Regency Society. Ann LethbridgeЧитать онлайн книгу.
public to secure her position with Endsted. She doubted she would be seeing him again.
And why was she thinking of him at all, when she needed to keep her mind on her guests? She dragged her attention back to managing the men in front of her. Silence between them was long and cold on Endsted’s side. It appeared he had heard the rumours of Barton’s character and was only suffering contact with him out of straining courtesy to Constance.
Barton did not seem to mind the frigid reception. He ignored Endsted and smiled at the ladies. ‘Might I remark, Lord Endsted, on the attractiveness of your sisters.’
Endsted glared and the girls giggled.
‘I cannot remember a day when I have been so fortunate as to find myself in the company of so many charming young ladies.’ He focused his gaze for more than a little too long on the eldest, Catherine, until she coloured and looked away.
‘Are you a friend of Constance’s?’ the girl asked timidly.
‘Oh, a most particular friend,’ Barton answered.
Constance could not very well deny it while the man was in her parlour, sipping her tea. She dare not explain, in front of her other guests, that she allowed him there only because of the things he might say to them about her, should she try to have him removed.
‘Yes,’ Barton repeated, ‘I am a friend of her Grace, and would like to be your friend as well, should your brother allow it. Might I have permission to call upon you tomorrow?’
‘Most certainly not.’ Endsted’s composure snapped, and he rose from the table. ‘Catherine, Susanne. We are leaving.’
The girls did not like the command, but they responded quickly, and rose as well. He shepherded them towards the door, and turned back to Barton and Constance. ‘I know your measure, sir, as does the rest of decent society. And I’ll thank you to give my family a wide berth in the future. If I catch you dangling after my sisters again, we will settle this on the field of honour and not in a drawing room.’
And then he turned to Constance, and there was disappointment, mingling with his anger. ‘I cannot know what you were thinking, to allow him here. If you will not be careful of your guests, Constance, at least have a care for yourself.’ And with a final warning glance, he left the room.
She turned back to the tea table, where Barton had returned to his seat, and his cup. She stood above him, hands planted on hips, and he had not even the courtesy to rise for her. The insults and the threats from Endsted had had no effect on his composure, either. He had the same serene smile as when she’d returned home to find him waiting.
‘There,’ Constance snapped. ‘Endsted has gone, and I doubt he will return. I hope you are satisfied.’
Barton looked at her, and his gaze was so possessive and familiar that she wished she could strike him. He stared as if he could see through her clothes. ‘Not totally. But I expect I soon will be.’
‘If that was some pitiful attempt at a double entendre, you needn’t bother.’
‘Oh, really, it is no bother. In fact, I quite enjoy it.’
She shuddered in revulsion. ‘You horrible, horrible man. I do not care how you feel about it. I do not enjoy it. I find it offensive. It is vile. I cannot make it any plainer than that. I do not want you, or your rude comments. If you persist in your pursuit of me, my response will be the same as it was the last time: I do not want you. I will not want you. I never want to see you again. Now get out of my house.’ By the time she was finished, she was shouting.
‘Your house?’ He smiled and his tone never wavered.
And, suddenly, she knew that he knew about the loss of the deed and she also had a horrible suspicion about its current ownership.
‘I believe you are mistaken,’ he continued, ‘about this being your house. If it were yours, you would be able to show me the deed, would you not?’
He knew. He had to. But if there was even the smallest chance that she was wrong, she would keep up the pretence. ‘I do not have it here. It is in the bank, where it can be kept safe.’
‘Is it, now?’ He wagged a finger at her. ‘I think, Constance, that you are not telling me the whole truth. It is far more likely that your nephew had the deed in his keeping, not wishing to give up his power over you so easily. He is not the best card player, even when sober. And he is rarely sober, Constance. Quite likely to gamble away his estate.’ He smiled coldly. ‘Not his estate, perhaps. When one loses enough in a night to equal the cost of one’s townhouse…well, one might as well lose the cost of another house instead.’
‘He didn’t.’
‘I’m afraid he did. The deed is safe enough. I have it in my possession. Would you like to give me a tour of my property? We could begin upstairs.’
‘I do not believe you,’ she stalled.
‘Then you must go to the duke and ask him. It must be very trying for you to have your future in the hands of such an idiot.’
She grasped at her last hope. ‘Freddy cannot legally give away what is not his. I will appeal to the courts. It is my house. My name is on the deed.’
Barton shrugged. ‘Now, perhaps. But it does not take much talent to change a few lines of ink. By the time anyone sees the paper, I will be sure it says what I wish it to say. You will find, Constance, that the courts will want proof. You will have your word, of course. But I will have evidence. If you have any doubts, you can ask Freddy what he has to say on the matter.’
Too late to pretend, then. ‘Lord Barton…’ she began hesitantly. ‘I have already been to see the duke, and he has explained to me what has become of the house.’
Barton nodded, still smiling.
She swallowed. ‘And I assume that there will be a rent set, now that I am your tenant.’
He was enjoying her discomposure. ‘You know that it is not money that I want from you.’
She closed her eyes in defeat. ‘Then I will be out of the house by morning.’
He grabbed her wrist and her eyes snapped open at the shock of the unwelcome contact. ‘Not so fast, my dear. I understand it is fully furnished. There is an attached inventory. If you can assure me that everything is in its proper place, we can dispense with the tour.’
She wet her lips. He knew that her furniture had gone the way of her jewels. There was no point in pretending it had not.
‘There is an easier way, you know. You stay in the house. You keep the servants and I give you enough money to replace all that you have taken, even the stones in the rest of your jewellery. But you accept the fact that it is my house that you live in, and I will come and go, and do as I please when here. And no door will be barred to me.’
The hand on her wrist relaxed into a gentle grip. ‘It is not an unpleasant proposition I am making, I assure you. I am not a cruel man. My mistresses have always found me to be generous and they assure me I am good company. But I do not like to be opposed.’
‘And I do not like to be forced.’
‘You are not being forced. You have options. You can leave the house and its contents intact. Then there will be no reason for me to call the law to retrieve my property. Or you can accept that you are my guest here, and treat me with the gratitude I deserve for solving so many of your problems. I will give you two days to consider the matter. That should be enough time to put your house in order.’
He snapped his fingers. ‘Correction. My house in order. I will return on Monday, Constance. At that time, you will give me the keys. Whether you stay or go is completely up to you. Until then.’ And he bent his head to hers and kissed her.
She wished that it had been a repellent kiss, and that she had fought it, as one would fight untimely death. But instead, she closed her eyes and leaned into him, opening her mouth and trying to remember what it had