And so she’d gritted her teeth and done it.And it had not been so very dreadful.He hadn’t beaten her, at least.She’d learned to endure the marriage bed, and apart from that, Lord Holgrave had been an indulgent husband, buying her jewels and other pretty baubles, treating her like a little doll.Not that she cared for such things.Papa usually took the jewels for safekeeping, saying she was a careless chit—which she had to admit she was.She had no interest in jewels.
Then Papa had collapsed and died in bed—no bad men involved—and from then on, Edgar had looked after her jewels for her.And not long after Papa’s death, Lord Holgrave had died, and she’d thought she was free, at last.
But then the bad men came after Edgar, and marriage to another wealthy old man was his solution.She’d refused, of course—once was enough—and she’d felt so guilty, because she didn’t love Edgar the way she’d loved Papa.
But somehow—she still wasn’t clear quite how it had happened—she’d found herself married to Lord Hewitt.
What was that expression?Fool me once, shame on you.Fool me twice, shame on me.
She’d even been about to fall for the lies a third time.So what did that make her?A stupid, naive, trusting fool.Worse.
Well, no longer.The scales had well and truly fallen from her eyes now, and she wasn’t shamed—she was furious.And the moment Edgar returned, she was going to confront him.
#
“DID YOU ENJOY YOURhouse party?”Tessa asked her brother shortly after he’d arrived home.They were seated in the drawing room.She was sipping tea, he, brandy.
“Yes, it was very pleasant.Now, I was speaking to Sir Henry Lester and—”
She cut him off.“Lose much money?”
He shrugged indifferently.“Won some, lost some.Now about Sir Henry—”
She could tell from his expression that the losses greatly outweighed the wins.Had he come away flush with his winnings, he’d be crowing about it.
“No bad men confronting you about your debts?”
“No, what bad—Oh, them.No, thankfully they’ve agreed to wait until after your wedding.”
“In that case, they’ll be waiting forever,” she said calmly.Inside she was fuming.He hadn’t even bothered to get his story straight—that it was the mortgages needing to be paid, not bad men after his gambling debts.
He caught himself up.“Besides, it’s not my debts that are the problem, remember?It’s the mortgage arrears.And the mortgage holder is pushing very hard for payment.”
“No he’s not.”
His brows snapped together.“What the devil do you mean by that?”
“There is no mortgage on Ferndale.”
“There damned well is.I should know.What does a chit like you know about mortgages anyway?”His tone was an uneasy mix of cajolery and contempt.
“Not a lot,” she said.Though that would change.Never again would she trust her security to her brother—or to any man.
“Exactly.You have no idea—”
She continued, “But I do know that when you’ve sold a property you no longer have a mortgage to pay.”
His eyes narrowed.“What do you mean, ‘sold a property’?”
“Don’t bother denying it, Edgar.Ferndale was sold two years ago.”
“Who told you that piece of nonsense?”he blustered.“I tell you—”
“I’ve been there.”
His jaw dropped.“You’ve—”
“Been there, yes, to Ferndale.While you were away.Seen it with my very own eyes, seen how money has been poured into it to bring it back to—”
