Regency Marriages. Elizabeth Rolls

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      ‘I’ve no idea why you sent for me,’ she interrupted him.

      ‘Don’t speak over me!’ he snarled. ‘Surrounded by worthless fools!’ He caught David’s eye and took a deep breath, evidently attempting to control himself. He continued in bitter tones, ‘Well, he’ll have told you that you are to go to Almeria Arnsworth for the Season?’

      She nodded. ‘Yes, sir, but I don’t understand why.’

      He snorted. ‘Aye. And well you might not! God knows what I did to be saddled with you!’ He caught David’s eye again and said, ‘Everything’s different now.’ He swept up a sheaf of papers from a wine table beside him and thrust them at her. ‘Read those—if you can! What a damned mess! Thought I’d made things plain to the fool; but a few fairy tales, spun by—’

      ‘I did what I thought right, sir,’ said David.

      An extraordinary noise burst from Aberfield, but he controlled himself and said to Thea, ‘David must needs meddle, blast his eyes! I’ve no choice; but by God, if you’re to marry, you’ll marry as I say!’

      Again she met David’s eyes. This time he shook his head, his expression faintly apologetic.

      ‘Read them, Thea,’ he said gently.

      What had he done?

      Leaning forward, Thea took the papers from her father, forcing her expression to utter stillness, her hands to steadiness, despite the shaking of her insides.

      The first paper was straightforward enough—a letter from a firm of London solicitors, assuring Lord Aberfield of their humble duty and informing him that it was their sad task to apprise him of the death in Bombay, some months earlier, of his brother-in-law, Theodore James Kirkcudbright. Thea bit her lip. Uncle Theo had been her godfather. She had been his heiress. Once.

      She continued reading. The lawyers drew Lord Aberfield’s attention to the enclosed copy of Mr Kirkcudbright’s Last Will and Testament, which they believed to be rather different from the previous one. There were also two letters from the late Mr Kirkcudbright: one to his esteemed brother-in-law, the fifth Viscount Aberfield, and one to his goddaughter, Dorothea Sophie Winslow, only daughter of the said Viscount Aberfield. They believed the letters would sufficiently explicate Mr Kirkcudbright’s intentions and remained his humble servants, et cetera, et cetera.

      Puzzled, Thea turned to the letter addressed to herself. Her godfather had not written to her in several years … not since he had written to express his shame and disappointment in her.

      My dear Dorothea,

      I shall be dead and buried before you read this, and can only pray that your brother has not been misled by his Partiality into overstating your comparative Innocence in the Affair your father related to me several years ago. You will understand that in reinstating you in my Will I have placed the strictest controls upon your inheritance, so that you are not placed in the road of Temptation again. It is not my intention to reward any Transgression, but to show my Good Faith, and give you the opportunity to redress the situation by making a good marriage.

      I remain your affectionate godfather and uncle,

      Theodore Kirkcudbright

      David had persuaded him to reinstate her.

      Her stomach churning, she turned to the letter addressed to her father—then hesitated. ‘This one is addressed to you, sir—’

      ‘Read the lot!’ he said savagely. ‘Damn fool! I told him! Warned him what you were—and he does this!’

      Sick and shaking, Thea looked at the letter to her father. And frowned. She was to have two hundred a year? From her twenty-fifth to thirtieth birthday, unless she married with her father’s approval in the meantime, after which she would have the rest of the income … that Mr Kirkcudbright understood from his nephew that not all the blame could attach to Thea … that Aberfield’s foolish attitude … She risked a glance at her father over the letter. No wonder he looked apoplectic.

      Her world spun and reshaped itself. Two hundred a year—her twenty-fifth birthday was less than three months away … she would be free. Independent. What happened after her thirtieth birthday?

      She turned to the will. Apart from various minor bequests, the major one was to herself. And after her thirtieth birthday she received the entire income from the bequest.

      Dazed, she looked up and met her father’s bitter gaze.

      ‘Well?’ he said. ‘God, what a coil! I told him what had happened! And he does this! Now there’s no help for it—you’ll have to marry! Almeria Arnsworth will find you a husband.’

      ‘Only if that’s what Thea wants,’ interrupted David.

      Aberfield ignored that. ‘It shouldn’t be too hard with fifty thousand to sweeten the deal.’

      Thea dropped the papers. ‘Fifty thousand?’

      Lord Aberfield snorted. ‘That’s about the figure. In trust, of course. Thank God Theodore retained that much sense, despite David’s meddling. And believe me, I’ll see that you never get more than the two hundred a year if you don’t marry with my permission!’

      Two hundred a year until her thirtieth birthday. Thea said nothing, retrieving the papers from the floor. It was wealth. An independence. And it would be hers in less than three months. All she had to do was to avoid her father’s matrimonial plans until then. An odd crunching noise distracted her. She looked up. Aberfield was grinding his teeth.

      ‘Don’t get any ideas about setting up your own establishment after your birthday,’ he warned her. ‘You’ll be married long before then. In fact,’ he said, ‘you’ll be married by the end of the Season!’ He looked triumphant. ‘Dunhaven—he’ll have you.’

      ‘What!’

      This exploded from David. ‘Dunhaven? For God’s sake, sir! Are you insane?’

      Aberfield banged the arm of his chair. ‘Who else would have her?’ He cast a contemptuous glance at his daughter. ‘No point being fussy at this stage. Thing is to get her married off.’

      ‘Thea,’ began David, ‘you don’t have to—’

      She waved him to silence and lifted her chin a notch and considered Aberfield from an entirely new perspective—that of having a choice.

      Playing for time, she said, ‘I assume, then, that Lord Dunhaven is now a widower?’

      ‘Just out of mourning,’ confirmed Aberfield. ‘And looking for a bride.’

      Her mind worked furiously. Appearing to fall in with his plans would be far safer. Safer than outright defiance anyway. He had shown once before that there was little he would not do to force her compliance … If she allowed him to think that she would toe the line …

      Calmly she rose to her feet. ‘I shall look forward to renewing my acquaintance with Lord Dunhaven then. I won’t keep you any longer, sir. I have no doubt that I shall be perfectly safe under Lady Arnsworth’s roof.’

      David’s СКАЧАТЬ