The spinster and the wastrel Read online

  Linton nodded his agreement as he poured himself a glass. After sipping it, he asked, "What are you going to do now?"

  "I have to break the will. I must get that money."

  His friend compressed his lips. "It will not be easy."

  "Do I have a choice?"

  Linton knew the true state of his circumstances. "Breaking a will takes time," he said. "You do not have much of it."

  "I know." Sir Gerard swirled his brandy. "My gambling debts must be settled soon, or else every door in London will be closed against me. I will be an outcast. I could not bear that." Recalling Linton's financial problems, he cast an apologetic glance at him. "I regret I cannot help you out of your difficulties as I had planned."

  The other man shrugged. "No matter. The moneylender will just have to be patient a bit longer."

  Sir Gerard frowned. Linton had introduced him to that same money-lender where he borrowed a sum that now seemed to be a staggering amount. "I dislike the interest mounting up while he waits. I did not expect to have to pay him very much when I gave him my note."

  "Perhaps you celebrated your elevation to the title a little too soon."

  Sir Gerard cast his friend a sour look. "As I recall, you were right there alongside me."

  A reminiscent smile flitted across Linton's face. "It was certainly dashed good fun. Who knew what evil your uncle had plotted? To give you the title, but not the means to support it." He shook his head in disbelief.

  Sir Gerard strolled over to the fire and leaned against the mantel. "Perhaps it was not all my uncle's fault. Perhaps an adventuress lurks beneath the facade of a spinster. Did you get a look at her? I knew my uncle to be eccentric, but not that he was a fool, too."

  "She does not look like the typical adventuress," Linton agreed. 'Too tall and skinny. And the way she dressed! Her clothes looked like rags hanging on a pole." He shuddered at the picture.

  "We plainly underestimate her charms or her abilities, since she was able to worm her way into my uncle's affections. I was never able to do it, even though I was his heir." He took another swallow of his drink, but this time the taste seemed as bitter as his memories. "She is obviously a dangerous woman, but she will discover I can be an equally dangerous opponent. This is one contest I do not intend to lose."

  Gkaptei &wo

  "7bu inherited all the money!'* Lucille Downes's squeal JL of surprise sounded just like that of the pigs her fanner husband used to raise. In her late forties, her face was as round as her body, which she draped with ruffles and furbelows. The circle of her mouth copied her wide brown eyes as the woman stared at Annette. The shock registered on her face echoed the reverberations the new heiress still felt within herself.

  "I could not believe it either."* Annette told her companion.

  The two women were seated in the genteelly furnished drawing room of the cottage they shared. Despite the small fire flickering in the grate, the room remained chilled, and they sought both warmth and sustenance from their tea.

  After the vicar had passed away. Annette and her invalid mother moved from the church manse, but the new cottage s rent was a heavy expense. When Lucille was widowed, she. too, was required to move. Without a son to inherit the farms tenancy and no living daughter obliged to care for her surviving parent. Lucille was in desperate straits. She faced the dreaded parish poorhouse. When An-

  nette suggested they share the cottage's expenses and care of Mrs. Courtney, Lucille welcomed the opportunity.

  Annette had overheard her neighbors' puzzled speculation about the success of two such disparate women living in the same house. She knew she was renowned in Upper Brampton village for her managing ways. She met every one of life's hurdles with squared shoulders and a no-nonsense approach, while Lucille bowed before life's difficulties with a quiet resignation. Even though Annette could not understand her companion's approach, she had always been grateful for the extra care her invalid mother had received from the other lady. No one denied Lucille's generous heart.

  Now hope warred with disbelief in the widow's brown, puppylike eyes. "This isn't a joke, is it?"

  "I could not believe it myself, at first, but it is true," Annette assured her. "The solicitor wants to meet with me tomorrow to sign the papers."

  "How much money is there? There must be pots of it. Old Sir Nigel was such a miser."

  "That will be one of my questions to Mr. Keller."

  Lucille's sigh of satisfaction drew from deep within. 'To think you will never have to worry about the tradesmen again!"

