“It is not my hand that chooses whom I marry, my lord,” Felicity said. “It is my heart.”
The viscount snorted. “Your heart will not keep you clothed and fed, my lady. This man has nothing but his land and tenant farmers who struggle under his poor management. I cannot believe you would willingly condemn yourself to such a life.”
Raging inside, Drake stepped forward, caught the man up by his poorly tied cravat, and forcibly walked him back until they were well behind the tent. “Your conversation with my intended is quite finished, Lord Tinslow. On your way now, my good man.” Then he punched him in the jaw. Hard.
The viscount tumbled back into the bushes and went still.
“Oh, dear heavens, Drake, did you kill the fool?”
“No, my dearest.” He waved Felicity back while glancing around to ensure he had not attracted any unwanted spectators. “He is merely having a bit of a nap. I am sure he will be quite all right in a little while.” He tucked her arm through his and ushered her away. “Come. Let us enjoy your sister’s party.”
She grinned up at him. “You handled that quite nicely. You are my knight in shining armor.”
“I am not so certain about that, but I did not like the way he spoke to you. He had no right.” The viscount might’ve been correct about their life not being filled with the luxuries Felicity was accustomed to, but it was not that bastard’s place to chide her for her choice.
Drake pulled up short. “You know there will be many who share Lord Tinslow’s feelings?”
“That is their problem. Not mine.” Felicity gave a curt nod as if proud of herself for taking such a stance. “I cannot live my life by everyone else’s expectations. I know that now. I might still prefer aquiet corner rather than the center of the party, but I am determined to no longer be a cowering little mouse.”
After stealing a glance at the other guests, he hurried to kiss her hand. “You are not a cowering mouse, but a gem of the first water.” He glanced back at the bushes where the viscount had landed, then placed her hand on his arm. “Come. Let us find another place to sit and enjoy each other’s company.” Unable to stop himself, he grinned. “This area is entirely too crowded.”
Felicity laughed. “We should probably warn Joy that Lord Tinslow is napping in her boxwoods.”
“Is she overly fond of the man?” Drake hoped he hadn’t erred in bettering the viscount’s manners.
Felicity grew thoughtful. “I do not think so. He is her closest neighbor to the north. I believe she is simply kind to him because…” She frowned. “The last time I met Lord Tinslow, he was married. I remember his wife now. Seems as though I recall Joy saying the poor woman died just this past winter.” She snorted. “He has no young children in need of a mother to explain his wish to remarry so soon. The man should still be in mourning. How despicable!”
“And sad.”
“Indeed. It makes one wonder how he treated her while she lived.” She squeezed Drake’s arm. “No matter. I chose the better man.”
Hearing her say that both thrilled and saddened him. “I am glad you chose me, my lady. I would be lost without you.” And as soon as he returned to Binnocksbourne, he would be visiting the inn and calling upon Rum and Catherty. Yateston had discovered the moneylenders had taken up residence there like vultures circling a dying animal. Well, he was determined to live, and just as determined to thwart them.
Chapter Twelve
The entire ridehome from Winterstone, Drake ran through every possible situation that might successfully oust Rum and Catherty from his life. He still hadn’t come up with a plausible solution other than dumping his uncle on their doorstep. He doubted that cruel tactic would work. They didn’t want Uncle George. They wanted their money plus their exorbitantly compounded interest. Their blackmail demand for their first payment, which they had so generously agreed to accept, was still on his desk.
If he went to the Bow Street Runners about the blackmail, he might very well be brought up on charges of fraud and imprisoned. But he had only impersonated a peer to save his despicable uncle’s life, and then very nearly ruined himself by attempting to pay off all the old man’s debts—at least, the legal ones—with his own funds. He was unsure whether that would make a difference to the courts or not. After all, once Uncle died, Drake was the legal heir to the title. Would that sway them in his favor? The uncertainty of it all made deciding what to do even more difficult. The courts might be friendly, but then again, they very well might not. Many despised the Wakefield name because his uncle had cleaned out their pockets in the gaming hells. When Uncle George won, he won big. Unfortunately, when Lady Luck’s pendulum swung the other way, he lost even bigger.
“I have no idea what the devil to do,” Drake told his horse as they neared Wakefield Manor. But he had to decide something. Tomorrowwas the last day the scoundrels had given him to pay up. If he threatened to turn them over to the Bow Street Runners and acted as if he didn’t care if his poorly carried-out plan was revealed, what would they do? As much as he dreamed about them throwing up their hands and giving up, he doubted very much if it would be that easy. After all, Uncle George owed them a great deal of money, and they had a reputation for always collecting what was fully due to them. In their letter of demands, they had mentioned his property, knowing that was all he had left.
Drake shook his head. Social standing meant nothing compared to the land that had been in his family for more lifetimes than he could count. And deep down, he knew they would never be satisfied. No amount of money, no amount of land, would ever pry him free of their clutches.
There was no choice. He would tell Rum and Catherty of his plan to go to the Bow Street Runners, and then he would tell Felicity everything before he went to London to speak to the proper authorities. He would lose her over this. She would never forgive him for hiding such a terrible lie.
Gut-wrenching anguish filled him, making him throw back his head and roar. His horse startled and took off, nearly throwing him from the saddle. He got the poor beast under control just as they reached the front gate of the manor. Halting the mount, he stared at the once-stately home that had deteriorated so quickly over the months of neglect. He could almost hear his parents’ wails rising from their graves.
“I will fix this,” he told them, his voice breaking. “I swear I will make this right.” Hang the title. No one in Society respected him as it was. He had heard their whispers. Everyone knew his mistakes, all in the name of making things right. The best he could hope for was ostracism from theton. The worst? Imprisonment, and both would cost him the woman he loved.
He snorted. She deserved better than him anyway.
He turned his horse toward town and urged it to a gallop. Better to start the end of his life today rather than wait for tomorrow.
When he reached the inn, he handed off his mount to the lad who hoped to be paid for watching patrons’ horses. Drake had a coin or two in his pocket for the boy, but decided to wait until his business was finished to pay him. He held up the money to reassure the lad. “I’ll not be long. When I return, these are yours.”
The boy brightened and led the horse to a grassier spot beside the inn.
Drake climbed the steps and went to the counter, nodding at the innkeeper. “Good afternoon, Mr. Thomassan. Are Mr. Rum and Mr. Catherty holding court in the parlor today or in one of their rooms?”
