Heiress in Love (Ministry of Marriage Novels)

by Christina Brooke

  His mouth tightening, Trent threw down his napkin and shot to his feet. “If you set foot on my lands again, Black, I’ll have you arrested for trespass. And don’t think I won’t do it! I’d like nothing better than to see you rot in jail.”

  The urge to smash his fist into Trent’s self-righteous face nearly got the better of Constantine. But that had always been his problem, hadn’t it, acting on impulse? Trent would point to the new Lord Roxdale’s barbarous behavior and Trent’s own culpability would be forgotten. With the utmost restraint, Constantine held back.

  “I see I was right about you, Trent,” he said. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

  * * *

  Constantine returned from his ride in a towering rage. He’d half a mind to take some men up to Bronson’s mill now and tear down the dam himself. Certainly, Trent’s parting shot might have been calculated to goad him into doing just that.

  But Constantine was no longer a hotheaded, impetuous youth who could be manipulated into doing foolish things just to prove he had the courage. The mill—men and women’s livelihoods—were more important than his pride.

  Given the state of that dam, if it were not dismantled correctly, it might flood Bronson’s mill and the settlement of cottages surrounding it. No, the matter needed to be approached with care. He’d send for an engineer from Bristol if he couldn’t get satisfaction from Trent. In fact, he’d best summon one anyway, to ensure whatever work was carried out there was done properly.

  He summoned Greenslade and instructed him accordingly. The solicitor bowed and was about to leave, when Constantine bethought himself of something.

  “One moment, Mr. Greenslade. You have a copy of the mortgage over the mill, don’t you?”

  “Yes, my lord. Shall I fetch it?”

  “No, that’s not necessary. The mortgagee is a company called Bronson and Company, is it not?”

  The solicitor pushed his spectacles up his nose. “Yes, I believe it is.”

  “Can you find out who the directors and shareholders are and whatever background detail you might glean about them? I wish to know exactly who I’m dealing with.”

  “Of course, my lord. I shall inquire.”

  Constantine dismissed him with thanks and went upstairs to change.

  When Constantine reached the master suite, he found it buzzing with activity. His belongings had arrived by cart from London; it was time to do the thing properly and move in.

  With great reluctance, he’d sent orders for the most valuable items in his collection to be sold. The prices they fetched weren’t enough, but the proceeds would at least tide him over while he raised money to repay the loan. What remained were mere curiosities, but none the less valuable in his eyes.

  The sight of so many treasured and familiar pieces lightened his mood somewhat. At least, it saved him from being obliged to hit someone.

  He was a great believer in starting as one meant to go on, which encompassed both his role as lord of Lazenby Hall and his intention of enticing Lady Roxdale into his bed. He’d delay no further in taking over the suite of rooms traditionally occupied by the master of the house.

  A pair of footmen grunted, heaving a great old trunk between them.

  “Ah, good,” said Constantine. “That will go here, in the antechamber.”

  The trunk contained curiosities and treasures he’d collected over the years. He liked to have them close, for what was the use of such things locked away in cabinets, gathering dust? He liked to handle them often and without ceremony. The antechamber to his bedroom, with its cozy atmosphere, seemed the perfect place to enjoy them.

  Next came a suit of armor that went by the name of Oswald. He gave Oswald’s helmet an affectionate pat and watched another three footmen totter along under the weight of a man-sized marble nose, allegedly broken from an ancient Greek statue.

  “Hmm,” said Constantine, as they struggled through the door. “Perhaps you’d better take that along to the gallery and find a place for it. I’m not sure it helps achieve the right ambience here.”

  “Yes, my lord.” With a concert of grunts, the footmen tottered away.

  Constantine strode through the aperture to the bedchamber. This room pleased him exceedingly. He’d ordered the plain hangings and drapes removed and replaced them with his own lush silks, velvets, and brocades in hunter’s green, black, and silver—the colors of the Blacks. The total effect was tastefully exotic, luxurious but by no means effeminate.

