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Her uncle continued to reside here at the Marquess of Easterbridge’s pleasure. Uncle Hugh could have the heirloom Persian rug pulled out from under him at any moment.
“Tell me it isn’t true.”
She said the words without preamble after appearing unannounced in the library. She knew this conversation was too important to have over the phone. She’d arranged a flight to London as soon as she could, right after flying back to New York from Vegas without making any progress on an annulment.
Uncle Hugh regarded her from behind his desk. “Whatever are you talking about, my dear?” He shook his head. “I didn’t even know you were in London. You do lead the peripatetic existence these days, don’t you?”
“I just arrived this morning.” Belinda glanced around her. “Tell me you did not sell this house.”
After a moment, Uncle Hugh visibly crumbled. “How did you find out?”
“Does it matter?” she responded.
After she’d taken off from the hacienda, she’d considered that Colin might call her uncle himself to mention their meeting in Vegas and to reveal himself as the cloaked buyer. She’d dreaded that he’d go public with the news. But judging from her uncle’s reaction, he hadn’t done anything—so far.
Upon reflection, she realized that she should have known Colin would leave it to her to make the shocking revelation to her uncle that his buyer was the Marquess of Easterbridge. Of course.
Still, she wondered what it signified. Did Colin intend to derive every satisfaction from vanquishing her uncle, including having Belinda confront her relative, or did he think it was more merciful for her to deliver the news rather than for him to reveal it himself?
“I was assured of discretion,” Uncle Hugh said, his tone defensive. “I am continuing to live here and at the estate in Berkshire, and nobody needs to be the wiser about the change in ownership.”
Belinda looked at him with a sinking heart. “Assured of discretion for how long and by whom? The Russian billionaire to whom you thought you sold the property for investment purposes?”
Uncle Hugh nodded. “The agreement was for me to continue to live here for years.” He paused. “How did you find out? If you know, then—”
“You fell into a trap. A layer of corporate entities obscured his identity, but the buyer is none other than the Marquess of Easterbridge.”
Uncle Hugh looked flabbergasted and then bowed his head and clasped his forehead with his hand.
“Why didn’t you tell me the family finances were so dire?” Belinda demanded.
“There’s nothing you could have done.”
“How did we reach this pass?”
She had a right to know, especially since she was on the spot for getting them out of this quagmire. At least, the smaller of the Berkshire estates remained in Wentworth hands, so her family would never be completely without a home, but their identity was tied up in the properties that they no longer owned.
Her uncle glanced up and shook his head, his look beseeching. “Our financial investments have not done well in the past few years. There are also family members with significant allowances. Your mother…”
Neither of them needed to say more. Belinda was well aware of her mother’s lavish lifestyle. She made no mention, however, of Uncle Hugh’s own expensive tastes. Of course, her uncle would not view them as such. After all, what was the cost of a bespoke suit to one who had worn them for all his adult life?
As for herself, Belinda supplemented her modest
salary at Lansing’s with a small trust fund that her grandparents and father had left her, so she had not needed to draw an allowance. If she had known the specifics, however, she would have gladly turned over her trust fund to save the family ship from sinking. At the same time, she doubted it would have done much good aside from buying them a small amount of time.
Belinda studied her uncle. He’d always loomed large in her life—someone to look up to. She’d grown up under his roof. But now he appeared diminished by more than merely his years. The shoe was on the other foot now, and Belinda felt uncomfortably like she was chastising a child.
Uncle Hugh bent his head. “It’s all ruined.”
“Not quite.”
She knew what ruin felt like—her wedding day had been a disaster—so her heart went out to her uncle. At the same time, she stopped herself from pointing out that while she had been castigated for marrying a Granville, Uncle Hugh had sold the family estates to one, albeit inadvertently. Who had committed the greater transgression?
Her uncle glanced up. “What do you mean?”
“I mean Colin is reluctant to grant me a divorce, though he ultimately may not have a choice.” Nothing was ever quite as lost as one believed, she was discovering.
Uncle Hugh brightened. “We may have some leverage.”
