“I am not unaware of the mechanism of riding a horse, My Lady,” Lord Ambergrave said crossly. “I stated that I do not ride, not that I am incapable.”
Luci was quiet, pondering both his meaning and her next words carefully. She looked up at him and said, “Then why have you bought so many horses?”
“I like to own horses, not ride them,” he said, though he looked embarrassed at his own very weak explanation.
“But I don’t understand. Do you intend to turn them out on the property and merely look at them all day?” Luci pressed. “The whole purpose in owning such fine beasts is to ride them, to show them in competition, to breed them with other magnificent specimens so that others may purchase and ride the offspring.”
Lord Ambergrave opened his mouth to retort sharply, but stopped himself. He paused, appearing to take deep breaths, then spoke again.
“Would you care to embark upon our ride now, My Lady?” he asked through clenched teeth, appearing to make a show of keeping a pleasant tone in his voice.
“Of course, My Lord,” Luci replied just as falsely. “As soon as I saddle Jacques, we can be on our way.”
“You don’t mean to—” Lord Ambergrave called out, but Luci was already halfway to the stable. He finished his sentence in a weary voice as he said, “—ride alongside the phaeton.”
“My dear Angeline, why didn’t you come to me sooner?” Mary Colquitt, Duchess of Hardigree, asked while clutching her younger sister’s hands and soothing her tears. “You know I would have done anything in my power to help you and dear Edgar.”
“I know, and I’m most grateful to you for it,” Lady Thornshire said, sniffling as she fought to quiet her sobs. “But it was such a dire situation, one that struck so suddenly. We did not know what to do.”
“But marrying Luci off to someone we have never met? To what end?” Lady Hardigree closed her eyes as though her head pained her. “Angeline, you know I would have gladly issued a loan to Edgar in any amount, especially if it would have prevented this tragic turn of events.”
“Oh Mary, he never would have accepted,” Lady Thornshire cried. “He was horror-stricken to learn that his business had failed, especially after he had been so steadfast, so careful. When an offer of marriage from a titled, wealthy man of somewhat appropriate age came along, we snapped him up for poor Luci without a second’s hesitation. And now my only child is in misery for it.”
“Now, now. None of that talk,” the Duchess said gently. “All brides are miserable when they leave home and turn away from the bosom of their families to start a new life. Why, look at me! Sent halfway across the continent when I first wed, married to a man twice my age whom I’d never seen and who barely spoke my language. But it turned out for the best in the end. The same will be true for our dear Luci, too. You’ll see.”
Lady Thornshire stood up and paced the length of the small solarium. The afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows cheered her spirits less than the Duchess’ promise of help.
“I have not disclosed all,” she said quietly. “Luci has written to me of her situation. Her husband did not even see her home on their wedding day. He left her at the chapel, promising to return in a matter of days, and was gone all of three weeks. Luci was left to enter a strange home without so much as a word of introduction, and worse, she was charged with hiring servants in her husband’s absence. There was not even a full complement of staff about.”
“Why Angeline, that is certainly unusual, but I think you are needlessly worried,” her sister explained. “I should be far more concerned had he escorted her home to an empty estate, or left her there with only a paltry few individuals lurking about. He gave her leave to hire servants, which shows that he trusts her judgment and acknowledges her place as lady of the house. It sounds as though this will turn out for the best after all.”
“But what if it does not? What if we’ve sent her off to her doom with a strange man in our haste to ensure she was cared for?” A fresh round of tears and sobs sent her reaching for another linen handkerchief.
“If this turns out to be as bad as you fear… then there are things that can be done,” Lady Hardigree said quietly, keeping her voice low and pinning her younger sister back with a stare.
“You don’t mean… kill him?” Lady Thornshire gasped, astonished.
“What? No! Of course not!” The Duchess managed a nervous laugh, then said, “There are ways to undo the marriage with very little scandal, though. It would require that Edgar be in a position to return any funds that have changed hands, of course.”
Lady Hardigree paused and watched her sister’s face for any signs of reluctance. After all, matters of fortunes—both gained and lost—were not polite topics of conversation, even between close sisters, unless the topic was in discussing the fortune of a potential suitor. In that event, the conversation was of the utmost importance, even though it was held in secret and in hushed tones.
“He is desperately trying to recover his fortune, even as we speak,” Lady Thornshire said in earnest. “That is why he suggested I might write to you and come for a visit. He will be away and did not wish to think of me alone in our house, longing for Luci. He has sent word that he is already seeking several partners who may show interest in investing in a new proposal. It is of a very low risk, though, so I fear it shall not return much in the way of significant profit for some time.”
“That is just as well,” the Duchess assured her. “Although, I have to caution you. Have you told anyone of Edgar’s failed business?”
“Why, no. How could I?” Lady Thornshire answered, shocked at the question. “Who would I possibly tell that we are penniless as beggars in the alleyway?”