  He took in the grand ancestral bed with its heavily carved mahogany posts and curled his lip. “That will have to go,” he muttered. “But it’s a start, at any rate.”

  He needed to unpack the awaiting trunk and find some of the pieces he wanted for the bedchamber. As he walked through to the antechamber, a voice hailed him from the doorway.

  A movement caught his eye. Constantine turned to see Luke hovering on the threshold.

  “Hello, there.”

  The boy hesitated, and Constantine saw that he held something gingerly in his cupped hands, as if it were delicate and precious.

  Constantine smiled at him. “Come in, Luke. I won’t bite. What have you there?”

  “I found this downstairs.” Luke showed him a small jade sphere.

  His Chinese puzzle ball. How had that fallen free of its case? “Where was it?”

  “On the drive. Next to the furniture cart.”

  “Thank you.” Constantine took the jade and blew on it gently, ridding it of a wisp of straw and the small particles of seashells that clung to it from its ignominious roll on the drive outside. He smoothed his fingertips over the intricately carved surface, checking it for damage.

  Discovering none, he said again, “My thanks. I should not have liked to lose this.”

  He set the jade curiosity on a lacquered side table pending a better arrangement.

  Constantine saw Luke glance longingly over at the trunk that now stood open in the corner of the sitting room, displaying its treasures like pirate’s booty.

  He smiled. “Would you like to see what I have in there?”

  Luke’s face lit. “By Jupiter, wouldn’t I just?” Then his smile faded. “Oh. But I’m due to take my lessons now.” His shoulders slumped.

  “Lessons?”

  Luke nodded. “I don’t mind history so much. It’s the Latin,” he said despondently. “And mathematics, too. Four hours every day. It’s awfully hard on a fellow.”

  Constantine was inclined to agree. “Well, you can tell your tutor I gave you a holiday.” He called to a maid who bustled past and instructed her to inform Luke’s tutor that he wasn’t needed.

  “Come,” he said to Luke. “You can help me unpack.”

  The boy gazed up at him with those big, dark eyes as if he’d handed him the moon. Then he darted a glance after the departing maid. “But … but you can’t do that.”

  Constantine lifted his brows. “Oh? Who says I can’t?”

  “Aunt Jane—”

  “You may leave Aunt Jane to me,” said Constantine. He would speak to her about reducing this punishing academic schedule. Certainly, Luke ought to be prepared for the rigors of a public school education, but driving the boy too hard would surely give him a distaste for the business. Besides, there was more to learn about life than could be found in a Latin lexicon. As Constantine was about to demonstrate.

  He kneeled in front of the trunk and reached in, handing various items to Luke, explaining them as he went. He never bought anything simply to own the object itself. Every piece had a rich history, spoke of exotic lands and strange customs. And when he owned that piece, he owned a small slice of history, too.

  Constantine didn’t have much experience of boys Luke’s age, but he seemed a curious, intelligent child. That Luke shared his own wonder in the collection pleased him. He’d expected the novelty to pall on such a small boy much sooner.

  A maid interrupted them. “My lord, beggin’ your pardon, but where to put the malachite table?”

  “Ah.�
� He rose to his feet. “Excuse me a moment.” He indicated the trunk with a wave of his hand. “Have a rummage. See if anything else interests you.”

  He returned to find Luke examining a telescope-shaped object.

  “Ah, you found the kaleidoscope, did you? Do you know how it works?”

  Luke shook his head.

  “Put this end up to your eye and close the other one. Like that, yes.” He watched Luke squint into the lens. “Now, turn this bit, here.” He reached out and gently twisted the end of the toy.

  The boy crowed in delight as all those colorful fragments of glass fell into new patterns. He became absorbed in the kaleidoscope while Constantine sorted through the jumble left in the trunk.

  Finally, he came up with what he’d been looking for. A toy from his own childhood, a reminder of happier days.

  “Tell me, Luke,” said Constantine. “Have you ever played fox and geese?”

