To Marry a Marquess (22 page)

"My lord, I daresay, I have plenty to interest you."

Apprehension gripped Drake as he dwelled on the possibilities of Victoria's attachment to Nightham. Had she loved him? Did she still love him? "I do want to hear what you have to say, but I also want you to look into the Earl of Wendover's background. What has he been doing the last ten years of his life? Where do his debts leave him? And where has he been spending his money?"

"Very well, my lord. I will see to it as soon as I return to Town." Wilkins cleared his throat. "However, there is much more information than I thought. It is all so fantastic when one gets down to it. Pray, where shall I start?"

Restless, Drake began to pace the length of the drawing room. "Start with Nightham."

Wilkins grabbed a few papers off his stack and glanced up at Drake over the rim of his spectacles.

Drake's gaze clasped the man in a death hold. "Yes?"

Wilkins visibly swallowed. "I have discovered that Lord Nightham had a penchant for gambling. Months before his death he racked up quite a debt."

"Not unusual. Nightham liked to hit the tables at the clubs now and then. He had his vices."

"Indeed, my lord. It seems he acquired a great deal of debt and owed many people."

"Well, he was no different than a host of gentlemen. The man had plenty of money and never paid on time. Everybody in London knew he was good for it."

Drake stared at the papers in Wilkins's hands and a certain uneasiness swept through him. "How many people did he owe?"

The solicitor pushed the papers toward him. "See for yourself, my lord."

Drake grabbed the papers with one hand and sank into a wing chair. "Lord Finely, seven thousand pounds, Lord Granger, five thousand pounds? Mr. Torrence, eight thousand pounds. Lord Stevens, two thousand!" He peered up at Wilkins, then back to the paper. "Greenbriar, Avelry, Fredders, and the list goes on."

Drake ran a hand through his hair.
Nightham had been in debt? What other secrets had the man been hiding?

"It seems, your friend was obsessed with the tables," Wilkins said. "The more he lost, the more he gambled. The more he gambled, the more he lost. A rather vicious circle, I would say."

"Nightham gambled at the clubs, but I never stopped to think that it had gone this far. Yet why would he take Lady Victoria to the country to be married? There is no sense in it. She had no money. And I will never believe it was a love match."

Wilkins gave him a dubious look and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "At that time, my lord, she was penniless."

"You are telling me that Nightham was in debt from gambling? And there is no room for a mistake here?"

Wilkins nodded.

Drake rose. "Then why would Nightham deliberately leave London for a shabby inn to marry a woman with no money? I daresay, she is beautiful..."

A hint of doubt began to form in Drake's mind, and he stared at Wilkins. "What else?"

Wilkins frowned and lifted some more papers from his pile. "Here is the true story behind the earl's reason for marrying Lady Victoria."

Drake's lips tightened.

"She is the daughter of a earl."

"I knew that."

Wilson rustled the papers in his hands and adjusted his spectacles. "Well, from all accounts, it seems that Lady Victoria was placed on the doorstep of her aunt's home when her parents died some nine years ago. Victoria's distant cousin, the new earl, sent her to live with Lady Phoebe. There was nothing in the late earl's will to provide for his daughter."

Drake stiffened. The very thought of Victoria being left penniless by her thoughtless father infuriated him. But knowing that she had been yanked from her home after the tragic death of her parents and sent to live with her aunt, without a penny, enraged him. He wanted to box Wendover's ears so bad, his hands ached. And if that father of hers were still alive ...

"My lord, there's more."

A maid walked in with a silver tray carrying the tea setting. Drake looked at Wilkins and asked the man if he wanted some refreshment. Wilkins shook his head no just as the maid served a cup to Drake. After the servant left, Drake took his seat.

"There is a decanter of wine on the table, if you wish, Wilkins, but go on. What else?"

"It seems Victoria's Uncle Henry was eventually appointed her guardian. But Lady Victoria had also been left a trust that even she was not aware of."

Drake's teacup stilled on his bottom lip. "A trust?"

"It is from the will of a great aunt who died fifteen years ago. The lady left quite a good sum. No one but Lady Phoebe and her solicitor knew about the money. When Lady Victoria turns twenty-two, she will gain knowledge and access to this trust."

Things were beginning to click into place, causing an icy chill to flow through Drake's veins. "And Nightham?"

"I believe he found out about the trust. He tried to swindle that girl out of her inheritance by marrying her and taking his husbandly rights," Wilkins scowled, "in more ways than one, I can assure you."

Drake slammed his feet to the ground and rose. "I cannot believe Nightham would do such a thing."

"I believe I will have some of that wine you mentioned."

Wilkins stood up, his expression grim as he splashed the red liquid into a glass. The man was the father of three girls himself. Drake could only guess that this act of Nightham's threw the usually sedate Wilkins into a fit of rage.

