“Well…no. Not yet.” Damn it, he thought, disgruntled that she’d distanced herself from him. Did she think chatting with children came easily for him? He hadn’t been around children, except Sara’s baby who was too young to talk back.
“Perhaps if Desford understood why you act as you do, then he would be more accepting when you express your opinions.”
More than likely, Desford would laugh to hear any such thing coming from someone he disliked so. For all her grasp of the rudiments of childhood behavior, Anna Thraxton didn’t understand the first thing about men. Males didn’t just walk up to one another and spout such mealymouthed platitudes.
Still…Anthony supposed it wouldn’t hurt to tell Desford something. Perhaps compliment the boy. Or maybe they could just go fishing. Desford would understand the meaning of that gesture. “I’ll try to speak with less—”
“Of a bark.”
“I don’t bark,” he said, then ground his teeth at how harsh his voice sounded.
Anna tilted her head to one side, a thoughtful look in her gray eyes. “How old were you when you came into your title?”
“Three months. But I didn’t assume responsibility for the family until I was seventeen.”
Her brows rose. “You assumed responsibility for the entire family?”
“Every last one,” he said grimly. He didn’t like to remember those early months. They had been hellish. He’d been a stubborn young man, determined to bend a family of shysters to his will. The effort had almost killed him, but it had been worth it. The Elliot name, while not as pure as some, was no longer so reviled. It would take years to completely undo the damage the lower portions of the family had inflicted. Still, they were on their way. He caught Anna’s disbelieving gaze and said tersely, “You would have done the same.”
“I would never have used your methods—bullying and shouting and ordering people about.”
He smiled, slow and sweet. “Oh, I’ve used one or two of your methods, too, my love. There is very little that money will not accomplish, if wielded in a judicious manner. I lured them to me, offering to pay their bills, to set their accounts to order. A little like you and Desford with the rice pudding.”
“Bribery.”
“For most, it was enough. For the rest…” He turned to his desk and sat on the edge of it, gently swinging his foot as he watched her. “An amazing number of Elliots are addicted to gaming. A family weakness, I suppose. I merely bought a number of their vowels, which they could not repay, of course, and threatened to send them to gaol if they did not change their way of life.”
“And that worked?”
“To a great degree, yes. Gaol is not something men and women of fashion long for.”
Anna could only guess at the amount of determination it had taken for one man to bring an entire family of wastrels to heel. She looked at Anthony with new eyes, noting the tiny laugh lines that creased the edges of his eyes and the firm set of his mouth. He’d fought hard for his family honor. Fought and won.
He met her gaze with an easy lift of his brows that sent her heart thumping wildly. “And you, Thraxton? What challenges do you face?”
“Grandpapa. Trust me, that is quite enough.”
“He is a very interesting man. He comes to visit now and again. I lend him books and we discuss shipping, investments, reform work, classical literature—he can converse about any topic you wish.”
“At one time, he had investments in over twenty different ports. Unfortunately, his last ventures were not so successful.”
“Ah, yes. So he told me, though he seems hopeful of making a recovery.”
It was nice, standing there, talking to Greyley about their families. But it was just an illusion of intimacy, a hint of what could have been, if circumstances had been different for them both.
Anna swallowed a sudden lump of hurt. “I really must be going. The children are working on a play.”
He quirked a brow. “I’m not going to have to sit through it, am I?”
“Every minute. Furthermore, you will applaud wildly when the time comes and you will even ask for an encore.”
“I’ll do it,” he said, his eyes glinting warmly. “But just for you.”
“No. You’ll do it for the children. Because it will make them happy.”
“For the children, then,” he agreed with amazing alacrity. His gaze softened, caressing and exploring until a shiver wracked her spine. “I’ll have you to bed, Anna. And when I do, you’ll see why we are meant to be.”
If she were to walk to him right now, he would enfold her in his arms and kiss her senseless, which sounded perfectly and absolutely wonderful. She yearned to throw caution to the wind, to ignore her obligations, to ignore the fact that he was promised to another, but she couldn’t. “Good-bye, Greyley.”
Gathering her tattered resolution, Anna left. As soon as the door was securely closed behind her, she paused to regain her breath and restore peace to her thudding heart.
“What a surprise to find you here.”
The shrill voice made Anna sigh. Lady Putney faced her in the narrow hallway, her painted face garish in the harsh afternoon light.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Thraxton,” Lady Putney said, her gaze drifting to the closed door beyond. “Yet another tête-à-tête with His Lordship, hm?”
“Lord Greyley and I were discussing the children.”
Lady Putney smiled, a tight, nasty smile. “A word of warning, my dear. I wouldn’t be quite so familiar with His Lordship, if I were you. It could start some nasty rumors, and that would be fatal to one in your circumstances.”
“Thank you for your advice, Lady Putney. I’ll consider it thoroughly.” With a stiff curtsy, Anna turned on her heel and left.
Lady Putney watched her go, her brow drawn in thought as she stared down the hallway. Somehow she’d lost her power over the children and she was just beginning to realize why. “Jenkins!” she called shrilly.
The butler appeared. “Yes, my lady?”
