Читать книгу Lady Traveller's Guide To Happily Ever After - Victoria Alexander, Victoria Alexander - Страница 11

“ARE YOU MAD?” The question blurted from James’s mouth before he could stop it. Still, if anything seemed to warrant the questioning of sanity it was the words the solicitor had just dropped like a sudden whiff of something unexpected and extremely unpleasant.

“This is not my idea, James,” Marcus Davies said in a patient manner. He had no doubt been practicing for this particular meeting. He and James had attended school together but hadn’t become friends until after James’s marriage, brought together initially by their shared affinity for raucous living and having a great deal of fun. A few years ago, both men put their respective pasts behind them as Marcus joined his father’s firm—the firm that had long handled Uncle Richard’s affairs—and James had become involved in Uncle Richard’s business interests and estate management. In short, they had grown up. While they had once been cohorts in disreputable antics, they had eventually discovered the advantage of respectable comportment. More’s the pity. “This is entirely your uncle’s doing.”

“He’d never do something so preposterous.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Violet shot him a look of chastisement or annoyance or exasperation or some twisted female combination of all that and more. Women had thrown him all kinds of looks in his life but they were usually far more pleasant and inviting. “It’s exactly the kind of thing he’d do. I never paid a single visit here wherein he didn’t bring up how it was time to reconcile our differences. Indeed, it was his favorite topic.” She glanced at the older lady sitting in a chair strategically placed off to one side of Marcus’s desk. “Mrs. Higginbotham? What do you think?”

“I certainly don’t think Richard was mad, if that’s what you’re implying, my lord.” Mrs. Higginbotham cast him a look shockingly similar to Violet’s. “According to the letter he sent me, he wanted to, well, correct a mistake or right a wrong or prevent a great loss, something of that nature.” The widow was once apparently a good friend of Uncle Richard’s, although James couldn’t recall ever hearing her name. Regardless, his uncle had thought highly enough of this Ophelia Higginbotham to place James’s fate in the lady’s hands. She nodded at Marcus. “I suggest you continue as there will no doubt be further outbursts—” both ladies cast James that unnerving glance again “—and I daresay we don’t want this to go on longer than necessary.”

“Very well.” Marcus shot James a pointed look, a warning to keep his mouth shut. While his firm handled Uncle Richard’s affairs, Marcus personally managed all of James’s legal needs. He was at once James’s friend, legal advisor and, on occasion, protector. The solicitor cleared his throat. “As I was saying, while you do inherit your uncle’s title, his properties—including the country estate and the house in London, as well as his fortune—were his to do with as he pleased.”

James waved off the explanation. “We know all that. Go on.”

“I simply want to make certain you and Lady Ellsworth are clear on all the various aspects of your uncle’s will so there are no misunderstandings.” The others might not realize it but it was apparent to James that his old friend was somewhat amused by Uncle Richard’s will. They would have to discuss later how this was not the least bit amusing. “As his only heir, the argument can be made that you are certainly entitled to his property and his fortune but his lordship was very specific about the conditions under which you would receive it all.

“First, as I’m sure you remember my saying a minute ago—”

“Burned into my brain,” James muttered.

“—you and Lady Ellsworth are to reside together for a period of two years, eleven months, one week and three days. That length of time is based on the date of today’s meeting as per your uncle’s instructions. He wished this meeting to be held as soon after his death as possible. But as Lady Ellsworth was abroad, it did take some time to contact her.”

“Uncle Richard always knew exactly where I was,” Violet pointed out. “We corresponded regularly.”

“The blame for any delay falls entirely on us.” Marcus cast Violet an apologetic smile. “As I was saying, for two years, eleven—”

“Three years,” James said. “You might as well call it three years.”

“For the sake of expediency, very well, three years it is.” Marcus continued. “With no more than a total of fourteen days spent apart during the course of any given year.”

“This residing together begins—” Violet held her breath “—when?”

“Today,” Marcus said. “From this moment on.”

“I see,” she said faintly.

