Celeste Bradley - [Heiress Brides 03] (29 page)

“Which you stole.” Phoebe’s tone didn’t accuse. She merely sought confirmation of fact.

Sadie nodded. “Which I stole. And spent to come here to London and play the part of Sophie Blake.”

Deirdre nodded. “I like it. A clean, simple plan. Those are the best.”

Phoebe turned to look at her. “Deirdre!”

Deirdre shrugged. “What? I told you I couldn’t hold on to a good mad.”

“It was a simple plan,” agreed Sadie. “Especially since I had no intention of vying for a duke. All I did was take money from a girl who didn’t need it anymore. It was only a ticket to London and perhaps some new life other than unpaid servitude to a woman who could care less if I lived or died. Theft, yes, but since I still have most of it, I’d be happy to give it back to Tessa.”

Deirdre waved a hand. “Don’t bother. It wasn’t hers. It was parceled out by Stickley and Wolfe as per the will.”

“Right. Of course.” Sadie smoothed the skirts of the pink silk she’d chosen to be her wedding gown. “I journeyed to Primrose Street to live with you all there.”

“And you met Graham.” Phoebe’s wise, sky-blue eyes met hers in sympathy. “And fell in love.”

Unexpectedly, Sadie’s hot, dry eyes filled. She pressed both hands to her face, forcing the tears back. There was no use crying as if she hadn’t done all of this to herself with her eyes wide open.

“I wanted to win the inheritance for Graham,” she said dully. “So that I could have him and he could save his people. I never thought to even try before then. It simply wasn’t for me.”

She lifted her face and gazed at them without the slightest pretense. “I’m not sorry I lied. I’m sorry I hurt you, but my alternative was to rot in servitude for the rest of my life, not even able to save a few pennies, always fearing that I was about to be thrown out without pension or references. It was better to risk all than to continue thus.”

“I should say so!” Deirdre declared stoutly. “I’d like to give that Mrs. Blake a piece of my mind right now!”

“And we had no idea that Edencourt was so badly off, did we, Dee?” Phoebe shook her head. “Those poor people.”

“I don’t think Graham realized it either, until he got his hands on the estate records. He blames himself so, thinking that every coin he tossed away on shallow entertainments stole the bread out of some child’s mouth.”

“Well . . . but it did,” Phoebe said slowly. “And now he must live with what he’s done. And so must you.”

Sadie straightened. “I know that. Graham had one chance to change everything and I stole it from him.”

Deirdre laughed out loud. “Sadie, are you under the impression that Graham Cavendish is some sort of innocent
victim?
” She shook her head. “Any guilt he might be feeling, he’s certainly earned the right to it.”

Phoebe nodded. “I’m assuming that you weren’t alone in that bed last night.”

“What?” Sadie blinked. “How did you—”

Phoebe smiled. “I was guessing, but it looks like I was spot on.” She glanced at Deirdre. “You owe me a bonnet and two reticules.”

Deirdre stuck out her hand absently. Phoebe shook it with satisfaction. Sadie crinkled her brow. “You’re betting on Graham?”

“On you, actually,” Deirdre said. “I told Phoebe you’d have him by the time the Season ended. She wagered you’d never take that long!”

Sadie looked at Phoebe. “Thank you . . . I think.”

Phoebe stood. “Sadie, go upstairs and go to bed.” She held up a hand when Sadie started to protest. “Don’t be an idiot. You may not be our cousin, but you saved Deirdre’s life and you’ve been a good friend to me. We aren’t going to toss you out on the street over a little matter of twenty thousand pounds.”

“Twenty-eight thousand pounds,” Deirdre corrected. “At last count. Those solicitors must be feeding that account the good oats.”

Stunned, Sadie let herself be directed up to her old room. A tray with more steaming tea awaited her and, yes, a steaming bath as well.

It wasn’t over yet. Fortescue brought a summons from the Marquis, as soon as she had freshened up.

Her wedding day had lasted a year at least. Exhausted and drained, she bathed in silence, drank the tea and changed into the simplest Lementeur frock she had.

SADIE HAD NOT
been looking forward to facing the powerful and influential Marquis of Brookhaven or his fiercely protective half-brother Lord Raphael. Lying to the women loved by men such as these had surely been one of her more foolish mistakes.

She raised her chin and entered the marquis’s study in a swinging stride that was nothing like Sophie’s shamble or Sofia’s saunter. “Good afternoon, my lords.”

