by Anna DePalo
She hadn’t even known the Elmer Street property had been on the market. It was a four-story residential building in Covent Garden that was rented out. The rentals had probably made it a more difficult property to sell.
Uncle Hugh rubbed his hands together. “I sold it to a company called Halbridge Properties. I just discovered the firm is another front for your husband, and he, the bounder, has promptly turned around and tried to sell the Elmer Street address to someone else.”
Belinda felt her heart plummet. “You sold another Wentworth property?”
She felt betrayed—by all sides. Hadn’t she put herself on the line trying to get back ownership to property that her uncle had already unwittingly sold to Colin? How could her uncle do this to her?
She spoke the last thought aloud. “How could you sell another property?”
“Belinda, please. You have no idea how dire our finances are.”
“Apparently not.”
Uncle Hugh continued to look distressed.
“And to be taken by Colin, again.”
At this, her uncle flushed.
In Uncle Hugh’s defense, Belinda had to admit that her uncle was probably not the only one to have been roundly bested by Colin. She’d seen firsthand what a good gambler Colin was. And his skill extended to real estate. He was London’s most famous landowning marquess.
He was also the man who’d made tender and passionate love to her.
All along, however, he’d been intent on buying and selling yet another Wentworth parcel.
She felt betrayed and, worse, sullied.
“How is your relationship with Easterbridge?” her uncle asked suddenly. “You had no idea about Halbridge Properties and its recent purchase?”
This time, it was her turn to feel uncomfortable. She thought about Colin making sweet love to her. She’d thought they were growing closer, she’d thought that…
Never mind. It was clear that all the while, Colin was keeping her in the dark about his machinations with respect to the Wentworths.
Uncle Hugh tilted his head, his expression betraying a mixture of desperation and cunning. “There’s always room for negotiation between a husband and wife. You worked your magic on Easterbridge before, perhaps…”
Uncle Hugh let the sentence trail off, but Belinda nevertheless understood his meaning. He had hopes that she could seduce back the Elmer Street property from Colin, too.
If she needed any further evidence, her uncle’s implication highlighted how much her marriage to Colin was viewed simply as a means to an end by her family. She was merely a tool.
Belinda wanted to say that the way she was feeling right now, the Berkshires would turn into the Sahara before she’d sleep with Colin again.
She swung toward the door. Yet again, she thought grimly, she was destined for a confrontation with Colin.
Colin turned toward the door of his home office at Halstead Hall.
When he saw Belinda, a swell of pleasure coursed through him. She was still dressed in the attire she’d had on at the polo field earlier—knee-high black boots and a tweed dress cinched by a thin belt. He couldn’t wait to undress her.
He’d just had time to shower and put on some clean clothes, but he’d be happy to strip down again for her if it meant getting her into bed—or for that matter, even without a bed.
In fact, he was tempted to lock his office door right now…
He cut the distance between them.
“How could you?” Belinda demanded.
In the process of bending to kiss her, Colin pulled back and arched a brow. “How could I what?”
“You bought, and then promptly turned around and sold, the Elmer Street property without anyone being the wiser.”
He stilled. She’d caught him off guard. He’d meant to tell her and explain why his actions made sense, but now he had to improvise.
“How did you find out?” he asked without inflection.
“Uncle Hugh informed me.”
“Fine chap, Uncle Hugh.”
Belinda continued to frown at him. “A business associate of his discovered the truth. He investigated Halbridge Properties and told Uncle Hugh who the true owner was.”
“Of course,” Colin said drily. “Why am I not surprised Uncle Hugh has been keeping his ear to the ground? Or should I say, more accurately, has friends doing it for him?”
“Yes, well, at least he has the Wentworth family interests at heart!”
“Does he?” Colin countered. “He sold the property in the first place. And in this case, I agree with him. The Elmer Street property is not in good shape. It needed to be sold, and the proceeds need to be used to upgrade the other Wentworth properties.”
If possible, Belinda looked more irate. “So you admit that you intended to sell as soon as you bought the property?”
He said nothing, and she read her own meaning into his silence.
“Does everything with you come down to a decision based on numbers?” she asked. “What about emotion and sentiment? I can’t believe you are the same person who eloped with me in Vegas.”
Colin tightened his jaw. “What makes you think marrying you wasn’t my biggest gamble?”
“So that’s what it was to you?” she countered. “Another calculation of risk and potential payoff?”
He thought he was doing her—and the Wentworths—a good turn by bringing some sanity to their financial chaos. Of course, he’d anticipated that Belinda’s initial reaction might be negative, so he’d been looking for the right moment to explain. But now she’d discovered matters for herself in the worst way possible, and she showed no signs of being able to see his side.
“I said it was a gamble, not that emotion didn’t enter into it,” he responded. “The Elmer Street property is of sentimental value to you? You never even lived there.”
She tilted up her chin. “It’s been in the Wentworth family for two generations.”
“And that line of thinking demonstrates precisely why the Wentworths found themselves in a financial fix.”
