Page 8 of Contracted as His Countess

‘I must be gone.’ Jack Ransome took her hand and raised it to his lips with a courtly gesture that took her aback. ‘Today has been a day of surprises, Madelyn.’

‘Pleasant ones?’ she asked, knowing what the true answer would be.

His eyes narrowed and she wondered if he thought she was trying to flirt. ‘Some of them. Cultivate your garden, my lady. I will write to you.’

Madelyn climbed to the top of the gatehouse tower and watched Jack ride away on his big horse. He took the far slope at an easy canter, sitting relaxed and very much at home in the saddle. She stood there, thinking for a long while after he had vanished from sight. That man was going to be her husband. She would lie with him, know that long, hard body. She would share the trivial day-to-day incidents of domestic life with him. She might grow old with him. She would come to know the real man behind that carefully controlled exterior.

The breeze strengthened, snapping the banners over her head, sending her hair whipping across her face. Madelyn shivered and went to find Mr Lansing, who had been her father’s employee and who was now, with quite clearly gritted teeth, working for her.

Her father had told her nothing of his affairs because, as he said, women’s brains were not made for such matters. She suspected that it was a question more of education and expectation than mental capacity and at first she had no expectation that Mr Lansing would think any differently.

She had been resigned to a state of ignorance, then, months after her father’s death, she heard the groom and the coachman discussing someone who had died in the village. His heir, it seemed, had been disgruntled to find the will left the dead man’s money and possessions to him, but only after the payment of his mortgages, debts and loans.

‘Which is a fair old amount,’ Tom, the coachman, had said. ‘Still, I don’t know why he was grumbling, it is how it is always worded.’

But there had been nothing about debts, loans or mortgages in her father’s will. She wondered about it for a few days and the wondering had turned to worry. What if there were debts? Loans and mortgages, she assumed, would be paid at their due time by Mr Lansing. But debts? It would be very like her father to neglect to pay local people until he absolutely had to.

Now she realised that she had to make certain. Lansing was at his desk, surrounded by ledgers. He put down his pen and stood up when she entered, very correct and polite, but she could tell he was repressing a sigh at the interruption.

‘Mr Lansing, did my father leave debts, loans and mortgages?’

‘Well, yes, Mistress Aylmer.’ He did not meet her gaze, but began to fiddle with his pen. ‘That is normal for any gentleman. Loans and mortgages assist with the flow of money...’

‘Yes, yes. But debts?’

‘There were some, yes,’ he said cautiously.

‘And they are still outstanding?’

‘Yes. It was the Master’s instructions that they were to be paid only on the threat of... I mean, not immediately.’

‘I see.’ And she could, only too well. No wonder her father was a rich man if he never paid those he owed until the point of legal action. He had used loans and mortgages to make his money work all the harder, she supposed, but she was hazy about how that would function.

‘Well, Mr Lansing, my instructions are that all outstanding debts will be paid in full immediately. All future bills will be met within the month and all loans and mortgages will be repaid.’ The man’s jaw dropped. ‘I am getting married, Mr Lansing, and I wish to start married life with an absolutely clear slate.’

‘I... But, Mistress Aylmer, I would have to make some sales to meet those obligations at short notice. The debts are one thing, but the other obligations... It is very complex, you understand.’

‘No, I do not. There is this estate and there are the Dersington lands. It appears simple.’

‘Well...er...yes. Although there is also the... I mean, it will be necessary to sell out of funds, sell some property.’

‘I thought my father was a rich man.’ She turned to stare at him. Had Lansing been dipping into the money chests?

‘He was, he was, Mistress. But finance is a complex matter. Having cash sitting around is bad policy—it needs to be out there, working and earning.’ He was gabbling now. ‘This sort of demand at short notice—’

‘Do it, Mr Lansing. You will not sell any of the Dersington properties, you understand. It is Lord Dersington that I am to marry.’

‘I am certain His Lordship will not wish for anything hasty to be done. You do not quite understand—’

‘It seems quite clear to me. And I assume you are perfectly aware of the trust relating to this property. Are you telling me that what I am asking is impossible for some reason?’

‘No, Mistress Aylmer. But—’

‘Do you wish to retain your position, Mr Lansing? Because it seems to me that you are very reluctant to carry out my instructions. And I am your employer.’ Inwardly, she was quaking. What had come over her? In one day she had proposed to a complete stranger and now she was threatening someone who had been in her father’s employment for years. She never threatened anyone, not even the most careless kitchen maid.

‘Of course, Mistress Aylmer. It will be exactly as you order.’

The poor man has gone quite pale. I am as bad a bully as my father, it seems.

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