“Oh, good. That is a great relief. After all, if anyone knew for certain, they could insinuate that you had foisted your daughter off on an unsuspecting noble without being forthcoming about the state of things.”
“No, Edgar would never,” she answered, embarrassed at the talk of her misfortune. “He said that Lord Ambergrave knew of our circumstances and made the offer himself.”
“Then all the more reason we must learn the truth,” Lady Hardigree said firmly. “Do you not think it odd that he should appear at precisely the right time to ask for a marriage contract? We need to find out more about this Lord Ambergrave and determine if there is anything in his past that might give us the excuse to question his motives. If he failed to disclose something, say, that he is a bastard child or that he had been expelled from school, then we may very well annul the marriage quietly without the return of his funds.”
“But what happens to my poor daughter, in that event? She would return home as though she’d never been married? And all the ton would simply accept her again?” Lady Thornshire shook her head in disbelief.
“There will undoubtedly be talk, but as with all senseless gossip, it will fade away shortly. All the better if it can be replaced by someone else’s tragic undoing to set the ton talking.” Lady Hardigree laughed. “Now, let me send word to some people I know to find out what they can about this Lord Ambergrave. I shall inquire about the other poor man, the Earl of Stillscar, was it? There’s little point in rescuing our dear Luci from one bad marriage and then thrusting her into one that could prove worse.”
“Oh Mary, I wish I had confided in you sooner,” Lady Thornshire said, resting her head against her older sister’s shoulder. “You were always the smarter one of us. Where I’ve always been flighty and romantic, you’ve always known how to keep a clear head and go after that which you need.”
“Never mind that, dear. We have our own personalities and our own pursuits,” the Duchess answered, patting her sister’s hand lovingly. “Right now, my interests lie in salvaging Luci’s reputation and removing a possible cad from her life.”
Chapter 11
For the second time in as many weeks, Bradley stood waiting in a wealthy man’s drawing room, hoping the gentleman could be of assistance. He’d begun to despair of anyone being capa
ble of helping him, or being willing to, that is. Everywhere he turned, Bradley was met with scorn and indifference.
He was certain that this time would be no different, though he had to at least try.
“Stillscar! Is that you?” a man asked as he entered the drawing room. “You look to be in a wretched state. What has happened?”
“Renfeld,” Bradley replied, addressing the slightly older man. “I shouldn’t think my appearance is so awful as that greeting warranted, though.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t think so,” the young Duke said, gesturing for Bradley to sit before taking a chair himself. “What is it that brings you around after all this time?”
Bradley had rehearsed his speech during the journey to his brother’s estate, the current Duke of Renfeld. But now that he was sitting, facing Bernard’s pinched expression of disdain, his words failed him. He stared at the polished marble floor and expensive Persian rug for a moment to gather his thoughts, but the Duke beat him to it.
“Let me venture a guess… you need money, don’t you?” Bernard said with a sneer. He sounded almost triumphant.
“As a matter of course, don’t we all?” Bradley said lightly.
“Well, no. Not me, in any case, not thanks to the money your mother was kind enough to sign over to my father.” Bernard laughed at the state of things, ignoring the hurt that settled in Bradley’s countenance.
“That is, in fact, why I’ve come,” Bradley admitted. His voice, though quiet, was resolved. “As the owner of the estate, I would like you to increase my annual amount.”
“Why would I do such a thing?” Bernard said, equal parts irritated and genuinely intrigued. “My father was more than fair to you in providing you with a salary, a title, and property.”
“Property which I have to pay to keep up!” Bradley argued adamantly. “The taxes alone on the house and the flat are nearly the price of the allowance I am given.”
“You were supposed to use your connections and the title my father secured for you to increase your own standing,” the Duke explained as though speaking to a child. “The fact that you have not chosen to make something of yourself is proof enough that the last thing you need is another handout.”
“Handout?” Bradley shouted in disbelief. “Every shilling my father ever earned is now sitting in your coffers! You are one to speak of receiving handouts, considering your own father was as penniless as I am when he married my mother. If my father had lived, you’d be the one secretly arranging for someone to buy this monstrous castle you’ve got and I’d be the one to sweep in and snap it up at a bargain.”
“Yes, well,” Bernard said, appearing aloof, “your father is dead, as is your sad mother. So his money is now mine and you have no claim to it.”
Bradley jumped up from his chair and for a moment, visions of soundly pummeling Bernard danced through his mind. Whenever they’d fought as children, Bernard had always run off to their nanny or governess or even to his father, and Bradley had been lashed for it… no matter who had been at fault. But there was no nanny or father here to save him now, no one to come running at his simpering little whines.
“If you are thinking of raising a hand to me,” Bernard said, barely looking up at Bradley, “I can assure you that is the last thing you want to do. Your mother is not here to save you from the punishments you so richly deserved all those years, and I would not hesitate to have you thrown in prison for your crime.”