“I’m a Wentworth.” She placed her hands on her hips. “We had an agreement. You promised not to sell Wentworth property.”
“I promised to sign over to you the Wentworth property that I owned. The Elmer Street property is one that I subsequently bought.”
Belinda fumed. “No wonder Uncle Hugh didn’t suspect you were the buyer. He thought you were bound by our postnuptial agreement.”
“I am bound by it, and I haven’t broken it.”
“You still violated the spirit, if not the letter, of our agreement. We agreed to stay married partly to keep Wentworth property together.”
“And it will. The proceeds from the sale of the Elmer Street address will be well-spent on upgrades to the other Wentworth properties.”
“What guarantee do I have that you’ll actually use the money to renovate the other properties? After all, you sold the Elmer Street house without informing me.”
Colin felt his annoyance spike. All he was trying to do was help her loony relatives out of their financial quicksand. “I didn’t promise a day-to-day update on the management of the properties.”
“There is nothing to say, then, is there?” she countered.
Belinda turned on her heel and walked toward the door.
Belinda watched Uncle Hugh frown.
“There are rumors and gossip in the press that you left Colin,” Uncle Hugh said, grasping the arms of his chair, “and they depict you in an unflattering light, I’m afraid.”
Her mother, sitting gingerly to Uncle Hugh’s right, nodded in agreement.
Frankly, Belinda didn’t give a fig about rumors. She was more miserable than she could ever remember being, including when she’d bolted from a certain Vegas hotel room.
They were in the parlor of Uncle Hugh’s Mayfair town house—or rather, her husband’s Mayfair house. It was all such a tangle.
After leaving Halstead Hall yesterday, she had spent the night at Tamara and Sawye
r’s empty London flat. Tamara hadn’t hesitated to lend her the apartment as a place to stay, particularly since she, Sawyer and the baby were back at the family seat in Gloucestershire.
Her friend had been a bit curious about the reasons behind Belinda’s unexpected phone call, but the emotions had been too raw for Belinda to talk about them.
She was fortunate, Belinda thought, that no one had been witness to her sleepless, teary night. She’d tossed and turned to no avail, and the tears had continued to seep from under her lids.
By dawn, she had been unable to escape the truth.
She loved Colin’s intelligence, his humor, and, yes, his sexual skill. They had common interests, but more importantly, they complemented each other in personality. He made her feel more alive.
She had fallen in love with Colin.
It was why his betrayal was like a dagger to the heart.
But obviously, she was nothing more than a conquest to him. If he cared for her, he wouldn’t have been so cavalier about his disposal of the Elmer Street property.
Uncle Hugh drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair.
He had come down to London from Downlands earlier in the day. Upon learning that Belinda was in town, too, he had suggested that she take tea with him and her mother.
Uncle Hugh glowered. “I’m sure the stories in the press were planted by the Granvilles. Well, they might have gained the initial upper hand in the media, but we’ll win the war.”
Belinda felt her heart squeeze. Had Colin retaliated in the press, making sure he fired the first salvo in a divorce battle?
Uncle Hugh rubbed his hands together. “We’ll hire the best lawyers to contest Colin’s sale. We’ll claim he violated your postnuptial agreement. We’ll request that you be granted all of the original Wentworth property in a divorce. When the property is back under my stewardship, I’ll see to it that the Granvilles aren’t allowed to touch it again.”
“No.”
The word caught her by surprise almost as much as it did her uncle and her mother. Everyone stopped.
“No?” Uncle Hugh asked, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean, no?”
Belinda took a deep breath. “I mean I’ll never give up control of the Wentworth estates.”
Uncle Hugh relaxed. “Well, of course not, dear girl. Isn’t that what we’re trying to arrange, with any luck, and the help of a few good solicitors?”
Belinda suddenly saw things with a clarity that had hitherto eluded her.
Belinda knew in her heart that her uncle would simply start selling or mortgaging the properties to the hilt if he had control. Uncle Hugh was not competent to manage the Wentworth estates.
In a way, Belinda realized, Colin had done her and the Wentworths an immense favor. If Uncle Hugh hadn’t unwittingly found an eager buyer in Colin, he may have stripped the properties to the point of default and foreclosure. And then the Wentworths would certainly have fallen out of favor with the upper crust. They would have stopped receiving party invitations and gotten the cold shoulder in certain quarters.
Her family had been keen for her to marry Tod, and she’d assumed they’d simply wanted her to make a good match. She hadn’t been aware of how desperate they had been for her to save the family fortunes.
There was a big difference, she thought, between making it known that you were expected to marry up, and being sacrificed to save the family from financial ruin—again and again.
She loved her family, but they were human and flawed—very flawed.
What was it that Colin had said? She had a choice between being a stick-in-the-mud or a free agent.
Her uncle continued to look uncomprehending. “Of course, you’ll have a property manager in me, or Tod when you marry him.”
“No, Uncle Hugh,” she said firmly. “Tod is out of the picture—for good. What’s more, if and when I divorce Colin and have control of the Wentworth property again, we’ll do things my way.”
What a novel thought—her way.
