“I’ll be fine,” Constance said softly in reassurance.
“What if the duke won’t have us?” Aunt Vee clasped her hands tightly together.
“I’m sure once he meets us, he’ll extend an invitation immediately.” She glanced at her midsection. Though she didn’t love Meri, she wanted her baby to have a father. Perhaps an uncle would do quite nicely in a pinch. Still rubbing her stomach, she gazed out the window.
Soon, they slowly came to a stop. In seconds, the driver opened the door and helped her and Aunt Vee to the ground. “My lady, Mr. Hanes’s office is two doors down.” He pointed at a modest brick building with a painted sign hanging over the door.
“Thank you,” she said.
The driver stepped into the coach box then directed the horses into the bustling city traffic.
Constance tilted her head back and studied the three-story building. In an hour or less, she should have her money back. She should have never given her two thousand pounds to Meri in the first place. He hadn’t even ensured she had funds to live on when he left that morning so long ago.
“Are you nervous?” Aunt Vee wrapped her arm around Constance’s.
“A little.” Constance smiled at her aunt. “But I always believe that things turn out for the best. Whatever awaits us inside, we’ll manage.”
* * *
Lady Meriwether, the former Miss Blythe Elizabeth Howell, tucked her hat a little lower on her head. She didn’t want to be recognized until all of her business was concluded. Once her twenty-thousand pound dowry was safely returned, she’d immediately take it to E. Cavensham Commerce Bank. As a widow, she had a right to the entire amount and would have all of it deposited in her name only.
Her brother, Lord St. John Howell, would never get his hands on it. Thank God, he hadn’t accompanied her. Otherwise, her dear brother would probably have his hand out asking for the money. He’d no doubt hatch a plan to purchase more race horses, then have another stable built as soon as they left Mr. Hanes’s office.
Like one stable and twenty other race horses weren’t enough.
She blew out a breath. Just then a carriage passed with a coat of arms. Not wanting to be recognized, Beth turned her face away from the street. It was wicked on her part, but she’d donned a disguise, then hired a coach and groomsmen to bring her to London without a single soul knowing her business.
Indeed, Beth had come for the reading of her deceased husband’s will. In hindsight, her brother should have wed Meriwether. He had much more in common with the man than she did. They both loved horseraces, gambling, and in general, decadent behavior.
When Meri had left her after a week of marriage, St. John had been more distraught than she’d been.
She slowed her steps as she approached the Offices of Malcom Hanes, Esquire. Tugging her veil over her face, she climbed the steps and pulled open the door. The ding of a small bell heralded her arrival.
She just prayed no one in the office knew who she was. The sooner this sad state of affairs was finished, the sooner she could start her new life.
A life without men.
* * *
The mantel clock chimed, an irritating reminder that it was a quarter to nine. Malcom Hanes glanced at the mounds of papers that crowded his desk. He buried his head in his hands as a deep groan of frustration erupted at the sight of the three bundles that sat before him.
He was never one to bemoan his lifelong calling of practicing law, but today was enough to make him wish he’d taken his mother’s advice and become a baker, a blacksmith, or even a bricklayer instead of a solicitor.
He forced his gaze to the clerk standing before him. “I’m dumbfounded. Tell me again how this could have happened.”
Ian Pierce, the clerk who’d been with him the longest shrugged. “Sir, apparently Lord Meriwether sent word of each particular marriage to a different clerk.” He pointed at a packet of papers on the desk as if offering proof of the sordid tale. “He sent me all the information about his first wife, Lady Meriwether . . . I mean, Katherine Greer Vareck.” He pointed at the second pile of papers. “Another clerk received information about the second Lady Meriwether, the former Constance Lysander from Portsmouth.” Slowly with all the hesitation of a man afraid his hand would be bitten off, he pointed to the third pile of paper. The sudden color that bloomed across his cheeks almost matched his red hair. “Another clerk received the correspondence from Lord Meriwether about his third wife, the former Miss Blythe Elizabeth Howell. Apparently, her brother is a viscount.”
Could the tale turn any worse?
Of course it could. What if there were more wives?
Hanes leaned back in his chair and allowed his gaze to slowly sweep over the three stacks of papers. “You’re telling me that Lord Meriwether did this intentionally?”
Ian tilted his chin in apparent contemplation. “Do you mean marrying three women at the same time?” He shook his head. “He didn’t marry them at the same time. He married the first in London. The second in Portsmouth, then the third in Cumberland. However, Lord Meriwether informed all of us individually not to announce the marriage in the papers when he sent word that he’d married.” Neat lines creased Ian’s brow. “Sir, if Lord Meriwether never revised his will, then most everything will be given to his brother, the Duke of Randford.”
“Half brother,” Hanes mumbled in answer.
“Sir?” Ian enquired meekly.
By the timid sound of his clerk’s voice, there were more gruesome details to the story. With absolute dread, he forced his attention to Ian. “What is it?”
“There’s no money. I can’t find the dowry of Miss Howell.” Ian glanced at his clasped hands in a pious pose. “Neither can I find Katherine Greer’s or Constance Lysander’s dowries.” He blinked rapidly. “If it’s helpful, all three wives have arrived for the reading of the will. I’m certain they’ll understand once you explain it to them.”
“Helpful?” Hanes shot out of his chair, upsetting several piles of correspondence. The papers floated through the air as if trying to escape. He knew the feeling. He’d rather be anywhere than here. He placed his hands on the desk and leaned toward his clerk. “How is it helpful that they’re all here? How am I going to explain to three grieving widows that they’re all married to the same deceased man?” He searched the young clerk’s face, hoping to find answers. It was as blank as a newly washed slate. “How am I going to explain that two of them aren’t legally married?” He tilted his head and stared at the ceiling. “And that there isn’t any money?”
“Sir?” Ian cleared his throat. “The woman . . . from Portsmouth? She’s with child.”
Sweat trickled down the back of Hanes’s neck. This was an unmitigated disaster. “God, I hope he isn’t on time.”
“Who?” Ian asked.
“The duke,” he murmured. The end of his career flashed before his eyes.
“We’ll think of something,” Ian said consolingly. “As you always said, sir, Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
* * *
Don’t miss A Duke in Time to see Kat and Christian’s full story!
Janna MacGregor was born and raised in the boot heel of Missouri. She credits her darling mom for introducing her to the happily-ever-after world of romance novels. Janna writes stories where compelling and powerful heroines meet and fall in love with their equally matched heroes. She is the mother of triplets and lives in Kansas City with her very own dashing rogue, and two smug, but not surprisingly, perfect pugs. She loves to hear from readers. Visit her at www.JannaMacGregor.com.
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Also by Janna MacGregor
WILD, WILD RAKE
ROGUE MOST WANTED
THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE DUKE
THE LUCK OF THE BRIDE
THE BRIDE WHO GOT LUCKY
THE BAD LUCK BRIDE
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
First published in the United States by St. Martin’s Paperbacks, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
“Where There’s a Will” copyright © 2021 by Janna MacGregor.
All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Danielle Christopher
Cover art © baona/Getty
Author photo © Hilary Hope Photography
www.stmartins.com
eISBN 9781250831422 (ebook)
First eBook Edition: 2021
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