‘The papers are being drawn up as we speak, Justin.’ Her father said this with such finality, as if she wasn’t in the room at all. ‘Be advised I fully intend to sign them—irrespective of whether you agree with my decision or not. Until the earldom is yours to thoroughly ruin, what I decide still goes.’
‘We would look like idiots! The laughing stock of the ton.’
‘There are ways around that.’
‘Kelvedon is a marquess! A respected peer and politician!’ Words that she had heard her father use on her now came forcibly from her brother’s mouth. ‘The settlement papers are already signed! The Marquess could sue!’
‘Not if we are clever about it.’
‘He is in well with the government! Powerful in the Lords! We cannot afford to alienate him! You would jeopardise all that for a villain with the morals of a snake?’
‘It is not in jeopardy. Lord Kelvedon need not know we are considering another.’
‘You would sell your daughter—my sister—to a monster for a paltry few thousand pounds?’
A monster? The relief at there being another candidate was rapidly turning into a panic that she was heading for a worse fate. ‘Who is he?’
Both men ignored her. ‘In the long run Kelvedon is a better prospect…’
‘It is the short run which concerns me most!’ Her father raised one bony hand and snarled at her brother, ‘Do you want to lose this house, Justin? Do you want to inherit an earldom consigned to our dilapidated estate in Cheshire? Hundreds of miles away from this city and the many entertainments you love so very much. Because there is not much joy to be had in Cheshire, I can tell you!’
They were about to lose the house? This house? They had given her no clue things were that dire. Debtors’ prison for a little while rather than all-out destitution. Again Lydia stared pointedly at her brother, hoping he would clarify exactly what was going on, who the new villain of the piece was or at least hear him state for the record he would happily rusticate in Cheshire for ever and live on a diet of dried beans if it saved his sister from marrying either a lecher or a monster, only to watch him deflate as if all his fight was gone.
‘No.’ Just like that her brother backed down, his temporary bout of uncharacteristic bravery clearly over.
‘Then stay out of this! You’ve done quite enough already, boy!’ Another odd look passed between them, one which had Justin staring at his feet like an admonished child. ‘Do you think I like this? I am livid, Justin! Livid! The nerve of the scoundrel beggars belief, but we have no choice. Not any more at any rate!’
Remembering she existed, her father finally turned to her, cold and matter-of-fact once again because it was the only emotion he could ever muster around Lydia.
‘The offer is annoyingly conditional at this stage. The gentleman refuses to proceed unless you are in complete agreement with the terms and insists on hearing that agreement from your own lips in private. I am entrusting you to see that is done today, Lydia.’ He glanced back down at his papers, dismissing her in his customary way, but she saw his shoulders slump as he suddenly looked very old. ‘He is expecting you and I need not remind you the house of Barton is depending on you.’
Justin’s pale face and downcast expression put fear into her soul. That he would rank Kelvedon above whoever the new candidate was spoke volumes in itself. ‘Am I to be told who he is or must I guess?’
‘It is Wolfe, Lydia.’ Justin’s eyes were desperate as they darted nervously to their father and back again. ‘Owen Wolfe. And you can say no.’
* * *
Less than two hours later, her carriage pulled up outside Libertas. Or at least she assumed it was Libertas because there were no signs or clues that it was. To all intents and purposes, this grand building on the corner where elegant and refined Curzon Street met its neighbour, the more egalitarian Half Moon Street, was much like any other Mayfair town house. Significantly bigger, perhaps, because it occupied a corner plot so she could not see the back of it and was not joined in any way to the residences butted closely against it.
The four cream-stucco storeys were perfectly proportioned and symmetrical whichever street you happened to be standing on. The uniform windows were framed in stark white cornices decorated with intricately moulded garlands hanging beneath each sedately painted sill. Subtle black railings flanked the perimeter from the pavement, the only gap in them giving way to a huge set of double doors, painted in shiny ebony and adorned with just two enormous brass door handles in their centres which were slightly hexagonal in shape.
