Page 107 of Enslaved
“You also know nothing of the fact that they want your money and petitioned the courts to have you declared dead!”
The book she had been reading dropped from nerveless fingers. “What are you saying?”
“I am saying they are vultures who already have their hands on your money. If you marry me, they will no longer have control of you.”
Diana’s eyes widened. “You want to marry me for my money!” It was a revelation. How utterly naive she had been. “There is no need for me to marry, thank God! I come of age in two months and will control my own money.”
“There’ll be nothing left. Two months is ample time for Richard Davenport to bleed you dry.”
“I won’t listen to this. I shall go and confront them immediately!”
“Your safety lies in this house and in marrying me. Don’t put yourself in their hands. Diana—”
“Leave me.”
“Oh, I’ll leave you for now but you can be assured that you won’t get free of your agreement this easily,” said Peter as he stomped from the room.
Diana sat down at the desk. Could there possibly be any truth in the things he was saying? Prudence and Richard were after her inheritance? Peter Hardwick was willing to marry her for her money? They had a written agreement? It was true that Prudence had pressed her continually to marry Peter, but how could that benefit her aunt and uncle?
Icy fingers stole about her heart; the written agreement must carve up her fortune between them. Diana’s thoughts swirled about, trying to piece things together, trying to make some sense of it while at the same time denying that all the people who professed to love her loved only her money.
Richard had tried to sell her father’s priceless library. What motive could he possibly have had but money? Mark had wanted to buy it. Dear God in Heaven, was he in on the agreement?
Peter Hardwick flung open his brother’s bedchamber door. “Mark, you’ve got to help me.”
The earl had been trying to work on his book about ancient Aquae Sulis, but of course his mind was on other matters. He would have preferred to be with Diana when she gave the news to Peter about breaking their engagement. After all, he felt totally responsible. He stood up from his desk and indicated the chairs before the fire. “Sit down, Peter.”
“When I arrived in Grosvenor Square to give the Davenports the good news about Diana, they wanted to kill the messenger. Richard had petitioned the courts to have her declared dead. I have reason to believe he had already siphoned off her money to his own accounts.”
“That is a very serious charge, Peter. What makes you think he would do such a thing?”
“He said our agreement for me to marry Diana was off. Mark, the only reason he would call off such a profitable arrangement was if he had a way to getallof her money.”
“Are you telling me you were being paid to marry Diana?” Mark’s black eyes were riveted on his brother’s handsome face.
Peter shot up from the chair. “You make it sound like some sort of crime! Mark, for Christ’s sake, I’m over my head in debt. The moneylenders are closing in on me. I’ll see the inside of Fleet Prison unless I marry Diana Davenport.”
Mark Hardwick’s fist smashed into Peter’s jaw. The shorter man fell to the floor like a ton of bricks. Mark took a deep breath to curb his impulse to pummel his brother senseless where he lay.
“You profligate young swine. The sight of you makes me sick!”
Holding his jaw, Peter crawled onto his knees, then using an overturned chair, pulled himself upright.
“You self-righteous bastard! Because you were firstborn, everything was handed to you on a gold plate embossed with strawberry leaves—the land, the title, the money. It’s easy for you to look down your arrogant nose at me because I’d marry for money, but you haven’t even the guts to marry!”
Mark ran his hand through his hair to prevent him from smashing it into Peter’s face again.
“You have a generous allowance, which would be adequate if you didn’t run wild with those debauched friends of yours. I’ll settle your debts one last time. If you fall into debt again, I’ll let you rot in prison. Now get the hell out of my sight before I kill you.”
The thick walls of the Elizabethan manor prevented Diana from hearing the argument, but when Peter Hardwick came rushing down the staircase and crashed the front door closed behind him, she came out of the library to see what on earth was happening. She went to a front window and drew aside the drape in time to see a carriage and horses thunder down the driveway.
When Diana went back to the entrance hall, Mark was standing at the top of the stairs. Even in the half light, she could see he was in a towering rage.
“Was that Peter?”
“Come upstairs,” he ground out.
Diana was suddenly afraid. “I’m sorry I’ve made such a mess of things.”