  "You're right!" At the realization, the great burden of anxiety she had carried for so long slipped from Annette's shoulders with almost a physical lightening. A buoyant feeling of freedom now filled her.

  She looked around the small drawing room, where they worked to keep up the appearance of gentility. The dark wood furniture remained dust free because their labor was free. Expense forced them to do the light housekeeping, while relying on an intermittent maid to do the heavy

  work. Beautiful embroidery from the needle of her late mother adorned the seat covers. Although an invalid for many years before her death, Mrs. Courtney had left behind a colorful legacy of fabric that still surrounded her daughter.

  The small fire seemed more for show and to provide light in the winter afternoon gloom than for warmth. Setting down her teacup, Annette rubbed her hands, still chilled from the walk home. She stood, took some wood from the box, and built up the flame until it roared. Ashes swirled from her vigorous efforts, and she coughed as one lodged in her throat.

  "What are you doing?" Lucille asked. "Why are you making the fire so high?"

  "Starting as of now, we never have to be cold again." Annette held her hands out to the blaze, feeling its heat clear to her bones. She shivered with delight and turned back to her friend. "How wonderful it will be to never fear the collier, or the butcher, or the apothecary, or anyone else again."

  Lucille clapped her hands at the prospect. "Yes! Oh, Annette, what are you going to do with all that money?"

  "Why, I had not considered it." She blinked as she tried to order her thoughts. "Most important, of course, is to pay off all the tradesmen's bills."

  "Pooh! Why must you always be so practical! This is your chance to gain what you have always wanted. Picture something more—your heart's deepest desire."

  "Paying off the tradesmen is one of my deepest desires." Yet a picture of a village school sprang into her mind. At Lucille's frown, Annette added, "What did you have in mind?"

  The other woman tittered. "My wishes are of no concern because it is not my money."

  Uncertain, Annette slowly sat on her chair. For one of the few times in her life, she was confused. All of her upbringing had taught her to stretch a penny, not manage pounds. "You are my dearest friend. Certainly your wishes are my concern. I do not know what to do, and I need your help."

  "Help you spend the money?" Lucille exclaimed. "Gladly! Have you never wanted to travel? Go to London? Buy new dresses?" She twitched her skirt with a disdainful air and shook her head at her friend's dress. "We can begin with that right now."

  The prospect tempted Annette, but she continued to hesitate. "It sounds so frivolous to spend the money that way."

  "You have not had enough frivolity in your life to enable you to enjoy it when the opportunity appears," Lucille replied tartly. "This is your chance."

  "I thought opening a school for the local children would be a more worthy cause."

  Lucille threw up her hands. "Why must you only spend the money on some type of charity? If you want a worthy cause, use it to find yourself a husband."

  "Buy one, you mean."

  The other woman defiantly met Annette's gaze. "Why not? You are thirty years of age."

  "Yes, and passed the age of marrying." Annette picked up her teacup and sipped from it. The tea was cold, just like her prospects for falling in love and marrying.

  The widow sighed. When she spoke again, her tone had lost its stride
ncy. "You did your duty when you cared for your mother throughout the years of your maidenhood.

  Lo

  Perhaps this inheritance i you can still have a husb

  Annette tried to smik dren were her deepest de When I was younger, I v tract any man willing to mother's care. Now I do money. I want love and

  "You could pretend," her teacup.

  Annette pretended no) her inheritance, a small science. Her good fortun thought the money shoul fort."

  "The new baronet?" continued, "It is plain tlu opinion of his heir. You s as 'that wastrel.' Was the

  "Yes," Annette answe

  "No surprise there," L

  The Spinster and the Wastrel

  She tried to explain the mystery to Lucille. "I what I had expected for someone known to be a

  "I have never seen a wastrel."

  "Neither have I, but he looked far better ths have thought one did."

  Lucille brightened. "Is he handsome?"

  Resting her chin on her hand, Annette c "Handsome seems the wrong word. He was notit though he ignored everyone else in the drawing were aware of his presence."

