A Lesson in Pride (8 page)

Before Nigel could inquire to her meaning, the footman had returned with the wine. Right behind him was two more servants with the first course. Ginny made sure to thank all the servants before picking up her spoon and tasting the soup.

Once the servants retreated, Nigel asked, “What are you blathering about, Alysanne? I was very specific with my requirements for the marriage to take place.”

“Oh, Lord Essex met your requirements, but he added a few of his own.”

“For instance?”

“My inheritance will be tied up in a trust. I will not receive the money outright. Every expenditure will have to be approved by the trustee, who happens to be Mr. Thornberry. Essex made it very plain that none of the money could be used to benefit either you or Robert.”

“What?” Nigel bellowed, making the poor footman jump from his post. Ginny looked over at the man and waved him out of the room. No doubt he would make a beeline for the kitchens to announce the gossip.

“It would seem that Drake did not want to finance your life, should he meet his maker before me. Of course, I doubt he ever thought it would come to that, since he'd already outlived two other wives.” Ginny had tried to keep her voice even, but judging by the look on Robert's face, her tone said all. She knew damn well that her father cared little for what she would have suffered at the hands of Franklin Drake.

“This is appalling. I will take this to court. That man had me sign the marriage contract under false pretenses.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “First, what legal standing do you have here? The moment I married Drake I gained some independence. You are no longer my protector, sir.” Not that he'd even been that, she thought disdainfully. “Second, Drake made certain that he followed your instructions. I'm still to inherit twenty thousand, I'm still to receive five thousand a year, but it is in a slightly different form than you envisioned. According to the contract, you are no worse off than you should be.”

“No worse off?” Nigel stood up and let his napkin fall to the floor. Grabbing Ginny's arm, he dragged her out of her chair and brought his face down to hers. “I was counting on that money to live, Alysanne. What am I to do now? There is no marrying you off again for at least a year, with the period of mourning and all. What am I to do?”

Ginny pulled her arm from Nigel's hand and backed up behind her chair. “As I said, sir, you are no worse off. Other than you had been given a few thousand pounds to bring our marriage about. What you requested from the marriage contract was never meant for you. It was to protect me in the event that Drake die before me.”

Nigel opened his mouth, but quickly closed it again. With a huff, he resumed his seat. “You may as well sit down. I must think upon this carefully.”

Ginny remained standing, noticing that Robert's eyes were firmly fixed to his plate.
Coward
, she thought. Alysanne's brother was pitiful and probably always would be. A pang of guilt struck her in her midsection. Robert had never been brave, but he was still her only family beside the man trying to worm his way into her life. She needed to get him away from Nigel, if he were to ever have a chance at life.

“I find myself without an appetite all of a sudden. I believe I will retire.” Ginny took a few steps from her chair when Nigel's voice chilled her to the bone.

“I can ruin it for you, Alysanne. I can tell them the truth. You would be out on your ear quicker than it would take me to snap my fingers.”

Nigel could inform her stepdaughter, Vivianne, of the fact, who would in turn bring about an annulment. The man would cut off his own nose to spite his face. There was no end to his charms.

“Do what you must, Father.” Ginny walked from the room and continued her way upstairs. She would find some way to take care of herself if she had to. She would survive. What she wouldn't do was allow Alysanne's father to blackmail her for something she had no control over. Let him burn in hell first.

Chapter 9

Grant found himself standing outside Essex's front door, tip of his cane in hand, but not yet using it to knock. Memories of Alysanne's wedding night flooded his mind, causing more than an uncomfortable lump to form in his stomach. Every woman he'd been with since that night was compared to her. All had come up far too short.

He'd waited a couple of weeks before visiting, thinking it best to stave off any unwanted gossip. Not that anyone knew what they'd done. Certain that if even the slightest possibility had leaked out to society, Grant would have heard it a thousand times over by now. No, the only information he'd heard about Alysanne and Lord Essex centered around how deliciously lucky the young girl had been to escape such a loathsome man.

Finally pulling his courage up, Grant knocked twice sharply with the tip of his cane. The door was opened a moment later by a harried young footman.

“May I help you, sir?” he asked, clearly not completely interested.

“I am here to see Lady Essex,” Grant muttered impatiently, finally noticing what had the footman so distracted. The house was a hive of activity, with footmen and maids running this way and that.

“May I have your card, sir, and I will see if Lady Essex is receiving?”

Grant reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved his calling card. The footman took his hat and coat and directed him to a small parlor off the main entrance. Without another word, the man disappeared into the house.

Grant paced in front of the empty fireplace. It was a chilly day, yet no fire had been set. Rolling his eyes, Grant wondered what other methods of economy the prior Lord Essex employed despite being frightfully rich. If there was one thing that made Grant mad, it was a rich man being thrifty.

Before he could dissect something else about the deceased Lord Essex, Alysanne came sailing into the room. She wore black, of course, but it was a silk, flowing confection, that with her pale skin, made her look like a goddess. Grant shook the errant thought out of his head.

“Good day, Lady Essex,“ Grant uttered as he bowed before her.

Lifting his head, he saw her curtsy. “Good day to you, Lord Grant. Would you care to follow me to my private parlor? There is a warm fire and I have ordered a tea tray.”

“Thank you,” he responded, following her from the room and down a long hallway. The room was in the back of the house, still cozy, but warm and bright. The fabrics were yellows and golds, adding to the cheeriness of the space. Grant waited until Alysanne was seated before taking the seat across from her. He noticed that she had closed the door.

Once seated, Grant wasted no time. “How are you, Alysanne? Are you in need of anything that I can provide?”

