‘Bloody hell! Five hundred grand?’
‘I know, right? Crazy. I told him I didn’t believe him so he’s going to send me proof. Or so he said. I’ll just pass it on to the lawyers.’ She gave a hollow laugh. ‘I may live in a stately home right now, but I’m not rich. And I really don’t think the contents of this house will fetch anything like that sum. So this Marcus guy will have to get his money some other way.’
‘Five hundred grand?’ Josh still seemed stuck on the enormous sum. ‘Did your husband have that kind of money to spend on gambling?’
‘No, of course not. He wasn’t supposed to even be at Marcus’s casino. We had agreed … but obviously I shouldn’t have believed Giles.’ She shrugged, tamping down on the anger that surged through her again at his perfidy. ‘I think it was an illness, you know? He just couldn’t stop.’
‘Yeah, I know what you mean. I had an ancestor like that apparently, but he came good in the end. Come to think of it, he was your husband’s ancestor too. Maybe it runs in the family? Seems like I dodged a bullet there.’
‘Yes, well, Giles never got as far as beating it. I did tell him to get help, but that just made him annoyed. He said it wasn’t a problem and I should “lighten up”.’ She snorted. ‘Not sure how that would have helped.’ She leaned her forehead on the table. ‘And, hell, why am I telling you all this? I don’t even know you really.’
‘Because I’m a good listener and I’m family, according to your sister-in-law? And I swear I can keep it to myself, don’t worry.’
Tess sighed and looked up at him. ‘Thanks, I’d appreciate it.’ He looked sincere and she believed him. Somehow she knew her secrets were safe with him.
‘Besides, it explains a lot. I had been wondering about the poor state of the garden and some of the rooms.’
‘Yes, no money left for such boring things.’ Tess tried not to sound bitter, but she’d tried to reason with Giles about it so many times, it was a sore subject. ‘Anyway, thanks for the eggs,’ she added with a small smile. ‘Bryn’s new hens laying already?’
‘Er, no, the chooks are still settling in. I bought these.’ Josh smiled back, his eyes twinkling.
‘What?’
‘I didn’t like the look of that bastard when he arrived in his sleek, black BMW. Saw him outside. I just wanted to check and make sure you were okay and the eggs were the only thing I could come up with at short notice. I’d just been grocery shopping this morning.’
Tess couldn’t help it, she laughed. ‘That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard in a long time.’
Josh chuckled. ‘Isn’t it just? Sorry. I’ll try to come up with a more plausible excuse next time.’ He stood up. ‘Right, better get back to the garden or Bryn will wonder what’s happened to me. Later.’
‘Okay. Thank you, Josh. Really.’
‘No worries.’
‘Let’s hope there isn’t a next time,’ she muttered after he’d gone. She never wanted to see Marcus Steele again.
Taking the coffee mugs over to the sink, she had the urge to scrub them until every trace of the slick bastard was gone. It was ridiculous, but she actually wanted to throw away the mug he’d used as it would always remind her of him now. That was a bit of an overreaction though, so instead she filled the sink with water and loads of washing-up liquid to leave the mugs to soak. ‘Kills all known germs’ proclaimed the washing-up label. ‘I certainly hope so,’ Tess said out loud.
She stared into the foaming water as the sink filled up and forgot about Marcus as in her mind’s eye she saw a pair of gorgeous green eyes staring at her with real concern in their depths. Josh, her knight in shining armour …
Marcus Steele floored the accelerator and left the stately pile in a shower of gravel and stones. ‘Damn it!’ He banged his hand on the steering wheel, needing an outlet for the fury surging through him in uncontrollable waves, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to hit something, shout and curse, throttle the woman … although really he was mostly angry at himself for being attracted to her and for being conned by her late husband.
He tried taking a few deep breaths to calm down but couldn’t stop his hands from shaking with suppressed violence. ‘Aaargh!’ He let rip with an almighty shout of frustration and that helped a little bit.
He wasn’t quite sure why he was so unbelievably angry. He normally had more control over himself than that, but the moment he’d stepped into that bloody great house it was as though someone had lit a fuse inside him. Invaded his brain and planted a grenade in there. He’d had a hard time acting calm.
