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Authors: Madeline Hunter

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BOOK: The Rules of Seduction
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He sat beside her on the floor, just as he had the day he took her virginity. His loss of control had so astonished him that afternoon. It made much more sense now.

“It was a selfish rule, Alexia. Very selfish, if it leaves you alone at night with your worries when you are distraught.”

“I was not alone for a while,” she said softly. “I was not distraught for a while.”

He was glad to hear he did not imagine the best of it.

“What did the letter say?”

“Tim has left them. Rose writes that after your visit he stopped drinking. He became
ruthlessly sober
—those were her exact words. He left three days ago.”

“I expect he came to London to see about that bank account.”

“That is what he told her. Off to find his fortune, he said. He kept laughing when he said it, as if he harbored a private joke. As of last night, he had not returned.”

He smoothed her hair with his hand. “He is probably enjoying a good debauch now that the money is his. There is no reason to think he is abandoning them.”

“Rose says he took a goodly amount of clothing. Two trunks. When she asked why he packed so much, he said there is more money, and he thinks he knows where to find it.”

“Once he looks where he thinks, he will return.” He spoke with more conviction than he felt now. The bastard may well have left his sisters to their fates and taken off with the three thousand. He’d think it was his right to run through it while he ignored his debts back home.

The little pile of letters on the floor drew his attention. “Why were you reading these again, Alexia? They have nothing to do with Timothy.”

She lifted one. “I was not reading them. I came here to check their dates and the location of this woman.” She pointed to the letter’s top, and the date and town. “It was sent shortly before he left for Greece. It was sent from Bristol.”

“So it was.”

“Rose said something odd when we met in Oxford. It nudged at me then, but I forgot it as soon as we left the church and you—well, you were there.”

You interfered,
she almost said. He
had
interfered. He had staked his claim on her, visibly and physically. He had made it clear to her cousin that whatever had been said as they spoke privately, he would not have his place compromised. He had announced his possession and authority and been as petty about the whole meeting as a green boy.

He had been an ass.

“What did she say that provokes you?”

She looked at him, checking whether he was really interested. Evidently convinced he meant well, she resettled her rump so she faced him.

“When I visited their house before we married, I had asked Rose about Benjamin, just as you had asked me. I inquired about his finances when we lived in Cheapside and why he did not spend more then. Rose said he had still been paying one of his father’s debts and that was where the fruits of his early success were spent.”

“That was the honorable thing for him to do. It would not make him melancholy.”

“In Oxford, Rose told me that when Tim was in his cups, he’d begun to blame Ben for their situation. He said they would not be in such dire straits if Ben had not sent all that money to
Bristol.
Rose and I thought it a little mad for Tim to blame his brother for paying off his father’s debt. Tonight, however, I remembered Ben had another connection to Bristol.”

She waved the letter. The town’s name hung in the air. It loomed from the letter in her hand. Her sharp mind had latched on to this coincidence, and her expression showed how significant she thought it to be.

“Hayden, what if Ben was not paying off a debt but sending this woman money? A lot of it. Perhaps he owed her, or perhaps he loved her, or perhaps…perhaps he had even married her. She writes with great familiarity, as if he is most certainly hers forever. What if her demands, or his obligations, had become unbearable? What if—”

She stopped, biting her lower lip.
What if Ben found himself in a situation where he was bound to one woman through promises or fortune but actually wanted another?
Would it be enough to send him into the sea?

She was halfway to a plausible explanation of everything, even Ben’s death. Only it was the wrong explanation. Money had indeed gone to a bank in Bristol, but to repay that old debt from his father. And much of the other fruits of Ben’s success had gone to Suttonly.

There was no way to explain that without telling her about Ben’s and Timothy’s thievery. The temptation to do so grew as he watched her hopeful expression. Her story absolved Ben of playing her false. She could go back to believing he had loved her as she loved him. Hell, Ben’s name would probably be the last word she spoke before she died then.

“I think the answers to a lot of questions can be found in Bristol,” she said, tapping the letter against her palm. “I think that is where Timothy has gone too. I am thinking I will make a brief journey there, find Tim, and also meet this woman and find out about her relationship to Ben.” She nodded as she laid it out to herself.
Here are the questions I have, there are the answers I seek. The most practical solution is to visit Bristol and this woman and learn if I am correct.

