The Arrangement (12 page)

A roar erupted from the throat of Albert Cole.

Harriet screamed.

My first thought was:
“Son of Abigail and Thomas Saunders” Thank God!

“I won’t stand for it! Do you hear me, Savile?” Mr. Cole roared. “That’s
my
money and I won’t have it given away to any of Devane’s by-blows!”

“I can assure you that I have no trouble hearing you, my dear Cole,” Savile returned acidly. “In fact, you are in danger of permanently damaging my eardrums. Do please moderate your voice.”

My second thought was:
Twenty thousand pounds!

“I won’t see a penny of my money given to that witch’s bastard!” Harriet screamed.

“Twenty thousand pounds
is
a huge amount of money to give away from the estate,” Lord Devane said. “Is it within George’s gift, Mr. Middleman?”

“Yes it is, my lord,” the solicitor returned bluntly. “It is not money from the estate at all. It came from the money settled upon his lordship by Mr. Cole at the time of his marriage to her ladyship.”

Albert Cole had evidently paid highly to get a baron for his daughter.

“And that’s why it ain’t going to his bastard!” Mr. Cole boomed.

Mr. Middleman said sharply, “Lord Devane has made no claim of parentage to this boy, Mr. Cole. In fact, he goes out of his way to name him as the son of Mr. and Mrs. Saunders.”

“You can’t bamboozle me!” Mr. Cole shouted. His face had become alarmingly red. “There’s only one reason Devane is giving money to this brat and that’s because it’s
his
brat!”

“Papa is right!” Harriet screeched.

I looked at the scene before me with comfortable detachment. Both of the Coles had open mouths and puce faces. Lady Regina looked bemused and was speaking to Lord Devane, who was scowling. I glanced up at the earl’s face and my eyes widened.

He was angry.

“That is quite enough.”

His voice sliced through the room like a sword, creating instant quiet.

He stood up.

“Mrs. Saunders is a guest in my home and I will not have her slandered.”

There was something in his voice that sent a shiver down my spine. I wasn’t surprised when the Coles shut their mouths.

The earl turned to look at the lawyer, who was standing behind the desk. “If I understand you correctly, Middleman, the money that my cousin has bequeathed to Nicholas Saunders was his by law to leave as he chose.”

“That is correct, my lord,” the little solicitor replied.

The earl turned next to regard Albert Cole. “That money was legally settled upon my cousin at the time of his marriage to your daughter, sir. It is not your money. It has not been your money since the marriage settlements were signed.”

Albert Cole twitched.

“I do not ever wish to hear you refer to Nicholas Saunders as a bastard again. Do I make myself clear?”

Albert Cole stared back at Savile. It was perfectly clear to me that he wanted to argue with the earl but was afraid. I didn’t know how Savile was doing it; no one thought that he would physically harm Mr. Cole. Nevertheless, there was no doubt that Albert Cole was thoroughly intimidated.

“Yes, my lord,” he mumbled grudgingly.

Since the situation had suddenly become so dramatic, I decided that now was a good time to make my own announcement.

“There is no need for anyone to fret about Lord Devane’s twenty thousand pounds,” I said. “I am not going to accept it.”

“What!” said Lady Regina. “Are you mad, Mrs. Saunders?”

Probably,
I thought glumly.

“Why on earth would you do such a thing?” Lord Devane said in amazement, peering around Savile to get a look at me.

The earl sighed and sat down.

“She’s only saying that,” Harriet announced. “No one would refuse twenty thousand pounds.”

Albert Cole glared at me suspiciously but, still intimidated by Savile, didn’t say anything.

“I have no idea why Lord Devane should make such a provision for my son,” I said firmly. “I am going to refuse it because it leads other people to make incorrect assumptions.”

Here Lady Regina’s brown gaze fell away from my face. Obviously it was not only the Coles who had been making those assumptions.

“I
am perfectly able to take care of my own son,” I finished grandly. “I refuse to accept Lord Devane’s legacy.”

Stunned silence descended upon the room.

It was Savile who finally broke it. “If I understand the terms of the will correctly, Middleman,” he said mildly, “the legacy was not left to Mrs. Saunders.”