“Secondly, you must appear as a couple—a cordial couple—several times a week—”

“Three,” Mrs. Higginbotham said.

Marcus nodded and continued. “Said appearances are to be in a public setting or in the presence of witnesses.”

James frowned. “What do you mean the presence of witnesses?”

“That is left to the discretion of Mrs. Higginbotham.” Marcus smirked.

“And we have to appear to be happy?” Violet asked.

“You certainly shouldn’t appear to be unhappy. Blatant unhappiness with each other in public would no doubt cause tongues to wag. You will want to avoid that as the third stipulation requires there be no scandal whatsoever. No hint of impropriety, no faint whiff of unpleasant gossip. No rumors, no innuendoes, no insinuations.” His gaze flicked to Violet. “Regarding either of you.” And back to James. “Do you understand?”

“Completely.” James shrugged. “That won’t be the least bit difficult.” Three pairs of skeptical eyes fixed on him. “My name has not been so much as whispered with regards to anything the least bit untoward in quite some time.” Quite some time being defined rather loosely, at least in his definition.

“One more thing.” Marcus glanced down at the papers in front of him to hide his smile. “You are forbidden to mourn or to wear black.”

“He hated black,” Violet and James said in unison.

He glanced at her, but she ignored him.

Violet nodded at the elderly lady. “Is Mrs. Higginbotham the authority on what constitutes scandal, as well?”

Mrs. Higginbotham smiled.

“Mrs. Higginbotham is the sole judge and arbitrator in any dispute or query. In this matter, her power is absolute and she has a great deal of discretion. She may do exactly as she thinks best, even allow for an exemption to any of the stipulations should she deem it necessary. In the case of unforeseen emergencies and the like.” Marcus glanced at James, a note of apology in his voice. “His lordship was quite clear on this matter. He had no doubt Mrs. Higginbotham would wield the authority he has given her in a wise and competent manner as befitting the widow of a colonel and a woman he had long admired.”

“Let me make certain I do indeed understand,” Violet said thoughtfully. “In order for James to receive his inheritance we have to live together, appear as a congenial couple and avoid anything the least bit scandalous for two years, eleven months, one week and three days?”

“Three years,” James said under his breath.

Marcus nodded.

“And if we succeed?” Violet asked.

“James will inherit everything except for a few gifts for charitable institutions and his late lordship’s servants,” Marcus said. “And you, Lady Ellsworth, will receive double your current allowance as well as an annual stipend for expenses for the rest of your life. Your financial independence will be assured. The two of you will also be free to resume your lives as they have been up to this point.”

“I see.” Violet considered Marcus’s words for a moment. “And if we don’t manage this?”

“Then nearly everything goes to charity.” Marcus shrugged apologetically.

Violet slanted James a quick glance. “What if either of us refuses to abide by Uncle’s Richard’s conditions?”

“Again, charity will benefit.”

“So we have no choice,” James said flatly. This was not the least bit fair. Hadn’t he done everything he could to prove to Uncle Richard he was worthy to be his successor? He’d learned how to manage the estate, strategies for investment and all the sundry details of business and management. Why, hadn’t Richard’s fortune grown at James’s hand?

Still, James should have expected something like this. Uncle Richard had never made any secret of the fact that he considered James a bit of an idiot when it came to Violet. And of course he was right. But Uncle Richard was a good man who had never done anything disgraceful in his life. He could never comprehend how the burden of guilt could trap a man and keep him immobile.

“I’ve had a copy of his lordship’s conditions made for each of you. There are some minor details we have not discussed but I assure you they are insignificant. Over the course of the next three years, your joint financial support will be substantially reduced as you will be supporting only one household. Other than that, your income and expenses will remain as they are now. Are there any questions?” Marcus glanced at the gathering.

Violet shook her head slowly. James could almost see the gears and flywheels of her brain sorting through the details of Uncle Richard’s terms. But then she had always been clever. It was one of the things James had liked about her. A familiar sliver of guilt stabbed him, as it tended to do whenever he thought about Violet.

