Revenge Wears Rubies (39 page)

A male voice bellowed from inside the house, and Michael tried not to smile as the butler winced. “Who the hell is it, Weathers?”

Mr. Weathers altered his strategy quickly. “Won’t you wait inside, sir? I’ll advise the family of your presence.”

Michael stepped in the door, straightening his coat, and offered Mr. Weathers his hat. “That would be fine.”

The butler retreated to carry out his duties, leaving Michael as an unexpected and, for the moment, vastly uncategorized guest to wait in the foyer. To pass the time, Michael instinctively surveyed the house from a defensive point of view and inventoried the objects within view. It was an old habit, and generally useless in the urban homes of merry London, but it kept his mind occupied.

“Mr. Rutherford?” She’d approached him without alerting his senses, and that startled him far more than her quiet voice.

He nodded, looking at her with a new measure of respect. That she was beautiful enough to have enslaved even a man like Galen Hawke was indisputable. But there was more to her than beauty, and Michael was glad for his friend. “Yes. We met at Lady Pringley’s party.”

“Yes, of course. I remember you.” She stepped back, gesturing for him to enter one of the formal sitting rooms off the foyer. “But then, you are a difficult man to forget, Mr. Rutherford. Would you care to come in and take tea?”

He nodded, stepping into the room she’d pointed to. “Yes, that’s very kind of you.” He eyed the delicate legs of the sofa and decided that he’d be better off in one of the sturdy chairs when the moment came. “I should apologize for coming without . . . I am a disaster when it comes to social rituals, Miss Moreland.”

She smiled, ringing the bell for their tea. “I like your plain way of speaking. It’s refreshing to think that you might actually mean what you say, unlike . . . so many others. Would you care to sit?”

“Yes, thank you.” He took the heaviest of the chairs, but even so, settled slowly and carefully to try to avoid an embarrassing bit of destruction. He was simply not built for delicate drawing rooms.

“I hope you’ll forgive me for trying to speak just as plainly, Mr. Rutherford.” She sat across from him, a pale queen in a gown with green flowers over ivory muslin.

“I would be grateful if you would forget all the rules of polite conversation, just for this once. A soldier’s head has a bit of a struggle with all the airy small talk of the day. I had quite a headache after Lady Pringley’s.”

She gave him a sympathetic look, almost admitting that she felt the same way after three minutes in the woman’s presence. But she honored his request and wasted no more time in getting to the question on her mind. “Very well. Why are you here, Mr. Rutherford?”

I like you more and more, Miss Moreland.
“Galen asked me to come.”

“Then”—she stood—“you’ll understand if I ask you to leave. Good day, Mr. Rutherford.”

Michael stood, hoping she didn’t hear the creak of his knee-caps. “He’s left London. Family tragedy is about all I can imagine that would have torn him away, and he was fairly wrecked not to be able to see you again. So, I guess . . . if I’m being shown the door, I’ve passed most of the message along that he charged me with and I’ll leave with a clear conscience.” He made an awkward bow and started to leave. “Good day, Miss Moreland.”

“Wait.” The command was so quiet, he almost missed it, but he turned immediately.

“Yes.”

“What was the rest of the message for—”

“You’ll pardon the interruption.” Lord Moreland came through the doorway, his face red with anxiety. “But unless you’ve come to propose marriage, young man . . .” He trailed off, giving Michael a hopeful look.

“No!” Michael answered in shock. “No, your lordship!”

“Father!” Haley’s shock was equally apparent.

“Well, if he’s not come to court, then I’m afraid you’ll have to ask your guest to leave, Haley.” He gave her a look that forbade her to ask a single question or make any additional protests. “Now!”

“Mr. Rutherford, I’m so sorry, but if you would be so kind. Perhaps another day—”

“Yes, yes, another day!” her father echoed, leading them out toward the front door, rushing the giant man’s exit as best as he could.

Michael barely managed to utter a word of farewell before the front door closed firmly in his face and he found himself exactly where he’d started, standing on Moreland’s steps unsure of what to do next.

He retreated, but with every intention of keeping track of the family and seeing if he could discover what was going on. He would do it for Galen. He only hoped he wasn’t going to be the one to send him another bit of tragic news.

“What’s happened? How could you be so horrible to a complete stranger?” Haley was mystified. Of all her father’s faults, she’d never known him to be so abrupt and—odd. “H-have you been drinking?”

“No,” he answered, “although if I had been, I’m sure even you wouldn’t blame me.” He moved to the windows and quickly began to pull all the draperies closed. “We’re leaving London immediately. It’s over.”

“It’s . . . over?” Haley asked, just as the sound of slamming cupboards and doors became evident in the rooms above, as if every servant were running around to pack them out of a burning house. “I don’t understand.”

“Just know, first of all, that I don’t blame you. But we are out of time, my dear. I have received the worst of news from my solicitors. My debts are going to be called in, with warrants issued, and we must return to our estates immediately unless you’d like to visit me in a pauper’s prison.” He sank down in the chair just recently vacated by Mr. Rutherford, his face in his hands. “I’m ruined.”

