An Unexpected Gentleman (13 page)

“My valet’s gone missing. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in—” He broke off, and his features lit with a rare smile. “You’ve come with news, haven’t you? You brought Sir Robert up to scratch. Knew you would. I knew—”

“I’ve come to ask you a question.”

He actually grinned at her. “If it’s my permission to marry, you have it.”

It had been so long since she’d seen him happy, she was almost tempted to hold her tongue and enjoy the all-but-forgotten pleasure. Almost. “Who holds your final debt?”

The moment of pleasure was lost. His face fell, and he groaned. “Not this again, Adelaide. We’ve gone over—”

“
Who
, Wolfgang?” She snapped at him. The calm of the last day was slowly wearing away. “Is it Sir Robert?”

Hooded eyes skittered away. “No, of course not.”

Connor was right. Wolfgang was an abysmal liar. “Oh, God. How much?”

He pinched his lips together briefly before answering. “What does it matter?”

What sort of question was that?
“How much?”

He turned to look out the window. There was a long moment of weighted silence before he gave her the answer under his breath.

“A thousand pounds.”

She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move.

A thousand pounds.
It was far more than she had anticipated, three times the total of his other debts. They would never be able to repay such a sum.

“It’s not my fault,” Wolfgang snapped suddenly. He spun from the window, his face a heartbreaking mix of indignation and poorly concealed guilt. “The ship was lost.”

She shook her head at him and wished the numbness would return and swallow her whole. They were ruined, utterly ruined. “What ship?”

“The one carrying sugar from St. Lucia. Sir Robert swore we’d make a fortune.”

“This was Sir Robert’s idea?” Her mouth fell open. “You took . . . For pity’s sake, Wolfgang, did it not occur to you to think carefully before accepting financial advice from a man who would loan money to someone in debtors’ prison?”

“He said he would do it for you, that he wished to help the family.”

“And you believed him?”

“Why wouldn’t I have?” Wolfgang threw his hands up. “What did I have to lose? I was already here.”

“You,” she snapped. “
You
are here. Not your son, nor your sisters. How could you think so little of us? How could you allow Sir Robert to court me without informing me of his—”

“Sir Robert told me to say nothing.”

“All the more reason you should have said
something
,” she bit off.

“And have you turn your back on him?”

“As I should! You can’t possibly expect me to have anything to do with him now.”

Something like panic flashed across his features. “You must. You have to. It’s the only way I’ll ever be free of this place. If you marry Sir Robert, he’ll pay my creditors and forgive what’s owed to him.”

“Did he tell you this?”

“Yes. Essentially,” he amended. “He said he would see me freed once you were married.”

“And encouraged you to promote the match.” And Wolfgang had most certainly promoted the match, speaking of little else on their visits. Sir Robert this, Sir Robert that. It made her sick to think of it now.

“I didn’t see the harm in it. You looked to be taken with him, and it’s a sound match.” He swore under his breath. “He’ll not like that I’ve told you. He may not offer if—”

“Sir Robert has already offered. So has Mr. Brice.”

“Who the devil is Mr. Brice?”

“A gentleman I met at the house party.”

Wolfgang shook his head in dismissal. “I’ve never heard of him. You accepted Sir Robert’s offer, of course.”

“No. And I’ve no thought of doing so now.” All this time, Sir Robert had been paying compliments to her with one tongue and threatening her brother with another. It turned her stomach.

“Don’t be a fool. The man’s a baron. You can’t deny a baron.”

“I can and shall.”

“He’ll not stand for it. You don’t know him, Adelaide. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

A long, painful silence followed that statement. Adelaide watched as Wolfgang began to pace in short, quick strides across the room. There had been a time, when they were young, that she had found amusement in their sharing of that habit. But now, with every step he took, with every moment that passed, another joyful memory turned black. The implications of his words didn’t occur to him.
She
didn’t occur to him.

This was not the boy she loved. This was not the playmate of her youth.

“Is there something you would like to tell me about the man you would have me marry?” she asked thickly. Wolfgang appeared not to take notice. He offered her only an irritated shake of his head and continued on with his pacing, mumbling to himself about barons and debts and finding them all a way out of the damnable mess.

Adelaide had heard enough. She turned from him and headed for the door.

“I shall not bring George to see you . . . this Saturday.” She’d almost said ever. But she wasn’t sure if that would be punishing the father or the son.

“Why?” Wolfgang demanded at her back. “Where will you be?”

She couldn’t bring herself to turn around and look at him. She wrenched the door open and strode into the hall with a parting shot over her shoulder.

“Planning a damn wedding.”

A
delaide was spared the nearly four-mile walk home by accepting a ride on a cart from a passing farmer. After a time, the fresh air and rhythmic rocking served to clear her mind and settle her temper. Another step was completed. It had been painful, but necessary and productive. She’d gained the information she’d needed to make the most sensible choice.

Her next step was to formally accept Connor’s offer. Some of Adelaide’s burgeoning composure withered at the thought. Telling Connor he’d have his way wasn’t going to be painful; it was going to be excruciating. And humiliating, and terrifying, and . . .

Her list was cut short when her home came into view and she spotted Sir Robert’s carriage sitting in the drive.

He must have left the house party directly after her and Isobel. She wasn’t ready to see him. She’d been building—or attempting to build—herself up to speak with Connor, not Sir Robert. What did she say to him? There were any number of things she
wanted
to say, but Wolfgang was right on at least one account. Sir Robert was a baron. He would take neither her rejection nor her censure lightly.

