shadowed her eyes but did nothing to diminish her beauty. She’d obviously not rested well in his absence.
A war raged within him.
“I have a small savings,” she offered. “I’ve held back from spending much of my allowance.”
He had savings as well. Not nearly enough to satisfy the Carlisle estate’s creditors, let alone begin repairs. He was a fool to delay the inevitable.
Furthermore, he could never keep her in the manner in which she’d grown accustomed. And what of her sisters and mother? And his cousins? The situation was impossible. He swallowed hard before squashing her suggestion.
But just as he went to speak, his breath caught.
Light, unlike anything he’d seen in her eyes before, glowed up at him.
Hope.
Along with rose-tinged cheeks and a certain breathlessness…
She burst out of her chair. “I could talk with Mother. I’m uncertain as to the details but I know she has oversight of some of the household funds. Perhaps she could…”
She’d told him that hope could only lead to disappointment. Justin moved to be closer to her. She tugged at him more than ever in that visceral way, like a whirlpool, a vortex.
Or gravity.
He couldn’t disappoint her now. He didn’t know the answer, if one existed, and yet he couldn’t be the one to douse her hope. Not when she’d known despair for so long.
He caught a whiff of her perfume. Standing before her now, he refused to give up.
He wasn’t ready to let her go yet.
Maybe Dev would have some ideas.
Justin could not—would not—take charity from his cousin, but he’d certainly be open to advice. There had to be a way.
Hell of a Lady Page 16
