And the truth had now come to haunt him.
Chapter Eight
As Lord Smallwood handed her down, he murmured, “I’ve heard tell he won monies from the duke with which to provide for your family. Why not enjoy better circumstances? I would live here at the castle and be happy.” He placed his lips on the back of her hand. “If I might, I’d like to come call on you?”
She dipped in a curtsy. “I’d like that, thank you.”
Lord Smallwood left in his carriage. They entered the castle to the sounds of loud laughing and uproarious playing of the piano.
They moved quickly to the music room to find Lord Morley dancing as if with a partner and Grace at the piano playing faster and faster, watching Lord Morley try and keep up.
June winced. “What are you doing here?” When they didn’t hear, she walked to the piano. “What are you doing here?” With hands on hips, she frowned in his direction.
Grace’s mouth dropped, and she stopped playing. “What are you doing, June? This is Lord Morley.”
“Yes, I’m painfully aware of who is in my home uninvited. I wish he would take his deception elsewhere.”
Grace’s face clouded in confusion.
“I have not deceived anyone.”
“On, no? Then why do I have to learn at the assembly you won guardianship of our family at a card table? Not just once, but many times over I was favored with the story. ‘Strapped him with five destitute sisters. Thought he was winning big when he really inherited a nightmare.’” She crossed her arms. “I think we’ve had enough of your pretend offers of friendship. I’m sorry you are strapped with us, but we shall try to eat as little as possible.” She moved to the door, gesturing for him to leave. “Now, if you’ll excuse us?”
Lord Morley moved slowly toward the door. “You are repeating back what the vicious mouths of the ton will repeat, but it is not the truth, nor is it what happened. Might I please explain?”
“Yes, June, let him explain.” Charity moved to stand beside June.
“I should like to hear all sides of the story.” Lucy nodded.
More out of pure exhaustion than anything, June waved him toward the sofa. “Please hurry. We are all anxious for our beds.”
“I will not detain you for more than a brief moment.” He cleared his throat.
The sisters all took seats. Each one looked concerned. Grace seemed hurt. June supposed everyone was, but Grace knew how to hide it least.
“I did indeed win this castle, the surrounding land, and the cottage in a game of cards, as well as a significant amount of money.”
“But why was our castle part of a card game?” Kate’s eyebrows furrowed together.
“Why would the duke try to be rid of us?” Kate held her hands clasped tightly together in her lap, and June wished to spare her sisters some of the reality of their situation, but she supposed it must all be spoken.
“The Duke of Granbury’s actions make him sound uncaring or negligent, but I think on the contrary—he has some plan to bring us all together, and he purposely lost to me.”
“So he wanted to foist us off on you?” June looked away. “You particularly.”
“I thought the duke liked us, trusted us.” Grace looked like she might start crying.
Lord Morley leaned forward. “He most absolutely does. He doesn’t think things through at times, and this is one of those times when I wish he’d done more than simply lose the properties. But to his credit, he wrote me a letter with strict instructions as to your welfare, down to the specific renovations necessary for the castle, the modiste visits for you ladies, how soon he would like you to move in…all of it. In all of my actions I have been honest, as I never corrected you in assuming the duke was doing all of this for you. It was he. It is he. I am here as the owner. You are my tenants. And I and he believe in caring for our tenants. I am not of the mind your illustrious family should be left destitute on the very property which should be yours by right, simply because you are women and have lost your father—forgive my bluntness. Nor do I think you should be without protection. The ton would agree with me. They’ve shown their care for you in the many visits and the great distinction they’ve consistently shown you.”
“But it puts us in a lower standing—subjects us to ridicule.” June frowned deeper.
“It might from those of lesser stature, but any of your truly equal birth and pedigree will think only of your unfortunate hard times and consider you as peers. Think of the Duchess of York, for example.”
“She is a dear,” Kate sighed.
Lord Morley looked at each of the sisters in turn and kept his last lingering gaze on June. “Please do not let this deter our friendships, the close manner in which we have been able to associate. I’ve not had this much enjoyment in years. And I’ve come to care for you all and to want to be near you.” He moved closer to June. “I had hoped you and I—”
“And that is where this conversation must stop. You cannot think we can continue on the same vein. Before we thought you a generous friend who might have an interest in knowing us better, but now we know the truth. You have behaved as such only out of duty and obligation.” She felt the corners of her mouth drop and shake. No, she must not cry in front of this man. “And that is the worst of it all. No one likes to feel beholden, and Lord Morley, that is how we feel every day of our lives. We continue on, because we have no other choice, but our dearest friends will be those to whom we owe nothing. I’m sure you understand.” She stood.
“And this is how it is to be?”
“I believe it must.”
“Might I still come to call?”
“Certainly. Come to see the progress of your investments. Come to step in on your tenants, but it is with the accurate understanding we now all share that we will move forward in our relationship with you.”
“Can we not return?”
June shook her head.
Lord Morley stood, the very energy which typically held him tall and vibrant in any room seemed to have drained from his person. “I am deeply saddened to hear this.”
