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He felt guilty for not securing dowries for his daughters, then putting the cash out of reach of grasping creditors. They were both good girls and deserved to be happy, but with only their pretty looks and personalities to recommend them they would need to find wealthy suitors, unfazed by the Deweys’ lack of money and standing. Walter knew that he and Arabella must share equal blame for having disadvantaged their daughters by besmirching the family’s reputation at great financial cost.
Arabella had followed her heart rather than her duty to her family and thus had caused dreadful gossip. Walter knew he, in vainly trying to buy her back, had been equally guilty of neglecting his children in favour of his own needs; he had never stopped loving his errant spouse. Now his wife was dead and buried and his girls were the most important things in his world, but it was too late to be lavish for he had nothing left to give them but his love.
‘No gentlemen will be coming to visit.’ It was a melancholy mumble beneath Walter’s breath as, done with reflection, he picked up his pen and recommenced inking a column of spidery figures.
Elise gazed quietly into the distance, aware of a floral scent wafting through the open casement. Adding to the rhythmic tick of the wall clock was the sound of summer as bees gathered nectar from lavender swaying beneath the sill.
But her mind was far away, back in London, with Alex Blackthorne. She wished it were not because she realised she missed him and yearned to see him for more reason than he had the power to protect her and her family from a miserable future. Now she was out of sight, was she out of mind, too? Would he simply tell Whittiker to do his worst when the evil swine returned to harass him for payment?
Instinctively Elise was sure the viscount was a courageous and an honourable man. Thus, he would not pay Whittiker his ransom; neither would she want him to. Bullies had to be faced down or never would they leave their victims alone.
So what course of action was left? Only the one Alex had mentioned: a forced marriage.
‘I know such a proposal is not ideal or romantic, but there is no necessity for either in such a situation—’
The damning words would not quit her head, even if he might have forgotten them. If he were to come here to see her father and repeat his reluctant proposal because he had divined no other solution to their quandary, Elise knew she must decide whether she could endure a marriage to a man who didn’t love her...and might eventually grow to despise her as an unwanted encumbrance.
Walter Dewey’s sudden dry cough brought his daughter pivoting to face him. ‘You sound unwell, Papa.’
‘Oh...it is nothing much. You know how the summer months affect my lungs...all the seeds blowing about...that’s what it is...nothing to worry about.’ He took out his handkerchief and blew his nose. ‘The doctor might be by later. He comes sometimes to see me if he is travelling in this direction.’
Elise frowned. To her knowledge old Dr Perkins was reluctant to visit the sick unless they were on their deathbeds. Even the children in the village had to be wrapped in blankets and taken to his house when ailing. But then Dr Perkins looked to be a lot older, and in far worse shape, than was her papa. The physician was quite stooped and rickety in the knees and simply getting on to his trap to travel to patients would be an ordeal.
‘Doctor Perkins has been to see you?’ Elise echoed in surprise.
‘No...that fellow has gone to Brighton to live with his sister now he has retired. And not before time. He must have been close to his three-score years and ten and had dreadful arthritis.’ Walter removed his glasses again and, crossing his hands on his chest in readiness for a chat, began, ‘Colin Burnett has arrived from Harrogate to take up where Cedric Perkins left off and a good chap he is, too. He brought me a linctus he’d made up himself and it did stop the tickle in my throat for a while.’
As her father smothered another cough with a fist Elise went to him to put a cool palm on his forehead. ‘You don’t feel feverish.’ She smiled. ‘Your dinner will do you good. I’ll see if Bea is up and about and ready to dine.’
* * *
‘I thought I’d made it clear that I didn’t want you bothering me again at home.’
‘And I thought I’d made it clear that I’m not bluffing in this.’ The viscount hadn’t done him the courtesy of facing him while speaking, but James Whittiker was aware of hard black eyes watching him in the glass.
‘Am I losing track of time?’ Alex pivoted away from the huge gilt-framed mirror in front of which he’d been adjusting his neckcloth in readiness to exit the house. ‘If my memory serves, I recall you generously allowing me a week to consider matters. I don’t believe seven days have passed since your last intrusion.’