Calder was seated behind his giant desk. He did not rise, but only gazed at her for a long moment. “She’s still here,” he said to his brother, who stood next to him with a scowl on his face and his arms folded.

Rafe nodded. “I can see that. What I don’t see is why your butler ever let her in your house.”

Calder quirked a brow. “I’ve been meaning to have a word with Fortescue about that.”

“Be there somethin’ I can do for ye, my lord?”

Sadie didn’t jump when Fortescue appeared at her elbow, apparently called to materialize from the ether by the very murmuring of his name. Sadie was quite used to the butler’s penchant for eavesdropping—and she had noted him lingering in the hall before she’d entered the study.

What she hadn’t expected was to hear the dignified and somber fellow speak to his master with a pitch-perfect Irish accent. She didn’t turn to look at him, thank heaven, or she would have missed Calder’s priceless reaction.

The mighty marquis gazed at his loyal manservant as if the man had insanely burst into song. Lord Raphael slid the fingers of one hand over his lips as he watched his brother, but his twinkling brown eyes betrayed his laughter. He and Sadie exchanged a reluctantly amused glance as Calder sputtered.

“B—er, really . . . what?”

Fortescue only gazed at the marquis with cool expectation. In response, Calder seemed to feel as though he were required not to notice anything amiss. If his reaction was laughable, his throat-clearing, panicked attempt to do just that was nigh unto hysterical. “Er, yes, well . . .” He gazed desperately over Fortescue’s right shoulder. “That will be all, Fortescue.”

Sadie gave up and laughed out loud. What difference did it make when the marquis was surely about to have her tossed from the house, duchess or no?

Rafe openly snickered as Fortescue left the study with his dignity unmarred. “That point went to the butler, I believe, Calder.”

Calder wiped his hand over his face. “Is he Irish? I didn’t know.”

Sadie gazed at him in speculation. “Does that matter to you, my lord?”

Calder blinked. “Eh? Oh, no, not as such. It was simply so . . .
bizarre
. It was as though my horse
erupted into French curses.” He shook his head. “I wonder what else I don’t know about the man?”

If Sadie was not mistaken, what Calder didn’t know was that his faithful household manager was about to take himself off after a certain fleeing housemaid. Still, it wasn’t her business to say. She had her own worries at the moment.

She folded her arms and gazed at the two men before her. It suddenly occurred to her that she outranked them both. Poor she might be and currently unsure of precisely what lay in store for her, but she was legally and most securely the Duchess of Edencourt. With that thought in mind, she tilted her head and smiled more brightly than she felt. The two men blinked as if blinded by a bright light. Why did people keep doing that?

“I have just left the marchioness and her ladyship,” she said congenially. “They seem quite happy with the both of you.”

Calder and Rafe shook off their bedazzlement.

“I should hope so,” muttered Rafe.

Calder looked at her speculatively. “You look very different, Miss Blake.”

Sadie tossed her head. “I can’t imagine why, Mr. Marbrook.”

A twitch at the corner of his lips was Calder’s only reaction to her heavy-handed correction. Rafe behaved somewhat better. He bowed deeply. “My apologies, Your Grace.” Then he grinned at her, very much the old Rafe. “You look smashing, Sophie.”

“Why thank you, my lord.” She curtseyed. “But my given name is Sadie.”

“Rafe, don’t be drawn in.” Calder’s gaze was still cool. “This woman has lied to us all.”

Sadie nodded calmly. “Indeed I have, although I assure you it was out of no desire to profit from you in any way.”

“Truly?” Calder raised a brow. “Yet you moved into my house in my absence and apparently you’ve done something mystifying to my butler.”

Sadie shook her head, her smile turning wry. “That part wasn’t me. I blame that on a different redhead altogether.”

“Ah.” Rafe grasped it immediately. “The poor sod.”

Calder looked sour. “I wish someone would explain it to me.” He held up a hand. “Later. At the moment, I would like to know why I shouldn’t toss Miss Bl—Lady Edencourt into the street.”

Sadie continued to smile. He really was a dear man. So protective of Deirdre—as if a spitfire like Deirdre needed such a defender! “You may try,” she said sweetly.

Rafe held up both hands in surrender. “That tears it. She must be related.”

Sadie gazed at him fondly as well. “Only in spirit, I fear.” Then she frowned. “Although . . . if Tessa is stepmother and cousin to Graham, then . . .” She blinked. “I
am
family!” Was that right? “Hmm. Well, perhaps not.”