“I regret it must be so.” June lifted her chin, refusing to be influenced, though a part of her rebellious heart wanted to break. Her sisters stood as he trudged slowly out of the room.
Once he was well and truly gone, Lucy clucked. “You needn’t have been so harsh.”
Charity shook her head. “She must. No one can fall in love with someone who controls everything in their life.”
June was struck by her sister’s words—fall in love. “I wasn’t falling in love.”
“Of course not. Not when he owns everything around us.” Charity moved toward the family rooms. “I do like living here. I’m happy we aren’t moving back to the cottage.”
“Would that we could. Would that we could move far away where we know no one, where we earn our stay, and pay for our own rent.”
“And how would we ever manage such a thing?” Lucy shook her head. “We cannot earn money. This is precisely what our great uncle would have wished. We honor him by accepting gratefully all of the aid we do from those around us. It is because of him and his ancestry we are thus honored.”
“You are wise, Lucy. Too wise. For some of them do nothing but mock us. Honor has nothing to do with it.”
“But those people don’t have to be our friends, now, do they?” Charity brushed them away, running her hand through the air.
“I don’t suppose they do, no.”
“We shall return to the local society. We shall stand proudly in our heritage.” Lucy smiled.
“Shall we still have a visit from the modiste?” Kate’s eyes, full of hope, melted a bit of June’s stubbornness.
“Of course we shall.”
“Then I am as pleased as anyone.” Kate turned to June. “Though I had hoped that you and Lord Morley would make something of this together. He is the dearest man.”
“Yes, he is.” Grace’s lip extended. “And you interrupted the most jovial game. He was
pretending—”
“Yes, we saw what he was doing.” Charity stood. “I believe I shall find my bed.”
The others joined her, all but June. “Good night, dear sisters. Good will come of this somehow. We shall see evidence of it. Perhaps near the end of our days, but it shall be there.”
“Perhaps sooner than you think.” Kate kissed the top of her head, and the others made their way upstairs.
June sat staring into the flames at the fireplace until they turned to embers. She had hoped for something more with Lord Morley. For the first time, she’d seen the potential for real happiness there. Was she now left at the mercy of men like Lord Smallwood? Gentlemen in name only, pretty with their words, but none of it meaning anything? She supposed she was.
Chapter Nine
Morley penned a rather vicious letter to Gerald: “As your ill-used friend, I request your and the duchess’s immediate assistance in this matter. Yours, etc.”
But he supposed his old friend deserved a talking down. He’d meddled too close to the mark, strapped Morley with a huge responsibility, and then the very meddling meant to draw him closer to June had been the force to drive her away.
Once they arrived, Morley could return to London.
The real problem with all of it was Morley’s loss of his much-cherished peace of mind. Before these last few weeks in Brighton, he’d been perfectly content with his life, perfectly pleased to spend his days how he wished. If he had a moment of quiet, his mind wandered to poetry or literature or considerations on which horse to buy. He would drop in to see his mother. He aided his friends—mostly Gerald, if he was being honest—and had a supreme existence.
But now? He ran an agitated hand through his hair. Now he was doomed to this consistent unease, this pinch in his core, that refused a moment’s rest, that fixated wholeheartedly with a grip of steel on thoughts of June. Since she had most decidedly shut him out of her life, every waking minute of the day was now plagued with loss, sorrow, and desperation. Two times he’d stopped himself from riding back over to the castle in the middle of the night. Two times he’d paced the floor, seeking a solution to his new mess of an existence. And he’d found no solution.
Escape. He must leave. And Gerald must come. With those thoughts, he’d found a sad sort of melancholy to allow sleep, and had dozed off in the night.
And now, with the letter in the hands of an express rider, he drank himself some fortitude as he prepared to deliver a modiste to the castle. He needn’t accompany. Or perhaps he would busy himself on the unfinished parts of the castle, talking with the workmen and getting a better idea of when the work would finish.
What was he to do with a fixed and furnished castle? That was a problem for another day. For now, he was off to pick up Marguerite, the best modiste in Brighton, or so he’d heard.
He stepped back from the door, surprised, as a woman bustled toward him with a shopkeeper behind. Books of fabric, rolls of the stuff, a box of who knew what, and a robust, energetic woman all climbed into his carriage.
After he’d joined her, he smiled at a young man and woman. “I am Lord Morley. You must be…”
“Miss Marguerite, and this is Thomas. Five sisters, you say?” She fanned herself. “Pleased I am to help with the Standish sisters. I’ve heard tell of them these years past. Such a sad tale, to be left as they were, when their uncle was so fond, when the old duke himself would have rolled in his grave to know his line had diminished thus.” She dabbed her eyes. “It is an honor to be dressing them.”
Lord Morley nodded. “They are most grateful.”
“And if they spread it far and wide who it was they chose, I’ll add in some extras—a morning dress and another ball gown, perhaps. I’d like to be known as the modiste for their family.” She eyed him and then looked away. “Are you the one who will be paying for their purchases?”
“I am.”
“Do you have a particular interest in these women?” Her eyebrows lifted, and Lord Morley was astounded at the brash question.
