Benjamin, the eldest, had never let her feel beholden, even though her arrival had coincided with the launch of his new venture and for the first year there would not be much to spare. His quick smile and good humor had refused to permit a pose of demure subservience on her part. Only after he died did the reality of her dependence become clear. Where Ben had assumed he should provide for her as he did for his sisters, Timothy did not. She only advised while on visits to the London modistes now. Timothy saw her as the burden she was, while Benjamin had seen her as…
A carefully preserved memory of love, an echo of an emotion deep and poignant, made her heart ache. He had seen her as a dear cousin and a dear friend, and that last year had alluded to so much more. If what Lord Hayden had said was true, she had not misunderstood. If Ben had returned from Greece, he would have married her.
She picked up the bonnet. “Thank you, Irene. I will be glad to have it. Blue ribbon, I think now. Neither pink nor yellow has ever complemented my hair or complexion.”
Roselyn caught Alexia’s eyes with an apologetic look. Alexia returned one with her own message. I was born the daughter of a gentleman, but here I am now, almost twenty-six, with no fortune and no future. Such is the way of the world. Do not pity me, I beg you.
“Who is that?” Irene asked, interrupting the silent conversation. “Up there, at the drawing-room window.”
Roselyn turned in time to see the dark hair and broad shoulders before the man retreated from the glass. “We have a visitor? Falkner should have sent for me.”
Alexia began removing the pink ribbon. “He asked only to speak with Timothy and begged that you not be disturbed.”
“But Timothy is ill.”
“He rose from his bed all the same.”
Alexia felt Roselyn’s attention on her as she busied herself with the hat.
“Who is it?” Roselyn asked.
“Rothwell.”
“Lord Elliot Rothwell? The historian? What business—”
“His brother Lord Hayden Rothwell.”
Irene’s eyes widened. She bounced and clapped her hands. “He came here? I may faint. He is sooo handsome.”
Roselyn frowned. She looked at the window. “Oh, dear.”
“You have been drinking, Longworth,” Hayden said. “Are you sober enough to hear and remember what I say?”
Longworth slouched comfortably on the blue divan. “Too damned sober.”
Hayden examined Timothy Longworth. Yes, he was sober enough, which was good since this could not wait. The plan’s chance for success diminished with each hour.
“I spent the last two days with Darfield while you hid in your bed drinking,” he said. “The bank should survive this current crisis, if you do as I say.”
“I told Darfield it would. He is an old woman and feared the reserves were too low, but I said we were solid.”
“It will survive only because I made the decision yesterday to keep the family deposits with you. Word of that alone stopped a run that began this morning.”
“There was a run?” Longworth had the decency to look chagrined. “I should have been there, I know.”
“Hell, yes, you should have been there.”
“The worst has passed, however? The danger is averted, you said.”
“Hardly. Despite pulling through today, the bank still is in serious danger. Furthermore, I am reconsidering my position with you. The choice is a hard one, because if I remove the family’s money, the bank will fail. If it does, you will surely hang.”
Longworth stilled. He became a sprawled statue of indifference.
Hayden resented like hell being entangled with Timothy Longworth. He had ensured the bank’s growth with family funds and deposits in order to help a good friend. He had not signed on to save the neck of this younger brother.
Longworth smiled broadly. That made him look more like Benjamin, despite his light coloring, which was in contrast to Ben’s dark hair and eyes. It was a resemblance that Hayden would rather not see right now.
“Of course you are speaking metaphorically when you say ‘hang.’ Although ruined is a bare improvement, it is not death.”
“When I say hang, I mean hang. Gallows. Noose. Dead.”
“Banks fail all the time. Five have during the last fortnight in London alone, and dozens in the counties. It is no crime. That is what happens during financial crises.”
“It is not the bank’s failure that will send you to the gallows but what the accounting afterward would reveal.”
“Nothing to endanger me, I assure you.”
Hayden’s patience ebbed fast. He had not slept last night as he and Darfield sorted through the mess hidden within the bank’s accounts. The fury that he had barely contained upon learning the worst now threatened to break the frayed leash that held it in check.
“I decided to leave the family money with you, Longworth, but I worried about my aunt and her daughter. Their three percent funds are all they have, and they are dependent on the income. As their trustee I could not risk it. So that part, that small part, I decided to remove.”
Longworth cocked his head as if this preamble confused him, but the first signs of panic sparked in his eyes.
“Imagine my shock when I saw that their consols had been sold and that my name, as trustee for my aunt, had been forged to do it.”
Tiny pearls of sweat rose on Longworth’s brow. “See here, are you insinuating that I forged—”
“I have proof that you repeatedly committed the crime of utterance. You forged other names in order to sell other securities as well. You continued paying out the income so no one would suspect, but you stole tens of thousands of pounds.”
“The hell I did! I am shocked and grieved by this news. Darfield must have done it.”
Hayden strode over, grabbed Longworth by the collar, and lifted him from the divan. “Do not dare impugn that good man’s name. I swear that if you lie to me now, I will wash my hands of you and let you swing.”
