Bought for Revenge (7 page)

‘Ah.’ Samuel shook his head and gave a long, despondent sigh. ‘People are apprehensive that because we are retrenching we will not meet our obligations.’

‘Is that all?’ she said, relieved. ‘Everyone is anxious, of course, but they have no cause to be. We shall continue with our present economies for as long as is necessary.’ She saw a look pass between them and was immediately on her guard. ‘What is it? Has something occurred?’

Her father appeared to shrink in his chair, looking very tired.

‘Telford, perhaps you would explain?’

‘Of course, sir.’ The lawyer stood before the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back. ‘Miss Havenham, I called today to inform your father that the mortgage on Oakenroyd has been sold to another party. At present that is all I know. There is no change to the terms, or the interest rates, but I thought it best to forewarn you. Very often, in cases such as this, the new lender will ask for more favourable terms.’

‘But how can this be?’ She looked up, a frown creasing her brow. ‘We have a contract.’

‘As with all such contracts, Miss Havenham, the lender has the right to give notice and increase the rate whenever he wishes.’

‘And what of the borrower’s rights?’ she demanded.

‘The borrower has the right to settle at any time.’

‘Then I suppose we must be prepared to find another lender.’

‘That is what I have been trying to do, Miss Havenham,’ came the solemn reply. ‘The problem is that the mortgage we secured upon Oakenroyd was a very generous one, more than the property is actually worth. I can find no one willing to match it without more security.’

‘Which we cannot give.’

‘Exactly, ma’am.’

‘I had such hopes that the new toll road would be giving us a return by now,’ murmured Samuel. ‘But it is unlikely we shall see any profit on that for another year at least.’

‘Could we sell our subscription?’

Mr Telford shook his head. ‘Alas, I have made enquiries and there is no one willing to buy.’

‘But we must not be too despondent,’ said her father, trying to look cheerful. ‘Telford here is a man of the law and trained to be pessimistic.
We have been told only that the mortgage has changed hands. It may be that the new lender is content to leave things as they are.’

Mr Telford looked sceptical, but when he realised Annabelle was watching him his face became a polite mask. He smiled. ‘It may well be, sir.’

‘G
ood morning, Major. Your morning coffee.’

Lucas yawned and blinked as his man opened the shutters and threw back the curtains around the bed.

‘Damn you, George, take it away again. I’ll get up in an hour!’

George Stebbing took no notice of his master’s angry mutter. During their time in the army they had seen many rough times together and the bond between the two men was stronger than just that of master and servant. Now he stood by the bed, the coffee in his hand.

‘I thought you’d want to get to the manor early today, sir, seeing as how you are engaged to attend the assembly this evening.’

Lucas groaned. ‘Did I really agree to go?’

George chuckled. ‘Aye, sir. You said it would be useful to do the pretty with the local bigwigs.’

‘I must have been foxed.’

‘Very likely,’ agreed George with distressing candour. ‘But best to stay on good terms with your neighbours, get them on your side for when—’

‘Yes, George, that will do!’ Abruptly Lucas sat up and his man held out the coffee cup.

‘I’ve ordered hot water for when you return from the manor, so you can bathe before you get ready for the assembly.’

Bowing to the inevitable, Lucas drank his coffee and thought of all he had to do today. There was a meeting with his builder at the manor, then he had to instruct the gardener he had engaged. Most of the grounds close to the house would be unusable until the building work was finished, but the fellow could make a start by repairing the walls around the kitchen garden and replacing the cold frames. He would also need to make himself familiar with the woodland, where there was a deal of work to be done. Perhaps he would take the man with him to start thinning out the trees in the park. Lucas knew there was no need for him to do any of the work himself, but he liked the physical effort, and he was determined to involve himself in the resurrection
of Morwood Manor. It had been his dream for the past five-and-twenty years.

Lucas returned much later in the day, hot, dirty and tired. He was not looking forward to the evening assembly at the Red Lion, but it was almost an obligation, especially since he was staying at the inn. There could be no excuse for his staying away. Besides, George was right, he needed to be on good terms with these people if he was going to live at Morwood, and when the truth came out, there would be some who would take Havenham’s part. Better to have as many allies at his back as he could before that time.

His thoughts went back to Annabelle. She would most probably be there tonight. It would be the first time they had met for three weeks. Lucas could not deny he had been avoiding her. The lady had shown herself willing to be friends and it would have been very easy to accept Samuel’s invitation to take pot luck at Oakenroyd and pay court to her—after all, that was his plan, was it not? But the deception irked him, it pricked at his conscience. He was no Lothario and it was Samuel Havenham he intended to punish, not his daughter.

