The Convenient Arrangement

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  “Lorenzo, I believe I shall speak with Lord Caldwell for five minutes.”

  “No more.”

  She nodded. “It is the least I can do when he has traveled so far and he has so far to go before he can find a place to shelter him and his horse and men tonight.”

  Lorenzo’s eyes twinkled in amusement with sparks as gold as her gown. Why had she never noticed them before? When they looked past her, she faced Lord Caldwell, who was scowling.

  “Very well,” Lorenzo said, “you may speak with him for five minutes. That will give time for the carriage to be turned around and pointed back toward the road.” He put his hand on her arm. “I shall be across the stairwell in the parlor if you should want me to join the discussion at any point.”

  “You need not fear for her safety in my company,” Lord Caldwell snapped. “I wish only to discuss mutual business with her.”

  Lorenzo nodded and walked out of the room.

  Valeria had to force her feet not to flee after him. Motioning for the viscount to sit, she took the other chair. “I have no idea what business you wish to discuss with me, my lord.”

  “Your brother’s unpaid debts to me, of course.”

  “There is nothing of value left. Paul lost it all.” She clenched her hands in her lap. “With your help.”

  “But there is something of value left.”

  Her laugh was cold. “If you came all the way down from London in hopes of finding some trinket that I was able to hide from Paul’s creditors, you have wasted your time. You should know, better than anyone else, how cleanly the bones of my family’s heritage were picked clean by you and your fellow ravens.”

  “You give yourself little credit, Valeria.”

  “I give myself no credit since you offered my brother too much, knowing that he had a weakness for cards and horses and games of chance.”

  “You still have your adder’s tongue, I see.”

  She came to her feet. “You should not be surprised when it was aimed most often at you and your cohort Lord Lichton. I own to being shortsighted, for I thought the target of your attempt to lure someone to ruin was Charles Talcott. I saw how my dear bosom-bow Emily worried about the debts her father was amassing. After her sister’s successful Season and her marriage, that fear seemed to dissipate. At the time, I should have been more curious why. Now I see the truth. Charles Talcott was no longer your victim of choice. My dear, witless brother Paul was.”

  “Valeria,” he said, setting himself on his feet, “you paint me with evil intentions when I sought no more than a gentleman’s entertainments in Town. Can you blame me for having good fortune simply because your brother did not? After all, how many routs did you hold at your town house during which the gentlemen retired from the ladies’ company to enjoy a few hours of cards and conversation and some of the excellent vintages you once served?”

  “None that you were invited to, as I recall.”

  “But your brother welcomed me in your house.”

  “Which he was bacon-brained to do.”

  He reached under his sedate coat and drew out a slip of paper. “We are wasting time discussing what is in the past when I wish to know your future intentions in dealing with this.”

  Valeria did not want to take the page, but she did. She stared at it in disbelief. Above her brother’s signature was a single number. £8000! “I cannot pay this!”

  “It is a debt due to me by your brother and his heirs. You are his heir, Valeria. I shall have what is due me. The law is quite clearly on my side in this matter.”

  “Whether the law is on your side or not matters little, because I cannot pay £8000.”

  Lord Caldwell stretched a hand out toward her, and she cringed away. When he smiled and tugged on the bellpull, she wanted to claw that superior expression from his face. She started to ask him what he intended, but turned as a maid appeared in the doorway.

  “Send for Lord Moorsea,” the viscount ordered.

  “Are you mad?” Valeria cried. “Lorenzo is not responsible for my family’s debts. You cannot intend to dun him for this money.”

  “I will speak to him of this matter, Valeria. As you have owned that you do not have the means to even this debt, the matter is no longer in your hands.”

  Footsteps rushed toward the room. Turning expectantly, Valeria gasped when David ran in, something cradled in his hands. “Look at this, Aunt Valeria!”

