The Art of Seduction (Kings of Industry)

by Eileen Richards

  Michael pushed down the anger that had him beating Jones to death for insulting the woman he loved. “How much is the debt?”

  “Fifty pounds.”

  He shot up out of his chair unable to stop himself. “You planned to take that much money from a widow and her daughter? What kind of business are you running?”

  “The lady knew the conditions of the loan when she took the money.” Jones took a step back his eyes darting around the room looking for an escape. “It’s all right and tight, sir.”

  “It’s extortion.”

  Jones squirmed but wisely kept his mouth shut. Michael opened the drawer in his desk where he kept coins. He counted out fifty pounds then closed and locked the drawer. He handed the money to Jones. “Take this.”

  Jones counted out the money. “It’s short the interest.”

  “Penance for insulting my fiancé. If I hear of you approaching the lady and her daughter, I will personally make sure your… business… is shut down. If I find you’ve spoke to them, or threatened them in any way, there is no where you can go to hide. I will find you. Is that understood?”

  The man paled. “Yes, my lord.”

  “Get out of my sight.”

  The man scurried for the door like the rat he was. Michael followed him out and motioned the footman to make sure the man left. He strolled back into the library and sat at his desk, leaning his head back against the chair. He rubbed his forehead with his hand to ease the headache that was developing. He needed to find Beth and get a straight answer out of her about this debacle. He needed to prepare for his father’s anger.

  Truth be told, this played right into what he wanted anyway— Beth as his wife. Perhaps Lady Bishop acted hastily, but it was warranted given she’d only had Beth’s side of the story. Knowing Beth, she’d painted the picture black with her becoming his mistress because that was all she was worthy of. In this instance, Michael knew Stafford would side with Beth. Make her his mistress and marry Lady Cassandra for her money. All his father cared about was increasing the coffers of the Stafford estate and ensuring a connection to the royal family.

  Frankly, Michael didn’t care what his father thought. He would marry where he wished and he wanted Beth. He wasn’t about to wait another five years to make her his wife.

  “My lord, a note came from your father while that vermin was here,” Newton said. He brought the letter in on a salver.

  Michael sighed heavily as he took the letter from the silver platter. “Is he waiting upon a response?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  He slipped his thumb under the Stafford seal and opened the letter. It was brief and hate- filled—ending with the threat of his being cut off from the funds of the Stafford estate if he didn’t end the engagement. Michael refolded the letter and tossed it upon his desk. They were not idle threats, but his father knew him well. He sent a note rather than appear in person. Stafford wanted the weight of his words to have the most impact. If Michael persisted with this engagement and married his artist, then he would be left with the estate but not the money to sustain it. It was a common threat his father made, but it was also one which carried a great deal of weight. Without the appropriate funds, the tenants would suffer. Not that his father would care about the tenants, but Michael did.

  One time his father’s threats to keep him in tow would have frightened him, but no more. The one thing Stafford had not taken into account was Michael’s ability to maintain his own income. Thanks to St. Clair and careful spending, he could live quite comfortably on his own until his father died and he could continue to turn around the estates. He’d sell one of the estates not entailed to St. Clair. The man needed a home of his own.

  “Do you have a response, my lord?”

  Hell, he’d forgotten the man was still in the room. He picked up the note and read it again, then pulled out a crisp piece of paper and his pen and scrawled out the only answer his heart would allow. He folded the note and sealed it and handed it back to his butler. “See that he gets the response. And tip the boy who delivered the note well.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Newton paused at the door. “One thing, if I may, sir.”

  “Yes, Newton?”

  “The staff and I wish you very happy on your engagement to Miss Bishop, my lord. We remember her from when her father visited. She was very kind to all of us.”

  “Thank you, Newton. Please convey my thanks to the staff and make sure they have a glass of wine to celebrate with their dinner tonight.”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  Michael stared at the door for a long time after Newton closed it. Outside the window, he could hear the creaks of the carriages as they rumbled over the cobblestone streets. The light had brightened through the window signifying the fog had lifted and the skies had cleared. He glanced at his pocket watch to note the time. Beth would be working at the theatre about now. He wondered if she knew about the announcement and what her reaction was to it. Did she feel the same twinge of hope that he did or did she feel angry? Would she know it was her mother who did this? Would she stop it? Have the announcement retracted? He needed to know. He needed to see her face to face and understand her reaction. He rang the bell.

  “Yes, my lord?” Newton said immediately opening the door.

  “Have you been standing there all along?”

  “Yes, my lord. In fact, I won the bet. I bet it would be less than five minutes before you requested the carriage around. Cook estimated at least an hour.”

  Michael shook his head and chuckled. “I’ve become entirely too predictable it seems.”

  “Yes, my lord. Shall I have the carriage readied and brought around?”

  Michael nodded. “Immediately, if you please. I have a fiancé to call upon.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The walk home from the theatre did little to curb Beth’s anger. Her mother had really overstepped this time. There was no way to make a marquis marry a woman. Putting the announcement in the paper would just anger the man. Besides, they were from two different worlds. He didn’t belong in hers and she certainly wasn’t suitable for his. She’d never run a large household. She couldn’t even dress correctly. As much as her mother had tried, Beth had never fit into Society. She wanted to be a serious artist, not a marchioness.