All in all, hardly the den of iniquity Justin had painted it to be. But then again, an elegant facade, whether it be on a house or a man, could be deceiving.
Still, and to her great consternation, the prospect of the man within appealed more than the aged groom her father had picked out. Owen vexed her, alternately made her furious or caused her to question her own sanity and consistently left her off-kilter—but at least he didn’t turn her stomach. Far from it, heaven help her, not that she would ever admit as much to her brother. Or anyone else for that matter. Owen’s continued hold over her was Lydia’s intensely private shame to bear. He’d ruined her chances of ever settling for another man when he returned. Devil take him!
‘All built from his ill-gotten gains, no doubt. A leopard doesn’t change his spots no matter how much nonsense and misinformation he peddles around town.’ Justin shook his head in disgust. ‘When they locked him up, they should have thrown away the key.’
But they hadn’t. They’d pardoned him. He had left the Antipodes lauded for his heroism by the governor of New South Wales himself. The moment he had set foot on the dock in Portsmouth stories had multiplied in the newspapers of the gross miscarriage of justice he had suffered at the hands of the English courts.
Had she known he was coming home, she would have done her best to avoid him. But he had appeared out of nowhere in Hyde Park one afternoon as she took her daily ride, looking even more handsome than he had when he had left, and the years they had been apart disappeared in a puff of smoke alongside the entire world around them.
He had wanted to talk and like a dolt she’d listened, hoping he would be remorseful for what he had done and eager to apologise. The traitorous female part of her which had once been completely in love with him wanted to hear him explain why he had done it, to fall on his sword and beg for her forgiveness and reassure her he was not that greedy, self-centred and duplicitous boy any longer, but a man who had never got over choosing greed above the one true love of his life.
But he was innocent, he had said, and not the least bit sorry for all the pain he’d caused. He also said he would prove it—but two years on she was still awaiting that proof and was furious at herself for spending at least the first six months praying he would find it.
What an idiot!
When every fool knew once bitten, twice shy.
It was only then she faced the harsh reality she had so desperately wanted to deny: that Owen Wolfe was nought but a charming liar and she must completely harden her heart against him.
Despite that, she had greedily read about Libertas in the gossip columns over the past year and listened to more gossip about the place among the ladies of her acquaintance. They all spoke of it like forbidden fruit. Decadent, luxurious…exciting. All words she would always associate with the man who owned it, because that was exactly what he had been when she had been foolish enough to succumb to his charms. Because that was how he had made her feel. His goodnight kisses had been decadent. Being basked in his attention had felt luxurious and their doomed and short-lived clandestine romance had been beyond exciting—before it all went to hell in a handcart, of course. Yet still he intrigued her despite it all.
Dratted man!
‘Have you ever been inside?’
Justin shot her a horrified look. ‘I wouldn’t darken the scoundrel’s door! At least not under any nor
mal circumstances. This will be my first and hopefully my last visit here! The man repulses me.’ He huffed out a sigh of regret and squeezed her hand. ‘I’m sorry, Lydia…that was tactless of me. Obviously, if you do the unthinkable and agree to his insidious proposal, then I will make the best of things.’
Easy for him to say. He wasn’t going to be the one shackled to him for life. And with Owen it would be for life. He was young and robust and unlikely to keel over at any moment like the dissolute Marquess of Kelvedon.
‘However, for your sake I hope you do find the courage to turn him down.’ Courage? What had Wolfe threatened to frighten her father so? Papa hated him. They all did. ‘After all he has done to our family… When our mother lay dying…’ He let the sentence trail off. Neither of them needed reminding of Owen Wolfe’s crimes. ‘I would sleep easier knowing he wasn’t your lord and master. That is all.’
‘You would prefer it to be Kelvedon?’ Lydia could barely say the man’s name without wincing.
‘Of course not! He is not much better.’
‘But you do think him better?’ Which gave her a peculiar sinking feeling in her stomach.