It was supposed to have been so easy. Wait a couple of months until probate had been granted. Send a few threatening letters. Show her copies of the bits of paper her husband had signed and hey presto – lots of cash. But from her vacant look when he mentioned the letters, he guessed the stupid woman hadn’t even opened them. What was the matter with her? Was she on drugs? One of those society women who snorted cocaine? It wouldn’t surprise him. He’d met his fair share of those.
Included in his plan had been the possibility that she would need a man to lean on in her grief, a man who was prepared to write off a small part of the debt in exchange for her spending a bit of time with him. Although, naturally, he wouldn’t have put it quite so bluntly. That man would have been Marcus if he’d played his cards right. Instead he was leaving empty-handed, without even having had the opportunity to ask her out for a drink. Damn that handyman or whatever he was. She was supposed to have been alone and vulnerable.
Shit. She was a looker and no mistake, and Marcus wanted her as well as the money. Actually, no, he wanted her more. His obsession with her had begun during his one and only stay at Merrick Court the previous year and he’d been unable to let it go. He had no idea why as there were plenty of women in the world, but from the moment he’d set eyes on her at that country weekend of Giles’s, he’d fallen in lust. One way or another, he’d have her.
Giles. ‘Weak tosser,’ Marcus muttered.
He’d had him pegged as a good source of income from the first time he’d seen him. Giles always had that fanatical look on his face that only a true gambler had, even when sober. And he was a rubbish player, no matter what game he attempted. Marcus had befriended him and watched the man win and lose over the course of a year, sometimes allowing him a large win just to lull him into a false sense of security. Then the real losses had started, ending in IOU’s, which would hopefully force Giles to sell the country mansion he so frequently mentioned. His pride and joy.
The man had proved uncommonly stubborn though. ‘There’s no way I can sell the place, it’s been in my family for generations,’ he’d protested. ‘I’ll sell something else.’ But he didn’t and Marcus eventually lost patience and threatened legal action. That should have been that, but Giles turned the tables on him.
The bastard.
Marcus couldn’t believe he’d been duped. Giles may have been a moron when it came to gambling, but he’d had a cunning streak that appeared when he was cornered. Instead of selling his house and paying up, he’d secretly filmed one of the croupiers on his mobile. How he’d guessed that the croupier was cheating in Giles’s favour, Marcus would never know, but the evidence was irrefutable.
‘So now we’re quits,’ Giles had told him. ‘Tear up those IOU’s or I go to the police.’
Marcus did, although he kept duplicates. He wasn’t stupid. And he made Giles throw away his iPhone, plus he had the man’s computer hacked to make sure there weren’t any copies of the short film. Giles died shortly afterwards and Marcus’s forethought should have paid off today. How was he to know the woman couldn’t inherit the house? Damn, but he should have checked. It wasn’t like him to be so sloppy, but the possibility of an entail had never occurred to him. Why would it? He’d never heard of such a thing.
Who the hell left stuff only to male heirs these days? It had to be illegal in this age of female equality and all that. Bloody aristocrats, still stuck in the Dark Ages. And why hadn’t Giles
mentioned it? Stupid git.
‘Ah, to hell with it!’
His fury ignited further the more he thought about what she’d said. Lady Merrick. Hadn’t even told him her first name, although he knew it already. He honked at a slow driver, just to give further vent to his frustration. He still didn’t quite believe her. A trophy wife like that; she had to be lying about her own wealth. Her sort – beautiful, expensively glossy and much younger than their husbands – were canny as hell and he was sure she’d have a stash somewhere. Switzerland probably.
Well, he’d wait a bit and maybe pay her another visit. In the meantime, he’d have her watched. Let her stew for a while, then hopefully she’d be more amenable. And next time he’d come when the handyman wasn’t around. He wanted his money and he’d waited long enough.
And he wanted her.
Chapter Thirteen
Raglan Castle, 25th May 1646
‘Mistress Dauncey, are you well?’
Arabella looked up, her cheeks heating in a guilty flush. She was sitting on some steps at the base of the Great Tower, next to the moat, neglecting her duties. Had Rhys come to find her and tell her off on behalf of someone? She hadn’t thought she’d be missed.