  Fury boiled inside her like hot lava. This was going to be impossible to correct without looking like a foolish girl. Her mother had put her into an untenable situation. Then there was the loss of her position at the theatre. She’d enjoyed her position. She’d loved designing the sets for the various plays. She had friends there, true friends who didn’t judge her based on her father’s place in society or income. All of it was gone.

  And she wanted it back.

  Then there was Mr. Jones and the debt to deal with. The announcement in the paper would send a signal she was able to pay the debt. She didn’t have the money. God only knew what the man would want in exchange. She shivered in revulsion.

  She had nothing except the paintings Langston wanted for the Royal Exhibition. Now he’d probably renege on that offer as well. Anger merged with frustration and despair causing her eyes to prickle with tears. How could a few words on a newspaper page render her powerless?

  She had to admit to herself though, dealing with the money lender was nothing compared to the fear she had of dealing with Lord Langston and his father. The duke terrified her.

  Reaching the house on Red Lion Square, Beth paused and searched for calm. How dare her mother go this far? It was beyond the pale and they were, no doubt, the laughing stock of society. Of course, it shouldn’t matter because they didn’t move in those circles, but it would affect how people viewed her father’s legacy. He’d painted portraits for most of those in society including royalty. Beth would not have his legacy tainted by this stupid action.

  Yet she couldn’t enter the house screaming at her mother like a fishwife. This called for calm no matter how badly she wanted to scream and cry. She needed her mother’s
help and support if she was going to get them out of this mess. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, letting each one out slowly until she felt calmer and less shaky. She pulled open the door and stepped inside, locking the door behind her.

  The house was quiet, a bit too quiet. Beth didn’t know what she’d expected but this normal calm was not it. Where was her mother? Why wasn’t she wringing her hands? “Mother?” Beth called from the entry.

  Her mother called in return from the small dining room, “In here, dear.”

  Beth removed her bonnet, coat, and gloves leaving them in the entry way. She wished she hadn’t torn up the newspaper in anger. It would be nice to wave it front of her mother’s face. She smoothed her hands on her gown and made her way down the narrow hallway to the small room containing a table and four chairs. Light came in from the one window that looked out onto the kitchen garden. It all seemed so normal and she couldn’t seem to grasp that thought. “Mother, have you read the paper today?”

  Her mother put down her tea cup. “You told me not to buy the paper any longer, dear, so no, I’ve not read today’s paper. I do have yesterday’s though, thanks to Tansy.”

  The guilelessness in her mother’s voice pricked Beth’s anger. “So, you’ve not seen the announcement, then.”

  “What announcement?” Lady Bishop would not meet her eyes and busied herself with the paper in front of her.

  “The one that declared my engagement to Lord Langston.”

  Silence filled the room for a long moment, so long that Beth felt the need to prompt her mother. “Mother, did you put in that announcement?”

  “What was I supposed to do, Beth? Let the man make you his mistress, something I’m sure you’d gladly do.” Lady Bishop stood and paced. “You left me little choice.”

  “It wasn’t your choice to make! Do you realize what you’ve done? The whole of London will see us as a joke. Worse, it has cost me my position at the theatre. A woman engaged to marry a marquis cannot be in need of a job as a set painter.” Beth crossed her arms.

  “Beth, he should be made to marry you. He’s ruined you. I only did what any other mother would do.”

  “No one does this! They speak with the gentleman in question. They don’t simply announce to the world they are engaged. Can you not see what this looks like from Langston’s perspective? We’ve tricked him. He will have every right to drag our name and our reputations through the Mayfair mud.”

  “If your father was alive he would be demanding satisfaction.”

  Beth moved to the window trying to keep from shouting louder. The neighbors would hear and the last thing she needed was for them to think she wasn’t a proper young lady. They’d be thrown out of their little house as well. The next few words would gut her mother, who believed the sun rose and set in her father’s eyes. The same father who pushed ambition against his own daughter’s honor. The same father who had selfishly kept her home, unmarried so he’d have someone to make sure his secret was safe. “Mother, do you for one moment think Father didn’t know about Langston and I?” Her voice was low, tinged with the bitterness she’d kept buried so very deep.

  “Your father knew Langston and you had an affair? How is this possible? He would have made you marry.”

  Beth did not turn to face her mother’s pain. The tone of it scratched across her heart like sandpaper on wood. “Father was already showing signs of palsy. He knew the only person who could finish the works he had already accepted commissions for was me. When Langston’s mother fell ill, father encouraged him to go to her. He did it to keep me here to care for him.”

  “But Langston was in love with you,” Lady Bishop said. “Don’t tell me he wasn’t. I saw you together.”

  Beth pondered her mother’s words. “What would you have had Lord Langston do? Let his mother die without going to her? Would you have had me leave Father’s care to you? We did what we had to do at the time, Mother. We put our families first.”

  Beth turned and faced her mother, fighting the urge to comfort as the tears ran down her face. So many secrets over the years and what had they done but led to this pain.