  * * *

  Jane had searched high and low for Luke all over the house before concluding that the scamp had most likely taken off for the village or some more amusing pursuit than sitting with his tutor. The last place she’d expected to find him was in Frederick’s sitting room.

  Constantine’s sitting room, she corrected herself, taking in the scene.

  Constantine looked like a sultan or a pasha lying there on the carpet, completely at his ease. Exotic treasures lay scattered around him like the spoils of war or offerings from foreign princes eager to win his favor. In the midst of all this paraphernalia, he and Luke seemed to be engaged in some sort of game.

  “There you are, Luke!” Jane said, putting her hands on her hips.

  From his prone position on the floor, Constantine looked up through a lock of hair that had fallen over his brow. Then he smiled at her, a slow, inviting smile. A hot stab of excitement pierced her belly.

  She’d managed to avoid being private with him since that horrifyingly embarrassing incident in the muniments room. At the time, she’d been furious with herself for failing to carry through her plan to kiss Constantine. Upon reflection, she’d realized he’d never intended to cede any power to her in their relationship. Her efforts had been for nothing.

  He’d meant to frighten her away.

  Constantine rose to his feet, running a hand through his hair to tame it. Once more the correct English gentleman—at least on the surface.

  It took Jane a few moments to retrieve her exasperation. She turned to her charge. “Luke, have you any idea what time it is?”

  Luke scrambled to his feet. “Sorry, Aunt Jane. Lord Roxdale was teaching me to play fox and geese.” An impish smile flickered. “I beat him.”

  “Beginner’s luck!” protested Constantine, ruffling the lad’s hair.

  How had Constantine built such easy rapport with Luke in so short a time? She’d predicted he’d have no facility with children, but clearly she’d been mistaken. That was a good thing, she told herself, smothering an ignoble spurt of fear.

  “Luke, you were due to start your lessons an hour ago.” She meant it as a gentle reproof but the rascal appeared far from chastened. His eyes shone as he looked up at Constantine. He must deem the results of his truancy worth her scolds.

  She persisted. “Nurse says Mr. Potts went home but I’ve sent a message for him to return at once. Go to the schoolroom now, please, and wait for him there.”

  Luke scowled. “But Aunt—”

  “You’d best do as Aunt Jane says,” said Constantine. “Don’t worry. I’ll explain everything.”

  The boy looked as if he might argue, but with a note of finality to his voice, Constantine said, “Go now.”

  At Luke’s crestfallen look, Constantine smiled. “You will allow me a rematch at fox and geese, won’t you?”

  Luke plucked up at that. He chuckled. “’Course, sir. I’ll give you another thrashing.”

  The boy took himself off, leaving Constantine alone with Jane.

  Eyes twinkling, Constantine watched him go. “A fine little fellow. You are to be complimented.”

  Her chest warmed with pride. “Yes. Yes, he is. I take no credit for it, though. He has been a delight to me from the first.”

  Constantine’s regard turned curious. “Indeed?”

  “Of course.” A rush of emotion made Jane’s eyes itch and burn. She blinked a few times and glanced toward the door. “I—I cannot think why Mr. Potts would have taken himself off without making the least attempt to find Luke.”

  “He went because I dismissed him,” said Constantine.

  Her lips parted in surprise. “What? You—”

  He held up his hand to silence her. “And before you say I have no right to do so, I will remind you that as his guardian, I have every right, Jane. That lad is too young for such rigorous studies.” Gently, he said, “Luke needs the freedom to be a boy.”

  She was so stunned by his criticism that she couldn’t answer him. So this was how he saw her? As an overbearing, unfeeling disciplinarian? “What has Luke been saying to you?”

  “Don’t misunderstand me. Luke has not complained. He just seems … more restricted than many boys of his age.” Constantine frowned. “If he’s mollycoddled now, Luke will find it immensely difficult once he goes to school, you know. You did intend to send him to school in due course, didn’t you?”

  “It was out of the question when Frederick was alive,” she murmured, forcing down the hurt. Perhaps she had been too protective, but she’d meant it for the best.