  She wanted to tell David that she had no time to pick through his dirty treasures now, but she stared at what he was carrying. As big as his palm, the almost closed circle with a straight pin across the back was undoubtedly gold, for it glowed like sunshine through its centuries of tarnish. A pair of red stones glittered at the base of the circle, and what appeared to be birds were carved at the top. She guessed it might be a pin to close a lady’s gown, for the ornate etching still visible along the circle seemed feminine.

  “What do you have there, boy?” asked Lord Caldwell, greed dripping into his voice. “Something of your aunt’s, mayhap?”

  “It’s mine.” David stuck the pin in his pocket as he added, “I know you.”

  “Do you?”

  David eyed him up and down and sniffed with disdain. Valeria stared at him. When had he taken up Miss Urquhart’s bad habit?

  “Yes, I know you,” the boy said, clasping his hands behind his back. “You are the man my father said was a dead set cheat at cards like a tuppenny diddler.”

  “Your father was mistaken about many things.”

  The wrong tack to take with David, Valeria knew. She bit her lip to keep from telling David to act civilly. Lord Caldwell might as well hear the truth, and it would allow the boy to express some of the anger that tainted his dreams.

  “He wasn’t wrong about you,” her nephew said, jutting his chin at the viscount. “I heard his tie-mates say the same thing.”

  “Who?” demanded Lord Caldwell.

  “Sir—”

  “No need to go into that now,” Valeria said before David’s forthrightness could get others in trouble with this horrible man. “Why don’t you get that pin cleaned up, David, so it might be displayed?”

  “Displayed?” Every bit of the viscount’s avarice sprang back into the question. “So it is valuable?”

  Valeria put out her hand to try to keep him from grabbing it out of David’s pocket. The viscount yelped and pulled back, shaking his hand. A pinprick of blood bubbled out of his palm.

  She put her hand on David’s arm and was not surprised that it was trembling. With just outrage or with fear? “David,” she murmured, “go and clean your find.”

  “Aunt Valeria—”

  Kissing him on the cheek, she urged, “Go, so I may complete my discussion with Lord Caldwell.”

  “All right.” He walked toward the door, but glanced back twice.

  Only when she was certain David could not hear her did Valeria say, “You are low, my lord, to try to steal from a child.”

  “If the item has value, I should know. After all, he, too, is an heir to his father’s debts.”

  She sat and folded her hands in her lap, giving him her coolest smile, the one that Lorenzo had learned was a warning that she was no longer willing to be trifled with. “Even if the pin has a value other than reminding you of your manners, my lord, it was found on the property of Moorsea Manor. It belongs to Lorenzo Wolfe, not in any way to you.”

  “That is correct.”

  Valeria looked toward the door as she heard a woman’s voice. Coming to her feet, she struggled not to groan when Miss Urquhart followed Lorenzo into the book-room. Lorenzo gave her a wry smile, warning that he was not pleased either with his uncle’s mistress joining them.

  “Miss Urquhart,” he said graciously, “this is Lord Caldwell.”

  “The viscount?” she asked, crinkling her nose.

  “Yes.” Lorenzo looked at Valeria with the twinkle still in his eyes, but this time she had no inclination to laugh.

  The sense of impending
doom that had haunted her since she woke this morning had congealed into this moment. What did the viscount intend to say to Lorenzo? She did not like the way he wore that cool, superior smile.

  “Caldwell,” Lorenzo continued as if they were all the best of friends, “this is Nina Urquhart, a dear friend of the family.”

  “Miss Urquhart,” the viscount said, clearly trying to curb his impatience. His bow toward Miss Urquhart was curt and dismissive.

  Which, Valeria knew, was the worst thing he could do. Miss Urquhart refused to be dismissed as unimportant. Biting her lower lip once more to keep from—She was not sure if she might laugh or cry because her emotions were so raw—she watched Miss Urquhart cross the room to the viscount, her cane hitting the floor to emphasize her outrage.

  “I knew your father,” Miss Urquhart announced and thrust her nose only an inch from Lord Caldwell’s. “I trust you aren’t as loathsome as he was.”

  Color rose in the viscount’s face, and his words were forced past his tight lips. “He never mentioned meeting you, Miss Urquhart.”