‘Er, yes, very well, thank you. I was just—’ She started to rise.
‘No, no, don’t stand up on my account.’ He waved her to stay seated. ‘May I join you for a moment?’
‘If you wish.’ The Great Tower could only be reached via the family’s private rooms in the castle, so strictly speaking Rhys shouldn’t be there either. ‘How did you get here?’
‘I was on my way back from delivering a message to the marquis when I spotted you through one of the windows.’ He pointed up at the beautifully arched windows of the private apartments that overlooked this part of the tower. ‘Took me a while to find you though. I had no idea there was a kitchen down here.’
The Great Tower had its own kitchen and water supply on the lowest floor of the building, which meant it could be used as a final refuge during a siege. The thick walls ought to withstand even the worst bombardment, and the moat helped too, of course, keeping the enemy at a distance. Arabella privately doubted anyone would last very long even so – it would be a matter of how much food was left and whether help was on its way. No point making a stand here otherwise.
‘Yes, I suppose it will be needed soon with so many more mouths to feed. I believe we are upwards of eight hundred people in the castle now.’ It seemed like madness and yet the soldiers were necessary for their defence.
‘You keep track of such things?’ Rhys regarded her with a smile, but she sensed there was more to his question than polite conversation.
She shrugged. ‘Not really. It was just something I heard others speak of. Why, is it a secret?’
‘No, not here, but there may be those who would be interested in finding out the exact strength of the marquis’s garrison.’
Was he accusing her of being a spy? That was rich, coming from someone who’d only just arrived from the-Lord-only-knew-where. She glared at him. ‘Well, I’ll not be telling anyone, if that is what you’re implying. I won’t be setting foot outside the castle until the war is over, I can assure you.’
Although she had been outside so recently, she wasn’t planning on repeating the journey. Not if she could help it, anyway.
He held up his hands, as if surrendering. ‘I wasn’t implying anything. Just commenting. We can’t be too careful.’
‘Indeed.’ And that reminded her that she ought not to be sitting here with a strange man all alone. ‘Now I had better return to my duties. Will you find your way out again or do you need assistance?’
‘Thank you, but I think I can manage. I’ll just stay here a while longer. It’s such a peaceful spot. Thank you for leading me to it.’
She almost snorted – as if that had been her intention. But she contented herself with giving him a curt nod before going inside because his smile told her he knew what she was thinking. That man saw far too much and who was to say he wasn’t a spy? It was an unsettling thought.
Merrick Court, 25th May 2016
Following another bad night, this time filled with nightmares about menacing casino owners, Tess spent the day painting in her workshop while considering what to do about Marcus Steele. The promised copies of the IOU’s had been emailed to her as scans and Tess had printed them out. They did indeed appear to be signed by Giles, but without seeing the originals, she couldn’t possibly tell whether they were fake or not. She supposed Marcus could have heard about her bereavement somehow and decided to scam her as he’d thought her a wealthy widow. But there seemed to be more to it than that – his visit had been personal somehow. Why?
The email had contained a reminder for her to keep the matter between them. ‘I think we’re alike that way, you and I,’ he’d added. ‘We prefer to keep our business private.’
Damn right. But there was no way she could pay him. She had phoned Mr Harrison to ask his advice, in general terms.
‘I just wanted to know who would be liable for any of Giles’s debts, should they come to light. Me, the heir of the Merrick estate, or both?’
‘I’ll have to look into it,’ he’d said. ‘Leave it with me.’
Late afternoon, she returned to the house and sat in the kitchen nursing a tension headache. Thankfully Rosie was out with friends, so the house was quiet. Tess was pleased to be spared having to make conversation, but she had to admit it had been reassuring to have Rosie in the house the previous evening when she’d felt a bit shaken.
A knock sounded at the back door and Tess jumped. Had the annoying man come back already? Surely he’d give her more than twenty-four hours to come up with half a million pounds?
‘Who is it?’ she called out. She’d taken the precaution of locking the door earlier when she came in, something she wouldn’t normally have done until evening.
