The Genuine Article (23 page)

The marquess appeared to be losing his patience. "I could have wished the same, my lady, but the point is that the entailment inventory lists all prior jewelry. It is quite obvious from the portraits in the gallery that the necklace has been in the family for a long period of time. A valuable piece like that would go a long way toward restoring this estate. You would be assured a home for a lifetime were I to turn this into a profitable estate again."

Montague had seen the look currently on Lady Grace's face on her daughter before. He did not wish to hear what would come next and intervened in the escalating argument.

"That necklace would save Lady Grace's home and give her an income for life. There are more valuables in this blasted mausoleum than she could collect in a lifetime. Sell some of them if you are in need of funds."

The marquess turned him a wary look. "I think we need to leave the ladies alone. They will have no interest in our discussion of business and settlements. If you will excuse us?" He stood up and bowed to the dowager.

Marian wondered what would happen if she told them both to take a flying leap off the nearest cliff. She had as much interest in settlements as they did. It was her life they were dictating.

Since it was quite obvious that her cousin could not provide anything for her, she had hoped that Montague might be persuaded to settle an allowance on her. She wasn't at all certain that the American would even think about that. He must, or there would be nothing for her mother and sister if he decided to abandon the estate and return home.

Montague must have seen the rebellion in her eyes. He caught her hand, raised it to his lips, and murmured, "Trust me," before releasing her.

It was the first command he had given her. They were fatal last words if she had ever heard them, but she had promised to try to obey.

Marian looked resigned as she watched them depart. She had promised to trust a man who had lost her only valuable and who had seduced her away from his best friend. What was the phrase Darley had told her the American had used? She had "bats in her belfry."

* * *

Darley had retired to the stable to nurse his aching heart. He hadn't really believed Reginald would do this to him, but he had seen the way Lady Marian had looked at his friend after she had been so thoroughly kissed. There wasn't any way he could pretend she was anything else but enamored of a man who was by all accounts a good deal more dashing and handsome than Darley could ever hope to be. He would have to go in and wish her well as soon as he could force his tongue around the words.

Perhaps it wasn't his heart that had been hurt so much as his pride. He had thought he had caught a rare diamond, and he had been feeling very good about himself. There were other wealthier and better looking gentlemen out there who Marian could have set her cap for, but she had chosen him. She had listened to his ramblings with interest, and had made him feel respected and important. Now he supposed that had all been a ploy to attract Reginald's attention.

He sighed and kicked the dirty straw. The place needed a good groom. He'd like to get his hands on that valet of Montague's. He had a feeling the scamp was somehow behind all this. He'd like to throttle the thief.

Blaming someone else for his problems wouldn't solve them, however. His mother had been expecting a wedding. He would have to go back and tell her it was off. He'd rather go to Scotland and throw himself into a loch. He had been prepared to marry Marian despite her indifference rather than face his mother without a bride. Now he didn't know what to do.

He heard a cooing sound from one of the far stalls. Frowning, Darley shoved the barn doors open until a ray of sunlight cut through the center of darkness. A pigeon ought to let itself out, he thought, but there was no flutter of wings.

He followed the path of sunlight deeper into the barn. The cooing noise had become soft murmurs. Indistinct at first, they became clearer as he approached the last stall. A smile tipped his lips as he leaned over the gate.

A fair-haired enchantress sat curled upon the straw, stroking a lap full of furry, playful kittens, completely oblivious to the streaks of dirt on her cheeks or the appearance of her gown as the kittens attempted to climb it. She was talking to the animals, a good deal more contentedly than he had ever heard her speak in public.

Darley nervously cleared his throat. She was beautiful and he was not. One of the reasons he had dared speak to Marian had been because she looked so much like himself. But Miss Oglethorp was the kind of shining blonde that he had never hoped to attain. But then, he had never seen a diamond of the first water sitting in a bed of straw with a lap full of kittens, either.

She gave a start of surprise, then looked around to see him. With a shy smile, she glanced back to her kittens. "Lord Darley, the marquess said I might have whichever one I wished, but how can one possibly choose? They all seem so perfect to me."

Thinking very much that there might be a moral in that dilemma somewhere, Darley crouched beside her and picked up the tiniest, ugliest kitten clinging to her hem. "I would choose this one."

She glanced at him in surprise. "Would you? Why?"

He curled the kitten in his hand next to his lapel and listened to it purr. "Because he's the one most in need of loving."

Chapter 19

"That fellow Montague says the paintings are just beginning to gain value, that they'll increase in worth every year, and the Ming vases—whatever in hell they are—are worth a fortune already. He seems to think there is a goldmine in damned gewgaws around here, if we can figure which aren't on the inventory. Do you think he really knows his stuff?"

Michael juggled three silver spoons and watched them whirl and catapult back and forth before making them disappear. He seemed more interested in his practice than in his brother.

"I followed him to his shop once," he said, pulling the spoons from various places amidst his attire. He was currently occupying the butler's quarters on the lower floor, since there was no butler. "It was packed with shiny, valuable looking things, and he was doing a steady trade. He's made his blunt knowing something."

"You're beginning to talk like a bloody damned Englishman," the marquess muttered, straddling an uncomfortable chair.