“You are indeed correct, my lord. The legacy was specifically left to Mr.
Nicholas
Saunders.”

I stared at the lawyer suspiciously. “Are you saying that I cannot refuse it?”

“That is precisely what we are saying,” Savile replied.

I turned my head to glare at him. “But I don’t want it!”

He bent his head a little and said in a soft voice, for my ears only, “It will provide for Nicky’s schooling, Gail.”

I was so furious that I didn’t even notice that “Gail.”

“I am saving money for Nicky’s schooling. I do not want to touch a penny of that money, Savile.”

“If the woman don’t want the money, then don’t give it to her,” boomed Mr. Cole.

Now that Savile’s attention was on me, he had recovered his courage.

Everyone ignored him.

“You have no choice, Mrs. Saunders,” the little lawyer explained to me with commendable patience. “The money is not intended for you but for your son. You do not have the right to refuse it.”

“Very well. I’ll take it and then I’ll give it away,” I said recklessly.

Mr. Cole groaned loudly.

Harriet shrieked.

Lord Devane said with amusement, “This place is fast becoming like a circus.”

Mr. Middleman said, “The money is not yours to administer, Mrs. Saunders. Until Nicholas reaches the age of twenty-one, that responsibility has been given to the Earl of Savile.”

* * * *

I sat in silence as the rest of George’s will was read. It didn’t take very long. The bulk of his personal fortune, about thirty thousand pounds, was left to Harriet and their daughters, Maria, Frances, and Jane.

When Mr. Middleman had finished, I rose, intending to retreat upstairs to my room so that I could think. Savile put a hand under my elbow, however, and said quietly, “Come along to my office, Gail. I want to talk to you.”

This time I did notice the “Gail.”

We walked through the Long Gallery, the family dining room, the formal dining room, the drawing room, the music room, the Great Hall, and the withdrawing room, until finally we were in the room that the earl called his office. It was far less grand than the other rooms I had thus far seen, and I had the distinct impression that this was a place where work was indeed done. The big, old oak desk was covered with papers, all neatly arranged in piles, and several ledger books reposed on what looked like an old refectory table set against a simply paneled wall.

A green velvet sofa was placed at right angles to the fireplace, and the earl guided me to sit upon it. He sat next to me.

I stared at my hands, which were clasped tensely in my lap. “I don’t want that money, Savile,” I said.

“Is the good opinion of other people more important to you than this chance to secure your son’s future?” he said.

My head snapped up. “Do you really think I care what other people might think of me?” I said bitterly, staring defiantly into his eyes. “Think for a moment, Savile. Can you tell me how I am to explain to Nicky that a man who is a perfect stranger has left him such a huge sum of money? He might not question it now; he’s only eight. But as he grows older he will question it, and I don’t want that to happen.”

The golden eyes looked gravely back into mine.

“Yes,” he said after a minute. “I see what you mean.”

Hope flickered in my heart. “Then you will allow me to refuse the inheritance?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. Suddenly, all my senses were acutely conscious of him, sitting at a respectable distance from me on the sofa, but still much too close.

He said, “What if I find a way to give the money to Nicky without him ever knowing that it came from George?”

But I would know it came from George,
I thought.

“No,” I said in a hard voice. “I don’t want it.”

He leaned toward me, compelling me with the extraordinary power of his physical nearness. “Let it go, Gail,” he said softly. “Whatever wrong George may have done to you, let it go. Take the money for Nicky.”

I shook my head. “You don’t know,” I said. “You don’t understand.”

“You won’t be punishing George by refusing to take his money,” Savile said reasonably. “You will be punishing Nicky.”

I jumped to my feet and backed away from him until I fetched up against the desk on the opposite side of the fire from the sofa.

“I will never forgive that man,” I said. “Never! And I will not take a penny of his money.”

Slowly Savile rose to his feet. He did not move away from the sofa, however, and when he spoke his voice sounded oddly flat. “You look like a piece of delicate porcelain, but you’re as adamant as rock, aren’t you?”