‘Josh. Got a sec, Lady M?’
Relief surged through her and she opened the door. ‘I thought we agreed it was Tess,’ she scolded to hide the quiver in her voice, but she was smiling to show she could take a joke.
He grinned back. ‘Lady M sounds much more … exotic.’
It certainly did when he said it in his delicious accent. She wondered what he’d been going to say instead of ‘exotic’ but decided not to ask. And in the next moment she forgot anyway, as she spotted a dog lurking behind his legs. ‘You brought a dog from New Zealand?’
Josh laughed out loud. ‘No, I wouldn’t wish that flight on any animal, it’s bad enough for us humans. This here is Vincent. He’s from the local rescue centre. Can we come in?’
‘Er, sure. Vincent? What kind of name is that for a dog?’ Tess stood back to let them pass and the dog threw her a wary look as he slunk in behind Josh. She was glad to see the man was wearing a T-shirt today, although it didn’t make much difference as it stretched tight across his chest and arms in a way that emphasised his physique even more. His jeans were the old and ripped black ones he’d worn the first time she saw him, and she caught herself checking out his bum as he passed her. She almost shook her head at herself. What was the matter with her? She wasn’t a teenager, for heaven’s sake.
‘Sit. Good boy.’ Josh leaned on the old dresser while Vincent obediently sat by his side. ‘He’s been well trained, but sadly his owner died recently. The rescue place was looking for someone to foster him for a while and maybe take him on permanently if they like him. I was wondering if you’d like to have a go?’
‘M-me?’ Tess stammered. ‘Why would you think I’d want a dog?’
Josh’s eyes became serious. ‘They’re great for guarding people.’
‘What? Oh.’ The penny dropped. Josh had obviously figured she should have some protection against men like Marcus Steele. A warm feeling surged through her at the thought that someone cared about her well-being – although why Josh did, she had no idea – but if she’d wanted a dog she would have bought one herself. ‘Well, it’s very ki
nd of you to think of me, but I couldn’t possibly take on a pet. What would I do with him when I have to go out? And I have no idea where I’ll be moving to. Could be a flat where pets aren’t allowed.’ She could always rent a small cottage with a garden, but she didn’t mention that.
‘No problem. Bryn will have him, I asked.’
‘But …’ Tess was feeling as if she was being bulldozed here. He could at least have consulted her first.
As if he’d read her thoughts, Josh gave her a mischievous smile. ‘I thought I’d just bring him. That way you might fall in love with him and not be able to take him back to the centre.’ The smile turned into a teasing grin. ‘Think of him, sitting in a cage with his little bundle of possessions, waiting for someone to love him again and watching as all the families with kids go straight for the puppies while ignoring him and—’
‘Okay, okay, stop! You are so not guilt-tripping me into this. If you feel so bad for him, you have him.’ But he’d already planted a vivid image in her brain and Tess almost groaned out loud. She looked at Vincent, sitting there so patiently, his big eyes watching her every move. It wasn’t difficult to picture him in a kennel at the rescue centre, waiting day in and day out for someone who never came. Oh, hell …
‘But I don’t need a guard dog. You do.’ Josh’s smile said he knew his logic was faultless. And it was, damn him. ‘The alternative is I move in here with you, but I still don’t feel right about that.’
Tess didn’t want that either. Or so she told herself, although the thought of having Josh in the house was rather appealing. She kneeled on the floor and held out her hand for Vincent to sniff. ‘Hey, Vince, are you a good boy, like this guy says? Have you been having a rough time?’
Vincent’s eyes said a definite ‘yes’. He sniffed her and then lay down, letting her pat him on the head and scratch behind his ears, before moving onto his stomach. He seemed to be desperate for affection, but at the same time a bit shy. Tess continued to murmur to him until he relaxed and she could see he’d accepted her as a friend. He really was beautiful, black and white, some sort of Collie cross – big enough to be dangerous if he had to, but soft enough to be cute. And he was cute. She couldn’t resist those melting brown eyes. Double damn. Tess was sure Josh would have been aware of that when he chose the dog. But how had he known that she liked them?
The Velvet Cloak of Moonlight Page 12