“Close enough for us!” Deirdre came to stand beside Sadie, facing down her husband. “Isn’t that right, Phoebe?”

Phoebe entered and took up position on the opposite flank. “Absolutely.”

Calder and Rafe gazed at the three of them, posing with identical arch expressions and folded arms. An unassailable fortress of feminine clout.

Rafe swore under his breath. “We’re outgunned, old man.”

Calder scowled. “Don’t cave so quickly.”

Rafe shook his head. “Outgunned, outnumbered and frankly, out of enthusiasm.” He shrugged. “I
like
Sadie.”

Calder harrumphed. “I never said I didn’t.” He gave it one last try. “Deirdre, you must think of Meggie! Do you really want to expose her to someone you don’t know the first thing about?”

Phoebe shook her head. “Ouch, Calder. That wasn’t wise.”

From behind their skirts, a smaller, slightly grubbier version of female ferocity came stomping to the fore. Meggie took a stand in front of Sadie, her arms folded and her snapping brown eyes fixed on her father. “Papa, be
nice
. Sadie has had a very hard day.”

Sadie felt her steel melt just a bit, leaving her with a tremble in her belly that just might turn into tears. She dropped her pose to drift one hand over Meggie’s jet-dark hair. “Thank you, Nutmeg. I was afraid you were angry with me.”

Meggie twisted her neck to look up at her. “Sadie, you had to lie. You were an orphan.
I
know what it’s like when no one wants you.”

That did it. Calder went down like a felled tree. “But Meggie . . .” His face looked ready to crumple. “I always wanted you! I just didn’t . . . I didn’t know what to do . . .”

Deirdre snickered and Phoebe cleared her throat. Sadie had to smile.

Rafe shook his head. “Brother, you didn’t stand a chance.”

Meggie looked at her father with sympathy, a kindly conqueror regarding a devastated enemy. “It’s all right, Papa. I know you want me
now
.”

Sadie thought Calder might cry. She patted Meggie on the head. “That’s enough, pet. Let the poor man come up for air.”

Phoebe smiled. “It’s settled then. Sadie may stay as long as she likes.”

Rafe smiled back at his wife as if he had no choice but to do so. Likely he didn’t, smitten as he was. “I’m glad we’ve resolved that, but what of Graham? From what we heard, he’s in serious trouble with his estate.”

Calder seemed to be recovering, for he nodded regretfully. “I’d be happy to help monetarily but I don’t think Graham would take it. I know I wouldn’t.”

“Food,” Sadie suggested quickly. “You can send food to the cottagers. He’ll accept that, I know he will.”

Phoebe’s eyes brightened. “Oh, yes, that’s marvelous. Even an idiot man can’t turn down food for the children.”

Rafe looked offended. “Oy!”

Phoebe waved a hand affectionately. “I didn’t mean you, darling. You’re hardly ever an idiot man anymore.”

Rafe didn’t seem all too sure he’d been complimented. “Er . . . thank you?”

Calder was gazing at Sadie in speculation. “Perhaps you’ll do, after all,” he murmured.

Sadie saw the gaze and raised him one eyebrow. “Perhaps you’ll do, as well.”

Deirdre clapped her hands. “Swords
down
, I say!”

Abruptly, Sadie felt every moment of her “very hard day.” Her head pounded and her body ached from too many hours’ unaccustomed riding and from . . . well,
Graham
. She raised a hand to one cheek. “Thank you all for your concern,” she said. “But I’ll only be staying long enough to gather my things . . .” The room seemed to tilt just a bit. It seemed like weeks since she’d slept.

Meggie peered up at her. “Are you going to faint? Because if you are, you should be sure to stand next to a sofa or something.”

Deirdre put a supporting arm about her. “Calder, look what you’ve done!”

Calder gaped. “But . . . I . . .”

Phoebe came to her side. “Rafe, get some water!” Rafe took off at a run.

Then Fortescue was there. “Her Grace’s room is ready. There’s a bath waiting and I’ll send up a tray at once.”

Sadie, who in the last day had been loved, accused, wed, abandoned and now, at last, embraced, allowed herself to be ushered upstairs and put to bed like a child by the closest thing to a family she had ever known.

The whiskey tasted like piss. Graham glared suspiciously at the decanter. What had Nichols been up to?

Frustrated and edgy, he threw the decanter into the hearth of his study. It shattered on the bricks, the whisky flaring in a momentary explosion of blue flame.

That decanter was fine crystal. You could have put food on someone’s table for a month!

When had his inner voice become female—and always right?