I met his eyes challengingly. “No, I’m not delicate, my lord. I can’t afford to be delicate. I’ve learned to survive on my own, and I am going to continue to do just that. I have no need for George’s blood money; I can provide for my son myself.”

“Blood money?”
he said.

I could feel my nostrils quiver with tension. I had said too much already. I shook my head, turned my shoulder to him, and did not answer.

The silence between us lasted for what seemed a very long time. Then he said, “Very well. If at any time you change your mind about this, let me know. Otherwise I will hold the money in trust for Nicky until he is twenty-one.”

I started to protest, then closed my lips. It would be many more years until Nicky turned twenty-one, I thought I would deal with the problem of George’s legacy then.

The remainder of my stay at Savile Castle passed in an uneventful and civilized manner. The Coles, apparently still swayed by fear of Savile, were subdued at dinner, and once more I retired to my room early, although with a much easier mind than I’d had the night before.

The worst had not happened. George had confirmed Tommy and me as Nicky’s parents, and I was free to go home to my son and pretend that I had simply been looking at a stallion.

Life would go on as usual.

* * * *

And so it did.

February passed, then March and part of April. I was beginning to think that Savile had forgotten his promise to let me breed Maria to one of his stallions when I received a communication from him that he would be arriving at Deepcote in two days’ time to help me take Maria to his stud near Epsom.

I had never expected to see Savile himself. If he had remembered his promise at all, I had fully expected him to send a groom.

I did not at all like the excitement that jolted through me at the thought of meeting him again.

Don’t be a fool, Gail,
I told myself firmly.
Savile is probably coming because he wants to keep an eye on Nicky.

He is just the sort of man who will feel obligated by that absurd will of George’s. He most certainly is not coming to see you.

I did my best to put all thoughts of Savile from my mind, but this proved rather difficult as Nicky talked about nothing else until the afternoon when the earl arrived at Deepcote.

I was working with a client in the paddock behind the stable when I heard Nicky shouting, “Mama, Mama! His lordship is here!”

The man I was longeing on Sampson turned and gave me a startled look. “Pay no attention to Nicky, Mr. Watson,” I commanded. “Concentrate on what you are doing.”

Samuel Watson took a deep breath and nodded.

Sampson’s trot had begun to lag a little and I clicked to encourage him to step forward.

“Up—down—up—down—up—down,” I counted. “That’s the way, Mr. Watson,” I approved as my student rose and fell to the rhythm of Sampson’s trot. “Try to keep your legs under you. That’s very good.”

I had found that teaching new riders to post to the trot on the longe line was the best way to help them find their balance and feel the motion of the horse. Consequently I was standing in the middle of the paddock, with the longe line in one hand and a long whip in the other, while Sampson went around me in a big circle. As I turned with Sampson and Sam Watson, I saw Savile come around the corner of the stable and approach the paddock.

I rotated away from him.

“Look down, Mr. Watson,” I said. “Can you see your toes?”

“Yes,” came the breathless reply.

“Then your legs are too far forward. Move them back.”

Mr. Watson moved his legs back.

“Straighten your shoulders. Try not to hunch forward.”

Mr. Watson’s shoulders came back. He sat up straighter. He continued to post to the motion of Sampson’s trot.

“Excellent!” I said with sincerity. “You are one of my best students, Mr. Watson.”

The tense, concentrated face of my client broke into a quick smile.

The lesson was finished fifteen minutes later, and I held Sampson while Mr. Watson dismounted the way I had taught him, then the two of us walked toward the stable and the Earl of Savile, who was standing outside the paddock fence, watching us.

He was hatless, his dark gold hair bared to the spring sun. I had forgotten how tall he was.

“I am very glad to see you, my lord,” I said with a smile I tried to make merely pleasant. “May I introduce Mr. Samuel Watson to you?” I looked at Mr. Watson. “Mr. Watson, this is the Earl of Savile.”

I saw Sam Watson’s blue-gray eyes flicker with surprise. He had not made a fortune in the city, however, by giving away his feelings. “A pleasure to meet you, m’lord,” he said with dignity.

Savile let a small silence fall as he looked down at my client from the other side of the fence. Then, “Mr. Watson,” he replied in a voice that was definitely frosty.