“Send paper and pen to my room. I wish to write a letter.”
“Yes, my lady.” He bowed and left and Lady Putney made her way to her room, her mind working furiously.
Chapter 20
If Edmund Valmont is invited to my funeral, promise you’ll bury me in a plain coat with no buttons.
The Duke of Wexford to his friend, Viscount Hunterston, on the way home from Lord Dunsmore’s funeral
Three days passed in which Anthony was kept busy by the disgruntled Dalmapple with a number of items, two of which had to do with Elliot cousins who were on the verge of ruin. Anthony looked through the papers Dalmapple had collected, his mind wandering. He’d only managed to spend a very small amount of time with Anna and the children and he was unaccountably irritated by that fact.
He rubbed a hand over his face. What was he going to do? Anna was making it more and more clear that she would have nothing to do with him without a more substantial relationship. And Anthony couldn’t blame her, she was a woman who expected and deserved more. Still, he was locked into a course of action from which there was no retreating. He’d made a formal offer for Charlotte and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. God, what a coil.
It was late, the light guttering in the lamp, the fire sputtering weakly. Weary in heart and soul, he decided to go to bed now, before he fell asleep in his chair.
Anthony rose and stretched, then left the library. As he crossed the foyer, he came to a sudden halt. Rupert Elliot stood in the entryway, handing his hat to the waiting Jenkins.
“Rupert!” Anthony said, coming forward. “What an unexpected surprise.”
The young man turned, an immediate grin lighting his face. “I thought to sneak in and surprise you tomorrow at breakfast, but you have found me out.”
“Breakfast? I wasn’t aware you ate that meal. I’ve never seen you up before noon.”
Rupert chuckled. “Luncheon, then. Either way, my surprise is ruined.”
“
So it is.” Anthony sent a shrewd look at the young man. “What brings you to Greyley at this time of the night?”
“I was grasped with an immediate need to visit the country. And since I was in the neighborhood…”
“Rusticating, are you?”
Rupert grimaced. “You know me, it’s devil to dare or nothing. I’m on my last legs and my next quarter allowance isn’t due for another sennight. Thought I might as well come and visit you while I wait.”
“And your mother.”
“Her, too, I suppose. Is she giving you fits?”
“No more than usual.”
“That, at least, is good news,” Rupert said with a false smile, a faintly sick feel to his stomach. Greyley House was the last place he wanted to be. “How are the brats? Have they driven you to distraction?”
“Not yet, but they are still trying. How long can you stay?”
“As long as you can bear to have me.”
Anthony glanced at Jenkins, who hovered discreetly in the background. “Ready the green bedchamber for Lord Rupert.”
The butler bowed, then left.
“Rupert, shall I have a tray sent to your room or have you eaten?”
“I never eat after midnight. Now if you wanted to send a bottle of port…”
Anthony laughed. “I’ll have Jenkins see to it. Now off to bed with you. Your mother’s in the east wing, if you wish to see her.”
“Oh, I’ll wait until tomorrow,” Rupert said casually. “I just want to fall into bed. The ride here was hellish, with me thinking the dun men were hot on my heels.”
Concern darkened Greyley’s brow. “Is it as bad as that?”
“Lord, no,” Rupert said with a bravado he didn’t feel. “Not yet, anyway. My allowance is coming soon and all will be right.”
“Very well. If you need something to tide you over—”
“Don’t” Rupert said, more harshly than he intended. He managed a twisted smile at the earl’s look of surprise. “I don’t have it in me to say no, though I know I should.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Anthony said. “We’ll talk tomorrow, and you can tell me how things go on. I want to hear all of the latest news from town.”
“I’m a veritable fount of gossip,” Rupert said, sweeping a dramatic bow.
“You’ve never said anything truer.” Greyley nodded to a footman who stood patiently to one side, waiting to take Rupert to his room. “Good night, then, Rupert. Sleep well.”
Rupert watched Greyley’s broad form as he left. Damn it, it was just like Greyley to offer to assist him. There were times when Rupert believed the earl would be a good friend, if Rupert were capable of possessing such a thing.
Sighing tiredly, he followed the footman to his room where he found his portmanteau already unpacked, a fire flickering steadily in the grate and fresh water on the stand. He tested the water in the basin with a cautious elbow. Finding it warm, he quickly undid his cravat, pulled off his shirt and washed away the travel.
Refreshed, he picked up his dressing jacket where some knowing maid had unpacked it and then slipped it on, gathering a lamp as he left his room. He walked down two halls, turning once until he was in the older part of Greyley House. There he found a wide oak door and knocked softly. On being bidden to enter, he opened the door and softly closed it behind him.
Lady Putney stood before her dressing table. Encased in yards and yards of ruffled silk that would have suited a far younger woman, she turned her perfumed and powdered cheek for his kiss. “Ah, my dearest Rupert! What took you so long?”
“Hello, Mother,” Rupert said, ignoring her invitation for an embrace. “Why the hell did you send for me?”
She frowned. “Perhaps I just wished to see you, my last remaining son.”
“Playing it a bit deep, aren’t you, madam?”
“You are just like your father. Not a sensitive nerve in your body.”