Longworth threw up his arms to cover his face, cringing away from the anticipated blow. His fear both checked and disgusted Hayden. He threw Longworth back down on the divan.
Timothy folded forward, his face in his hands. A sickening silence claimed the drawing room, one throbbing with Hayden’s anger and Longworth’s palpable desperation.
“Have you told anyone yet?” Longworth’s voice cracked with emotion.
“Only Darfield knows, and he fears the implications for all the banks if such a scheme comes to light in the current mood abroad in the City.” Hayden had envisioned that horror too often during the last two days. The “funds”—the solid government securities sitting in trusts and paying out income to untold women and retainers and younger sons and daughters—were assumed to be secure. Banks only maintained them for clients. The money was not supposed to be vulnerable at all.
Timothy Longworth had broken a sacred trust in forging those names and taking that capital. If it became known, the current panic would increase tenfold.
“What the hell were you thinking, Longworth?”
“I did it for the bank. We were vulnerable; reserves got low. I did it to protect the deposits—”
“No, damn it.” Only when Longworth jolted did Hayden realize he had yelled. “You did it to buy this house and that coat and the coaches you ride in with your expensive mistress.”
Timothy began to weep. Embarrassed for him, Hayden turned away and looked out the window.
Down in the garden, a pair of violet eyes glanced his way, then turned back to some ribbons and straw. Eyes like violets in the cool shade, and a fetching form that hints of hidden glories. That was how Benjamin had spoken of Miss Welbourne when in his cups one night in Greece. Not entirely respectfully, but affection had been in his voice, so Hayden had not really lied to her. When he saw her reaction—the tears threatening and the way her face softened so sweetly—he wished he had not said a word, however.
Not a beautiful face, but those eyes made that irrel
evant. Their unusual color captivated first, then one noticed how they reflected an intense spirit and intelligent mind. Worldliness showed too, as if this woman understood the realities of life too well. While sitting under the unrelenting gaze of those eyes, he had forgotten for a few moments the horrible mission that had brought him to this house today.
A mouth like a rose, with nectar as sweet. Apparently Ben had trifled with more than Miss Welbourne’s emotions. Nothing surprising about that. A man bursting with life the way Benjamin Longworth was managed to trifle with a lot of women.
Roselyn and Irene Longworth, Benjamin’s sisters, sat in the sun with Miss Welbourne. The elder was a handsome woman with fair skin and dark golden hair and a sweet face. She was distinctive in her beauty but proud by all accounts. The younger one’s hair was long and pale, her form slight and still childish.
He felt a presence by his side. Longworth had risen from the divan. He also gazed down at the three women in the garden.
“Oh, God, when they learn of it—”
“I swear that they will never learn the truth from me. If we can save your neck, you can tell them whatever lies you want. A forger and thief should be able to devise good ones.”
“Save my—there is a way? Oh, mercy, whatever…however…”
Hayden waited while Longworth again collected his composure.
“How much, Longworth?”
He shrugged. “Twenty thousand maybe. I did not mean to. Not really. The first time it was to be a loan of sorts, to pay off an unexpected debt—”
“Not how much did you take. How much do you have?”
“Have?”
“Your only chance is if we make them whole, every one of them. With what you have and with notes you sign.”
“That will mean telling them!”
“If they suffer no loss, however—”
“It would take only one to speak of it for me to…”
“To hang. Yes. One forgery was enough to do it. You will have to hope that repayment will satisfy them and that they understand that only silence will ensure that repayment. I will speak for you, and that may help.”
“Pay them all? I will be ruined. Totally ruined!”
“You will be alive.”
Longworth gripped the sill of the window and steadied himself. He gazed out again and his eyes moistened. “What will I tell them? And Alexia—if we are reduced to the income from the country rents, if I must pay off debts with it too, I cannot support her.” As if a new horror occurred to him, his face fell.
Hayden guessed why. “Did you steal her meager funds too? I did not check the small accounts.”
Longworth’s face reddened.
“You are a scoundrel, Longworth. Thank God on your knees tonight that I owe your dead brother a debt of duty and honor.”
Timothy was not listening. His eyes glazed as he looked into the future. “Irene was to come out this season, and—”
Hayden closed his ears to the litany of grief that was coming. He had devised a way to save Longworth’s life and to avoid revelations that would make the current panic burn out of control. He could not spare Longworth the ruin this solution would entail.
A profound weariness saturated him, one born of a long night full of calculations and anger and moral deliberations. “Sit. I will tell you how much is needed, and we will determine how you will repay it.”
CHAPTER
TWO
Ruined.
The word hung in the air. The room went silent.
Alexia’s blood chilled. Tim appeared very ill now. He had retreated to his chamber after Lord Hayden left today but had risen from his bed this evening. He had just summoned her and his sisters to the library and informed them of this disaster.
“How, Tim?” Roselyn asked. “A man does not go from this”—she gestured to the house around them—“to ruin in one day.”
His eyes narrowed and bitterness hardened his voice. “He does if Lord Hayden Rothwell decides he does.”
“Lord Hayden? What has he to do with this?” Alexia asked.