“No.”

His response pulled her out of a daze of planning. “It is the only way to learn the truth, Hayden.”

“There is no truth in Bristol. Timothy Longworth is not there because there is no reason to go there.”

“He is not in Oxford either,” she reminded him.

“If he is chasing after visions of hidden treasure, let him. He will return home soon enough. Do not worry about Rose and Irene. With Timothy gone, they will allow us to help them, so they may be the better for his absence.”

“If there are no hidden treasures, where is all of Ben’s money? You wondered yourself, or have you forgotten that?”

If it were day, if she did not look so lovely in the lamplight, if he were not creating a knot of lies to spare her the truth, he would have been able to devise an answer for that question, he was sure.

“Alexia, we cannot make this journey. I have affairs that require my attention in London, and I cannot spare the time to take you to Bristol now. It would also be impractical for us to chase Timothy all over England on the mere coincidence of this town’s name. Nor would it be appropriate for you to confront the woman who wrote those letters. They were private ones and not meant for your eyes.”

She considered him at length. He noticed that the violet fields appeared very shallow right now. Did she deliberately block his view, or was it merely the low light doing that?

“I will admit there is some sense in what you advise,” she said.

He stood and offered his hand. “I am glad you see the rightness of it.”

He sensed no rancor in her as they left the attic. He was relieved that she accepted his authority on the matter.

In bed later that night, he did not sleep at once. His mind kept seeing Ben’s account book and the transfers to the bank in Bristol. They were some of the earliest dispersals from the account and had continued down to the end. His interest in them had been cursory while he examined the account book and eclipsed once he saw Suttonly’s name.

He rarely forgot numbers of any kind, and the columns in the account came to him with precision once he called them to his memory. The amounts sent to Bristol had not been regular in their timing, like the drafts sent to York. He added their sum in an instant.

A lot of money had gone to Bristol. Less as Suttonly’s demands increased, but still a goodly amount. Possibly a lot of the later notes had gone there too. Maybe there was no old debt inherited from his father.

A secret treasure might wait in Bristol for Timothy Longworth after all. He hoped so. Then Longworth could buy his way out of his ruin, and that sorry episode would be over.

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

B
y night Alexia embraced her husband. She explored a sensuality so intense that her body responded when she heard him open the door. Nameless emotions infiltrated the pleasure too, ones born of the knowing that deepened with each night and each kiss, that lightened her heart and flowed in the warmth.

By day she lived her separate life. She patronized modistes but crafted her own hats. She continued with Caroline’s lessons. She visited Phaedra and wrote encouraging letters to Rose.

She also planned her journey to Bristol.

Hayden had not forbidden her to go but only advised against it. Had he issued an order, she might not have obeyed anyway. Even a good wife was allowed an occasional disobedience, and this situation was important enough to warrant one. All the same, it was convenient that he had neglected to lay down any laws.

She did not intend to lie outright to him. She merely planned to omit her inclusion of Bristol in other plans. In order to effect those other arrangements, she visited the City later in the week and called on the bank of Mr. Darfield.

Mr. Darfield appeared suitably sober. He was just the sort of man one would trust as a banker, Alexia decided. Silver-haired and restrained in dress, he projected mature good sense and prosperity. If not for the moisture on his brow and the long pauses in their conversation, she would have been totally confident in the bank’s solvency and abilities.

“You say that you wish to sell out your funds,” he said.

“Yes.” She had said so three times now. He did not look so old, but perhaps his concentration was not the best.

“It is not advisable to do so. With your cousin’s departure from this bank, I became your trustee, and I do not think it wise.”

“They do not amount to much, and with my marriage I no longer need the small income. My marriage settlement left this paltry income in my hands, as you can see from the copy I brought. You can also see the substantial new trust that my husband created for me.”

He blanched at her mention of her marriage. He peered down at the settlement with pursed lips. Hayden had almost ruined this man and this bank, and she doubted Mr. Darfield thought kindly of him. Darfield had helped ruin Timothy in turn, so she did not think kindly of Darfield.

She had expected this to be an awkward conversation, but not such a long one. His astonishment at her arrival had been surpassed only by his mute confusion as he lengthily pondered her business.

“Madam, it is not much, but most married ladies are wise to hold whatever they can, for their children or—”

“The money would do better elsewhere.”