"I talk like the people around me. It's one of the tricks of the trade." Michael began juggling the spoons again, only this time there were four.

"I wish you'd juggle us out of this one. Montague is convinced we have the necklace and that he can get out of marrying our cousin if we'll just return it. I don't like this business of playing lord of the manor. I want them all to just go back where they came from and leave me to the business of righting this place."

Michael shrugged and one of the spoons fell to the bed covers. He quickly scooped it up and returned it to the circle of whirling silverware.

"You wanted a family, now we have one. It won't hurt to have a wealthy cousin-in-law who knows how to pawn off the family valuables, either. From what I see, he and the lady deserve each other. Our cousin could out-Lawrence you if she tried. Once she's set her mind to something, we would probably have to put a bullet through her head to stop her. Marriage to Montague is very definitely the right step. And I like your idea about the viscount and the shy one. Just think, one day we could have an earl in the family. You being a fancy marquess and all, we'll be rubbing shoulders with the whole bloody aristocracy."

The "fancy marquess" rubbed his scarred cheek and scowled. "You'll more likely be in jail if Montague has anything to say about it. How do you plan to show your face again if we don't return that blasted necklace? We could have the lawyers fight over it and make it legal."

Michael grimaced and caught the spoons in one hand. "The only ones who would profit then would be the lawyers. I'm not much for moving in society, anyway. Maybe I'll abscond to the states and sell the necklace there."

"You'll bloody well stay here and help me out for a change. We're not street beggars anymore. Give back the necklace and figure out some way of putting yourself back in circulation. I'm going to start selling off anything not on the inventory."

Gavin stood and stalked toward the door, leaving his red-headed brother multiplying spoons and producing forks.

* * *

"I must return to London, Marian. If you and your family wish to stay here, that is your choice, but I cannot. Among other things, I must see that your man of business has the funds to pay those notes you owe. If you will give me his direction, I will make that one of my first tasks."

Marian felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach as she turned to the man she meant to marry. Reginald had made it all too clear that he had already come to think of her as his responsibility, and he meant to deal with her problems alone, without need of her help. She wasn't certain she liked that idea at all. It made her feel like a schoolgirl again. Or was it the idea of belonging to this man that she didn't like?

"I cannot ask that of you," she said, staring down at the faded carpet at her feet. "I will sell the rest of the squire's library. It is his home we are attempting to save. It only seems fair."

The only person who would give her a fair price for the books was him, but Montague refrained from reminding her of that. She thought him a collector, and that Jacobs had purchased the last manuscript.

She didn't realize he would have to sell her precious library to make a profit so they could live. He would not be able to explain if he bought her library and then she couldn't find it in his home. This was becoming too complicated for words. He needed to keep things simple.

"That is a trifle foolish," he reminded her. "You could not get what you deserved out of those books unless I bought them. Wouldn't it be simpler if I just paid the debt and we kept the books in my library?"

Marian appeared taken aback by the notion, but then her eyes gleamed with understanding. Reginald was struck by the full brunt of her delighted smile, and he felt oddly warm inside, odd because it was not the heat of desire but something else entirely.

"Then it would be a fair exchange of sorts, would it not? Except that I still get to keep the books but you are out the money." She puzzled over that. "I still feel as if you are coming out on the wrong end."

Reginald tilted her chin until she looked at him again. "I will not only have the pleasure of sharing ownership of your books, but I will be getting my sister and mother-in-law out of my hair. It will be much better if they have a house of their own to go to. Mine is none too large, and I would prefer to have my wife to myself. I don't feel slighted in the least."

Marian's cheeks burned under the warmth of his gaze. He was scarcely touching her, yet he was doing that to her again—making her feel all hot and wiggly inside. The notion of marriage to this man was looming larger and larger. She tried not to gulp as she stood still beneath his hold.

"I don't suppose my cousin was able to make much of a settlement on you. All I seem to be bringing to this marriage is my family. Do you think I might be of some use to you in some manner? I know how to run a household, but that seems scarcely enough."

Reginald shook his head and brushed his thumb across her lips. "You really don't know what you can mean to me, do you?" He brushed his lips where his thumb had been, and she quivered. Amusement flickered in his eyes. "I can see where you might save me from one of my extravagances. I'll let you know if I can think of any others."

Reginald remembered that wide-eyed dewy look well after he was down the road. Lady Marian Lawrence would definitely save him his most expensive indulgence—his mistress, Madelyn. Reginald didn't think he would have any trouble adapting to this one pleasure of having a wife.

Lady Marian had his blood racing hotter than any opera actress he'd ever seen, and he wasn't averse to teaching her what a mistress ought to know. Perhaps other men thought ladies were only for getting an heir. He was of a different mind, and he thought Lady Marian might be the same. If he must marry, he was glad that it was to someone he could bed as readily as his mistress.

Reginald sighed as he thought of Madelyn. She was going to throw a tantrum when he gave her her conge. He would have to give her a very expensive gift to ease the parting. That would have to be the first thing he did upon returning to London. He didn't wish to imagine what would happen should Marian discover he kept a mistress. Theirs was going to be a difficult enough marriage as it was.