“They are my tenants. And while they weren’t heir to a great deal of pin money, I and the Duke of Granbury wish to remedy the situation. In a sense, I view them as in my care, but not in any other manner to which you might be referring.”
She sniffed. “It’s an important question to ask, as unpleasant as it might be. I shall be making up dresses for young debutantes, then, if I am to understand?”
“Yes, certainly. We are seeking matches for them all.”
She nodded.
Rattled by the woman’s wholly brash line of questions, Lord Morley tried to talk of trivial matters until they pulled up in front of the castle. “And here we are. One more thing I’d like to address. The eldest, Miss Standish—she will see to it her sisters are to be the most carefully and beautifully cared for, but I would like you to order an extra gown for her, spend the most on her necessities, and in all ways ensure she is treated as well as or greater than the others.”
Her eyebrows rose, but she wisely said nothing.
To stem gossip, he added, “Remember, she is the eldest.”
“Ah, understood. I shall do my best. These women will be the most finely appointed, mark my words.”
“Thank you. Your reputation precedes you. I would expect nothing less.”
Kate met them at the door, and Lord Morley had to smile. The woman cared more for fashion than for the men at the balls. Perhaps she would enjoy learning to be a seamstress. He would look into it for her.
He stood next to his carriage, watching the busy front door of the home, the entrance of the modiste, and listening to the excited chatter just inside the door. June stepped into his line of sight, noticed him, and then backed away. His hands flexed opened and closed three times, and then he entered the castle. He could do this. They’d hardly spent enough time together for him to be so fascinated with the woman. His interest would ebb, and he would be able to continue on in a normal fashion.
Once he was certain the women had moved on to another room in the house, he made his way to the opposite side of the immense castle. The building was an architectural wonder. Large turrets, thick walls, and rooms all around enclosed a center courtyard. And it was in this courtyard he would like to employ gardeners to make the place beautiful again. There was soil—a tree or two, even. But Morley would like to see benches, a fountain, hedges, roses, arbors—the place could be an oasis. And it would not draw the heat on summer days if it had more greenery and some shade. Perhaps when the sisters were all gone and married, he could come stay here for half of the year. It was becoming an impressive structure once again.
As he walked to the furthest end, he inspected some of the stonework. The bricklayers and stonemasons Gerald employed worked night and day to make the place fully secure and only accessible through the front door. The sisters were likely unaware, but Morley had also employed extra footmen as security at all hours, the men specifically placed so that the sisters would be protected.
As he made his way back to the lived-in part of the house, he couldn’t help but feel pleased. At least the structural parts of his obligations were going well and on schedule. And the personal aspect—the sisters—they were doing well also. The brief conversation that they had been acquired by a bet would not affect them long, not when so many others were in support. They were lovely, each one of them beautiful, and he knew they could overcome such a thing. Or he hoped. He awaited further insight from the duke, should Gerald care to give it.
A rider came running into the courtyard. “I’m looking for the Earl of Morley.”
“I am he.”
He leapt off his horse. “I await a reply.”
“Very good.”
Morley opened the seal. It was from Gerald.
We shall come. Announce the girls’ dowries. Five thousand a piece.”
Five thousand a piece. Morley pressed his mouth together. That was astounding. Gerald was a good man. Despite his eccentricities, he’d been through great sorrow. He dese
rved his newfound happiness and had learned to show great compassion to others.
He handed payment to the rider. “Please tell the duke I look forward to his arrival. There is room at the castle, if he so desires.”
The rider nodded and took off running.
And Morley was almost free of them. His breath left slowly as he sought the great relief and peace that must come from such an acknowledgment. But his heart stayed tight, his lungs constricted. At least the girls would now be able to easily overcome whatever stigma came from being won by a bet, from being of good name and penniless. He could wash his hands of the whole situation, if he wished it.
Memories of Grace, urging him on to silliness, thoughts of Lucy and her overly conscientious adherence to propriety, Kate’s love for fashion, and Charity... he hadn’t totally figured out the reasons for Charity’s eccentricity, but he was intrigued. Thoughts of them all filled his mind with a poignant sadness at his loss. His mind fought against thoughts of June, but they came anyway. June, the woman who had maintained such a lovely family while neglected and quite possibly hungry. His lips tugged in a small smile. She was remarkable.
And very much disgusted with him.
He brushed his hands as if to shake thoughts of them away. If only such an action would, in fact, succeed. Then he headed in the direction of their front room. He remembered a book or two on the tables.
Well into a new novel, Sense and Sensibility, he counted himself lucky to at least not be as daft as this man, Edward. “Get some sense, man.”
“I must admit I’m surprised to see you here.” Lord Smallwood sauntered into the room, and Morley wanted to push him right back out the door.
“I could say the same of you, even more particularly, since I own the place.”
“Ah, so now you admit it.”
“I never denied it.”
He sat across from Morley and crossed one leg. “I enjoy her, Morley. I wonder if I might find something, some kind of happiness with her I’ve never found anywhere else.”
The Earl's Winning Wager Page 7