“I daresay, there will be questions, Mr. Davies.” Mrs. Higginbotham glanced at Violet, then James. “At the moment, it’s clear Lord and Lady Ellsworth are still a bit stunned.” She stood, the gentlemen immediately springing to their feet, and pinned James with a firm look. “Might I suggest we join you for dinner tomorrow night at your residence? We shall discuss all of this and I will be able to answer any questions that may have come to mind between now and then. I shall bring my friends, who will be assisting me in this endeavor.” She turned to Marcus. “Perhaps you should join us as well, Mr. Davies.”

It wasn’t a question. Marcus smiled weakly. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

“Excellent.” She nodded at James. “When you return to Ellsworth House you’ll find your staff has prepared the master suite—with separate bedrooms of course—for the two of you, as per your uncle’s instructions.”

If his uncle’s ultimate purpose was in doubt, it certainly wasn’t now. “Did he think of everything, Mrs. Higginbotham?”

“I would hope so, my lord, but we shall see.” She smiled pleasantly. “Until tomorrow evening, then. Good day.” She nodded and took her leave.

James waited until the door closed behind her. “Where on earth did Uncle Richard find her?”

“Apparently he knew her many years ago,” Marcus said thoughtfully. “Before she was married.”

James sank back down into his chair. “We don’t need a governess, Marcus.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t like putting my fate in the hands of a woman I don’t know.”

“Again, no choice.”

“Why didn’t you warn me about this?”

“Sorry, old man.” Marcus shrugged. “There are rules regarding confidentiality that even I hesitate to break. And your uncle specifically asked me not to say anything to you. I was fond of him, you know.”

“Everyone liked Uncle Richard.” James blew a frustrated breath. “Is there any way out of this? Contest the will or something of that nature?”

“I’m afraid not. We drafted it to your uncle’s specifications and made certain every detail was in order. My father and one of his brothers worked with your uncle for months to ensure it was exactly as he wanted as well as make certain it could not be challenged. They are very good. Even so, I am going over every detail.”

“What if we—”

“I beg your pardon.” Violet glared. “Perhaps you have forgotten but I am sitting right here. As this scheme cannot succeed without me, I suggest either include me in the conversation or shut up altogether.”

Both men stared. This was not the quiet, rather meek woman he’d married. His mind flashed back to the last time he’d seen her—the morning after their wedding. She hadn’t been the least bit meek when she’d informed him in no uncertain terms she never wanted to see him again. James hadn’t heard her raise her voice before. He didn’t know she could. His thoughts on occasion returned to that morning. Violet had been a tall, fire-haired tower of indignation and anger. There’d been a distinct touch of magnificence about her. Uncle Richard had noticed. Pity James hadn’t.

Her demeanor then was attributable to justifiable anger. Last night, it was obvious she was not the same girl he once knew. The difference in her manner was apparent in the set of her chin and the look in her eye. The way she carried herself said without words this was a woman confident of her own worth. This was a woman who would hold her ground. She had changed in other ways, as well. He didn’t remember her red hair being so glorious or her green eyes so captivating or her figure so enticing. There was somehow more to her now. As if she had once been a pencil drawing and was now a painting in oil. She was vibrant. Alive. Remarkable. And far lovelier than he remembered.

“Apparently you are not the only one without a choice,” she said sharply, her eyes flashing with annoyance. “If I do not accept my role in this little farce, I will have virtually nothing to live on. Isn’t that right, Mr. Davies?”

“Yes. Furthermore, there will be no more money for traveling—”

“Yes, yes, I understand that.” She rose to her feet. “Mrs. Higginbotham was right. There will be questions.” She pinned Marcus with a hard look. “Come prepared to answer them.” She nodded curtly and strode out of the office.

James stared after her.

“I thought you said she was timid?” The vaguest hint of awe sounded in Marcus voice.

“She’s changed.”

Marcus chuckled. “Apparently.” He paused. “You’re going to have to stay on her good side, you know, if you want to pull this off.”

“Yes, I know. She’s not overly fond of me.”