Even that was proving difficult enough. Over the years he had envisaged Samuel as a hard, ruthless man, not the gentle scholar who had welcomed
him so warmly to Oakenroyd, and Lucas had to harden his heart against any sympathy. He must not weaken. Justice must be done and he would exact his revenge. Annabelle would suffer as a consequence of that. She would be a casualty of war. Harsh, but it could not be helped. And once he had brought Samuel Havenham to his knees, it would be in Annabelle’s power to save her father from complete ruin. That, surely, must be some comfort to her.

Lucas thrust aside the unpleasant suspicion that it would be no comfort at all.

The Assembly Rooms were already crowded when Annabelle and her father arrived. She had half-expected Mr Keighley to offer his carriage again, but in the end it was Sir John and Lady Rishworth who collected them and promised to see them safely home again afterwards. Belle was wearing her new green muslin embroidered with tiny yellow flowers. She knew the pale colour suited her and brought out a greenish hue in her eyes. She was also pleased at the effect of the yellow ribbon threaded through her curls. She could not compete with Celia and Lizzie when it came to beauty, but she thought she was looking her best and experienced a little thrill of anticipation for the evening ahead.

Sir John carried her father off to the card room
where old Dr Bennett was waiting for them. Belle watched him go without a qualm. Despite the debts he had run up in Harrogate she knew the stakes agreed between the gentlemen of Stanton would be negligible and she could relax as she accompanied Lady Rishworth and Celia into the ballroom, where the country dances were already in progress.

‘The usual complaint, not enough single gentlemen,’ remarked Celia, looking about her. ‘At least, not enough single gentlemen in want of a wife.’ She brightened. ‘But Mr Keighley is here, dancing with Lizzie Scanlon, so you at least will have a partner tonight, Belle!’

Annabelle blushed and disclaimed, but she did hope that Mr Keighley would ask her to be his partner for the next dance. She prayed her smile did not look too forced when he carried Celia off instead, and she was obliged to sit on the benches, her foot tapping to the lively music.

‘So you
are
here, Belle.’ Lizzie Scanlon flopped down in the seat Celia had vacated and fanned herself vigorously. ‘Mama wondered if you might not come tonight, in the circumstances—’

‘What circumstances?’

‘Should I not have said anything?’ Lizzie
frowned slightly. ‘It is all over Stanton that you have had to retrench.’

‘Well, that is no secret,’ said Annabelle. ‘And I see nothing to be ashamed of in the fact that we are living within our means.’

‘Oh, no, no, of course not,’ replied Lizzie hastily. ‘But it has somehow got out that your father is on the verge of ruin and you are going to sell Oakenroyd.’

‘Good heavens, it is not as bad as that!’ exclaimed Annabelle, shocked.

‘Oh.’ Lizzie managed to look relieved and embarrassed at the same time. ‘Well, I am very glad to hear that it is no more than malicious gossip, Annabelle. I beg your pardon, I did not mean to offend.’

Annabelle smiled at her old friend.

‘You did not, Lizzie, and it explains some of the comments I have heard in the town recently.’ And Mrs Ford’s behaviour in presenting her bill so promptly, but Annabelle kept that to herself. ‘I wonder who could have started such a rumour?’

‘I have no idea, but you know how these things spread,’ Lizzie continued with alarming frankness. ‘It could be why Mr Keighley is not so attentive to you this evening. You weren’t engaged to him, were you, Belle?’

‘No, no, of course not.’

Nor likely to be, now, she thought, watching
him stand up for a second dance with Celia Rishworth. Well, she could bear the loss. And it saved her making the decision about whether to accept him.

As the evening progressed there was no shortage of dancing partners for Annabelle. Mr Scanlon led her out for her first dance and he was followed by several other gentlemen, husbands or fathers of her many acquaintances. After a particularly lively jig she was glad to sit out for a while to recover her breath.

Her eyes moved around the room and almost immediately fell upon Lucas Monserrat. He had just come in and was standing by the door, surveying the company. Her heart gave a little flutter. His height was above the average, but it was the width of those powerful shoulders that drew one’s attention. He looked quite magnificent in the dark coat and snowy waistcoat with his black hair brushed back from his brow and gleaming like ebony. With his harsh features and those dark eyes beneath fierce black brows he could not be considered handsome but he was…Stunning, she thought. He quite took her breath away.

His gaze swept the room and she looked down, not wanting him to know she had been watching him. How different she felt now from that first, unfortunate meeting. Then he had
seemed cruel, bent upon humiliating her, but his behaviour since that time had been unexceptional. Lucas. She realised she had been thinking of him as Lucas since he had escorted her home from Stanton three weeks ago. A tremor of self-doubt shook her. That was the last time they had met and she wondered if he, too, was deterred by the rumours of her father’s financial trouble. However, when she looked up again he was crossing the room towards her. Annabelle’s heart lifted.

A bow, a few words and Lucas was leading her on to the dance floor. She forced her hand to rest lightly upon his, but even so she could feel the knotted muscle beneath the sleeve, the coiled strength of the man. She risked a glance at him, noted the contracted brows that gave his face such a harsh look. Could he be nervous attending his first assembly? She felt it her duty to try to put him at his ease.

