Felix faced them unflinchingly. “I have every right. And there will be no further cover-ups. There will be no further sweeping under the rug of your misdeeds if you decide to indulge in the same sort of wretched and immoral behaviors that you have in the past. I will not be paying to get you out of them. I will not be doing whatever is necessary, nor using the power of my title, to spare you the consequences of your actions. I did that only for my aunt—to spare her the scandal of being attached to such individuals as you, even by marriage. But she is gone now, and I am under no such obligation to continue.”
*
Caris took noteof the tension the moment she entered the dining room. It was clear to see that the Denworthys and the viscount had squared off, but she wasn’t certain which one of them was the aggressor. Normally, she would have placed her money firmly on the Denworthys. They loved a good fight—spoiled for one all the time, in fact.
But there was something in the rather obstinate set of the viscount’s jaw—already squared, rough-hewn. It was positively challenging in its tension. Perhaps the Denworthys were not the only ones who were spoiling for a fight.
She glanced over at Grace to see that her friend and companion had taken note of the same very uncomfortable circumstances. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to.
Mr. Fitzsimmons appeared, his gaze darting around the room, encompassing everything. “Ah, I think we’ve all grown true to form—everyone at one another’s throats and ready to commit bloody murder. Lovely. You should make for a fine evening and a most enjoyable meal.”
The viscount spoke then. “Miss Fortune, Miss Burnham, please take your seats. We will get this farce of an evening mealover with and move on to the reading of the will, so that we can put all this behind us.”
Caris nodded. “Certainly, my lord, I would be most pleased to do so.”
They stepped deeper into the room, each of them taking their assigned seats. It rankled no small amount to be seated so far at the end of the table. The viscount sat at the head, Archibald to his right, Amaris to his left, and Alistair directly beside Amaris. Mr. Fitzsimmons sat next to Archibald, and she and Grace occupied the other end of the table, seated across from one another with one empty seat between Grace and Alistair. No doubt that was by design. The only woman safe in his presence was his sister, after all.
Course after course of the meal was served, and for every single one, each person consumed less and less—not because they were full, not because their appetites had been satiated, but because their appetites had been utterly ruined by the company they were all forced to keep.
When the last dish had been cleared away, Mr. Fitzsimmons broke the stony silence once more. “We will adjourn to the study, if you will, please. Let’s just get on with it, shall we? We’ll read the will, and everyone may discuss to their heart’s content how slighted they feel by it. I will assure you that it is unimpeachable, an unbreakable document by its very design. Your aunt saw to it that every ‘i’ was dotted and every ‘t’ was crossed. Her illness may have weakened her body, but if anything, it sharpened her mind. I suppose”—he glanced at the dinner guests—“because it made her aware of just how vulnerable she was. After all, if ever there is a time to keep one’s wits about them, it’s when weakened and in the midst of those who cannot be trusted.”
With that, they all rose and made their way to the study. All seven of them moving like they were being marched to the gallows.
Chapter Four
The room wassmall and crowded. Felix stood, leaving the chairs for the ladies present as any gentleman should. Archibald did as well, though that was only because Allister had beaten him to the last chair. Miss Burnham was at the back of the room, seated on a small bench near the fireplace. And Miss Fortune had been given a prime seat directly facing the solicitor. Her panicked expression made it evident that she found the position telling, and she likely feared—well-foundedly—that his aunt had done something quite drastic.
Mr. Fitzsimmons cleared his throat, “If it pleases everyone, I will proceed with the particulars of Mrs. Denworthy’s will.”
Everyone murmured their assent and the solicitor began.
“In the name of our Lord, amen. Of sound mind and in full disposition of memory, herein Mrs. Edith Hayton Denworthy, widow of the right honorable Mr. Arthur Denworthy, both of London, has detailed her last requests and the allocation of her assets to those she has left behind.” Mr. Fitzsimmons paused then intoned with all the gravitas of an orator at Cambridge. “First and foremost, I, Edith Hayton Denworthy, will my soul to the Lord Almighty, our creator, even as my earthly form is committed to the ground.”
Felix grimaced. The finality of that statement plucked at his conscience. He should have, he thought, found a way to see her more. But he’d allowed the presence of her stepchildren todissuade him when she’d been in London and after she’d been banished to Hayton House, his own fear had kept him away.
“Denworthy house, at 37 Grosvenor Square, shall once more be placed in the custody of my eldest stepson, Archibald Jameson Denworthy. As per his father’s request, the home that was to be mine until the time of my death at which point it would have reverted to his care, shall be his. I give him leave to do with it as he will. For the upkeep and maintenance of the house, I give him the same degree of consideration he showed me when he banished me to Hayton House without so much as a by your leave, and I bequeath to him a single shilling—just enough to ensure the courts understand that I was well within my right mind and my decision was quite sound. You were a wretched boy and grew to be a wretched man. May the Lord have mercy on whatever wealthy woman you set your sights on. No doubt she will live a miserable and needlessly shortened life at your hands.”
The uproar was immediate, but Mr. Fitzsimmons shushed them. “Please remain quiet until we have reached the end. There is much more to digest from this.”
When they had quieted again, he resumed. “To my stepdaughter Amaris Denworthy Ashton, I leave one shilling and my fondest wish that she may develop both a conscience and a more pleasing disposition.” Only silence greeted that, but it was a silence thick with anger and hostility. “To my youngest stepson, I leave one shilling. Any more would only fund his many vices, which are far too numerous to be listed here.”
Mr. Fitzsimmons then turned to the viscount. “To my nephew—the son of my sister’s late husband, Felix Graves, Viscount Grimsleigh—and to my companion and caregiver, Miss Caris Fortune—the illegitimate daughter of my late brother—I leave the ownership of Hayton House and the bulk of my fortune barring charitable obligations that have been seen to prior to mypassing. But there are conditions to be met prior to assumption of this bequest.” Mr. Fitzsimmons paused then, and he appeared to be sweating. “I require that Felix and Caris must wed. If either refuses, both will forfeit their inheritance and it shall, in its entirety, be given to the Foundling Hospital.”
The silence that had reigned was shattered by the screeching of Amaris Densworthy and the bellowing of her brothers. But on the other side of the room, Miss Fortune sat silent and stunned.
After the screeching and subsequent emotional outbursts, Felix rose to his feet. “Miss Fortune, might I have a word with you privately?”
Her face was ashen, and it seemed as though she was on the verge of fainting. Was it the prospect of marrying a stranger or was it something more?
“We will retire to the drawing room,” Mr. Fitzsimmons said and proffered his arm to Miss Burnham who accepted it but cast a questioning look in their direction.
He noted that Miss Fortune offered a slight nod, which was apparently the reassurance her friend required. Then Mr. Fitzsimmons shooed the Denworthys out the door, quite literally. Like he was ridding a walking path of geese or chickens.
“This is all a bit perplexing no doubt,” Felix said, oversimplifying the matter greatly.
She let out a slightly bitter laugh. “That is certainly one way of putting it. Did you know?”
“About the marriage contingency? I was informed only yesterday in a letter that she’d left with Mr. Fitzsimmons to be provided to me upon her death.”