‘He is not a thief or a liar or a convicted criminal. With Kelvedon what you see is what you get. With Wolfe…well, who knows?’ He gestured to the building with his gloved hands. ‘How else does a motherless ragamuffin from a workhouse, an illiterate stable boy, a barefaced lying, swindling, cheating crook get all this?’ Unfortunately, Owen was all those things and more. Her head knew that even while the irrational feminine part of her seemed keen to ignore it. ‘He’s been back…what? Two years? And he can afford to buy this grand house, start a lucrative club from scratch—and then still have enough left over for you?’
It did beggar belief, she supposed. The sums involved were astronomical.
‘And with money which was not legitimately earned, I’ll wager.’ Justin continued to say the exact things which troubled her conscience. ‘That is not a man I want to entrust my only sister to, no matter what our father has to say. It is clear to me he only wants you for revenge. That he will make you suffer because he was stupid enough to get himself caught.’
Certainly food for thought, but unpalatable whichever way you viewed it. The archetypal rock or hard place. Wolfe or Kelvedon? A shameless criminal who had an irrational hold on her or a disgusting but honest lecher? Neither appealed, but regardless of what her heart said, she would heed her brother’s counsel. ‘Papa will not be happy if I turn him down.’
‘Is Papa ever happy?’ Justin shook his head and smiled without humour. ‘Leave him to me, poppet. I will be by your side to take all the blame once the deed is done and work my fingers to the bone to see we never have cause to regret turning down this dirty villain’s money!’ Usually averse to conflict and weak in the face of adversity, he suddenly seemed passionately determined to fight. Then his fierceness crumpled, replaced with pure remorse. ‘You’ve been put in an impossible situation, Lydia, and I wish things could be different. I’ve been racking my brains trying to come up with another candidate… Another way to fix things…’
It was her turn to squeeze his hand. ‘I am sure you have done your best, Justin.’ Once their father’s mind was made up, only a miracle would change it. ‘It means the world knowing you are looking out for me.’ That should make her feel better, but didn’t. Poor Justin held no sway. Not when Kelvedon loomed once again and there was absolutely nothing now to be done about it. ‘Come… Let’s get this over with and then we can suffer the inevitable explosion from Papa together.’
She held his arm as they took the three marble steps together and hugged it tight when he knocked on the imposing front door, trying to remember she was a Barton and Bartons did what needed to be done.
It was opened straight away by the biggest man Lydia had ever seen. He was so tall, they both had to crane their necks to look up at him, so wide he practically filled the frame. He was dressed like a butler, but this man resembled no butler she had had the misfortune of encountering. His nose had been broken at least once and reset badly, as it had partially collapsed on the bridge and then veered off to the right. Both his front teeth were missing and etched into the skin of his cheek next to his right eye were three black ink tears. He looked every inch the criminal she suspected he was and somehow that strengthened her resolve. This was a den of iniquity. Filled to the brim with crooks, cheats and ne’er-do-wells. Owen’s kind, not hers.
‘Lady Lydia?’ His accent was as coarse as his features, marking him as a man from the gutter as she suspected. She nodded, trying not to appear intimidated by this enormous brute of a gatekeeper. ‘Owen’s expecting you.’
Owen.
An equal, not a master.
Odd.
He stepped aside, but when they both went to pass, the brute halted Justin with one meaty hand. ‘Owen wants to speak to her alone.’
‘I am afraid that will not be happening… The very suggestion is highly improper. My sister needs an escort and that escort will be me.’
‘Then I’ve instructions to send you both packing, my lord.’ The brute planted his feet wide and crossed his arms. ‘It’s the lady on her lonesome, sir—or neither of you, I’m afraid.’
‘Then it will be neither of us!’
‘It’s all right, Justin. I can do this myself.’
Lydia let go of his arm decisively and offered him her best brave smile when he looked about to argue. She wanted to do this. Needed to do it for the sake of her own pride. Whatever Owen was up to she wanted no part of it, was sick to the back teeth of the hold he had on her. While she might be for sale, she wanted to let him know not at any price.
