AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Friends do not deceive each other.
The thought swam up through the buzz of bees, the faint cries of children playing further along the Crescent Fields and the hum of the city below him. He was deceiving Laurel by omission by not telling her about the provisions of her father’s will.
On the other hand, an inner voice of practicality said, it is for her own good. You are giving her back the life she should have had, the title that should have been hers, the future—the children—that she would have had if it had not been for that misunderstanding. You are saving her from the life of a spinster.
He opened his eyes, all desire to sleep banished, and sat up.
And besides, the ruthless voice said, you cannot back out now—think of the scandal.
He wished he had a friend to talk to, but they were all in Portugal. Nine years out of the country had left him with only the acquaintances of childhood and youth in England. There was Gray, of course. But he was back on the Yorkshire estates he had inherited just before peace had come and he had sold out. He could hardly write to him—this was not the sort of thing one committed to paper.
Giles got to his feet, dusted hay stalks off his coat and put on his hat. It was done now and there was no going back. He wondered, as he walked down the hill to the back of Queen’s Parade, his feet skidding on the dry grass, what the secret service was that his ancestor had performed for the king. That had resulted in the prize of a marquessate. Had it left him feeling any more queasy about his honour than this did?
* * *
‘You must allow me to give you any assistance in my power to make your move to the Dower House as smooth as possible.’ Cousin Anthony, now Earl of Palgrave, directed his gentle, rather aloof smile at his predecessor’s widow. He had arrived the evening before in response to the news that Laurel had returned to Malden Grange from Bath with a fiancé and there was a need for settlements to be discussed. ‘At your own convenience, naturally.’
‘You do not mind me being married from here, Cousin? I would very much appreciate it if Stepmama was to be here with me until then,’ Laurel said hastily, seeing her stepmother’s lips tighten. It did not seem that the passage of time was reconciling her to the need to move from her marital home. Laurel could hardly blame her. ‘Unless you are wanting to move in yourself before the wedding? I am sorry, I should have thought of that.’
Laurel cast her stepmother a harried glance. She was not finding her any easier to live with—in fact, a break of a few weeks had only made it worse. But it would be the depth of ingratitude not to include her fully in the wedding preparations or to make her feel at all unwanted.
‘Forgive me, Laurel. I had forgotten that perhaps you are not fully aware of the provisions of your father’s will,’ Cousin Anthony said.
‘I was there when it was read,’ she said, puzzled.
‘Yes, of course, but you would have still been shocked and distressed by your father’s passing. There is a section of which you may not have realised the importance at the time—the Malden Grange house and estates are held by me in trust. The terms of that trust are set out in separate documents which your father did not see fit to make public. Did he not discuss them with you?’ He looked away as he spoke, his attention apparently fully on the papers he was shuffling on the table in front of him.
Perhaps, Laurel thought, he was embarrassed at having to deal with a frosty widow and a young woman he hardly knew but whose marriage settlements he must negotiate. ‘I recall something about a trust being mentioned when the will was read, but I assumed it was to do with the entail—if I thought of it at all.’ Now she was completely puzzled as to why he was mentioning these provisions now. ‘Papa had said nothing to me of it, but he did die suddenly—his heart attack was not expected.’
‘That must have been it. You see, Cousin Laurel, the Malden estate and various monies are left to you on your marriage.’
‘To me? But why did no one tell me that?’
Papa must have forgiven me after all.
The thought made her want to smile, but that, naturally, would be most inappropriate.
‘I assumed you knew. You made no comment on my decision to use Palgrave Castle as my seat and not to request that you and Lady Palgrave move to the Dower House.’
‘I...we thought you were being very kind in not disturbing us in our old home while we were in mourning and that you preferred the Castle for the present. Stepmama—did you know of this?’
‘I did not.’
She seemed even more displeased, Laurel thought. Was it resentment that her stepdaughter would take her place as lady of this house? If it was, there was nothing to be done about it other than to be as tactful as possible. But... Once she married it would no longer be her house. In fact, it never would be. It was not hers until she married and, the moment she was married, everything passed to her husband. To Giles.
That was an unsettling notion. It had never concerned her until now, because she had believed she had only the money settled on her to provide the income for her allowance and living expenses. Now she was an heiress.
‘Does Lord Revesby know of this?’ she asked, sharply enough to bring the attention of the other two snapping back to her.
‘It would have been most inappropriate for me to discuss the terms of the trust with anyone it did not affect,’ Cousin Anthony said stiffly, his attention still apparently riveted on ordering the papers. ‘Now that you are betrothed I will, naturally, include these matters in my discussions with Lord Revesby in the course of the settlement discussions.’
* * *
‘So Papa has left the entire Malden estate to me.’ Stepmama raised her head and looked across at them. She was seated at the other end of the Chinese salon, writing wedding invitations, but frequently breaking off to look at them as though, Laurel thought resentfully, she and Giles would start ripping each other’s clothes off if left alone for one moment. She moderated her voice. ‘Had you any idea?’
‘My father wrote to me while I was in Portugal as you know.’ Giles crossed one leg over the other and tugged a seam straight. ‘Quite early on he told me that your father had torn up the agreement they had made in anticipation of our marriage. That, you will recall, passed Malden to you on his death—to us, in effect. My father, in an equal rage, picked the scraps up and threw them on the fire and then the two of them got drunk on brandy. Papa blamed his subsequent headache on me. Your father obviously thought better of that decision as time healed his anger and disappointment and so he added those instructions.’
‘Is your father surprised at mine changing his mind?’ she persisted.
