Page 19 of A Wicked Earl's Widow
“You havenorights when it comes to Althea. Not a court in England would allow you custody.” Lady Falsbury stood. “From what I understand, you couldn’t afford a barrister without selling Eliza.”
Landonshire’s fingers curled into a fist, his jaw set. “I’m within my rights to punish my wife and child as I see fit. I’ve broken no laws.” Oh how he wanted to slap the smug look off her face. “And how would you know about my finances? If that little maggot pie has been telling her lies again, she’ll be sorry.”
“I’m afraid you are the only sorry creature here, my lord.” Falsbury’s eyes burned a direct path to Landonshire’s fist. “And if you raise those knuckles even a hairsbreadth, I will enjoy beating you to a bloody pulp.”
Panic skittered through his body like a rat in a dark alley. It ran down his spine, through his chest, and into his belly. What in blasted tarnation had just happened? Ten minutes ago, he’d been high on the ropes, and now his bright future was sliding into the gutter. He’d make the little whore pay when he got his hands on her.
“Explain this to me, real slow, since I’m obviously not comprehending.” He sucked in a breath to calm his temper. Falsbury’s older family name had more influence than his with or without the debts. But that didn’t give him the right to interfere with Landonshire’s property. And his most valuable asset was no longer within his grasp. “Eliza and the baby have left for America. Now how did she manage to make all those arrangements in a week’s time without anyone knowing?”
“I made the arrangements after you threatenedmygranddaughter. Then I fired the new gardener. I do not take kindly to spies on my property. Eliza and Althea were on a ship at first light the day after your visit to the cemetery. It’s an expensive journey, and I’m not inclined to tell you where in that vast country she might settle.” Falsbury crossed his arms. “This interview has come to an end.”
Something wasn’t right here. He could smell it. “I think the whole story is a clanker. You wouldn’t send them away just to spite me. I bet they’re still at your country house.”
“I would do anything, and I mean anything within in my power to keep my granddaughter safe. She is the child of my dead son and will never know the pain your daughter has.”
Landonshire’s lip curled. “I won’t track them down. I’m resourceful, you see, and persistent.”
“Let me make this very clear, my lord.” Falsbury straightened, his chest wide and body still lean and muscular. “No one endangers my family. Especially a coward who takes his own incompetence out on those weaker and dependent on him. I know your game. Eliza didn’t need to say a word. My solicitor informed me that you sold her dowry property. I know she asked him to send bank notes in your name on several occasions. Unlike you, sir, I am a scrupulous businessman, and nothing goes on in my realm without my knowledge.”
Sweat broke out on Landonshire’s forehead. He resisted the urge to wipe it away. Damnation, he wouldn’t give the pompous ass the satisfaction. “I made some bad investments during the war. I had to recoup my losses, and the property was mine to begin with.”
“No, it belonged to your wife as part ofherwidow’s dowry,” countered Lady Falsbury.
Good God, he’d like to shut that woman up. If she were his wife…
“You pitched the gammon to my son after the wedding, trying to get him involved with one of your peep-o-day schemes. Another catastrophe. Every business venture you’ve attempted, except with Bellum, turned to dust. The only thing keeping you from debtor’s prison is your title.” Falsbury gave a tight smile. “Unfortunately, short of treason there isn’t much I can do about that, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Falsbury put both hands on the desk and leaned forward. “If I were you, I would take my losses and scuttle back to my estate like the weasel I am. Ormyspies will see what they can dig up.”
“I’ll find her, by Christ. Mark my words. You’ll pay for this.”
Landonshire turned on his heel, leaving a string of foul words behind him. He stormed down the steps, his heels clicking on the pavement as he hailed a hackney. Bellum would be irate. Good, it would give him an ally in the next plot. Nobody crossed the Marquess of Landonshire, not without a reckoning.
The previous Lord Sunderland had crossed him. The whoremonger should have agreed toanybusiness proposal by his own father-in-law straight away. Instead, he’dchecked into it. The bloody ninny hadn’t even had the decency to decline in person. Landonshire received a letter from his son-in-law’s solicitor. Ah, but revenge had been sweet.
He grinned, a warmth spreading through his body as he remembered that night. The earl was known for being a rake and a drunkard. It had been easy enough to pay someone to challenge Sunderland. The fool never turned down a horse race. No one had questioned the fall or checked the tack for a cut in the girth. It had been Landonshire’s good luck the horse had stumbled. But Sunderland had been an excellent rider. Without the tampered equipment, he would have stayed in the saddle sober or drunk.
Now the little widow was trying to thwart him. He imagined his hand around Eliza’s pale slim neck, squeezing the life from her, face purple and eyes bulging. The image sent blood rushing to his groin. His manhood throbbed, anticipating the pain he would cause when he found her. If Bellum changed his tune, he would kill the ungrateful slut. The thought put a smile back on his face.
Bellum stared at him, disgust in his red-rimmed gray eyes. The office was dark, the sun outside barely penetrating the dusty windowpanes. He wiped a hand over his bald head then pulled at the fuzzy gray bits surrounding his ears.
“She’s left the country? Did you send anyone out to check the docks? See when—or if—a vessel was bound for the colonies. A lovely woman and her young daughter would surely be noticed.” Bellum squinted, raising his glasses from his nose to get a better look at Landonshire. “Wait, let me guess. You came straight here.”
“Well, er, yes. I thought you might have an idea of what to do.” Why did this ancient cur always make him feel dimwitted? If it wasn’t for the money…
“I thought you might have an idea of what to do,” Bellum mimicked. “Do you have a brain of your own? Blast it, man. Get your bollocks down to Bow Street and hire a runner to find out what the hell is going on. That’s my bride.” The old man’s silver brows pushed together. “Don’t try to go yourself, or word will get out you’re snooping around. If she hasn’t left yet, and gets wind we’re on to her, the chit will disappear again.
“My offer stands for one month. After that, I call in your vowels.” Bellum licked his thin lips and smiled, a center gap exposing a pointy tongue, surrounded by pointy yellowish-brown teeth. His skin resembled a piece of gray parchment, crinkled up then smoothed back out. “My collectors can be very persuasive. I’ll take your house, send you off to the widow’s quarters, and keep the wife. You married her young—sixteen wasn’t she? Even if your weak seed stopped filling her belly, she could still bear a babe of mine. I’m no member of the peer. Why should I care if my heir is a bastard? He’ll still have blue blood.”
Landonshire’s mouth fell slack. Then the slow burn began, the fire that could only be put out by pain. Someone else’s pain. “Careful, you old codger. Don’t threaten a man who has nothing left to lose.”
Chapter Nine
Pendle Place
Durham County
It had been a glorious week, but her dear friend would soon be leaving. They had all fallen into some type of routine. Eliza, Nathaniel, Grace, and Kit would ride out in the mornings before breakfast. Part of the property ran along the River Wear, and Lady Hannah had shown them the best spot for picnics. In the afternoons, there were also walks in the garden, croquet, or lawn bowls. Althea would accompany them, and Mrs. Watkins would spend an hour or two at the stables or enjoy some peaceful solitude.
There was afternoon tea in the drawing room or outside under the gazebo with Lady Pendleton, who had recuperated quickly but still was not quite herself, according to Hannah. Dr. Goodman, delayed by several emergencies, had arrived that morning. Lady Pendleton had assured him that she was fine, and he should concentrate on enjoying his visit. So in the evenings after supper, the group would play charades or cards. Hannah played the pianoforte beautifully with Grace or Nathaniel lending their steady voices. She had been surprised at Nathaniel’s deep, clear tenor.