‘Wait in the carriage. I shan’t be long. Owen Wolfe doesn’t frighten me.’
If anything, this rude and eye-opening welcome to his dastardly domain merely made her decision to defy her father easier and to hell with the consequences.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘She’s here! I’ve instructed Slugger to bring her up.’
Randolph was bouncing with joy at this news, while Owen’s heart was beating nineteen to the dozen at the prospect. Of all the stupid things he had ever done in his life, surely this was the most idiotic? He still couldn’t quite believe what he had started and wasn’t entirely sure why he’d been compelled to do it beyond a nagging sense it was right despite the plentiful and dangerous evidence to the contrary.
He wanted to blame Randolph for planting the seed in his head, but knew that wasn’t fair. The wretch had been correct—he was a rescuer at heart and he had been hell-bent on rescuing her. In fact, he’d been a man possessed since last night, on a mission he didn’t fully understand beyond the need to get it done and to hell with the consequences. Only now that she was here, those consequences were lining up like hungry paupers at a soup kitchen demanding to be fed.
He had offered to marry Lydia.
And if she accepted it was going to cost him most of the profits he had earned from Libertas since it opened.
Two things he knew already which were going to give him nightmares. The first because of all the bad blood and baggage which no amount of lust or noble intentions were going to bridge. They were little better than strangers now, if one ignored the animosity, which of course they wouldn’t. And the second because it threatened every belief he held dear. Money equalled power and power equalled control. His fortune was his armour. The bigger it got the more impenetrable it was. It didn’t matter that he would probably earn it all back in about six months. For six months he would be without the means to fully protect himself if the need arose and that made him feel vulnerable and exposed. Thank goodness there was no chance of her saying yes.
She hated him.
For the first time in a decade he was ridiculously grateful for that fact.
‘Shall I fetch some tea for us all? Me and Gertie are dying to finally meet her.’
‘
No tea. And no to us all. This is between me and her and I will do it without your interference.’ Randolph would try to talk her into it. Just as he had talked to him. The only difference was a big part of Owen had wanted to be manipulated. The mad, glutton-for-punishment, stupid part of him.
‘Well, that’s hardly a warm welcome, now, is it? This is going to be her home—don’t you want her to feel welcome in it?’
‘This is business, Randolph. I couldn’t care less if she feels welcome or not.’ Owen grabbed his friend by the shoulders and turned him around, then began to march him to the far door in the back of the office which led to the private set of rooms beyond. ‘This meeting is to discuss terms.’ He might intend to be blasé about her refusal, but still he had no intention of doing it in front of an audience. ‘If she is agreeable to mine, you can meet her later. If not, I see no point in making the acquaintance.’
‘Even though it was my idea?’
‘Especially because it was your idea.’ Once this awkward and pointless meeting was over, he really was going to strangle Randolph. He’d been the one to put the flea in his ear and make him behave more irrationally than he had been already.
Marry her! The idea has merit! She’s always been the itch you couldn’t scratch!
Clearly just the seasoning his seething, bubbling cauldron of emotions had needed to make it boil over! For twelve hours he had been an irrational mess, possessed by an evil demon who had controlled his mind and suffocated all logic. Already, thanks to the furious stupor he had been in the grip of, Owen was three thousand pounds poorer and he knew without a doubt he would never see that hard-earned money again.
Three thousand pounds gone.
Pouf!
He was still reeling from the stupidity of the most ridiculous investment he had ever made.
He might as well have piled the banknotes on his desk and set the damn things alight!
‘Can’t I at least fix your cravat? That limp rag around your neck is hardly impressive…’ Owen pushed him through the doorway and made sure he turned the key in the lock, imprisoning his meddling partner securely in the residential wing of the house, before he straightened his cuffs and glanced at his watery reflection in the windowpane.
Harlequin Historical July 2020 - Box Set 1 of 2 Page 5