Page 93 of The English Duke
He was hard-pressed to keep his face from betraying his astonishment. Although he’d known the York women were, by anyone’s standards, heiresses, he had no idea it put them among the richest women in not only England, but the Commonwealth. Josephine could spend outrageous sums of money every day and not make a dent in her principal.
The fact that he was made privy to this information wasn’t surprising, but the presence of Josephine and her grandmother was.
Also slightly astonishing, given that he’d thought he’d have to go to Josephine for funds for Sedgebrook’s upkeep, he was informed his house now had an allowance, of sorts. So did he. The bulk of Josephine’s inheritance was placed in a trust for her to use, with twenty percent of it held over for their children.
He suspected the allowance was an addition from Susan York, since it freed him from having to ask Josephine for money. In the same fashion, he could spend the funds for Sedgebrook as he saw fit—to repair the roof or work on the chapel altar or a dozen things worrying him. In addition, the funds would be renewed every year.
In other words, he would never have to worry about money as long as he lived.
He should have been overjoyed.
He should have had a sense of liberation.
Instead, a small voice whispered to him that nothing ever came without a price. Josephine was the price. Perfumed, pampered, flirtatious, and coy, she was to be the Duchess of Roth and from the moment in the church she would carry the title to either the Hamilton glory or their eternal shame.
After signing where he was told, he sat back in the chair and looked at Susan.
He suspected she’d lectured Josephine sternly and, for the time being, it had made an impression. He’d never seen the woman behaving so demurely. Nor had Josephine ever been as silent.
Martha was nowhere in sight, but then she wouldn’t be. The arrangements for him to sell himself had been made among those most involved. Susan as matriarch. Mr. Donohue as financial matchmaker, and the bride and purchased groom.
“You said something about Matthew’s cottage. Would it be possible to see it?”
Did Mrs. York know how desperately he wanted to be out of this room? How much he needed air at the moment? She stood and smiled at him, offering him a lifeline if she only knew.
He grabbed his walking stick and stood.
“I’ll have one of the footmen show you the way,” she said, opening the door and motioning a tall young man inside the room.
His request had evidently made Josephine angry, because when she looked up at him her smile thinned. Josephine had a honed kind of beauty, aquiline features, pointed chin, and a mouth thinner than Martha’s. She could easily go to mean: the eyes narrowed, the lips turned down in constant disapproval. With the years her jawline would probably become even sharper, her nose longer.
“I’m not going to the cottage, Jordan. Besides, it’s not a short distance. Are you sure you can manage it?”
He pushed down the comment he normally would have made, nodded to the solicitor, managed a smile for Mrs. York, and left the room as quickly as he could.
Behind him, Josephine said something. Jordan deliberately blocked out her voice.
Martha fueled theGoldfish, the process taking nearly two hours. Biting back her impatience, she remembered her father’s words:“Most important things in life take a bit of time, Martha.”
She’d never spoken to him after his death, but she did now, addressing her soft words to his spirit.
“I’m going to do it, Father,” she said. “I’m going to prove that you made it work.”
She wound a long wire around the retaining hook then wrapped the excess into a circle, carrying it with theGoldfishto the dock.
Once at the end of the dock, Martha slowly dropped to her knees and gently lowered the vessel into the water. The ship’s nose bumped to the surface before settling.
She waved to Sam, one of the stableboys who was manning the rowboat that was acting as the target this morning. He often helped her, being eager to learn and more than willing to exchange his duties in the stables for piloting the boat.
She raised her arm then lowered it, a signal she was ready to begin. Her shoulders tightened.
Her father had died for this. He’d been exultant in those final hours, overjoyed that his vision had been accomplished, the task of his later years done. If she could recreate the moment it would be like fulfilling a promise to him.
She felt almost as if he was standing there, his spirit blessing her as she unwound the wire. If theGoldfishsank she would still be able to retrieve it.
Had Jordan started using aleashfor his vessel, too?
No, she was not going to think of Jordan right now, but it was difficult. He’d featured in so many of her father’s discussions. Now he was here, at Griffin House.
