Regency High Society Vol 5: The Disgraced Marchioness / The Reluctant Escort / The Outrageous Debutante / A Damnable Rogue. Mary NicholsЧитать онлайн книгу.

      As agreed, they waited in Hoskins’s office at eleven o’clock the next morning. Lord Henry, Hoskins and Eleanor. They did not know if Sarah Russell would attend. Perhaps not. It would be an unpleasant interview at best, possibly vicious in its outcome, and they had to accept that she might not feel strong enough to face down her brother, knowing that she was instrumental in his failure to achieve his nefarious goal.

      Eleanor was nervous. But you cannot lose, she told herself. This is merely the final act in the tragedy, to expose the evidence before Sir Edward and thus accomplish his defeat. What possible evidence can he produce to refute the claims of his sister Sarah and Julius Broughton? She worked hard to keep an outward calm as she sat before the fire, resisting the temptation to fuss with her gloves, the strings of her reticule or the carved handle of her parasol. It could be seen, however, that she occasionally found the need to smooth her palms down the skirt of her deep blue muslin gown, and her cheeks and throat, above the delicately ruffed collar of her silk spencer, were more than usually, if becomingly, flushed.

      Lord Henry stood beside her, immaculate and elegant in pale pantaloons, polished Hessians and dark superfine. Eleanor glanced towards him, intimately aware of his supportive presence, and privately considered him more devastatingly attractive than any man had the right to be. But that was not the first impression sensed by any casual onlooker. His face was cold, impassive, his eyes holding the glacial chill of mid-winter, his mouth grimly set. But when the door of the outer office was heard to open, and footsteps entered from the street, he leaned down to touch Eleanor’s shoulder, fleetingly but with warm comfort. She looked up, unable to disguise her nerves as the muted sound of voices could be heard. His expression softened, his smile for her alone.

      ‘We shall win, Nell. Never doubt it.’ His gentle tones, his supreme confidence, warmed her cold blood like the finest brandy.

      Sir Edward arrived to the minute of the hour, bowed into the room by one of Hoskins’s clerks. As he walked in, it was clear from his demeanour that he had come intending to enjoy the final success of his risky enterprise. Immaculately dressed, well groomed, his blue eyes clear and smiling, he oozed confidence in the expectation of enjoying the Faringdon fortune through the enhanced status of his supposed sister. He bowed to Lord Henry and the lawyer with polished grace, his smile expressing magnanimous appreciation that he would win and they would lose and that he could afford to be gracious in victory. Then he turned to Eleanor, who had remained seated, took her hand to bow over it and kiss her fingers. Compassion was clear in every gesture, in the sorrowful expression in his intense gaze. Eleanor found the greatest difficulty in not snatching her hand away from his light grasp. Instead she gritted her teeth and kept her mouth curved in a semblance of a smile and hooded her eyes with downswept lashes. Henry did not even try for a pleasant expression, but regarded Sir Edward with a stony expression worthy of the Medusa. Although he gave the impression of arrogant assurance, he kept his hands clenched at his sides, eyes cold and flat, momentarily sorry that duelling was out of fashion. Or even if pistols at dawn were not an option, he would have liked to spread Sir Edward Baxendale out on the floor with a fist to the jaw.

      Sir Edward, unaware of the latent hostility in the room, took a seat. Lord Henry did not.

      ‘A delicate situation, my lord, my lady.’ He sat with one leg crossed elegantly over the other, supremely at his ease. ‘But I am sure that we are all in agreement that it is time we settled the matter of the Faringdon inheritance. I presume that such is the reason for this meeting?’ He arched a brow towards the lawyer. ‘Then we can get on with our lives and allow the grief of the past weeks to settle.’ So accommodating. So reasonable. Eleanor felt a sudden urge to scream her objections to her husband’s name being so vilified.

      ‘Do you plan to remain in London, sir?’ Hoskins enquired with casual interest, as if nothing were amiss.

      ‘My sister proposes to remain for a week or two at Faringdon House. Then it is her intention to repair to Burford Hall.’ He turned his sympathetic gaze on Eleanor. ‘Have you finally decided on your own destination, ma’am?’

      ‘Not finally, Sir Edward.’

      ‘And I presume that you, my lord, will return to America. So much opportunity there for a man of enterprise such as yourself. And Lord Nicholas?’ His brows rose again in polite but pointed enquiry. ‘I think that Octavia will not wish him to stay on at Burford Hall. Or at least not in a permanent nature. Perhaps to visit eventually… She considers that it would be somewhat…ah, uncomfortable in the circumstances. Until her position in the family has become more generally accepted, you understand. We shall make our own arrangements for the administering of the estate.’

      And so all was to be very neatly arranged to Sir Edward’s liking!

      ‘And I will discuss with Hoskins the matter of the annuity for yourself and your son,’ he continued with another sparkling smile in Eleanor’s direction.

      ‘How thoughtful, Sir Edward. I am sure that I should be grateful for your consideration in the circumstances.’

      Hoskins cleared his throat in a little cough to draw attention back to himself. It was time, he decided, to end this cat-and-mouse scene as he bent a fierce stare on Sir Edward. ‘Before we consider all these arrangements, sir, there is one small matter remaining for us to discuss.’ Hoskins glanced up at Lord Henry who had remained silent, allowing the lawyer to take the initiative. His lordship could not guarantee the politeness of his words in the face of Sir Edward’s overweening triumph.

      Sir Edward caught the glance between them and his eyes narrowed in quick suspicion. ‘Is there some problem here that I should be aware of? I cannot imagine what could now hinder the settlement.’

      ‘There is indeed a problem, sir.’ Hoskins lifted three documents from a pile in front of him and spread them on the desk. ‘There is indeed.’

      ‘Then perhaps you would explain—’

      They were interrupted by a light knock on the door. One of the clerks from the outer office opened it to usher a lady into the room. ‘The lady is here, sir. You said to show her in if she came.’ He closed the door behind Mrs Sarah Russell.

      Sir Edward turned his head in some surprise at the interruption, and then froze, the smile leaving his face. ‘What is this?’

      ‘The lady has some part in this discussion, it would seem, sir.’ Hoskins rose to draw the lady into the room. ‘She was kind enough to bring it to my attention yesterday.’

      ‘I do not discuss my family’s business before my servants.’ Sir Edward’s eyes were suddenly as icy as his insolent words, but there was a wariness in the clenching of his hands on the arms of his chair as he thrust himself to his feet.

      ‘Then there is no problem, is there, Edward.’ Sarah came to stand quietly beside her brother, to meet his supercilious stare with her own of sorrowful but calm acceptance. ‘Since I am not your servant, the discussion can continue.’

      ‘What is this?’ he repeated, a tinge of colour now creeping into his face. ‘You are my sister’s companion and nursemaid for the boy. Why are you here?’

      ‘You cannot continue with this masquerade, Edward. I have told Mr Hoskins the truth and my own shameful part in it.’

      ‘No. It is not true.’ He looked round, now uneasy, to assess the reaction of the other players in the game.

      ‘Will you deny your relationship to me, Edward?’ Sarah persisted, quietly but not to be