The Bargain

by Mary Jo Putney

  Reaching the gazebo, Dudley said, “Excuse me, Lady Jocelyn, but this person claims to have extremely urgent business with Major Lancaster.”

  The fellow must have been persuasive to talk Dudley around. David studied the newcomer, but was sure they’d never met.

  The man stepped forward and bowed. “Forgive me for disturbing you, but I have urgent business with Major Lancaster.” His intent gaze went to David. “You are the Honorable David Edward Lancaster, born at Westholme in the county of Hereford in 1783?”

  David’s neck prickled. Such a legalistic introduction did not bode well. “I am,” he said coolly. “Forgive my rudeness, but what business is it of yours?”

  “Permit me to introduce myself. I am James Rowley. You may not remember my name, but the Rowleys have represented the Lancaster family in its legal affairs for three generations.”

  He should have known the man was a lawyer. Struggling to control the anger that Rowley had triggered, David said tersely, “No doubt my brothers heard I was near death and sent you to confirm the happy event. You may inform them that they are out of luck. My health is now excellent, and I have no intention of gratifying them by dying any time soon. May I look forward to being ignored by them for another twenty years?”

  Startled and uncomfortable, the lawyer protested, “That is not why I’m here. Indeed, I’m delighted to find you recovered”—Rowley paused, then said with emphasis—“Lord Presteyne.”

  David went cold, as numb as when the lethal shell fragments had struck him down. On the other side of the table, Jocelyn gasped, her gaze going to his face as she recognized what had just been said.

  After drawing a deep breath, he said, “You’d best sit down and explain yourself, Mr. Rowley.”

  The lawyer stepped into the gazebo and took a chair, setting his leather portfolio on the floor. “It’s a straightforward matter. Your three brothers are all dead without heirs, so for the last several weeks you have been the seventh Baron Presteyne.”

  Unable to escape the belief that this was a jest in incredibly bad taste, David retorted, “All three of those brutes met their maker at once? Someone must have burned the house down with them in it.”

  “It wasn’t that melodramatic. Not quite.” The lawyer cleared his throat. “Your middle brother, Roger, drowned three years ago in a boating accident. Then this year, early in July, your other brothers, Wilfred and Timothy, engaged in a drunken brawl.” He glanced at Jocelyn, who was listening in fascination. “The cause is unimportant. They chose to duel on the South Lawn to settle the matter. Whatever their defects of character, both were excellent marksmen. Timothy was killed outright. Wilfred lingered for some days before succumbing.”

  “Dare one hope that he suffered a great deal?” David said, unable to control his bitterness.

  Eyes enormous, Jocelyn reached across the table to him. He caught her hand, holding on as if she was his lifeline. Perhaps she was, as he fought a flood of long-buried memories.

  “You have every right to be furious. Your eldest brother in particular acted abominably when he evicted your mother, your sister, and you from Westholme. It was most unfortunate that your father did not make clearer provisions for his second family, but he was too trusting,” Rowley said soberly. “But that was in the past. They are dead, and you are alive. You are now the seventh Lord Presteyne, with all that implies.”

  With effort, David masked his roiling emotions. “From what I remember of Wilfred, what’s implied is a large number of debts. Will there be anything left after settling them? It would be just like him to gamble Westholme away.”

  “The estate is encumbered, but not hopelessly so,” the lawyer replied. “The trustees, of whom I am one, would not allow your brother to mortgage the property as heavily as he would have liked.”

  That was good news. Westholme had been in the family for over three centuries. It would have been bitterly ironic to inherit the title without the estate that had been the heart and soul of the Lancasters. Beginning to absorb the magnitude of the news, he said, “I don’t suppose there’s any money, but as long as the estate survives, there is hope.”

  “I could not in conscience wish for your brothers’ deaths, but I am most pleased that you have inherited,” Rowley said austerely. “I kept in touch with your mother after she left Westholme, and I followed your army career. You and your sister are cut from very different cloth than your half-brothers.”