“May I ask where?”

“No, Mr. Darfield, you may not. You have the evidence in front of you that I am now provided for one hundred times over. I request that you agree to the funds’ sale.”

He pawed at the settlement, squinting his eyes. “I want our solicitors to confirm that your husband has no claim on the income. I do not want trouble with him. I also want to confirm that this other trust was established.”

“How long will that take?”

“A week, perhaps two. Then another at least to liquidate the funds.”

“Mr. Darfield, I am beginning to understand why my husband removed his family’s money from this bank, if it takes you so long to effect such a simple transaction.”

His face fell. A peculiar, vacant expression entered his eyes. His weak smile looked a little stupid.

Then, with a jolt, he turned alert and officious. He rudely checked his pocket watch. His face flushed as he peered at it.

He stood. “Madam, I will write to you as soon as I ascertain if we will do as you request. Now I regret to say that I expect a visitor.”

After wasting the better part of an hour, he was now throwing her out. “I will await your message, and I trust you will proceed quickly. I also hope that you will not allow any ill will toward my husband to create delays.”

The meeting had not gone as she expected. She wanted to bring that money to Rose, and now she would not be able to.

Her vexation occupied her enough that she barely noticed her surroundings as she left his office and walked to the bank’s door. Therefore it took her mind several moments to accept what her eyes saw. Hayden entered the bank and aimed right toward her. When his gaze lit on her, he momentarily stopped in his tracks, then proceeded with a determined stride.

She waited for him to reach her. “The groomsman told you where I was going again, didn’t he? I think the servants should not act as your spies, Hayden.”

His attention shifted past her. She turned and realized Mr. Darfield watched from his doorway.

“He is expecting an important visitor,” she explained to Hayden. “Having met the man, I half-understand why you did not trust him with all that money.”

“Why did you meet with him, Alexia?”

Mr. Darfield hurried over and inserted himself between them. “Lord Hayden, a fortuitous coincidence that you are here.”

Hayden acknowledged the banker. The banker beamed that stupid smile.

“I came to sell out my funds,” she said. “I want to give the money to Rose, now that I do not need it.
He
does not believe the settlement and thinks I must hold on to this other amount too.” A thought came to her. “Mr. Darfield, if my husband assures you he has more than provided for me, would that satisfy you?”

Darfield looked at Hayden beseechingly, as if hoping his fellow man could translate the strange woman’s demands.

“Darfield, perhaps we can attend to this in your office, so all of London is not aware of it,” Hayden said.

“He is expecting an important—”

“No trouble. No trouble. Settling this now with your husband present is a splendid idea.” He swung out an arm in the direction of the office.

She retraced her steps and sat once more in the chair.

“Would you like some time alone together to discuss this decision?” Darfield asked Hayden.

“It is not necessary. I understand my wife requests that you sell out those funds, correct?”

“That is her request. She showed what she claims is the marriage settlement, and if it is, I would be hard-pressed as trustee of this small amount to refuse her. We are expected to be reasonable, after all. I said I would prefer if you knew of this intention to
sell,
however.” His voice carried a new firmness. He peered at her. “That is what you want, correct? For us to
sell the funds
?”

“Yes, for the fourth time, I wish to
sell the funds.

He glared at Hayden as if the very notion were intolerable.

“I have more than provided for her future, Darfield, and that of her children. I would appreciate it if you would arrange the sale for her quickly.”

“Quickly?”

“It is unusual, I know, but I am sure there is a way. Say, why don’t you advance her the money and repay the bank upon the sale? That is done sometimes, is it not? I am sure you have made such arrangements before.”

Darfield looked her way cautiously. “Would you be agreeable to that?”

“If I have the money in hand right away, why would I not be?” She wished Mr. Darfield had suggested it half an hour ago. Then Hayden would not have found her here.

Darfield removed a large leather book from his desk drawer. Glancing one final time at Hayden for agreement, he dipped his pen. After some scratching, blotting, and cutting, he handed her a bank draft for four hundred pounds.

“He does not inspire confidence,” she said as Hayden walked her to her carriage. “I always assumed he was the real banker and that Timothy merely held his coattails. I do not think so now.”

“He is not accustomed to ladies acting on their own. Why did you?”