  "Naturally, since he is a new face in the area if he will attend any of the local Assemblies."

  "We are likely too provincial for him. Remei used to London society."

  "Pooh! With your money, you can now affon into society." She snuggled deeper into her hugged her wool shawl closer as she contempla hire.

  Unwilling to disillusion her friend, Annettt was only a noncommittal, "Perhaps."

  She believed it took more than money to ent

  of the suffering within the village of Upper Brampton. Her life had been spent in service to others. She would continue along that path, but now she no longer needed to beg for the coins.

  A smile tugged at her lips. Tomorrow she would discuss the possibilities for Lucille's future and a village school with Mr. Keller. She would hire the solicitor to help her with her plans. Sir Gerard Montfort might dislike her gaining his inheritance, but Annette no longer had to worry about pleasing the Baronet Westcourt. It was a very agreeable feeling.

  As the newest Baronet Westcourt, Sir Gerard did not think he was being accorded the respect due his rank. After the initial cordial greeting, Piers Keller's face had smoothed into a blank gaze. Even the wrinkles seemed to disappear, Sir Gerard thought irritably. Nothing remained to give away the solicitor's thoughts. The stuffy smell of leather books permeated the office, crowded with piles of papers. Although Sir Gerard was used to hunching over a green baize table to gamble, he felt hemmed in. Yet he would not allow such discomfort to interfere with his mission. He intended to get his money back.

  Piers Keller made a steeple of his hands, but Sir Gerard met the man's assessment with a level stare of his own. He would not be intimidated by such manners.

  "You wish to break the will?" the solicitor asked.

  Sir Gerard determined there would be no misunderstanding. "Yes. The money belongs to me and to the estate. It was wrong of my uncle to separate the two. I regard it as proof that his mind was unhinged."

  The other man tapped his fingers together. "Sir Nigel

  had full use of his mental faculties when he ordered the conditions of the will."

  Sir Gerard snorted. "I take leave to doubt that. Look at the results. He must have been mad."

  More finger-tapping. "You will find it a difficult proposition to have him declared thus. Until the day of his heart seizure, Sir Nigel remained as alert as any other man. Indeed, he was sharper than most." Keller leaned forward. "Since you were in London, how do you propose to prove your assertion? All the witnesses are here where Sir Nigel lived and where you did not visit."

  In frustration, Sir Gerard slammed his fist on the desk, making the quill pens bounce. "You are a solicitor. Certainly I can hire you to overturn the will."

  Mild interest appeared on the other man's face. "Do you have the funds to pursue such a course? For I believe it is my duty to warn you the case will be both lengthy and expensive."

  Time and money. The two things he could not afford now. Back in London, gambling debts howled to be paid, and that money-lender would not wait forever.

  At first his uncle's death had appeared to be a fortuitous blessing, now he faced social ruin if he did not honor his notes. Still the solicitor's attention boded well for his hopes.

  He settled back in his chair as hope began to stir within him. "Why should it be so difficult and costly to get the money back? After all, Miss Courtney appears to be only a poor spinster. If I offered her a settlement to avoid the legal hassles, I should think she would be quite happy to return the funds."

  "The will is a solid document, designed to withstand challenges."

  Sir Gerard permitted himself a smile. "It can still be overturned. If you are not capable of undertaking the task, I will hire someone who is. London has many capable lawyers."

  The solicitor stiffened. "/ wrote that will, and it will not be overturned. Not even if you bring your hired legal experts from London. You may regard my abilities as only suitable for the country, but the law rules even in the farthest corners of England. Even in Upper Brampton village."

  "That will is a miscarriage of justice!"

  Keller stood and frowned. "You will not break this will. No matter how hard you try. It is as solid as the rocks in the ground. Should Miss Courtney ask, my advice will be to refuse any of your settlements. They were not the intentions of Sir Nigel. He was my client for many years, and I will not disobey his wishes."