"Not only that." Wilkins turned. "I have reason to believe his mother knew all about it. The trust. The debts. The special license. Everything."

Drake blinked in surprise. "That sweet woman?"

"She may be sweet, but she is also poor."

The thought of Victoria being swindled by those two people sent his mind reeling with fury. "How much is her fortune?"

"From what I gather, about eighty thousand pounds, my lord."

"WHAT?"

"Eighty thousand pounds."

"Hell's teeth! People would kill for even a pittance of that. She knows nothing about this?"

"No, my lord. But she will. Soon."

"Soon?"

"Yes, in three days ... on her twenty-second birthday."

Chapter Fourteen

S
haking, Victoria pulled the covers up to her chin as she watched the furry white mouse scamper across her bedchamber.

"William, dispose of that creature immediately!"

William looked up from his seat by the window. "He is watching us, Vicki."

"You have no need to have Captain Whitie look out for me."

The boy's cheeks puffed out in irritation as he picked up his mouse. "I don't mean Whitie!  I mean the villain! He is coming here. I can feel it. I am a pirate and us pirates know how to protect our princesses."

Victoria’s fingers tensed, for she knew all too well whom William was talking about.

She wanted nothing more than to protect this innocent boy from Wendover. And she had finally gathered the courage to tell Drake about it. When she was up and about, she would approach him on the matter.

"William, I assure you, I am not in need of protection. Now, run along and let me rest."

"Awwww, Vicki." William dropped his shoulders. "Did you know that Drake is speaking to a fat man in the drawing room?"

Victoria swallowed her laugh. "William, that is no way to speak of your elders."

"I don't care." He shrugged and turned to leave. "No one listens to me anyway. Fat! Fat! Fat!"

Victoria frowned as William marched from the room. Wendover's threats echoed in her mind. She had to do something about the situation soon. Drake. She had to tell Drake.

"I say!" Wilkins jumped up with a start and dropped his teacup on the carpet.

Drake spun around. His dark brows rose in surprise when he caught sight of his plump solicitor crouched on top of the sofa. The portly man's arms were flung out to his sides like a baby bird learning to fly. As Drake lowered his gaze to the floor, it was all he could do not to laugh at the pink tail wiggling about the carpet. It seemed Captain Whitie had decided to take cover inside the fallen teacup, which was now upside down and dragging along the floor like a tortoise's shell.

"It's only a mouse, Wilkins."

"Do you mind, my lord?" Wilkins stopped quivering, but his feet stayed on the sofa, waiting for the object to be extricated.

Drake looked up, hiding his grin. "You want me to remove Cap'n Whitie?"

The solicitor gasped in horror.
"It ... it
has a name?"

"It
does," Drake answered as if it were a common occurrence for every mouse to have its own name.

When the cup started to move again, brushing along the rug in a zigzag fashion, Wilkins almost toppled the entire sofa to the floor. A second later, both men's gazes lifted to the sound of a giggle that emerged from behind one of the wing chairs situated near the door to the hall.

"William, come here this instant!" Drake's stern voice sliced through the air. The maid had come in only minutes ago to serve lemon cakes. Obviously, some other things must have slipped in as well.

A head of tight yellow curls peeked out from behind the chair, followed by a set of laughing blue eyes.

But the moment the small boy's gaze hit Drake's darkened face, all signs of mirth disappeared.

" 'Tis only me second in command," William announced with his head held high as he scampered toward his prized possession and scooped it up, cup and all. "Whitie was on the lookout for the villain."

At that moment the little mouse decided to poke its head out of the cup, its nose sniffing and wiggling in fright.

Wilkins groaned. The boy gave a snicker and left the room.

But Drake was no longer smiling. He had not approached Wendover about the marks on Victoria's neck due to the earl's timely retreat from his father's house. And he had avoided approaching the subject with Victoria, but today she was much better. He would seek her out and finally discover her secrets.

"Villain, indeed," the solicitor said coolly.

Now that the gruesome beast was gone, Wilkins scrambled down from his perch. "I say, we did give the tot a good show." He cleared his throat, pulling his jacket taut and straightening his pantaloons. "By Jove, the boy truly believed I was afraid of that pathetic little thing."

Drake tightened his lips, his eyes widening at the ease in which his solicitor had changed his tune so quickly. "Indeed. Quite a show, I daresay. You do have a way with children and animals, Wilkins. The boy seemed to think you were truly scared."

"Humph. Me? Scared? Preposterous!" As if nothing had happened, Wilkins grabbed the papers resting on the table, his hands trembling as he handed the stack to his employer. "I will look into Wendover's background." He nodded shakily, said his farewells, and was out the door in a blink of an eye.

Drake's shoulders shook with laughter. A flash of blue zipped by the doors. Dear, little, mischievous William. That boy would haunt the duke until his dying days.