  “That’s obvious,” Jocelyn said tartly. “Those brothers sound dreadful.”

  “There was madness in their mother’s family,” the lawyer said. “They were more than just disagreeable. I think they were mentally afflicted.”

  David laid his left hand on the table, palm down. A thin white scar ran from wrist to finger, paralleled by several lighter scars. “Do you see those lines? Timothy cut them with an Italian stiletto he was very proud of. He said he would keep cutting until I said my mother was a whore. I was six years old.”

  Jocelyn gasped, her horror and revulsion mirrored by the lawyer. “Did someone come along and stop him?” she asked.

  “I fought as best I could, given that he was thirteen and easily twice my size. My chance of winning was nil, but the noise attracted two footmen, who separated us.”

  “Was he punished?” Jocelyn’s face was pale.

  “Wilfred told him not to play childish pranks,” David said dryly.

  “Childish pranks!”

  David studied the scars, remembering the vicious pain, and the even more painful humiliation of the older boy’s insults. “My father wasn’t told. Neither my mother nor I wanted him to know how wicked his older sons were. It would have hurt him terribly.”

  Rowley shook his head in amazement. “I had no idea the situation was so bad.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you nightmares. It’s ancient history. Mother and Sally and I were happy in our cottage, and grateful to be away from Westholme. It would have been impossible to stay after my father died.”

  The lawyer leaned forward intently. “I can understand that you might not wish to return to the scene of so much unpleasantness, but Westholme needs you. The estate has been neglected, the tenants are demoralized. I’m here today not only to tell you of your inheritance, but to urge you to take control as soon as possible. When you do, the other trustees and I will release what money remains toward immediate improvements.”

  David almost laughed. The lawyer seemed to think that he might want nothing to do with Westholme. Getting to his feet, he said, “You need have no fears on that head. It was my brothers I hated. Westholme” —he hesitated—“Westholme I have always loved. Give me your direction, and I will call on you tomorrow to discuss the situation further. For today, I have quite enough to think about.”

  Rowley stood and gave a rare smile. “On behalf of the tenants and employees of the Westholme estate, may I congratulate you on your new honors, Lord Presteyne?”

  David smiled faintly and offered his hand. “You may.”

  “Lady Presteyne.” The lawyer inclined his head to Jocelyn, then made his way up the garden path.

  Struggling to absorb the enormity of what had happened, David resumed his seat, saying with an attempt at humor, “Now you know my guilty secret.”

  “That for all of these years you were ‘honorable’ but hiding the fact? It didn’t work—I knew you were honorable from the beginning.” Jocelyn laid her hand over his, her eyes intent. “How do you feel about this, David? You’ve just inherited a great many demanding responsibilities that you never expected.”

  “You’re right. It quite literally never occurred to me that I would ever inherit, not with three older brothers.” He smiled wryly. “I guess Wilfred and company have just disproved the old saying that only the good die young.”

  “Either that, or it proves that sometimes divine justice takes a hand.” She looked thoughtful. “The morning you recovered from the opium withdrawal, I asked where you had been trying to go, and you said Hereford. Does tha
t mean you’ll be happy to return?”

  “In spite of everything, I will,” he said quietly. “There is no lovelier place on God’s green earth.”

  Her smile was generous and full of understanding. “As I feel about Charlton.”

  “Precisely.” He withdrew his hand as some of the repercussions of his inheritance struck him. “I’ll have to go to Westholme soon to determine what needs to be done. Will you come with me? I suspect that you’re more knowledgeable about land management than I, and I’d value your opinion.”

  He held his breath as surprise, pleasure, and wariness rippled across her face. Was she uneasy about being with him on his property rather than in her own home, where all of the servants were loyal to her?

  Making up her mind, she said, “I’d enjoy that.”

  Before he could feel too pleased, she added, “Since we’re supposed to appear properly married before I can file for the annulment, I’d better behave in a wifely way.”

