Regency Marriages: A Compromised Lady / Lord Braybrook's Penniless Bride. Elizabeth RollsЧитать онлайн книгу.
and its crowding, jostling throng … all of whom would turn on her if they knew the truth … From nowhere panic ambushed her, sinking familiar claws deep. Her stomach clenched, warding off the striking terror. She forced her body to relax, her lungs to draw breath steadily, blanking her mind. And as suddenly it was gone, a chill warning, leaving her cold and shaking, but free and rational. Free to wonder if she had been completely insane to imagine that she could do this.
As the drawing room door clicked behind Almeria and her houseguest, Richard throttled the urge to swear resoundingly. He could only marvel at the neatness of the trap, as he sat down. A trap compounded of his own good manners. The same good manners that would keep him from strangling his godmother when she returned. Very well, he was fond of Almeria too, and she was family.
‘Quite a coincidence that you are here to greet my sister, Blakehurst,’ remarked David in biting accents.
Richard’s normally even temper flickered. ‘Just so,’ he said. ‘Do take a seat again, Winslow.’
Perhaps he would strangle Almeria. Affectionately, of course. If he lived long enough. Judging by Winslow’s narrowed gaze, there was every chance he might not.
‘You are staying in town?’ David asked, in deceptively casual tones. He remained standing.
Not deceived in the slightest, Richard said, ‘I am. Here, as a matter of fact.’
The silence that followed this admission seethed.
Richard sat back and waited. Winslow’s grey eyes resembled nothing more than twin blades.
‘How very … convenient.’
Richard’s temper did a great deal more than flicker. It smoked and curled at the edges. Winslow’s attitude reeked of protective elder brother, although why he would imagine that Thea required protection from himself was beyond Richard’s comprehension. And there was something else in Winslow’s level gaze: scorn.
‘Can I pour you a brandy?’ he offered politely, damping down his temper.
Winslow declined. ‘Thank you. No. I will take my leave of you.’
Richard smiled. ‘Then no doubt I shall see you again. You will be calling on Miss Winslow, I dare say.’
‘Most definitely,’ her brother replied in clipped tones. ‘If only to keep an eye on all the scaff and raff who cluster around heiresses.’
Richard blinked. Then anger welled up—it was a very long time since anyone had accused him of being a fortune hunter. And even then, at least he had been well aware of the chit’s fortune! This time …
‘No need to summon the butler. I’ll find my own way out.’ David executed a perfunctory bow and left.
Left alone, Richard said several things he had suppressed when Almeria left the room—and a few more for good measure. While he’d known that Thea must at least be respectably dowered, the term heiress suggested a great deal more. And while Almeria’s penchant for dropping stray heiresses in his path had caused him considerable embarrassment on occasion, he couldn’t recall that it had ever put him in danger of his life before. There had been a definite glint of gun metal in Winslow’s eyes.
He took a deep breath. And then there was Thea herself. Something had wrought a change in her that went far beyond years. Far beyond the change from a young girl on the eve of her come-out to a young woman. Thea-the-girl had been exuberant, bubbling over with mischief. Thea-the-woman seemed half-lost in shadow … only there had been that flash of light when their hands met—as though something had awakened inside her.
And as for her blasted, hitherto unsuspected fortune—Winslow was right; it would have the fortune hunters out in force.
By the time Almeria returned to the drawing room, he had managed to reduce the situation to its proper proportion. Almeria was matchmaking. No more. No less. He rose as she sailed into the room, saying airily, ‘I must have forgot to make clear to you that Dorothea will be my guest for the Season! ‘Tis positively shocking how forgetful one becomes as the years advance!’
Despite himself, Richard nearly grinned. ‘Quite shocking,’ he said gravely. Not that he, nor anyone else, would dare suggest to Almeria that she was advanced in years. Although she must be slipping if she expected him to believe that all this had not been carefully prearranged.
Occasionally a little unsubtlety was called for.
He settled for being extremely unsubtle.
‘Almeria—what the deuce are you up to?’
‘Up to?’ she said with a lift of her brows. ‘Why should you imagine I am up to anything? Really, Richard!’
‘Fudge,’ he said bluntly. ‘Don’t waste your breath, Almeria. Instead, tell me precisely what is the extent of Thea’s fortune. I was not aware she had one.’
Almeria looked a little conscious. ‘Her godfather’s fortune. Not the sort of thing one counts on, although he always intended to leave it to her, but after all, he might have married. And it is not a terribly big fortune as these things go, of course.’
The prickle at the back of his neck escalated into outright alarm bells.
‘Just how not-terribly-big are we talking about here?’ he pressed.
‘Only fifty thousand,’ said Almeria with an airy wave. ‘And derived from trade, of course!’ This last with a faint grimace.
Fifty thousand? Only fifty thousand? Hell and damnation! With that much at stake, it wouldn’t surprise him to hear that Almeria already had the special licence in her reticule and a tame bishop in the back parlour.
The suspicion that he had stepped into a well-laid and very sticky trap was unavoidable.
But he could make one or two things plain.
‘Almeria—let us be quite clear. Although I intend to marry, I am not in the market for an heiress, and—’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ Almeria settled her skirts with a swish as she sat down. ‘Naturally when Aberfield asked that I chaperon Dorothea, I thought of you—since you were going to visit me anyway …’ She looked more than a trifle evasive.
‘Was I?’
Richard couldn’t recall his plans including anything of the sort. Almeria’s summons to visit her as soon as he reached town had arrived several days ago quite unheralded. However, that wasn’t to say that Almeria’s plans …
She glared at him. ‘Since I was intending to invite you—’
The moment she had an heiress staying with her—that went without saying.
‘Richard, you must marry sensibly!’ she said crossly. ‘You need a wife, the right wife. Especially now that you have bought that property in Kent. One assumes you intend to get an heir!’
Wisely, Richard held his counsel. There was nothing to gain from encouraging Almeria. No matter how right she happened to be.
‘And as for leaving these things to take care of themselves,’ she said, returning to an earlier theme, ‘I would have thought the danger of that was made plain by the appalling mess Max has—’
‘Enough!’ He controlled himself with an effort and said in a gentler tone, ‘Almeria, I cannot possibly remain here if you are to criticise Max and Verity. He is happy. Does that count for nothing?’
Goaded, Almeria snapped, ‘And how long can it last before she does something disgraceful?’
Enough was enough. ‘Like what? Cuckold him? Is that what you mean?’
Her colour rose. ‘Exactly!’
He shrugged. ‘Then he would have to cope with it. In his own way.’ Seeing Almeria’s mouth open, he added, ‘Just as our father did, in fact.’
Her