Page 4 of The Lyon’s Paw

“Indeed he was, Mrs. Beaumont.” The solicitor pulled out another sheaf of foolscap. “Therefore, it is with pleasure that I advise you, Miss Edgerton, that the bulk of your uncle’s estate rests in Mr. Edgerton’s account at Hoare & Co. With my letter stating the terms of the will have been met, the bank will open a separate account and transfer the balance from your uncle’s account to that one.” Mr. Boniface looked up and handed her the papers. “The sum will afford you an annual income of around thirty thousand pounds.”

At those words Diana’s breath stopped completely and she stared at the little man across from her, transfixed by his statement. Such an amount of money was undreamed of.

“Diana?” Her aunt’s keen gaze registered her concern. “Are you all right, my dear?”

Diana gasped and gave herself a shake. This was no time to swoon. “Yes, aunt. But it…it quite took my breath away to hear what I’ve inherited.” Almost beyond her comprehension. How was she ever to know how to manage such a vast sum? “I scarcely know what to say, Mr. Boniface, other than thank you very, very much.”

“You will learn to accept it, Diana, and to manage it.” Aunt Frances nodded sagely. “Your uncle was grateful for your care of him. He will wish you to use it wisely.” Her aunt’s smile made her feel a good bit better. Aunt Frances had faith in her, as had Uncle George. She would do her best not to disappoint either one of them.

“Will your fiancé be joining us today, Miss Edgerton?” Mr. Boniface looked at her eagerly.

“My what?” Diana jerked her attention back to the solicitor.

“Your betrothed.” The gentleman frowned, then his face cleared. “I do beg your pardon, but I assumed you were still Miss Edgerton. What is your married name, my dear? We will need that for the transference of funds. Your husband will need to approve your having a separate bank account of course. Unless you wish to hold one jointly with him.”

“What are you talking about, Mr. Boniface?” Diana stared at the man, who must be mad to think she was married. No one wished to marry her. “I have neither husband nor fiancé. Whatever gave you such an idea?”

The little man scowled, his lips puckered as though he’d just tasted a lemon. “Your uncle did, Miss Edgerton. On the day he appended the codicil to his will.”

Diana cut her gaze over to Aunt Frances whose face was frowning as well. Oh, dear lord. What had her uncle done? “Uncle George told you I was betrothed?”

“He did.” The solicitor pulled the mass of papers out of her hands, sifted through them until he plucked out one particular sheet. “I had voiced concerns to him that if he left such a vast sum of money to you, a sheltered, unmarried young woman, you might not understand how to manage it, or allow yourself to be taken advantage of by some scoundrel. At which point he informed me that I needn’t worry because you were betrothed to a Lord Merryweather.”

Inwardly, Diana groaned. “I confess I did tell my uncle that, Mr. Boniface. He had become concerned about me as he neared the end of his life because I wasn’t married, wasn’t settled, as he put it. So I told him a little white lie. I am good friends with Lord Merryweather but told my uncle we had an understanding.” Diana twisted her hands in her lap. She’d simply not wanted her uncle to fret about her when he was already feeling so poorly. “I suppose I led him to believe I was engaged to Lord Merryweather, which I am, in fact, not.”

“But that will not impede my niece’s inheriting her uncle’s fortune, will it?” Aunt Frances leaned toward the solicitor, her gaze fixed on his face.

Mr. Boniface’s face drooped. “I am very afraid it will, Mrs. Beaumont.” He held the piece of paper out and, her stomach clenching in fear, Diana took it. “Look at the codicil, down at the bottom.”

Gritting her teeth, Diana’s gaze traveled down the lines of copperplate handwriting to her uncle’s signature, then to the spidery writing below it.

To ensure that my niece will have the best management of her inheritance, I make this stipulation that in order for her to inherit my fortune she must be married at the time she receives the money. If she be not married within a week of the settling of the estate, she shall instead receive one shilling and the rest of the sum in its entirety will pass to a charity of my choice, which I will make known to my executor, Mr. Boniface. Signed by my hand this 13th day of August, 1818.

Horrified, Diana read the last portion of the will twice, hoping against hope she’d read it wrong the first time. But no, it was right there, unmistakable. Her uncle’s words were absolutely clear. She must marry within a single week or lose all her inheritance.

Diana clutched the paper so tightly she feared it might rip. Little good it would do her anyway, torn or not. There was simply no way she could find a man who would marry her within such a short period of time. Not with her reputation within the ton. Her cousins’ malice might just have prevented her from inheriting. They’d probably rejoice at her misfortune, although none of them would benefit from their uncle’s estate. What a horrible mess this had turned into.

Perhaps fearing for the document’s well-being, Mr. Boniface pulled it gently from her fingers.

“What is wrong, Diana?”

She’d forgotten her aunt sat beside her. “Oh, Aunt Frances, this is terrible. The will is insisting I marry…within a week!”

“What?”

Diana grabbed the will back and thrust the sheets into her aunt’s hands, then buried her head in hers. “Read that!”

If only her foray into Society during the Season had borne fruit. Her aunt had worked very hard to secure invitations to several entertainments during the Season—although they’d been denied admittance to Almacks—trying to control the damage her cousins had caused. Her aunt had pointed out that she would soon be an heiress and the ton was notorious for turning a blind eye to scandal if the ruined party possessed a great deal of wealth. And it might have worked because there had been that one wonderful outing with Lord—

Diana’s face seemed to burst into flame as she recalled the look on the gentleman’s face as he sat in the waters of the Serpentine with all the ton looking on. Oh, but she would never live down that shame. Who would wish to marry a lady who had done something so egregious and then had run away? So if she had to marry in order to gain her inheritance, her hopes were well and truly dashed. “My uncle apparently didn’t think I was competent enough to manage his money on my own. He’s insisting I marry within a week or I forfeit all the money.” It really didn’t help to hear the words spelled out for her aunt. “What am I going to do?”

“Would Lord Merryweather perhaps consider a marriage if he knew of the inheritance you stand to gain?” Mr. Boniface ventured the suggestion hesitantly.

Glancing at her aunt, Diana shrugged. “I suppose I can write to him and ask. I haven’t seen him for some time now. He wasn’t in Town during the Season. But I can try.”

“Good.” Mr. Boniface rose, collected all the papers and stuffed them back into his satchel. “Today is Tuesday. If you are able to marry, bring a copy of your marriage lines to my office by midnight next Monday and I will swear the affidavit you have met the terms of your uncle’s will.” He looked at her dolefully. “If not, I will pay you your single shilling on Tuesday next.” The solicitor picked up his bag and headed for the door. Just as he was about to open it, Lucy appeared with the tea tray.

“I’m sorry it took so long to get the tea ready, Mrs. Beaumont.” The maid stood gawking at Mr. Boniface.