  “I should think he would not.” She chuckled as she sat and spread her unfashionably wide skirt about her. Gripping the top of her cane, she smiled up at him. “He was on the losing side of that duel. ’Twas his good fortune that the man he challenged—Now what was his name?—was as much in his cups as your father customarily was. The shot only nicked your father.” She laughed again. “Your father’s shot killed one of the horses standing off to the left, as I recall. Apparently he could not tell one horse’s rear—”

  “What did you wish to discuss with me, Caldwell?” Lorenzo asked, earning a scowl from Miss Urquhart, who was enjoying telling the tale much to the viscount’s discomfort.

  Caldwell glowered at Miss Urquhart, then raised his chin and faced Lorenzo. “I believe you stated that you are Valeria’s guardian, did you not? Are you still going to abide by that nonsense?”

  “To own the truth, you were quite correct before, Caldwell.” Lorenzo paid no mind to Valeria’s gasp. When Caldwell was about to explain the true reason he had driven across England to intrude on Moorsea Manor and bring that horrible expression of dismay to Valeria’s face, Lorenzo could not tease her about the many times they had had a similar conversation in both humor and anger. “She has no need for a guardian. Although my uncle was her guardian, I am her host.”

  “You are playing with words, Wolfe.”

  “You are not the first to accuse me of that sport which intrigues me so very much.” He smiled and put his foot on a low stool. Crossing his arms in front of him, he waited. Caldwell could barely contain himself. His demands must spew forth any moment, or he would burst.

  “I came here to offer Valeria a way to repay the debts her family owes me.”

  He resisted glancing at Valeria. No wonder her face was the color of unbaked bread dough. Caldwell had the manners of a conveyancer to come here to prey on Valeria who had already lost everything. Keeping his thoughts from his voice, he asked, “And what is this offer?”

  Miss Urquhart piped up, “Don’t ask for what you don’t want to hear, my boy. The Caldwells are a vile lot who have bought their prominence among the Polite World with other folks’ money. Some of it stolen outright, the rest just snuck away when they weren’t guarding their purses.”

  The viscount’s face became as pasty as Valeria’s, then turned a crimson hue that might foretell apoplexy. “Wolfe, I wished to speak to you, not everyone who chooses to wander into this room.”

  “Then say what you will.”

  “I wish to speak to you.”

  Lorenzo glanced at Miss Urquhart, who had put her arm around Valeria. The old woman would help Valeria out of here if he asked. Mayhap. No! He was not going to let Caldwell act as if he were the master of this house. Tapping his foot impatiently on the small stool, so it rocked against the floor, he said, “Then say what you wish. I believe I saw that your carriage was nearly turned about when I passed the window over the stairs.”

  Caldwell’s scowl became even tighter, if possible, at the reminder that his welcome at Moorsea Manor was nearing its end. “I wish to even the debts between Valeria’s family and mine.”

  “So you have said. More than once, I believe.”

  “What I haven’t said is that she can even her family’s debts to me by becoming my wife.”

  “Your wife?” Valeria gasped. Shaking her head, she gave a brittle laugh. “You must have been taken queer in the attic, my lord, to think I would consider such an offer.”

  “I do not ask you to consider it. I ask you to accept it in lieu of complete ruin.”

  “I fear you are too late for that, my lord. Ruin arrived for my nephew and me at your hands months ago.”

  “You have a choice. You may marry me, so that the debt becomes one to myself, or find a way to pay me what your late brother owes me.”

  “You know I don’t have that amount of money.”

  “What amount?” Lorenzo asked calmly.

  “£8000.” Caldwell folded his arms in a copy of Lorenzo’s pose and tilted his chin again at an angle that just begged for Lorenzo to punch him.

  Lorenzo resisted the temptation. “How long will you allow Valeria to consider your offer?”

  “Lorenzo!” she cried. “You can’t think that I would consider it, do you?”

  “I think you have the choice of providing the viscount with his winnings or of marriage.” Turning back to Caldwell, he repeated, “How long?”