  Not as wifely as he’d like, alas. He stood. “I’ll go break the news to Sally. It may be a while before the money is available, but she will eventually have the portion she should have inherited when my father died.” He hesitated, then said, “Would you mind terribly if I call on Richard alone? I know we had planned to go together, but there are some things I would like to discuss with him privately.”

  She looked a little hurt, but covered her reaction with a sunny smile. “Of course not. Give him my best wishes. I do wish he had come here to convalesce from the operation. It would have been no trouble.”

  “He had his reasons, I’m sure.” With a nod, he left the gazebo. In fact, Richard had said that a guest in the house might interfere with any relationship that might develop between David and Jocelyn. Though for all the progress David was making, Richard might as well have accepted Jocelyn’s invitation.

  Chapter 22

  David chose to walk to the York Hospital, both to build his strength and to give him time to sort out his chaotic emotions. In most ways, his unexpected inheritance was a great blessing. Certainly he no longer need worry how to occupy himself for the rest of his life; from the sound of it, Westholme would require major attention.

  He had a lot to learn about agriculture, since he hadn’t been trained as the heir and had left the estate when only twelve. Still, learning to run his estate was a relatively straightforward challenge. Less certain was the troubling question of how his inheritance would affect his relationship with Jocelyn.

  The York Hospital was as dismal as ever, though less crowded now as patients either died or left. When he entered Richard’s room, his friend looked up from a book. His injured leg had been splinted and bound, and it would be weeks before he could use crutches again. But his prospects for recovery were excellent, which kept him in good spirits. “Hello. No Lady Jocelyn today?”

  David shook hands with his friend. “No, I decided to walk over on my own. She sends her best wishes.”

  “Please thank her for the books she sent. With these and the flowers and food she sends regularly, I’m the most pampered patient in the hospital.”

  “She’s regretting that she doesn’t have you at Cromarty House, so she can pamper you more thoroughly.” David sat in the single wooden chair. “There’s been a remarkable amount of news since I visited yesterday. To begin with, my sister and Ian Kinlock are to marry.”

  “Excellent!” Richard chuckled. “That’s quite a job of matchmaking you managed from your deathbed.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way. I shall tell Sally that she must thank me for getting mortally wounded.” He paused, surprisingly tongue-tied about his other news. “That’s not all that’s happened. I’m going to be selling my commission after all. I’ve found another situation outside the army. Or perhaps I should say that it found me.”

  “Is that an oblique way of saying that your relationship with Lady Jocelyn is progressing satisfactorily?”

  “No such luck.” He ran restless fingers through his windblown hair. “I’ve told you about the three half-brothers that I didn’t get on with. What I didn’t mention was that our mutual father was the fifth Lord Presteyne. This morning I learned that all three brothers have shuffled off this mortal coil. I have suddenly become a baron.”

  “Good God!” Richard said in blank astonishment. “Will you still talk to us commoners?”

  David looked up with a flash of real anger. “Richard, don’t ever say anything like that again, even in jest.”

  “Sorry. I know you would never drop your old friends for such a reason.” He studied David’s face. “You look like you’ve been struck by lightning.”

  “That’s how I feel.” He grimaced. “I’m not unhappy about inheriting, but the idea will take getting used to.”

  “I can well imagine. Luckily my father was an itinerant fencing master, so I have no such surprises in my future. Being a lord strikes me as a very confining occupation.”

  David turned one hand palm up. “Confining, yes, especially since the estate isn’t in good financial condition. But . . . my roots are at Westholme. Nowhere else could ever be home in the same way.”

  “Then I’m glad for you.” Richard’s brows drew together thoughtfully. “I assume this eliminates your worries about your station being too far beneath Lady Jocelyn’s.”

  “Her rank and fortune are still greater than mine, but the differences are minor compared to before.” David drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “The drawback to my change in circumstances is knowing that she has a passion for land. I wonder if she might choose to remain married because of Westholme. Sentimental fool that I am, I’m not sure I would want her to stay for such a reason.”

