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“My money, Georgina. Which you insist on keeping from me. I’ve found a buyer for Beechwood Court. You’ll be happy to know that the renovations gained me a better price.” He smoothed his mustache again. “I was wrong about that.”
Wouldn’t Harold be surprised when he realized she didn’t own Beechwood Court. Pity she wouldn’t be around to see the humiliation sure to crumple his sharp features.
“I’ll admit, you were gone for so long after my uncle’s death, had I not known how devoted the Duke of Averell is to his duchess, I would have assumed you’d become his whore.” He whispered the ugly words into her ear before he leaned back. “Because I’m certain you do have a lover, Georgina.”
“My personal affairs are none of your concern. Why don’t you visit the hazard table? Faro isn’t really your game, I understand. Though neither is hazard, given the sums you lose.”
His upper lip trembled; he was likely struggling not to sneer at her and ruin the calm image he wanted to present. “You know, I heard the most interesting story from Lord Wentworth the other day.” He cast her a sideways glance from his disturbingly flat, expressionless eyes. “Very interesting.”
Georgina looked back at her cards. “Who?”
Harold snickered. “Fascinatingstory. The tale of a wager my uncle once made. I relayed all the details to Clarissa. You know what else I find strange?” He tapped his forefinger against his thin, almost non-existent lips.
“I’ve no idea. Is there a point to this conversation, Harold? I went away to grieve my husband. I stayed away longer than expected because I was enjoying myself. I wrote you and Clarissa frequently.” She had, mostly to keep their suspicions at bay, though it appeared to have done little good.
“You sent your maid back to America. Clarissa and I found that so odd. Stella. Wasn’t that her name?”
The only way Harold could know Stella was no longer in her employ and had been sent back to America was if one of the servants at Beechwood Court had told him. Which confirmed her suspicions that at least one member of her staff, if not all of them, were reporting back to Harold. She’d sent Stella back with Lilian and Ben to guard over the person more precious to Georgina than any other. Her son’s safety was all that mattered. And Georgina had been afraid Harold might...harm Stella.
“She wished to return to America, and I released her from my service. England didn’t agree with her.”
“A shame she’s gone. You were so close. Overly familiar, Clarissa often said. I’m sure your maid knew all your secrets.” His voice hardened ever so slightly, one lip twitching at the corner. Madness gleamed at the edges of the dark, polished stones of his eyes.
“Is there anything else?” Georgina said casually. “I’ve enjoyed our conversation, Harold, but I have a game of faro to return to.”
“One small minor thing.” Harold’s lips brushed her ear as his fingers curled around her wrist, bruising her flesh. “I want what’s due to me, Georgina,” he hissed. “Every farthing.”
Larkin paused in dealing out the next round, clearly preparing to intervene.
“Youhaveyour inheritance.” Georgina tugged at her wrist, but he held firm. “You received everything due to you. It isn’t my fault if you toss it away on the hazard table.”
“Bitch,” he said so softly she barely heard him. “I’m not sure how you convinced my uncle to leave youanything—but Beechwood Court rightfully belongs to me.” Madness flared in his eyes. “As does the sum my uncle left you.”
“I am his widow. He merely provided for me.”
“It should be mine.” His fingers dug into her skin. “Itwillbe mine. No overdressed harlot is going to keep me from it.” Pitch black eyes grew wild, like some rabid beast. “You aren’t nearly as clever as you think you are, Georgina.”
“Go away, Harold,” she murmured. “Or I’ll find something to brain you with as I did your man earlier today.”
Harold stepped back, the smile once more on his lips. “I won’t go far.” His voice raised so that the other players at the table could hear him. “I don’t mean to upset you.” He sent an apologetic look toward the others surrounding the faro table. “I’ll return later to escort you home.”
Georgina forced her gaze back to the queen of spades in her hand as Harold walked away. It was late but still too soon to make her way to the docks.
She had visited Mr. Lind earlier this afternoon. Hand the estate over to Harold, she’d instructed him. Beechwood Court wasn’t worth her life. Besides, she was leaving England.Forever.
Mr. Lind had flushed. And stammered. Unfortunately, what she’d asked was impossible. She didn’t actually own the estate, though the solicitor declined to say exactly who did. His instructions were to ensure that Beechwood Court was to be used and maintained for her exclusive use. Further questioning of the solicitor eventually revealed Masterson had never set up an account for Georgina.
Was it her father who had done so? She demanded to know, even as she acknowledged that Jacob Rutherford had likely forgotten about her the moment he’d left her behind in England. Her cousin Benjamin Cooke? Lord Welles? The Duke of Averell? As she spoke each name, Georgina knew,just knew.
Shock filled her as she’d looked down at her lap. She remembered the pain in Leo’s eyes the last time she’d seen him. Masterson’s markers had never been called due. The hunting lodge had never been taken. Even the damned horses had remained. Because the only thing he’d truly wanted had been her.
“Leo Murphy.” She’d whispered his name and watched Mr. Lind turn the color of a beet.
The solicitor had neither confirmed nor denied her statement. He didn’t have to. There was no one else who would have done such a thing for her. She couldn’t believe Leo had.
Mr. Lind had fetched her a sherry, which she drank in one swallow before asking for another. Afterward, she’d instructed Mr. Lind to make arrangements to send the entire sum still sitting in her account to Harold. It was her money, after all, no matter how it had gotten into that blasted account. The solicitor was to inform Harold, should he inquire, that she was taking up residence in France. Or Italy. It didn’t matter. Once Harold had the money, he wouldn’t look for her.
She did hope Mr. Lind would follow her instructions.