  “I have business in Bath that will require my attention for a fortnight. When I return here, I will accept her acceptance of my offer.”

  “That seems long enough for her to decide.”

  “Lorenzo!” Valeria rushed to him and dug her nails into his sleeve so deeply that they pressed against his arm. “Have you gone mad as well?”

  “I am being logical about the whole of this.” He added to Caldwell, “We will see you in a fortnight.”

  The viscount gave her a triumphant smile as he walked out of the room.

  Miss Urquhart waved her finger at Lorenzo. “How dare you force—”

  “You are excused as well, Miss Urquhart, while I speak with Valeria.”

  Valeria knew Miss Urquhart’s appalled expression must be on her own face as well. For the past week, Lorenzo had acted like a stranger. Now he was a stranger, giving orders like a medieval lord of the manor, arranging for her to sell herself to settle a debt of cash and honor. When Miss Urquhart left the room, closing the double doors that were always left open, silence claimed the room.

  Lorenzo took her by the arm and seated her in the chair where he had seated her the first night they both arrived at Moorsea Manor. She almost laughed as she thought back to that night and what she had thought he might demand in exchange for a roof over her and David’s head. She need not have worried. He had no interest in her sharing his bed. All he wished was to be rid of her.

  When he placed a glass in her hand and curled her fingers around the stem, she stared at the brandy. She had not even realized he had walked away to pour it.

  “Drink up,” he ordered. “You need to have your wits about you while we discuss this.”

  “What is there to discuss? You arranged—again without conferring with me—my future. What have I done to cause you to despise me so much?”

  “I don’t despise you.” He motioned. “Take a drink and calm yourself.”

  “Why should I when—”

  “I have given you an opportunity to put Caldwell out of your life once and for all.”

  Valeria closed her mouth that must be gaping. When he gestured toward the glass again as he sat, she took a small sip, then a bigger one. The brandy warmed the icy terror in her center.

  Lorenzo took a deep breath and released it slowly through his taut lips. “You will not like what I have to say, but I see it as a solution to your problem.”

  “You want me to persuade Tilden to marry me.”

  He nodded. “It seems an obvious solution.
”

  “And a convenient one.”

  “Exactly. It is very convenient that Oates approached me earlier this week to ask for permission to ask you to become his wife.”

  “And you told him?”

  A diffident smile eased the strain on his face. “I told him I would speak with you of the matter. I try not to make the same mistake twice, Valeria. I think you should consider this option. If you are married to Oates, you will be protected from Caldwell’s machinations.”

  “True.” Yes, that was her own voice speaking as dispassionately as his.

  “In addition, David could continue his excavations on the site near the bog which seems to interest him so.”

  “You wouldn’t mind if he came back here?”

  “No. Believe it or not, I suspect I shall rather miss the lad.”

  And me? Will you miss me?

  She did not dare to ask him that at that moment or through the rest of the day that followed as she waited for Tilden to respond to the message Lorenzo had sent to him to call at Moorsea Manor. If he told her that he would not miss her, her heart would shatter. Yet, if he told her that he would miss her even a tenth as much as she would miss him, she doubted if she could receive Tilden.

  None of them had meant for things to take this turn, but she knew she had spoken honestly. This was the most convenient arrangement for both her and David. Tilden would see that David was given a proper education, and he would see that she had the Seasons in London that she had loved. In return, she would introduce him to the élite de l’élite and try to be a good wife.

  And Lorenzo would have the serenity that he craved. It was the best solution for all of them.

  But, if that were so, why did she fight back tears when Tilden called at Moorsea Manor the next day and got down on one knee to ask her to be his wife?

  “Yes,” she whispered as he gazed up at her, as handsome as a Greek statue and leaving her heart as lifeless as marble, “I will marry you, Tilden.”

  Fourteen

  “Tell me it isn’t true!”

  Valeria put down the letter she had been writing to her best friend Emily and looked at David who was wearing what seemed to be a habitual scowl. “If you mean that I’m marrying Tilden, then I cannot tell you it is not true, because it is.”