To give herself time to think, she bid the farmer to stop a ways from the house and walked the last few hundred yards of road slowly, her eyes soaking in the familiar surroundings.

Because the house and grounds were entailed, they were the only things her brother could not lose to debt. Wolfgang often bemoaned the inconvenience of owning property that couldn’t be sold. Adelaide often said a prayer of thanks for the same thing.

She loved her home. Every square foot of brick and timber and every inch of land was filled with the cherished memories of her childhood.

The house had never been grand. It claimed but five bedrooms and two servants’ quarters. There was no ballroom or orangery. The front parlor was small by ton standards, and the dining room could fit no more than twelve. Despite its modest proportions, however, the house had been tended and furnished as carefully as any grand manor. There hadn’t been a door that squeaked, a fireplace that smoked, or a piece of furniture in need of repair or replacement.

That had changed in the years since her parents’ deaths. They could no longer afford the staff needed to keep the house in good repair. Most of the chimneys were no longer safe to use, and half the doors couldn’t be opened or closed without a good shove. Items of value had been sold to pay Wolfgang’s mounting debt. Even most of her beloved flower garden had gone to seed or been turned over to make room for beets and turnips. Her mother’s roses remained, but Adelaide rarely had the time and energy to do more than trim them back once a year, and cut the occasional flower that bloomed despite her neglect.

She stopped outside the front door, gathering her courage. The house had fallen to ruin before Sir Robert had come into their lives. He couldn’t be held responsible for that, but he could damn well be held responsible for the absence of its master. Baron or not, he would answer for that.

Resolute, she opened the door and stepped inside. The foyer was small and in sight of half the downstairs when the parlor doors were open. They were open now, but the moment Adelaide entered, Isobel appeared, blocking her from view.

Isobel took her cloak and whispered in her ear, “He’s in the parlor. I’ll send him away if you like. Tell him you have the headache.”

“Thank you, but no. Is George upstairs?” She waited for Isobel’s confirmation. “Will you be certain he stays there, please?”

Isobel pressed her lips together but nodded. “If you need me, you’ve only to shout.”

Adelaide almost laughed at that. For pity’s sake, Sir Robert was a baron, not a one-man firing squad. And, really, if anyone ought to be feeling unnerved, it was him.

He didn’t look unnerved in the least. The moment Isobel moved away, Adelaide saw Sir Robert standing in front of the settee, waiting for her. The vibrant yellow of his waistcoat clashed dreadfully with his hair and stood in stark contrast to the worn, faded colors of her grandmother’s old carpet and settee. His confident and condescending air clashed with her temper. She wasn’t sure how one could appear condescending, but Sir Robert always seemed to manage it.

He moved as if to take her hand and draw her into the room. “My dear Miss Ward.”

She hurried forward of her own volition, hands gripped behind her back. “Sir Robert. You’ve returned early.”

“Well, of course I have.” His tone and expression turned chiding. “You left without word.”

“My departure was expected.”

“Darling girl, if we had arrived at an understanding before—”

“I would like to understand why you saw fit to extend a loan to my brother.”

Sir Robert started at the question. And who could blame him? It was far more blunt than she’d intended, but her patience was sorely tried. Besides, it was better to get what was sure to be an objectionable experience over and done with.

She tilted her head when he continued to stand there, looking flabbergasted. “Do you mean to deny it?”

Finally, he blinked and cleared his throat. “I do not.” To this, he added a sniff of disapproval and an aside. “Wolfgang should not have brought you into it.”

Oh, the nerve of the man. “You should not have brought yourself into my family’s affairs.”

“I would beg for the chance to explain.”

Nothing about his tone or appearance lent itself to the notion of begging. He looked as sure of himself as he had when she’d walked into the room. And it was only out of a sense of fairness that Adelaide suppressed the urge to toss him from her home that very instant. Connor and her brother had been given an opportunity to make the accusations. Sir Robert had the right to mount a defense.

“Very well,” she agreed. “If you’ve an explanation to give, I shall listen.”

“Will you sit?”

She took a seat on the settee with reluctance and gave a muffled yelp when something hard poked her in the lower back. A quick reach between the cushions and she retrieved George’s favorite wooden spoon.

Sir Robert stared at it. “Er . . .”

“My nephew fancies himself a percussionist.” She gripped the spoon and silently dared Sir Robert to challenge the explanation. George was not yet two. He fancied digging in the dirt, the occasional foray into his own nose, and hitting things that made noise.

Sir Robert gave a strained smile. “Talented, is he?”

“Quite.” She set the spoon aside. “You were explaining?”

“Right.” He glanced at the spoon again, then away. “Right. It all began shortly after the start of our courtship. You received a small inheritance. A very small . . .” He trailed off at her incredulous look—was there a man in Britain
not
sticking his nose into her business?—and had the decency to look abashed. “Forgive me, I took an interest in the well-being of the woman I intend to marry.”

“You might have expressed that interest by asking instead of prying,” she chided. And, oh, it was gratifying to use that tone of voice with him.

Sir Robert seemed not to hear her. “I was aware that the funds you received were sufficient to pay your brother’s debts.”

“They were.” She’d actually paid two of them before discovering the futility of paying any.

Sir Robert nodded. “I also knew something of your brother, and I knew once he was released there would be nothing to stop him from returning to his old habits. I couldn’t allow that to happen. I did what I thought best.”