Her mother looked quizzical. “Belinda, this is absurd.”
“No, it’s not,” she responded and then stood to leave. “I think it’s the best idea I’ve had in a long time. In fact, I’m rather looking forward to becoming a real-estate mogul.”
Her husband had taught her a lot. And one of those things was that she had more power than she thought she had.
She had just asserted her power with her family. Now she had to decide what to do with respect to Colin.
She’d been unfair to him, she realized. He should have told her about the Elmer Street property, but with new insight, she understood why he had acted as he had with respect to the disposal of the building.
The only question was, how would she mend fences with him, and would he want her back after she had seemed to side with Uncle Hugh?
Twelve
“Mother, what have you done?”
“Never fear, dear. It’s all about the media these days.”
“Believe it or not,” he said patiently, “I’m one of those relics who still believes in a reality apart from public perception.”
“Nonsense. What an antiquated idea.”
The irony, of course, Colin thought, was that he had brought the Granvilles into a new millennium, shoring up the family wealth through shrewd real-estate holdings.
They were sitting at lunch in a room with French doors that offered a panoramic view of the gardens of Halstead Hall. At one time, the room had functioned as the music room, but these days it served as the family’s informal dining room.
He’d been informed by a member of the staff shortly before lunch that his mother had arrived and would be joining him for the meal. As usual, his mother had presented herself impeccably groomed, pearls in place.
He, meanwhile, felt uncharacteristically scraggly and under the weather. He hadn’t shaved that morning, and though he wore his usual work-at-home attire of trousers and open-collar shirt, he felt unkempt.
He knew the cause of his mood, however. She had left two days ago.
His mother took a sip of her tea. “You know, you really could take a cue from your friend Melton. He’s a media person, isn’t he?”
Colin wondered sardonically if his mother included following Sawyer as an example in the marriage department. After all, Tamara, the earl’s wife, was a maverick American by upbringing, though her father was a British viscount. On top of it all, she remained one of Belinda’s closest friends.
“Melton will be hurt to discover that you didn’t use one of his media outlets as your mouthpiece for a public statement,” Colin drawled. “I will assure him, however, not to take the matter personally.”
The dowager marchioness waved a hand dismissively. “I still begrudge that horrid columnist of his, Mrs. Hollings. How dare she perpetuate the story of your appearance at the Wentworth-Dillingham nuptials?”
“How nice of you to retaliate by not feeding her salacious gossip about Belinda.”
“It’s the least I could do,” his mother sniffed. “And I don’t understand what you’re upset about. What did I say that wasn’t true? Belinda left you after you bought some burdensome property and thus gave much-needed financial assistance to the Wentworths.”
“I’m not sure Belinda would characterize matters in quite that way.”
The marchioness raised her eyebrows. “Precisely my point.”
In the two days since Belinda had left Halstead Hall, he’d had time to reflect and, frankly, brood. It had been hell and he’d been unable to work.
He’d started to think that Belinda had a point. He’d been so fixated on the bottom line that he’d somehow failed to appreciate how much Belinda cared about other things. Of course, family, history and sentiment were important to her. She was, after all, a lover of impressionist art, the epitome of nineteenth-century romance.
His mother sat up straighter. “We need to move quickly and gain the upper hand so that the press and public opinion are on our side. I’m only thinking of your repu
tation.”
“My reputation doesn’t need saving.”
He needed saving. He needed Belinda to save his cerebral and mercenary gambler’s soul.
Because he loved her.
The realization hit like a sledgehammer. He was flummoxed, right before exploding joy and worry hit.
It was a hell of a moment to have an epiphany, considering his mother was in the room. But there was no other explanation for the way he’d been feeling since Belinda had departed.
His mother looked at him consideringly. “Colin, you could have your pick of brides.”
“Yes, and how could I forget that the story you planted in the press also listed the names of one or two women.”
His mother’s eyes gleamed. “Suitable ones. As I said, you could have your pick.”
“But I want just one,” he replied. “I can’t believe you’d turn your back on Belinda so easily. The rest of the family has warmed to her.”
“She’s still a Wentworth.”
“It’s past time to bury the hatchet. The hostilities have lasted longer than the War of the Roses.”
“Of course, the hostilities are over,” his mother replied, frowning. “You have won. The Wentworths are in your debt.”
“Have I won?” he asked softly.
His mother closed her eyes.
“Accustom yourself to the idea, Mother. Belinda is the Marchioness of Easterbridge, and if she’ll have me, she’ll remain so.”
He knew with a sudden clear insight that, without Belinda, his seeming victory over the Wentworths would be hollow.
As Belinda opened the apartment door, her mouth dropped. “How did you find me?”
Colin’s mouth lifted sardonically. “A little birdie told me.”
“Sawyer,” she guessed.
Colin inclined his head. “It is his flat, after all.”
“I detest the way you blue bloods band together.”
“And right now,” he guessed, “you especially detest me.”
She let her silence speak for itself. Of course, she was furious and hurt. Why shouldn’t she be? She’d been falling for him while he’d been toying with her.