“From what you’ve told me, she has good reason for that.” Marcus sat down. “This will certainly require a great deal of effort on your part. It won’t be easy for you.”

“Your confidence in me is heartening.” James retook his seat.

Marcus pulled open a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of fine Scottish whiskey and two glasses. He filled one and passed it to James.

“I shouldn’t. She’s probably waiting for me in the carriage.”

“Or she’s taken the carriage and left you to fend for yourself.” Marcus chuckled. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Nor would I.” James sipped the whiskey. Nothing like good whiskey to put a thing in perspective. Although perhaps not today. “What am I going to do?”

“There’s nothing you can do but abide by the terms of the will. I assure you, I have studied it thoroughly. As I said, my father and his brothers are very good.” Marcus considered his friend for a moment. “She’s quite lovely and you’ve always had an inexplicable charm for women. And she is your wife after all. Is there any possibility that you and she—”

“No. Maybe.” James shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s been a long time.” Even so, the memory of their wedding night—memories of Violet—had always dwelled in the back of his mind. No doubt the reason why he hadn’t been with another woman in a very long time. “Uncle Richard thought Violet and I were destined for one another. That in my avoiding marriage to the wrong woman I had somehow ended up with the right woman. This is his way of forcing us together.”

“He was nothing if not determined.” Marcus paused. “May I ask you something?”

“Why not?” James settled back in his chair.

“If I recall correctly, quite some time ago, in an inebriated state of maudlin self-pity, you told me Lady Ellsworth was the biggest regret of your life.”

“And?”

“And you said that on more than one occasion.”

“You must admit, it’s a rather significant regret.” He shrugged. “I ruined her life.”

“Yes, you’ve said that, as well.” Marcus eyed him thoughtfully. “You’ve also said you were young, stupid and about to be engaged to the wrong woman.”

“Hence the regret.”

“Understandable.” Marcus nodded. “But among all those things you’ve said about your ill-fated marriage, there’s one thing you’ve never said.”

“And what is that?”

Marcus met his gaze. “You’ve never once said it was a mistake.”

JAMES INSTRUCTED HIS driver, then climbed into the carriage. “I didn’t think you’d wait for me.”

“That would have been rude.” Violet smiled pleasantly. “I am never rude.”

“I wouldn’t think you were,” he said slowly.

“We have a decision to make.”

“I don’t see that we have a choice.”

“Of course we do,” she said. “There are always choices, some better than others. From what Uncle Richard has said about you in the last few years, you seem to have a talent for business. Should either of us decide not to abide by the terms of the will, you would have to seek employment.”

He had no doubt he could find employment of a sort. But if he’d learned nothing else about the world of business he had learned who you were was every bit as important as your skills or intelligence. A disinherited earl would not be especially sought after.

“I would indeed.” He shifted in his seat. It wasn’t just the fortune—although its loss would be painful—but losing the properties that had been in his family for generations twisted his soul. The country estate where his father had taught him to ride and to swim, as had his father before him. The London house Uncle Richard had made James’s haven. The places James had always called home. “My life would certainly change. As would yours.”

She hesitated. “Yes, of course.”

He had the oddest feeling there was something she didn’t wish to say.

“Although, as your husband, it would be my responsibility to provide your support.”

“You would have to find good employment.” She eyed him thoughtfully. “You’ve been very generous through the years.”

He shrugged off her comment. Generosity apparently went hand in hand with guilt.

“Was that at Uncle Richard’s urging?”

Did she think so little of him? He couldn’t blame her if she did but it was annoying nonetheless. “Would it matter if it was?”

“Perhaps not.” She paused. “But it is something I have always wondered.”

“You could have asked my uncle.”

“I’m not sure he would have told me,” she said with a sigh. “He was very fond of you and rather proud of the man you’ve become.”

Good to know. “No, your financial support had nothing to do with Uncle Richard.”

“I see.” For a long moment she was silent. “You’re asking for three more years of my life. It’s a very long time.”

“Perhaps it is better to think of it as two years, eleven months, one week and three days after all.”