Timothy stared at the floor. He appeared limp from lack of strength. “He has removed his family deposits from the bank. Our reserves were not sufficient to pay it out, and I had to pledge all I have to supplement the reserves. Darfield too, but his pockets are deeper. He paid part of my obligation and took my share of the bank in return. Still, it was not enough.”
Alexia battled a mind-scathing fury. What did it matter to Rothwell where all that money rested? He had to have realized what this would do to Timothy, to all of them. He entered this house knowing that he intended to destroy the Longworths’ futures.
“We will manage,” Roselyn said firmly. “We know how to live more simply. We will release a few servants and eat meat only twice a week. We will—”
“You did not hear me,” Timothy snarled. “I said I am ruined. There will be no servants and no meat at all. I have nothing. We have nothing.”
Roselyn gaped at him. Irene, who had been listening with a confused frown, startled as if someone had slapped her. “Does this mean I don’t get my season?”
Timothy laughed cruelly. “Sweet, you can’t have a London season if you aren’t in London. The scoundrel is taking this house. It is Rothwell’s now. We are going back to what little we still have in Oxfordshire to starve there.”
Irene began to cry. Roselyn stared in mute shock. Timothy’s laughter dissolved into a sound between a cackle and weeping.
Fear crept through Alexia. Timothy had not once looked at her since she entered the room. He avoided her eyes now. A quiet panic pattered in her chest, wanting to become something bigger.
Roselyn found her voice. “Timothy, we can live in the country again. We still have the house and some land. It will not be so bad. It was not starvation.”
“It will be worse than before, Rose. I will have debts from this to pay. A good part of the rents will go to that.”
The beat quickened and spread to Alexia’s blood. She flashed hot and cold. The fate she had feared since her father died had finally found her. She held on to her composure by a hair.
She would not make Timothy say it. That would be unfair, and poor repayment to the family that had given her a home.
She stood. “If your situation will change so drastically, you will not need the burden of one more mouth to feed. I have a small amount saved and it should keep me until I find employment. Now I will go to my room so you can freely discuss your plans.”
Roselyn’s eyes misted. “Do not be silly, Alexia. You belong with us.”
“I am not being silly. I am being practical. Nor will I force Timothy to say the words that put me out.”
“Tell her she does not have to go, Tim. She is so sensible that she will help, not be a burden. He does not want you to leave us, Alexia.”
Timothy did not respond. He still would not look at her.
“Timothy,” Roselyn cried in admonishment.
“It will be all I can do to keep the two of you, Rose.” He finally turned to Alexia. “I am very sorry.”
Alexia forced a trembling smile and left the library. She closed the door on Irene’s and Roselyn’s weeping and Timothy’s embarrassment. She hurried up to her bedchamber, cursing with every step the man responsible for this tragedy.
Hayden Rothwell was a scoundrel. A monster. He was one of those men who lived in luxury and destroyed lives on a whim. He did not have to remove those deposits all at once. He had no heart and no soul and trampled people under his boot if it suited him. He was as hard and cold as he looked, and she hated him.
She threw herself on her bed and buried her face in her pillow. She poured venom on Rothwell while she wept into the feathers. The panic coursed all through her now.
Ruined. She could not believe she was enduring this again. Her father had been ruined two years before he died. His legacy had been much diminished as a result. Most likely that was why she had not been taken in by his heir. Fate had now played a cruel joke
on her, making her relive the worry and fear.
She groped for control. She had wondered sometimes what she would do if she found herself in this situation. She had always known it could happen. She poked through her misery to the calculations she made on those terrible nights when her precarious existence loomed in the dark.
She could possibly become a governess, if she could get references. She had the breeding and education for it, although the life was a dreadful one.
She could also seek work in a milliner’s shop. She possessed a knack with hats and enjoyed making them. Working in such a shop would be the final humiliation, however. She was not born to such things, even if the idea held more appeal than being shut in night and day caring for another woman’s child.
She might also marry, although at present there were no suitors. She had never even hoped for one after Benjamin. He lived in her heart and always would. The girl who survived, hidden in her soul, loathed the notion of a loveless match made only to ensure security. Having tasted great love, such a marriage would be horrible. However, with neither beauty nor a fortune to entice a man, marriage was one practical compromise that she did not expect to face.
Enumerating her options gave her some heart, even if it was a sickening sort of confidence. She had twenty pounds a year and would not starve. She could make a future for herself if she ate her pride. As it happened, she had a lot of practice in doing that.
She gazed around her room at the furniture showing dimly in the lamp’s light. It was not a big room. It lacked the luxurious fabrics of Irene’s and Roselyn’s and the new chairs and beds they had purchased last year too. But it was her room and had been her home since Tim moved them here from Cheapside right after Ben sailed to Greece four years ago.
She closed her eyes and wondered how long it would be before Hayden Rothwell threw her out onto the street.
Three mornings later Alexia sat in the breakfast room, reading the advertisements in the Times. The house quaked with silence. Servants barely made any noise, but their absence was noticeable. Only Falkner remained while he sought another appropriate situation. She could hear him in the dining room, packing the china that Timothy had sold yesterday.
The Rules of Seduction Page 2