CARLISLE WAS FUMING BYthe time he was released from Bow Street. It had been a tortuous day and a half, and he needed a bath. He knew Edgerton wouldn’t press charges, as he wouldn’t want his sister’s reputation ruined, but now he had to make haste and visit Sir Putnam to get that marriage contract signed. He had to convince him that circumstances had changed and he needed to marry Miss Putnam as soon as possible by special license.
When the hackney stopped at his townhouse, Carlisle jumped down and nodded to two ladies walking by. He was shocked when both of them turned away giving him the cut direct. What had just happened? He’d never suffered a cut direct from them before.
He bounded up the stairs and entered his home. He definitely needed a drink and made his way to his study. Once inside he poured himself a generous portion and sat at his desk where a number of letters were piled on the surface. He took a gulp of brandy and that’s when he noticed the bottom drawer to his desk was open slightly. He nearly dropped the glass as the significance of the unlocked drawer hit him. He checked the secret compartment, only to find it had been cleared out of every scrap of paper. He opened the remaining drawers, and they were empty as well—everything had been confiscated. Beads of sweat rolled down his back as he slumped in his chair. This wasn’t good and he could guess it was the Home Office’s doing. How much had the Home Office figured out about his smuggling scheme? What actions would they take against him now that they had the documents implicating him?
He took a deep breath before tearing open the top letter on his desk.
Lord Carlisle,
It would be in your best interests to leave London post-haste and not return. Rest assured, if you decide to disregard these instructions, the contents of your desk will be made public and you will stand trial for smuggling.
Home Office
He crushed the letter in his hand and threw it in the fireplace. How had his life unraveled so spectacularly in only a few days?
He broke the seal on the next letter.
Lord Carlisle,
My daughter has decided she does not wish to marry you after all, and I support her decision wholeheartedly. As your betrothal hasn’t been announced publicly, this will remain a private matter between us. Do not attempt to contact my family again.
Sir Putnam
How dare that knight renege on their deal? Did the Home Office have a hand in this rejection as well? Why else would Putnam change his mind so suddenly? Carlisle wanted to punch something, as he was truly out of options now. The Putnam dowry had been his last chance at obtaining the much-needed funds.
He opened the remaining letters and the color drained from his face. Several of his peers were calling in his vowels. The letters were all the same—either pay what was owed or face them at dawn. There was no way he could stay in London now.
He left his study and walked up the stairs to his bedchamber. “Stephens, my circumstances have changed. Unfortunately, I’ll not be able to retain your services.”
The valet looked stunned, but quickly recovered his composure. “I understand, my lord.”
Stephans began packing his trunks, but Carlisle wouldn’t need such an extensive wardrobe. With his Country Seat only receiving rent from his tenants, he and his sister Arabella would have to learn to live frugally. How would they survive? Neither of them knew the first thing about fending for themselves. He would have to find a way to hire a cook and at least a maid to clean.
“I will, of course, provide you with an excellent recommendation to help you secure your next position.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“I would like to ask one last thing of you. Perhaps you could sell several of my jackets and waistcoats. I’ll need blunt to travel to Meridian Manor.”
Stephens stopped packing and began to sort through his wardrobe. “These should fetch a decent price, my lord. I’ll take care of that now.”
“Very good.”
Carlisle washed himself in a basin and while it was a poor substitute next to a warm bath, he’d never enjoyed being clean more. He dressed and went back down to his study. He had just finished writing recommendation letters for his staff when the full extent of his banishment hit him. He got up and stalked from the room, going up the stairs to his bedchamber.
Stephens returned from selling a number of his clothes and handed the money to him. “The jackets didn’t fetch as much as I’d hoped, my lord. Seems the gossip has already spread through most of London that you’re ruined.”
“Damn. How did that happen?”
“I don’t know.” Stephens finished packing the rest of Carlisle’s clothes into two trunks. “You’re all set, my lord.”
“Thank you, Stephens,” Carlisle said, handing him a stack of letters. “Please hand these out to the rest of the staff.”
Stephen took the stack and nodded. “I’ll see to it.”
The only silver lining in this whole fiasco was that the Home Office hadn’t confiscated his carriage and team, although the rest of his London horses had been taken as payment by some of the peers he owed. Perhaps the Home Office thought leaving the carriage horses would get him out of London post-haste. At least he’d not have to suffer the humiliation of traveling to Meridian Manor by mail coach. He took one last look around the townhouse that had been in his family for three generations. The space was sparsely furnished as he had already sold many of the valuable paintings and furniture during the months in London. He was furious he had to leave, but with the Home Office in possession of the contents of his desk, he dared not defy them. When his trunks were secured to the back of his carriage, he jumped in and slumped against the squabs. No one paid him any attention as his carriage left London for the last time.
Chapter 20