“Not really.” She pinned him with a hard look. “You do realize the significance of two years, eleven months, one week and three days, don’t you?”

He scoffed. “Of course I do.” What the hell was she talking about?

“Oh?” She studied him closely. “Can you tell me why Uncle Richard stipulated two years, eleven months, one week and three days?”

“Of course I can.” At once the answer struck him and he wondered if Uncle Richard was looking after him from above. He leaned forward and met her gaze firmly. “Five years, ten months, two weeks and six days is—as of today—how long we’ve been married. Two years, eleven months, one week and three days is exactly half that. The stipulation was that the length of time be based on the date of today’s meeting.” He shrugged. “If you had returned to London sooner, the requirement would have been shorter.”

“Very good, James.” She nodded coolly. “Given your reaction in Mr. Davies’s office, one might have thought you didn’t realize that.”

“One would have been wrong,” he said in a superior manner and sent a silent prayer of gratitude to his uncle. “Still, it does seem excessive.”

“Uncle Richard probably considered it fitting. An appropriate penance of sorts.”

“Or a sentence?”

“Also appropriate, I suppose.” She shook her head. “Uncle Richard never failed to lecture me about the absurdity of our circumstances. Every time I saw him, he said this had gone on long enough and I should return to England to stay.” She met his gaze, and challenge shone in her eyes. “I told him I hadn’t been asked.”

“Would you have come back if I had?” It scarcely mattered now but it did seem important.

“It’s rather a pointless question. You didn’t ask.”

“But if I had?” he pressed.

She stared at him for a long moment. “I don’t know,” she said at last and shrugged. “It’s water under the bridge now. Nothing can be done about the past.”

“Better to move on from here, then,” he said. Still, there was a great deal of the past that remained to be resolved. “We should have expected something of this nature.” And really, hadn’t Uncle Richard warned him? Hadn’t he said on more than one occasion that if James wouldn’t do something about his marriage, someone should?

She smiled wryly. “He’s proving a point you know, even in death.”

James chuckled. “I am aware of that.”

“It seems that we have no choice.” She sighed. “Regardless, I shall have to consider this. If I agree to abide by the terms of the will, well, my life will be remarkably different.”

“Apparently my fate is now in your hands.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” She settled back in her seat. “Rather ironic when you think about it,” she said under her breath and turned toward the window.

Violet continued to gaze silently at the passing streets, apparently lost in thought. He had no idea what she was thinking. Every now and then he caught a glimpse of her expression, at once serene and determined. He suspected it did not bode well. Beyond that, there was something she wasn’t telling him. Violet was entirely too unconcerned about the potential loss of James’s inheritance. After all, if he lost everything, so did she.

The moment they entered the house they were met by a blonde woman Violet introduced as Mrs. Ryland, her companion and secretary. A few years older than Violet, she was quite lovely, or she would have been had she not glared at James as if he were the devil incarnate. Violet announced they had errands to run and would be back late in the afternoon.

“Will you be joining me for dinner tonight?” he asked.

Violet glanced at the other woman. “I think we’ll take dinner in our rooms tonight.”

He raised a brow. “Don’t we have a great deal to talk about?”

“And I have a great deal to think about.” She smiled politely, nodded at Mrs. Ryland, and the ladies took their leave.

He stared after them. This was not the Violet he remembered. Not the girl he had known. He had liked the old Violet. This new Violet was an unknown. And most intriguing.

Violet Branham was a woman any man would be proud to have by his side. She was strong and confident, independent and elegant—a woman of the world. And a challenge. Six years ago he hadn’t especially liked challenges but he was not the man he used to be, either. At the moment she didn’t seem to like him. It was entirely possible she wouldn’t agree to the terms of the will. But if she did... A lot could happen in the next two years, eleven months, one week and three days.

Violet Branham, the Countess of Ellsworth, his wife might indeed be the right woman for him. Six years ago he’d been too young or too stupid or too scared to realize it or possibly accept it. Now, however...

For a fleeting moment, he could have sworn he heard Uncle Richard chuckling in the distance.