And that was the true reason he’d agreed to marry the Reverly Heiress. If the woman who owned his soul would not have him, well, then what did it matter whom he married? Of course, the decision hadn’t set well with him. The day after his betrothal party to Willa, he had slunk away to Mayfield because in London hewasa fool.
It had helped to leave. Once he’d stopped pitying himself, he’d started to perceive that what his grandmother had told him about the state of Mayfield’s financial affairs did not equate to what his own reasoned intelligence noticed. He’d started asking questions. It had taken time to receive answers.
“What happened to the money?” he repeated to his grandmother. “What is the story? Was my uncle William involved?”
The mention of William stirred her. “He knew nothing about it.” She straightened her shoulders. “And I shall not say another word.”
“Then I won’t marry the Reverly Heiress.”
That robbed her of her starch. “You must. You can’t abandon her at the altar.”
Matt shrugged.
“There will be nothing if you don’t marry her. You’ll be ruined.”
“We’llbe ruined,” he countered.
She pressed her lips together tightly.
“Don’t make this so difficult,” he said.
From somewhere in the house, he could hear the chime of a clock. It was not yet noon... and then his grandmother’s face crumpled as if she could no longer hold in the truth.
“A man named Hardesty was blackmailing us.”
Out of all the possible scenarios, that was one Matt had not anticipated. “What?”
“Blackmail,” she repeated impatiently. “You know what that is.”
“How could anyone blackmail my grandfather?” The old duke had been a stickler. He’d lived the upright, moral life. Matt had been trying to shock Minerva when he mentioned his grandfather and whores in the same sentence.
She removed her gloves with a distracted air, as if suddenly unnerved. “This man, Hardesty, he learned a secret. We paid him to be quiet. We had to. We had no choice.”
Matt knelt by her chair and took her hand. Her fingers were cold. She started to shake. “Grandmother, it will be all right.”
“It hasn’t been ‘all right’ since that terrible man started sending letters. He always wanted more.”
“Who is this Hardesty?”
“We never knew. He’d demand money and tell Henry where to leave it. We could never catch him even when Henry hired men to go after him.”
“But why would you pay Hardesty?” That was the true mystery.
“For silence.” Her fingers squeezed his tightly. She looked away.
“Grandmother, tell me.”
“I wish you’d let this go—”
“But I won’t. Tell me.”
Her pale blue eyes met his. “Hardesty knew some uncomfortable things about William that he threatened to expose.” William, the favored son. The heir.
A little over sixteen months ago, he’d died in a riding accident. He’d been out in the early morning and had been thrown. His neck had been broken.
Both of Matt’s grandparents had taken his death badly. His grandfather’s health had started failing immediately. In their last interview together, Henry had let Matt know that he considered his grandson barely a shadow of the man William had been.
“What uncomfortable things did he know about my uncle?” Matt had not known his uncle well, but by any account, William, Marquis of Tilbury, had been widely respected and admired. A true Corinthian.
