‘Don’t sound like much of a plan ter me,’ George protested. ‘Wot about Victoria? I take it we ain’t goin’ to jus’ leave ‘er to rot ‘til she ‘as ‘eraccident.’
Judith shook her head. ‘Once we’re safe, we can think what to do about your sister.’
‘Safe?’ George scoffed. ‘We ain’t never goin’ to be safe from the likes o’ Simon Linfield. I ain’t never even spoke to the bastard, but I know that.’ She paused and gave a grim chuckle. ‘Your bleedin’ ‘usband’ll chase us to the end o’ the bloody earth…’
∞∞∞
Simon Linfield stared with distaste at the pale, pathetic little thing drifting into the study. She didn’t look anything like her more robust sister, and for a second, he wondered if she had consumption. The problem of her would be short lived if she was afflicted with the wasting disease.
The girl remained silent as she took a seat next to him and Simon shifted in distaste. When was the last time the chit had had an actual wash? Swallowing his revulsion, Linfield turned towards the elderly solicitor who appeared to be hunting around for his eyeglasses. ‘Get on with it, man,’ he ordered brusquely. ‘I have much to do today.’
The solicitor didn’t react, but simply continued with his frustratingly slow process. At length, just when Simon was tempted to snatch the papers and read them himself, the elderly man coughed and spoke.
Ten minutes later, Linfield was seriously concerned he was about to have an apoplexy.
There was no money.
Both the estate and the property in London were mortgaged up to the hilt.
‘Then how did my cousin manage to live so … comfortably?’ he stuttered hoarsely, waving at the sumptuous furnishings dotting the study.
The solicitor gave a moue of distaste and looked over at the still silent young woman. ‘The former Earl had control of his granddaughter’s fortune,’ he intoned. ‘However, at this present time, you, my lord, do not.’
Simon Linfield blinked. ‘What fortune?’ he spluttered. ‘How…?’
‘Miss Huxley’s mother left her family’s entire fortune to her descendants,’ the solicitor explained pompously. ‘Since she had only one daughter, on her death, the money came to Miss Victoria.’ He gave another uncomfortable cough and fiddled with his glasses. ‘The late Earl made no secret of the fact that his granddaughter was…’ He paused before adding delicately, ‘…notof the Ruteledge line. However, as her declared legal guardian, he was able to make use of the money to ensure her continued well-being.’
The solicitor looked over at the pale woman sitting so silently with her hands crossed in her lap. Did she understand what he was saying?’ Nothing in her demeanour hinted that she’d even been listening. He began collecting the papers. ‘Should you wish to apply to the courts for continued guardianship, my lord, I suggest you do so swiftly as I understand that once Miss Victoria reaches twenty-one, her fortune will revert back to her control.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
Anthony had never been so glad to see his brother-in-law, and judging by the welcome he received, neither had the rest of the family. Indeed, even Flossy and Nelson had not left the Duke’s side since he walked through the door…
‘Clearly, I shall have to go away more often,’ was Nicholas’s dry comment as Grace thrust a brandy into his hand. Relishing the fiery liquid, he looked around the sitting room, then back at his wife.
‘Not that I don’t delight in having company, dearest, he continued, ‘but given the … panicked nature of your letter, I assume this is not a social visit.’ He suddenly noticed Anthony, now seated in a large, winged chair by the fire. Taking in the young man’s pallor, he put down his drink and said simply, ‘What happened?’
Half an hour later, the Duke had been acquainted fully with the events of the last couple of weeks and Malcolm had finished dressing Anthony’s wound properly.
‘Dear God, I can’t leave you all alone for five minutes,’ was Nicholas’s only comment when they’d finished - aside from the request for another brandy. He sank into the chair opposite Anthony and stared into his glass for a few moments.
‘I think it likely the Earl of Ruteledge is involved somewhere in this whole havey cavey business,’ he said at length. ‘I’m not acquainted with this particular Linfield, but since he shares the same surname, I can only surmise he’s a cousin or some such.’ He frowned. ‘As Felicity disclosed, the Earl’s son died some years ago, so it’s possible the character after Miss Huxley is actually the Edward Linfield’s heir. If so, chicanery clearly runs in the family.’ He gave a sigh. ‘Unfortunately, we won’t know for sure until we ask the blackguard.’
‘Ah take it we’ll be paying the good Bishop a visit first thing tomorrow.’ Malcolm’s soft burr was not phrased as a question.
The Duke nodded and looked back over at Anthony. ‘I have to say you look like shit, Tony,’ he stated frankly with an apologetic look towards his wife and daughter for his language. ‘But I assume we can’t persuade you to remain here?’
Anthony shook his head. ‘Not a chance in hell,’ he grated.
Nicholas nodded. ‘Then I suggest we eat and retire early. We’ll need to be on the road tomorrow at dawn.’
Percy stood up. ‘I will go home and explain everything to Lizzy,’ he declared, ‘but rest assured, your grace, I will return before dawn tomorrow.’ The Duke raised his eyebrows at the curate's enthusiasm, but made no comment . Instead he looked towards his wife.
‘Grace, I’d prefer it if you ladies remain here in safety. These ruffians have already shown they are completely without scruples.’ He did not hide his sigh of relief when for once, his beloved didn’t argue. He suspected it was due to the presence of their daughter.
‘We’ll have Nelson and Flossy to protect us,’ she murmured, leaning forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek.
Anthony struggled to his feet and gave a small bow. ‘I will be forever in your debt, your grace,’ he murmured formally, his voice husky with suppressed emotion. Nicholas stepped forward and laid a hand on his shoulder.