Bradley was silent, weighing the Duke’s words carefully. This had all gone so wrong, after he had thought carefully about what to say to endear him to this brother. Instead, they had argued just as vociferously as when they had been children, thrown together by a marriage of convenience and increase. They’d hated each other then, and he’d been a fool to think their sentiments had changed any since then.
“You haven’t told me what it is that has left you in such dire straits,” Bernard finally said, sounding only marginally interested. “It must be drastic if you would actually come to me for money.”
“It is rather urgent, now that you mention it,” he answered sarcastically. “Did you really think I might enjoy coming to you with my hat in my hand? The amount I am afforded is not enough to even pay my bills, but I would have thought someone in your position would have understood that.”
Bernard was quiet and Bradley was left in an awkward position. He paced the room, uncertain as to what he should do or say next.
“Have you considered marrying?” the Duke asked. “Surely there are other well-monied young ladies in much the same position as your mother was. Holder or heir of a nauseatingly large fortune, yet unable to possess it themselves? They might be eager to wed an earl with nothing to his name.”
Bradley scoffed sadly, surprised that Bernard was offering something that halfway sounded like supportive advice. “I had actually considered marrying, but it… it did not work out.”
“Ah, yes. That’s a shame,” Bernard said, not sounding very sincere. “You could join the service.”
“At my age, and with no experience? They’d laugh me off,” he answered, momentarily envisioning himself in the armed services.
“Well, I am not an ungrateful person, as you should know,” Bernard said, standing up and walking over to a small secretary. He took out a ledger book and held it in his hands. “If it had not been for your mother and your father’s fortune, my own life might have been very different. Therefore, I will front you a loan against your next year’s salary. It shall be deducted to the penny, so do not make a fuss when the time comes ‘round and your funds are significantly smaller than expected.”
Bradley sighed gratefully, coming over and taking Bernard’s hand to shake it. “Thank you, Bernard. It will help a great deal.”
“For some reason, I doubt it,” the Duke said. “I strongly recommend you take these 500 pounds and invest them wisely. If you do so, and if you strive to live within your meager means until you see a return on your hard work, then you might grow this amount to a much more fruitful yield.”
He handed over a letter of payment, which Bradley accepted gratefully. As the earl turned to go, Bernard called out after him.
“Stillscar, be warned. Do not return here seeking money ever again. This is your one chance, and I will not repeat such acts of charity. You are entirely on your own now.”
Though the day had gotten off to a difficult start—as had the marriage, if truth be told—Luci was taken aback by the enormity and beauty of Ashworth Hall and its grounds. She and Lord Ambergrave had ridden for the better part of the morning, speaking idly on pleasant topics as they continued about.
Lord Ambergrave had begun their excursion by driving towards the rear of the estate where the stables opened out into rolling fields of green. The horses he had acquired recently were milling about in the open, save for Jacques and the pair that pulled the phaeton. Luci could have watched the magnificent creatures all day and still been content.
“They’re Arabians,” the Marquess explained. “I had them sent from Egypt especially for building up my stock.”
“Egypt?” Luci asked, aghast. “Will the climate here not prove too wet? Too cold for them? I’d be rather worried about their joints in a clime such as this.”
“It will take some getting used to,” Lord Ambergrave admitted. “And you’re very clever to question their joints. I don’t plan for these newcomers to be ridden, at least not more than is sufficient to keep them used to the saddle, but will sell their offspring for a good price. Over time, further generations will be heartier and better suited to living here. Perhaps that might be a task that you enjoy? To take each one out in turn and put them through a brief ride from time to time?”
Luci brightened considerably at the thought of having a purpose. She nodded thoughtfully, watching the animals with the high sloping foreheads and glossy coats. They nearly shimmered in the morning sunlight, an effect that looked inviting and yet exotic.
The more time they spent out of doors a
nd away from the confines of the house, the more Luci noted that the Marquess seemed to relax. There was clearly something about the house that still bothered him, keeping him in its tight grasp somehow. Outside, he was a changed man, one who talked freely and even laughed at statements or stories that amused him.
She dared to broach the subject of the servants’ gossip by asking, “My Lord, what has happened to the rear of the house?” Luci pointed to the upstairs windows whose stone borders were still smeared with black soot. A wide black streak rose up onto the roof, which was patched in places with wooden boards until work could begin there.
“Oh?” Lord Ambergrave asked, turning to look. “There was, well, a fire some years ago. It was a long time ago.”
“Was anyone harmed?” Luci asked incredulously, anticipating the answer.
“What? Oh, no. No one was injured,” he answered.
Before Luci could question him any further, he clucked purposefully to the horses and rode on, not looking back to see if she was following. And there it was again, she realized; within the vicinity of the house or when speaking of it, the Marquess was a changed and distant man. Only when away from here was he more open to her.
A Court of Thorns for Lady Ambergrave: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 9