Rupert stifled an impatient sigh. “Come, Mother, what do you want? I happened to be in deep pursuit of a certain ladybird when I got your missive, and I’m anxious to return to London.”
“I don’t know why I let you speak to me that way. You are unkind.”
“You didn’t raise me to be kind. You raised me to be wealthy, frivolous, dashing, and a complete wastrel. All the things James was not.”
“Leave your brother out of this. He is dead now and nothing we can do will ever bring him back.”
“As if you’d want to. As if anyone would want to.” Rupert perched on the edge of her dressing table and lifted a gold-topped bottle. “Spare me the histrionics. I’m not in the mood.”
She snatched the bottle from his hand, her blue eyes blazing. “Are you in the mood for starvation, then? For complete ruin?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we are a feather away from losing everything we own.”
Rupert frowned. “How can that be? Father left—”
“Your father didn’t know the first thing about money. I was the one who made all our investments. Had it been up to him, you’d never have your horses, nor that high-perch phaeton you were so hot to purchase, much less those pretty clothes you demand.”
Rupert had few illusions about who and what he was. “My blood is no worse than yours, Mother. We are both whores.”
Her lips thinned. “Don’t talk to me that way, Rupert. I am your mother.”
“But not my guardian. Father knew you too well to allow such a thing. He left his friend Mr. Mills to see to it that I was taken care of.”
She smiled then, tightly and without humor. “Mr. Mills will do as I tell him.”
Rupert’s heart chilled. “Explain yourself.”
A simper crossed her round face. “Let’s just say that Mr. Mills and I have come to an understanding.”
“Did you prostitute yourself to that little worm, as well?”
“Don’t press me, Rupert. I cannot converse with you when you are towering over me. Sit.”
Seething inwardly, Rupert sank into a chair by the fire. “Well?” he asked rudely.
“There is no nice way to put this, Rupert, so I’ll just say it bluntly—we have no more money.”
“But I get my allowance in a sennight and—”
“There will be no more allowances.”
“Good God. What’s happened?”
“Last year was not kind to us. I had the opportunity to recoup some of our losses and I took it. It was risky, but I thought…” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It didn’t pay off and we are lost.”
“All of it?”
“There is some nominal amount left, but not enough. That’s why I need you here.” She looked at him with a speculative gleam. “Greyley has never cared for me, nor I him. But he’s always seemed fond of you.”
“I will not ask Greyley for assistance. He would never agree to—”
“Don’t be a ninny. Of course he won’t give us money. He despises the entire Elliot family, even though he is one himself.”
“Can you blame him? Look at the hell we’ve put him through. Every time he turns around, he has to rescue yet another of us from the clutches of our own foolishness.”
“That’s his duty as the head of the family. Why he should complain about such trivialities is beyond me. Nevertheless, what I need from you has very little to do with Greyley. Almost nothing, in fact.”
A warning flickered deep in his stomach. “What does it have to do with, then?”
“James’s children.” A sly smile curved her mouth. “They inherited the deed to a diamond mine.”
“A worthless diamond mine. I remember when James bought into that. You said it was all folly, that he’d lost his shirt on that one.”
“He did. They began mining, but didn’t find any diamonds. James was furious, for he’d invested a lot of money in verifying the site, but something went wrong. All of the other investors pulled out, but by that time, James had no more money and he couldn’t afford to just walk away. He was left holding
the deed to the entire operation.”
“He was an obstinate fool.”
“This time it paid off. The week before James died, I ran into him at the Havershams’ musicale and he was looking more pompous than usual.”
“They found diamonds after all?”
“Something almost as good.” She picked up a small heart-shaped box on her dresser and opened it. A velvet bag lay inside. She lifted it free and tossed it to Rupert. “See what your brother did with his last few shillings.”
Rupert opened the bag and poured the contents into his hand. Three large, perfectly cut rubies lay in his palm. “Good God.”
“I’ve already had them evaluated and they’re almost perfect.” She sat on the stool by Rupert’s chair and patted his hand. “The only way I can get my hands on that mine is to convince Greyley to let me have the children. According to James’s express instructions, any funds or investments he possessed are to be held in trust for the children by whoever takes care of them.”
Rupert could not seem to look away from the gems.
Lady Putney’s glitter-hard smile widened. “If Greyley chooses to send the children elsewhere, he can, but he will have to relinquish their funds as well.”
“We are lost, then. Greyley would never turn those children over to someone else.”
“He will if his new wife refuses to countenance them.”
Rupert pulled his gaze from the rubies. “Greyley is getting married?”
“Soon. He’s engaged to Charlotte Melton, a bread-and-butter miss who is scared of her own shadow. There’s no way the shy and retiring Charlotte would be able to handle those troublesome brats.” Lady Putney rose, smoothing her hair as she did so, her arms pasty in the firelight. “I’ve become quite close with her mother and I’ve made sure they know all about the children.”
“I daresay you haven’t helped their behavior here, either.”
“Oh, I’ve been busy. And soon it will all pay off. Pretty little Charlotte will cry and Greyley will be forced to give the children up. And there I’ll be, their adoring grandmother, ready to welcome them home.”