“Be careful, Jude. Sir Herbert trusted me implicitly and left me everything, and Katherine will inherit most of what I own one day. Yes, I had planned to leave you and Jasper each something, but if you persist in badgering me, I may change my mind and my will. Don’t give me cause to do both.”
“And don’t give me cause to ... to become desperate. I need the money by the end of the month, or else...”
“Or else what? Are you threatening me?”
“Of course not. I am the one under threat. Albert Palling faces bankruptcy and he’ll drag me down with him. Do you not care? I will receive interest on nothing. Worse than nothing. I will be obligated to pay a share of the debt or suffer the humiliation of a bankruptcy notice inThe Gazette. Will you not mind the blot on the family name?”
“What is one more blot after all you, and now Jasper, have subjected us to?” she asked.
“My previous ... indiscretions ... are nothing to this, surely.”
“It’s not a contest! The point is, I am not to blame for your financial difficulties. You chose to marry as you did, for an interest in a mill, even after I told you its heyday was at an end. Would you listen? No. And now you shall have to pay the price.”
“Very well. But I promise you, I shall not be the only one to pay.”
“Again, I warn you, Jude. Take care. And don’t even think about pursuing Katherine for her inheritance.”
“Not that I have any plans to do so, but why would you object? Cousins marry all the time. In fact, in our younger days, you seemed to encourage a match between us.”
“That was years ago, before I realized what a danger you pose to females. I would not want Katherine to face the same fate as your first wife.”
“How dare you. What are you suggesting?”
“I suggest nothing. I am only repeating certain rumors the whole town has heard.”
“I thought you were too clever to believe everything you hear. In any case, Kat is of age. She can make her own decisions. She does not need your permission.”
“But you both need my money. I believe she istoo cleverto marry you, but if she does, I shall disinherit you both.”
“Cursed woman!”
Footsteps pounded across the room. With a sharp inhale, Anne rounded the corner, breakfast tray and all, tea sloshing in her haste. She would be out of sight if he retreated downstairs to the whiskey decanter. If instead he went straight to his own room, she would be caught, standing there, clearly eavesdropping.
The door flew open and slammed against the wall. A moment later, angry footfalls thundered down the stairs.
Anne released the breath she’d been holding. She’d not been caught. The knowledge did not give her much relief. Desperate men were capable of desperate acts.
She waited a suitable amount of time, and then tentatively entered Lady Celia’s room. She found the older woman sitting up in bed, staring off into the distance.
“I’ve brought tea and toast. Though I’m afraid I spilled some of your tea....”
Lady Celia did not seem to hear her. “Anne, if anything happens to me, I want you to tell Katherine that Jude...”
“That he ... what?”
Lady Celia pressed her lips together, seeming to think better of whatever she’d been about to say. Instead she said, “Tell her to have nothing to do with him—perhaps she will listen to you.”
Anne was tempted to ask what reason she should give, but having overheard the argument, she thought she had a fair idea already.
“Very well,” Anne replied. “Though let’s hope and pray nothing happens to you. In fact, I shall make it my duty to guarantee it.”
“That’s a promise you cannot keep.”
“Perhaps. Yet I shall do all I can to keep you well.”
Memories of another ailing woman, another bedside, revolved through Anne’s mind once more, but she forced them aside.
“I’m not hungry,” Lady Celia said, waving away the tray. “Please bring over my writing things instead. It’s time I wrote another letter to my solicitor.”
