“Philip,” Thomas said sharply, and Roarke’s younger cousin snapped his mouth shut with a sullen glare.
Roarke couldn’t help but look around the opulent home they all sat in at present. He didn’t think his cousins were hurting for funds, no matter how much their uncle had gifted for the widow he left behind.
“It has been three years since his death,” Roarke said as gently as he could. “And it seems the lady is no longer in your lives. Thomas is happily in place as duke, so he makes the decisions for the future of the family, and there were no children from the second union to take anything from you. I am surprised you are still so bitter toward his second wife.”
Thomas let out a long sigh and the three cousins exchanged a look heavy with meaning. It immediately put Roarke on edge. He knew that look, had seen it dozens of times as a child. It almost always meant his cousins had a plan of some kind, usually a cruel one, and they wished for him to be part of it. Probably so he could be blamed if the entire thing went wrong.
And once again Roarke cursed the fact that he had to grovel to them for money three times a year for the upkeep of his ill mother. Why had he not been more prudent? Why had he inherited his own late father’s penchant for risk when it came to bright ideas of the future? There had been so little left to inherit, but perhaps if he had been prudent and guarded, he might be in a different position now.
“Well, I suppose we are thinking of the cruel grasping of his wretched wife all the more lately because of the terms of settlement we just discovered only this week,” Thomas said.
“Only this week,” Roarke said flatly. “You are telling me that you are still finding new terms of inheritance after all this time?”
“Yes,” Thomas said, his tone getting a bit sharper. “You have no idea what we have endured. How hard it is to go through papers and papers, trying to sort out the whims of a father.”
Roarke bit his tongue. They never had considered his father much of anything, despite his being their mother’s brother, so of course they wouldn’t see his death and the ripples that had come from it as the same thing.
“Hmmm” was all Roarke responded.
“Dearest Papa was far too kind,” Gertrude continued, moving closer to Roarke. He realized they were all doing it, almost surrounding him, and his stomach turned. “There was an additional term in regard to our stepmother, and it will come into effect very soon if we do not stop it.”
“And what is the term?” Roarke asked, trying to back away from the circling vultures, but only serving to edge himself farther into the corner of the room.
“Flora will inherit an additional ten thousand pounds if she reaches the third year of her widowhood without remarrying or taking a lover,” Thomas said, his mouth twisting with disgust.
Roarke’s head spun a moment. Ten thousand pounds. Great God, he came to beg for one percent of that amount just to stay afloat, just to keep his mother fed and minded.
“It’s not much of a sum,” Philip sneered. “But that bitch hasn’t earned it.”
Yet again Roarke flinched at the crude language his cousin used to address his stepmother and in front of his maiden sister. “Your father seems to have felt differently,” he said softly. “He must have cared for her a great deal in order to wish to protect her so thoroughly, as I imagine she must have inherited a tidy sum at this death.”
“Fifteen thousand,” Gertrude sneered. “Half again over whatIinherited.”
Roarke shook his head. Great God, but these people were so entirely separated from reality. They lived like kings and compared themselves to paupers. They hated a woman for taking from them, when it seemed there were unlimited resources available left to them by a caring father who had stewarded his unentailed finances carefully to protect his family.Allhis family.
Roarke despised them for it.
He smoothed his coat and then forced a sympathetic smile. “I am sorry to hear of your woes, cousins. I imagine you must feel great frustration over this news. I feel as though I am intruding now on your grief. Perhaps I should go and we can meet again another—”
“No,” Thomas interrupted, arching a brow and glowering at Roarke in what he could only assume was his cousin’s attempt at alord of the manorexpression. “You came here to ask for our assistance, as you do several times a year.”
“The money is for my mother,” Roarke began, but his cousin lifted his hand.
“I don’t give a damn about your mother,” he snapped. “Shewas not related to us through blood.” Roarke clenched his fists at his sides but managed not to react in any other way as his cousin continued, “You receive a sum from the family atourpleasure.Ourdiscretion. I’ve never asked you for repayment, have I?”
“No.” Roarke managed the one word through clenched teeth. “You are very kind.”
“Do you feel you owe me?” Thomas pressed, his eyes lighting with further cruelty.
Roarke bent his head, his breath coming rough. “You are talking about repayment, I suppose. I don’t know how you expect such a thing when you are so keenly aware of my circumstances. I thought lording it over me would be enough for you, as it has always been a pleasure to you to do so.”
“Watch your tongue, cousin, or it might be watched for you,” Philip said, edging closer. “The duke is talking to you.”
Roarke forced himself to lift his gaze back to Thomas’s and held there. “What do you want?”
“Nothing dire,” Thomas said, his tone dripping with false reassurance. “Nothing financial, so it will not be a trial to you. I am only asking that you investigate our stepmother. She didn’t know you, so she wouldn’t suspect if you did a little snooping into her life.”
“Investigate what?” Roarke sputtered.