“I did not think you would be welcomed there.”

He opened the carriage door but did not hand her in. He looked down at her. “The truth is you did not want me to know you were doing it.”

“I intended to explain it all tomorrow.”

“Explain what?”

She opened her reticule and plucked out the draft. The sum appeared huge, written out like this. “I am going to bring this to Rose. This and Ben’s trunks. You are correct, and his property no longer belongs in that house. As for this money, the income from it is not much, but the capital may carry them a few years. It will go to her, however, so it is not swallowed by Tim’s debts.”

He was not pleased. “Normally a wife asks her husband if he will allow her to make a visit out of town, even to relatives. Even
you
sought to do so the last time.”

“I knew you would not mind my going. You yourself commented on the trunks, and this is far too much to send in a letter.” She admired the amount again. “That is odd. Look, he signed his name, but there is no indication this is the bank’s account or that he signs as its owner or officer. It could be his own money, for all this shows.”

He gently coaxed the draft from her fingers, returned it to her reticule, and closed it away. “It is done that way sometimes.”

“That is not very practical. There could be confusion then. Money could get all mixed up.”

He handed her into her carriage. “How long do you think you will be gone visiting your cousins?”

She was delighted he had capitulated so quickly on the general idea, but wished he had not asked the length of her absence right now. She did not want to negotiate here on Threadneedle Street. “Three days, perhaps.”

He lounged against the door frame, crossing his arms. That was not a good sign. “Two, Alexia. Two.”

“Once the season starts, I will not have another chance to see them for months. I do not think four days is too much.”

“Four now?” He quirked a smile. “I am not inclined to be without my new wife for four nights.”

“I intend to see that you do not miss me too much. I thought we might dine at home together tomorrow night and retire very early.”

Her allusion to a long night of pleasure distracted him from whatever scold he intended. The look he gave her caused glorious shivers in the most sensual spots of her body. She half-expected him to climb into the carriage and have her at once.

“Since you intend to make my agreement worth my while, perhaps it can be three or four days.”

She would make it worth his while. He would agree to three or four days. He would get angry only when it turned into five or six.

         

“You cannot imagine my shock when she was announced,” Darfield said. “Then to learn she wanted me to sell out the funds that her cousin had already sold—well, I was undone.”

Hayden shared some port with Darfield behind the closed door of his office. The man was still beside himself, but the port was helping.

“In my dismay, I thought to stall her until you arrived for our meeting. When she said you had removed all your family’s money from this bank, I knew that would be a mistake.” He gulped another good swallow. “You are very cool, Rothwell. Very cool. She never guessed you had not followed her here.”

Not yet she hadn’t. He was counting on that visit to her cousins to distract her enough to keep her from thinking about the day’s events closely.

“Longworth told her and his sisters that I removed the family money and brought the bank to the brink of ruin. That is how he explained his reversal in fortune to them. I gave my word I would not tell the ladies the truth.”

“I trust you will make sure she does not pursue any truths that will reflect badly on this bank or me.”

He gave the reassurances, not entirely sure he could deliver on them. He imagined Alexia learning through some casual conversation that bankers never commingled bank funds with their own accounts. It would be just like her to remember she had received a private draft today.

He turned the conversation to the reason he had come to this bank today. “Have you ascertained just which of the bank’s patrons Benjamin Longworth defrauded?”

Darfield’s face fell. “I have traced every case to its end and spent days in the records to see the signatures. I regret to say that it was as bad as we thought. Worse, actually.”

“How much more do you need?”

“I do not think your solution is wise, Rothwell. Aside from the cost to you, my explanations regarding errors in records may not satisfy some of them. Nor do I care for so many members of polite society thinking that this bank cannot keep good records in the first place.”

“Would you prefer that the world learn you had two criminals as partners? Would you prefer if the panic spreads to confidence in the government funds? When you ask for their signatures, all they will care about is that they have not lost a penny. Timothy continued to pay out the income, and now they will see their capital back. Most will not even understand what you are talking about.” At least, he was counting on it working this way. “How much?”

Darfield sighed. He picked up his pen and scratched on a small piece of paper. He slid it across his desk.

Hayden read the sum. It closely matched the calculations he had made at night while his memory called up those pages of figures from Ben’s hidden account. This time, finally, they had discovered all the victims.

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