  “If she did, would that be such a bad thing? You get on very well already. A mutual passion for your estate might be a good foundation on which to build a deeper relationship.”

  “That’s a very cold way to look at marriage,” David observed. “I don’t think you’d be so practical if you’d ever fallen in love.”

  “Probably not,” Richard agreed. “But I do think you’re worrying too much. If she is really in love with that mysterious other man, your inheritance won’t make any difference. If she does stay with you, it will be for a good reason.”

  David sighed. “You’re probably right. I must say, this inheritance is giving me new insight into why Jocelyn has so little use for fortune hunters. It’s only been a couple of hours since I inherited, and I’m already thinking the worst.”

  “You’ll get used to it, Lord Presteyne.”

  It was odd to hear the title on his friend’s lips, but as Richard said, he’d get used to it. “She’s coming to Hereford with me. The next few weeks should tell the tale.”

  “You’ll carry the day. You’ve always been a first-class campaigner.”

  “I wish I had your confidence.” David thought of Jocelyn’s graceful figure, the tenderness of that morning they awoke in the same bed. His jaw tightened. “But if I fail, it won’t be for lack of trying.”

  Tired by his long walk, he hailed a hack, but instead of going directly to his sister, he gave the address of John Crandall, Jocelyn’s lawyer. Talking to Richard had helped clarify his thinking. Now it was time to take some precautions.

  Luckily Crandall was free when David arrived. His habitual gloom lightened when he heard of the inheritance. “Does this mean that you and Lady Jocelyn will remain wed? It would be so suitable.”

  “That decision must be the lady’s. So far, her preference is for annulment,” David said with careful neutrality. “She and I will be traveling to evaluate my estate in Hereford. I think it best to file for the annulment before we leave.”

  Crandall frowned. “Do you think that necessary?”

  “I do.” David volunteered no more information. Though his will had always been strong in the past, he feared that spending so much time with Jocelyn might warp his honorable intentions of letting her leave him. Far better to institute annulment proceedings now, so that he could
not stop the process even if he wanted to. The power must be in Jocelyn’s hands, since he didn’t trust himself.

  Seeing that David was not going to elaborate, Crandall said, “I have conferred extensively with the proctor—that is, the ecclesiastical lawyer—who will present the case to the consistory court. Church courts are different from king’s courts in that the principals do not testify. Evidence consists of depositions from witnesses.” He gave a dry little cough. “Two medical affidavits certifying the extent of your injuries will be required. I presume that you have doctors who will bear witness to that.”

  David nodded, reasonably sure that wouldn’t be a problem. And if he later decided to marry to get an heir, well, he could always claim a miracle had occurred. “What about the evidence concerning Lady Jocelyn?”

  Looking embarrassed, Crandall said, “There must be an examination, of course. Perhaps a midwife can be brought in, in deference to the lady’s sensibilities.”

  That was a good idea, though the examination was sure to be unpleasant no matter who performed it. “Do you think that the court will be sympathetic to our case, given the unusual circumstances?”

  Crandall leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, more at ease now that the conversation had returned to legal issues. “I believe so. It would be considered only reasonable for the late Earl of Cromarty to hope his daughter would carry on his blood, if not his name. The fact that the lady followed her heart to marry a gallant hero of Waterloo, then found herself in a position where she might be deprived of children . . . yes, I believe the court will take a compassionate view of the issues.”

  The lawyer’s florid description made David suspect that the man secretly read Gothic novels, but no matter, as long as he was accurate in his reading of the legal situation.

  After the remaining points had been discussed, David left, secure in the knowledge that the annulment would proceed with maximum efficiency. Hell.

  The evening before Sally had mentioned that she would be at Kinlock’s consulting rooms in the afternoon, so David sought her there. He found her with her head bent over a ledger and a quill in one hand, but she glanced up when he entered. “Behold your sister, the clerk,” she said gaily.