A small smile came to her lips, making her look older. The girl had changed, matured since her short marriage just two weeks prior. She had probably faced a great deal in that time.

“I'm fine,“ she said. “I've had a lot to deal with, but I'm doing alright. You've no doubt heard about Vivianne.”

“No,” he answered too quickly. He knew that Vivianne was Essex's daughter, but had never had dealings with the woman. At the roll of Alysanne's eyes, he knew whatever had happened hadn't been good.

“She accused me of killing Essex. I'm surprised that word hadn't gotten around more, but her husband was motivated to keep things quiet, I suppose.”

“What could possibly motivate Mrs. Lester to accuse you of such a thing?”

When Grant saw the look on Alysanne's face, he almost laughed. Stifling the urge, mostly to appear the gentleman, Grant uttered, “Disregard that, Alysanne.”

“Disregard indeed. Weren't you thinking the same thing that night?”

Before he could respond, a footman opened the door and entered with a tea tray.

“Thank you, Scotty. Please put it over here.” Alysanne rose with ease to intercept the tray. Without a thought, Grant rose as well. The footman placed the tray on a table near the door and promptly left, making sure to close the door behind him. Alysanne poured the tea with the deft hands of a woman who'd been doing the chore her whole life.

“How do you take your tea, Grant?” she asked. Her informality would go against society dictates, though after what they'd shared, it was of little consequence to him.

“Cream and sugar, please.”

After preparing his cup, Alysanne walked the tea to him, asking him to take his seat. She served him from a tray of biscuits before taking her seat once again. After a few sips, the conversation began again.

“How did Mrs. Lester make trouble for you?”

“Oh, she hemmed and hawed. Mostly, she forced the doctor to perform an autopsy. From what I overheard the doctor telling Vivianne, Essex's heart was the size of a cannonball.”

Drawing back in disgust, Alysanne smiled over his disgust. “I'm sorry, Grant. I didn't know you were so squeamish.”

“Yes, well, I have no desire to hear any more graphic accounts of your dead husband's anatomy.” To cover up his discomfort, Grant took another sip of his tea. The sweetened drink helped remove the bad taste of Essex's body laid open on a table somewhere. The man was detestable, but no one should be subjected to such an indignity. His daughter should have known better, especially since her father had been unwell for so long.

“Did she question anything else? Were my services used in vain?”

A solemn look crossed Alysanne's face, making him sorry he'd asked such an indelicate question. Still, his companion had started the inappropriate conversation with talk of her husband's cause of death. A small smile appeared on her lips, making Grant think she'd not been the least bit offended.

“Yes, she did. I was subjected to a thorough examination. To be fair, it was a requirement of Drake's last will and testament. Mostly, they have been waiting with bated breath to see if I am pregnant.”

“Are you?” Grant sputtered, not considering what he was asking her. He wasn't dense and he knew it was a possibility. A possibility that his first offspring would end up being the next earl of Essex. Since he had nothing to leave the child, he was grateful that he or she would get something. Still, the thought of his progeny growing up as a Drake left a bitter taste in his mouth.

A circumspect look came to Alysanne's face when she shook her head. “As of yesterday morning, it is quite certain that I am not.”

Grant released a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. His feelings were conflicted. He was relieved, but at the same time he was disappointed. If there was anything Grant Montgomery didn't do, it was examine his feelings too closely. He lived the life of a shallow interloper, getting by any way he could, but never really getting involved.

“That is good,” he stated as he took a sip of his tea. Then he looked into her eyes and asked, “It is, isn't it?”

The same small smile graced her lips once again. “Yes, Grant, it's a good thing. I wouldn't have felt good about raising your child as Drake's.”

“Yes, well, quite right,” he responded. What more was there to say?

Suddenly, knowing that a change of topic would be a good idea, he asked, “What is going on in your household? So much activity.”

There was a flash of disappointment on Alysanne's pretty features before it disappeared behind a teacup. Grant knew he'd seen it, but was at a loss as to the cause. He would have thought she would be as interested in a change of topic as he was.

“I am to leave this house. The new earl of Essex is quite eager to take up residence.”

“And he is so eager to put you out?” Grant was outraged. He knew what it was like to have family that didn't value your existence.

Alysanne tilted her head curiously. “You sound surprised. Drake never kept his feelings for his heir a secret. He never had a kind word to say for the man. It was one of the reasons he was so desperate to produce an heir. Did you think the new earl felt any better toward Drake?”

“No, of course not. But to put his widow out is beyond the pale.”

Alysanne laughed. “Grant, I am far from destitute. Drake owned several houses that were never entailed to the earldom. He had plenty of money that is not to go to the new earl. For all the man's faults, and there were many of those, he did plan for the future of his family.”

With a plaintive stare, Grant asked, “So, you are to be cared for?”

“Yes. I am going to the country to live out my year of mourning. I will be in the company of Drake's five daughters who have not yet come out. After that, I will accompany his daughters as they make their debuts.”

“And that will make you happy?”

“I don't know. It's what I've been given. For now. I've learned not to try to anticipate what the future might hold.” Alysanne placed her teacup on a small table next to her, then straightened her skirts. When completed, she turned her attention back to Grant.

“I do know this, Grant. I am the luckiest of people to have avoided any kind of life with Drake. My misery would have made me want death. So, you see, anything else in comparison will be a cakewalk.”

Scrunching his eyes, not understanding her vernacular, he still fully understood her meaning. If Drake had survived his wedding night, she would already be a broken woman. Even if life in the country was sheer boredom, and Grant suspected it would be, she would still be a hundred times better off.