  “And you believe your father would selfishly keep you here? I cannot believe it, Beth.”

  “Mother, he told me. Right before he died, he told me he was sorry for refusing Langston’s offer of marriage. He had thought it a foolish infatuation that would fade.” She crossed her arms. “There is more.” Beth swiped at the tears on her face. “He took the letters from Langston and burned them. I had no idea. I thought Michael just stopped caring for me.”

  Tears streamed down her mother’s face. “I cannot believe it. Your father was a good man.”

  Beth let her arms drop to her sides. “Mother, he knew he was dying. He knew he would not be able to paint any longer. If he could not paint, how would we live? He did what he did to protect you.”

  Her mother covered her mouth with her hand and choked back a cry. She bent at the waist as in pain. Beth moved to pull her mother into her arms. She rocked her back and forth as if she were a child. “We will be all right. This will pass.”

  “I’m so sorry Beth. I have caused you even more pain.”

  “We will have the announcement withdrawn. With luck, society will go on to more interesting news in a few days.” Beth hugged her mother then released her. “I need a cup of tea. Would you like one?”

  Lady Bishop clasped her hands tightly together and raised her chin. “Beth, we may retract the engagement, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t move forward to put this right.”

  Beth paused in the doorway. “Mother, we’ve decided. We are not pursuing this.”

  “You gave yourself to him again, Beth. You could be with child.” Lady Bishop’s voice shook as she moved to Beth’s side.

  “I told you that isn’t possible,” Beth said hating the desperation in her voice. “He is a marquis and I’m what? A girl who paints sets. This is not a fairy story with a happy ending. This is reality.”

  Lady Bishop took Beth’s hands into her cold ones and squeezed. “I should have stepped in when your father was ill. You should not have been the one to shoulder the burdens. Even now, you take on more than you should.”

  “Mother, it wasn’t your fault.”

  “Yes, it was. It truly was. I have been very selfish. I should have insisted Langston marry you.”

  “It would not have made any difference, Mother. The Duke of Stafford would have ruined us if Langston pursued the match. He made that very clear at the time.”

  “What do we do now?”

  Beth pulled her hands from her mother’s grasp. “I go to the paper and have them print a retraction. I will find another theatre that will hire me. We have to figure out how to pay the loan back.”

  Lady Bishop pressed a hand to her mouth and Beth felt her heart sink. “What?”

  “The condition of the loan was based on your engagement announcement. Mr. Jones will call upon Langston to collect the payment.”

  She hadn’t thought things could get much worse. She was wrong. Not only would she be the object of ridicule, she owed Langston money. There was no doubt he’d pay the debt. He was too kind to allow Mr. Jones to hurt her or her mother. She would have to face him and make arrangements to pay the debt back. “We won’t worry about that now. If Langston has paid the debt, we’ll just pay him back instead. I’m sure the terms will be much more satisfactory than Mr. Jones’s were.”

  “I have really made a mess of things, haven’t I, dear?”

  Beth wrapped her mother in her arms once again and hugged her. It crossed her mind again she was the parent in this relationship rather than the child.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Langston stood on the steps of the small townhouse on Red Lion Square. Children shrieked as they chased each other in the small park. Carts moved along the streets and here he stood like a post afraid to knock upon the door of a woman who knew him better than he knew himself. She knew him so well, she probably already assumed
that he’d be furious at being trapped by this morning’s announcement. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. He wanted Beth trapped. He was at the point he would do anything to keep her with him and make her his wife. No one else would do. His life would be meaningless without Beth by his side.

  He knocked on the door and waited. Lady Bishop opened the door and went white.

  “My lord,” she stuttered. “This is an honor.”

  “May I come in, Lady Bishop?”

  “Yes, of course.” She opened the door and stepped aside.

  He removed his hat as she closed the door behind them. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  He followed Lady Bishop into the small parlor just off from the entry. She was nervously threading her handkerchief through her fingers. He didn’t have any sympathy for her at this moment. She had clearly overstepped and felt guilty and a bit afraid if he was interpreting her behavior correctly.

  Langston stood there a long time while she decided whether she wanted to sit down or not. Lady Bishop stared up at him like a frightened rabbit before finally taking a seat. Before taking the small chair across from him, he closed the parlor door.

  He placed his hat on a nearby table. Lady Bishop grasped her gown in fists that would leave wrinkles when she finally relaxed. He knew what he planned to say, but he wanted her to feel some remorse over what she had done. There was never a question in his mind who had placed the announcement. . It just wasn’t something Beth would do. She knew of his need to control the decisions in his life. Something he’d fought since he was old enough to push back at his domineering father.

  “My lord, perhaps you are right to request privacy before you face Beth. She is upstairs at the moment, painting.”

  “She is not at the theatre?”

  “They released her today. It seems this announcement has had quite a few unintended consequences.” Lady Bishop’s voice was apologetic.

  “Indeed.” Langston knew how much that position meant to Beth. He knew the need for independence. He watched as Lady Bishop squirmed beneath his regard. He had no intention of showing his hand for the plans he had for Beth until he understood what Beth’s feelings were. “There is also the matter of a loan you took out.”