  Sir Gerard heard the conviction in the man's voice and believed it. He could always spend the resources of time and money he did not possess, but the end result would still be his defeat. Although he enjoyed gambling, he knew better than to place his stake against a certain outcome.

  The next minutes passed in a blur. Somehow he managed to stand and say all the correct things as he took His farewell of the stiffly polite solicitor, but all he could envision was the social abyss that yawned before him. Nothing, it seemed, could save him.

  When Sir Gerard opened the door to exit the office, he met the solicitor's next client. The woman waiting there was now the bane of his existence. Although he glowered at her, Miss Annette Courtney's smile of greeting lit up her rather plain face, and he felt ashamed of his rudeness. It was definitely not proper ton to display one's emotions.

  In an effort to recover his manners, he bowed to her. "Good afternoon, Miss Courtney. I trust you are well."

  "Thank you, sir, I am." Her voice was crisp with each syllable clearly enunciated. There would be no misunderstanding in her speech.

  After the stuffy atmosphere of the office, her brisk manner cut through the fog surrounding him like a brilliant lantern. He peered more closely at her and caught a whiff of her perfume. It was a light scent, which seemed to be at odds with the serviceable dark dress she wore and the practical bonnet. No fashionable woman of his acquaintance would be caught dead in such a contraption. The contradiction between the sweetness of the violet perfume and the severe clothes puzzled him.

  To detain her from entering the office, he asked, "Are you here to consult with Mr. Keller?"

  "Yes. There are papers I need to sign and plans I wish to discuss."

  With his money, but he noticed she did not emphasize the fact. His smile became stiff. He did not begrudge her a new wardrobe, at a modest cost, of course. It was those unspoken "plans" that filled him with dread. Despite the solicitor's warning, Sir Gerard determined he would offer a settlement to this woman, before she wasted his inheritance.

  "I have a proposal to place before you," he said.

  Her eyes widened in shock. "A proposal?"

  Damn! An unfortunate choice of words. Now the adventuress probably anticipated acquiring his title along with his wealth.

  "No, not quite a proposal..." He started to clarify his meaning and then paused. Perhaps the title would lure her into listening to him. Once the actual negotiating over the

  settl
ement commenced, certainly her true nature would be revealed. The difficulty would be getting her to agree to only a portion of the money when she now possessed all of it.

  Sir Gerard swallowed and began again. "Let us say, an idea I think you will find to be of interest."

  "Indeed, sir, you intrigue me greatly."

  / will wager I do interest you, he thought cynically. In the dim lighting, he could not be certain, but he assumed there was a mercenary gleam of interest in her eyes. He stepped forward to look more closely and again caught a whiff of violets.

  "Why wait, then? Let me call on you now to discuss my idea." He extended his arm, prepared to escort her from this office.

  The solicitor cleared his throat. Sir Gerard had forgotten the man remained in the room.

  "Miss Courtney," Keller said, "acting as your representative, I would advise you not to listen to the baronet. He can be a charmingly persuasive man."

  She dropped the hand she had placed on Sir Gerard's arm. "Forgive me, I nearly forgot I have an appointment to see Mr. Keller."

  An oath struggled for expression within Sir Gerard, but he managed to maintain a polite smile. "Of course, you must keep your commitments." He understood commitments. They were something he was striving to fulfill with regard to his debts.

  "I endeavor to be punctual," she said in a prim tone.

  "Another time, then, I look forward to being the appointment you keep. Will you be punctual with me?" From his habit of dealing with women, he winked at her.

  She drew her breath in sharply at his flirtatious gesture,

  and a pleased feeling filled him. He would bet she had not been the recipient of much coquetry, not and yet remain a spinster. At that instant a suggestion sprang into his mind. He would use his charm to regain his money. It had provided for him in the past. It could do the same now.

  "But... but of course," she replied, flustered. "Punctuality is a virtue."

  "I am certain you are always virtuous." The words left a sour taste in his mouth. It was such self-righteously virtuous people like his uncle who judged him without a hearing.