‘I am so glad you decided to come, Mr Monserrat. These monthly gatherings are the highlight of our social life in Stanton.’

‘It is certainly popular,’ he replied, expertly guiding her through the crowd to take their places.

‘Anyone can buy a ticket, all we ask is that the gentlemen have a good coat and the ladies a suitable gown.’ She looked up at him suddenly.
‘You will find several people here who work for you—Elias Greenwood, for example. I hope that does not make you uncomfortable?’

‘Not in the least, why should it?’

‘I am not sure. I do not feel you are at ease here.’

His brows rose, as if she had caught him out, then he smiled and that disturbing look disappeared.

‘I beg your pardon. My thoughts were elsewhere, which was most impolite of me. Now I am completely at your service.’

The musicians struck up the first notes and the dancing commenced.

‘I—
we
,’ she corrected herself quickly. ‘We have not seen you for a few weeks, Mr Monserrat.’

‘I have been very busy at the Manor.’

‘I thought as much,’ she said, relieved. ‘Is all going well?’

‘Very well, but slowly. Much of the old building is unsafe and needs to be pulled down before we can rebuild. I do not see the house being finished before the spring.’

That did not surprise her. The Manor was in a parlous state. When the dance brought them back together she asked him if he intended to remain at the Red Lion.

‘No, I have other plans.’

She saw again that harsh look descend, but could not think that she had said anything untoward. They finished the movement in silence and she had nothing to do but to concentrate upon her steps. Her partner was an elegant dancer, light on his feet for such a powerful man, and she enjoyed dancing with him, acutely aware of the light clasp of his hand, gently but expertly guiding her through the figures. He was smiling, but it was a society smile, it did not reach his eyes. She thought perhaps she had offended him in some way, although she had no idea how. Her pleasure in the dance was diminished.

They made their final salute and he led her in silence from the dance floor. She spotted her father and Dr Bennett at the side of the room and drew her partner’s attention to the fact. He escorted her to them and bowed politely when her father introduced him to the aged doctor.

‘Monserrat, Monserrat,’ mused Dr Bennett. ‘Not a local name, that.’

‘No, sir.’

‘Pity, thought I knew you from somewhere.’ The doctor stared up at him short-sightedly. ‘You look familiar, though. Remind me of someone…’

‘I do not think so.’ Lucas gave a tight little smile and with a nod he moved off.

Doctor Bennett waved a hand at his departing back.

‘Can’t quite put my finger on it. Ah well, it will come to me eventually, it usually does. I remember the same thing happening at Knaresborough last year.’

‘Ah, Knaresborough,’ declared her father. ‘Such a lively place. Haven’t been there for years. Where did you stay, the George? That used to be the most fashionable hotel…’

Annabelle left her father and his elderly companion to their reminiscences. As she wandered through the ballroom she thought about her dance with Lucas. It seemed at the end that he could not wait to get away from her. Perhaps it was those wicked rumours, after all.

A young man begged her to partner him for the last dance before the interval and she gladly accepted. As they took their places she noted that Lucas was leading out Lizzie Scanlon, whose pale beauty was enhanced by her partner’s dark colouring. Quickly she looked away, shaken by a stab of jealousy. He was free to dance with whomsoever he wished and with the current rumours she thought bleakly that she was fortunate he had sought her hand for even one dance.

Later Annabelle made her way to the refreshment table and found Mr Keighley there, helping himself to a glass of punch. He looked startled when he saw her. Like a trapped rabbit,
she thought angrily, convinced now that he had been avoiding her. She marched up to the table, allowing him no escape, and he was obliged to acknowledge her.

She smiled and held out her glass to be filled.

‘We have not seen you at Oakenroyd recently, Mr Keighley. My father has missed your visits.’

‘Ah.’ His eyes darted swiftly around the room. He looked anywhere rather than directly at her. ‘I have been busy of late. But I should be delighted to keep him company at any time, if you are engaged elsewhere.’

The implication was all too clear. Annabelle drew herself up.

‘You do not need to avoid me, sir,’ she said quietly. ‘Let me assure you that you have aroused no expectations of anything other than friendship between us.’

He relaxed visibly at that and the hunted expression was replaced by a smile.

‘I am heartily relieved to hear you say so, Miss Havenham. It was never my intention to do so, but I was afraid you may have thought…’

She remembered the way he had sought her out, how he had hinted at a union. To see him struggling thus to disclaim was embarrassing and deeply insulting. But if he thought she was penniless she could understand his reluctance to ally himself to her. Now she lifted her chin.

‘You need say no more, Mr Keighley. I understand perfectly. But please feel free to call upon my father at any time. He would appreciate your company.’ After the slightest pause she ended, ‘You have my word I shall not embarrass you.’