Haley moved to kneel before him, doing her best to soothe him, but also to understand how things had suddenly become so dire. “Father, there now. I know we have debts, but surely we can negotiate and retrench. Things are difficult but it’s not as if we’re—”

“Beggars?” He dropped his hands to look at her, the color in his face deepening. “We will be soon if I’ve the hand on the rudder! I’m a fool, Haley. Your father is a fool, drunk or sober, and I’m sorry for it.”

“How can you say that? You’re not a fool!”

“I am! I borrowed that money from Trumble and I thought if I got into a wonderful scheme, I could make it all back and more. I wanted to take the burden off of you to marry without affection! I wanted to provide for my family and be the valiant hero that saves the day and restores our honor.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” she said softly, the dawning horror of where his tale was going robbing her of breath.

“Well, it’s gone! Every last penny! One bungled investment after another, and everything I’d hoped to avoid has come to my doorstep sooner rather than later, my dear girl. And these aren’t friends to wait for their payment! I lost the last of our reserves, and now if I’m caught in the city . . .” He started to cry into his hands. “I’m a failure! Thank heavens your mother is not here to see me like this!”

Haley stood slowly, old habits dying hard. She would see to the family and do whatever needed to be done for their survival. She squared her shoulders and let the last of her dreams die. “Enough of that, Father! Let’s get you upstairs and get your trunks packed. I’ll ask Weathers to see to it and send immediately for a carriage to be pulled around to the servants’ entrance.”

She walked to the bellpull to give it two firm tugs. “We can leave more discreetly from there.”

She left him and went out into the hall to intercept Mrs. Biron, who was flush with the sudden activity of the house and obviously already aware of their need for a quick departure. “Mrs. Biron, please tell the maids to pack only what we came with. Any gifts or acquisitions during the Season can be left behind and sorted out later. But all my dresses and every bolt of cloth and sundries, I want them sent separately and safely out of this house before we go. I’ll write down the address where they’re to be sent. And of course, please inform the staff that we are not at home for anyone who comes to call. Lock the doors and see to it, won’t you?”

“Yes, Miss.” Mrs. Biron nodded. “Your aunt is upstairs doing her best to direct the maids.”

“I’ll also help.” She started up the stairs, but hesitated on the first riser. “Mrs. Biron, call for a carriage for my father at the servants’ entrance and send him ahead. A small overnight case of a few traveling essentials should do for him, and I’ll see to the rest of the household. But I want him out of London within the next half hour.”

“Yes, Miss Moreland. I will see to it.”

Haley turned back and continued calmly up the stairs, as if organizing hurried flights from their debtors were an everyday occurrence.
So much for worrying about what the servants will say! Let us just hope they’re loyal enough to help us successfully escape with clothes on our backs. Thank Providence the house and lands are entailed away, but there will be no income to speak of and I’ll have to begin to think of creative ways to keep us afloat or we’ll starve in the comfort of our own home.

Her heart ached at a sudden memory of Galen, standing at her back. And a longing for his strong arms around her, to make her feel shielded and safe, nearly choked her. Even after everything he’d done, she couldn’t wish him ill. Losing Galen had been the cruelest blow of all, and made all the rest petty and fleeting.

Chapter
27

The rain fell in relentless sheets, and had turned most of the roads into treacherous and muddy courses more suited to stopping travel than anything else. Galen pulled the oilcloth of his riding coat a little tighter and ducked his head against the wind. He’d abandoned his own carriage several miles back, but had come too far to lose any more time in his quest to reach Haley.

It had been weeks since he’d been forced to leave London to head home, and Galen could only pray that he wasn’t too late. Michael had sent word that Lord Moreland and his family had left London within a day of his own departure, retreating in haste due to some financial difficulties. It had caused a few tongues to wag about this unfortunate turn of events, especially since Miss Moreland had appeared to be so promising at the start of her Season. Now she was portrayed by the press with some speculation, having thrown off a perfectly good match, plunging her family into destitution. The anonymous reporter had asked if she had taken leave of her senses or was, in fact, a heartless and selfish girl to defy her father’s direction.

All rubbish, but it made for good reading for the gossips, and Galen had been forced to accept that he’d managed to publicly ruin her, after all.

His horse’s gait faltered, and Galen immediately dismounted to assess him. He ran gentle hands down the animal’s front leg, wincing as he realized his horse was going lame. Galen shook his head and lowered the animal’s hoof gently. “We’re not having a good journey, Chaucer, old boy, but I’d say it’s no less than I deserve.” He patted his mount’s neck. “You, on the other hand, are wondering why you couldn’t have stayed with the carriage, aren’t you my friend?”

The stallion whinnied softly, apparently agreeing.

“Well, she may not let me in the door, but we’ll see about getting you some shelter.” Galen rearranged the reins to let him lead his mount. “Come on, the weather won’t improve with talking.”