  She drew a deep breath. “Frederick was rather high in the instep, you know. He would not have hired a tutor at all for Luke, much less send him to school. He only allowed me to employ Mr. Potts on condition that Luke passed regular examinations. I suppose that’s why I became so strict about his lessons. I didn’t want him to fail.”

  But she could relax that punishing schedule now, couldn’t she? Constantine was right.

  Constantine tilted his head. “High in the instep? Frederick? What do you mean?”

  She tried not to show her bitterness. “Oh, Frederick wouldn’t lower himself to consider the welfare of a poor relation. I daresay if it had been up to him, Luke would never have come to live here. He acted as if he resented Luke’s presence.”

  “But you never saw Luke as a poor relation, did you?” said Constantine softly. “You love him.”

  She pressed her lips together. Her eyes grew moist. “He is a son to me. I—I beg that you will not force me to part with him.”

  He didn’t answer her immediately. Desperation shifted its stranglehold from her chest to her throat. She could not speak, but what good would her words do, anyway? He knew what she wanted. Why couldn’t he accept the solution to both their troubles and make her his wife?

  “You have given me food for thought,” he said, after a long silence. “I had not realized … Forgive me if I seemed harsh. I see now that I judged the situation without knowing all the circumstances.”

  He picked up a sphere of carved jade from the sideboard and stared down at it, turning it over in his hands.

  The breath caught in her throat. Did that mean he was reconsidering whether to wed her? It was too much to hope for, and yet …

  She waited, every faculty suspended in anticipation of his next words.

  But he said no more, seemingly lost in contemplation of the jade curiosity. On a shaky sigh, she turned and left him to his thoughts.

  * * *

  The correspondence that awaited Constantine at the breakfast table the next morning consisted largely of sundry missives of condolence and thinly veiled congratulation. Amusing, the people who now claimed him as an acquaintance or friend who would have crossed the street to avoid him a fortnight ago.

  The mail never brought good news. Yesterday, he’d received a letter from his broker, outlining the losses he’d sustained upon selling up his long-term investments.

  Constantine had sent instructions to reinvest those proceeds in certain short-term, high-risk ventures. He could have waited until
his more prudent investments matured but that would be too late to save the mill. As it was, he needed to gamble on windfalls from several short-term trades.

  As a last hope, it wasn’t a solid one.

  He’d spent the previous evening tallying his assets against the debt he owed Bronson. He’d concluded that he must, indeed, marry Jane. Unless his share-trading brought spectacular profits, there was no other way he could save the mill.

  But the most persuasive factor was the clear evidence of Jane’s love for Luke that he’d witnessed in his antechamber. He would be cruel to part them.

  That day had been full of surprises, in fact. He’d discovered in himself a latent desire to step into the role of protector and guide to the engaging little boy. A laughable proposition, given Constantine’s past, but no less powerful for that. Frederick had scorned to fill the role of preceptor, deeming Luke beneath his notice. The boy had been starved of male influence, but that was about to change.

  So. Constantine would save the mill and do what was best for Luke in the process.

  He would marry Jane.

  He was wise enough about women not to present the matter to her as a fait accompli, however. He still had time to court her, woo and seduce her. He felt a driving need to make her want him for himself, not for what he could give her.

  Constantine’s lips twisted in a cynical smile at his arrogance. Was it merely pride that spurred him to such tactics? Or the instinctive desire to be the hunter, not the trapped?

  No matter. He had a month to repay the debt to Bronson. That was time enough.

  As he sorted through his correspondence, an official-looking letter caught his attention. He ripped it open, and swore.

  It was a demand from Bronson. Constantine scanned the short letter, which informed him of his obligation to repay the mortgage within thirty days. As if he didn’t know it! Further, Bronson made it clear he had every intention of foreclosing if the debt and interest wasn’t repaid to the penny by the due date.

  Bronson also stated he was sending an agent to value the mill property in anticipation of foreclosure.