Corey McFadden (38 page)

“What did you mean, Edward, about my finances?” she asked softly, reluctant to break the mood, but curious as to what he had suggested.

Radford allowed her to take his shirt off, then he continued to undress himself. He looked pensive. “I was fifteen or sixteen years old when your parents drowned,” he began, “a selfish, self-centered age, to be sure, but also a time when one does a good bit of eavesdropping. I remember my father being very upset about their deaths. He was much older than your father, so they weren’t close, but I know he admired your father very much, thought he was a fine man and a good neighbor.”

Radford stood now in his stockings and undergarment, and strode to the washstand to wash his face and hands. Maude climbed back into bed and pulled the covers up. She was amused that he just assumed he was sleeping with her, in spite of all her protestations of the evening before. And of course he was right.

Radford turned back to her, drying himself on a towel. “And forgive me if I hurt your feelings, monkey, but my father did not have the same respect for your Uncle James.” Maude gave a sad shake of her head and he went on, “James as a younger brother had always been something of a hellion, the black sheep, so to speak. Is it he by the way who taught you to play cards?”

Maude grinned at him ruefully.

“Hah, I thought so! Anyway,” Radford continued, stripping off his undergarments unconcernedly, “Father was a bit worried about the property, wanted to make sure it was kept up properly, since the lands abut our estate.”

Radford climbed into bed and pulled Maude into his arms. She settled into his embrace, grateful that all was well again between them.

“I remember a great deal of discussion between my parents about it at the time,” Radford continued. “My mother, who was not a particularly kindly or charitable woman, I am sorry to say, wanted absolutely nothing to do with the woman James had married—your Aunt Claire. My father was adamant that as neighbors, we would have to receive them, but my mother was just as adamant that Claire had been a gold-digging trollop who had latched onto your uncle, thinking she was marrying into the landed gentry. Mother simply wouldn’t have her in the house.”

Maude pulled back and looked at Radford in sorrow and consternation. “Do you mean that my family, the Romneys, were the butt of the
ton
gossips, Edward? That is appalling! We have always been respectable, even if not particularly wealthy or titled.”

“I am sorry, monkey, but it is true. Apparently, the marriage had been the talk of the
ton
that year among the scandalmongers. And Mother said the woman hadn’t a dime of her own, and that her first husband, far from being a soldier like she said, had not been a gentleman at all. You see”—Radford reached up and stroked her face gently— “while I don’t have much use for the vicious tongues of the tony set, they have an uncanny ability to uncover nasty little secrets about people and they usually have most of their facts straight about people’s pedigrees. It’s what they live for, after all. And Claire was not acceptable on several counts. That’s why I cannot believe that her assets have subsidized Romney Manor all these years.”

Maude regarded him thoughtfully. “But what about what Mr. Parsons said? I heard him say Romney Manor would be sold off to pay my debts to Aunt Claire.”

“Yes, you did, but I think that what you saw was more important than what you heard,” he said.

Maude looked at him, puzzled.

“You saw him fondling Claire in the street,” Radford went on. “That is unheard of between solicitor and client. It is outrageously unethical on his part, and frankly, doesn’t speak too well of your aunt either. I think you overheard their plot as to what he would tell you. I suspect that if we examine your family accounts with that firm, as I assure you we will, we’ll find serious embezzlement by your aunt, with the connivance of this Mr. Parsons.”

“You mean”—Maude felt as if she’d been hit with a brickbat—“you mean I might not be penniless? I might not owe the woman anything at all?”

“I mean that your father was not the sort of man to leave you in a precarious position financially, and there is no reason why Romney Manor should not be a self-sufficient estate. It was for many generations before you, and your father was not an extravagant man, by any means. To the contrary, in fact. I think that if the money is all gone, we have your aunt and this Mr. Parsons to thank for that.”

Maude sat back slowly against the pillows. “But why would they tell me all this if it wasn’t so? And why would they be so keen on my marrying John?”

“Because what better way is there to cover up evidence of embezzlement than to give the embezzlers complete and permanent control of the account? Don’t you see”—he  took her hand in his— “it’s you who’s been the victim of a scheme all along. As your husband, John would be completely in charge of your estate, from the moment the marriage took place until his death. No more Mr. Parsons to cut in, no more possibility that some other suitor might appear and demand an accounting from your guardian, no more risk. And everything could stay exactly as it was. I have to hand it to your Aunt Claire. She’s a very resourceful woman”—he smiled down at Maude—“if utterly unscrupulous. That by the way is why I turned down the oh-so lovely Amelia when she was dangled in front of me.”

“Why?” Maude asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Because I could see she was going to be an exact duplicate of her mother someday. Always get a good look at a woman’s mother before you propose marriage. That’s what I always say. Your mother by the way, from what I remember, had the face of an angel, like yours, in fact.”

Maude smiled up at him warmly. “I always wanted to be just like my father. I guess it’s because Mother was so beautiful. Aunt Claire always said I was plain and that I shouldn’t bother trying to fix myself up because it wouldn’t help. I suppose that’s why I was such a tomboy. It seemed the best refuge, particularly being compared unfavorably with Amelia all the time.”

“Oh, Maude,” Radford groaned, pulling her close, “you are so much more beautiful than Amelia could ever hope to be. She has a hard, cold face with no love in it, while you are beautiful all the way into your soul.” He lifted her head to peer into her face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a face more beautiful in my whole life.”

“I have,” she murmured, her eyes filling again.

“Whose?” he asked.

“Yours.”

He smiled into her eyes, then lowered his lips to hers. They found oblivion together before they finally slept.

Chapter Twenty-one

Radford’s head pounded like the very devil and he knew better than to open his eyes to the light. He heard a tuneful airy humming coming from a corner of the room. Since he was stark naked and seemed to have thrown the covers off in his sleep, he hoped it was Maude.

“Is that you, monkey?” It hurt even to whisper.

“Um-hmm,” she paused in her tune only long enough to answer.

“Could I prevail upon you to ring for some coffee? I’ve a miserable headache. And some dry toast, too, I suppose.” His stomach was in an evil conspiracy with his head and he was quite sure they were plotting his imminent death. He heard a giggle.

“Don’t make me beg,” he moaned. “Because eventually I’ll feel better, and then I’ll hang you by your heels from the upper-story window and invite the neighbors to throw vegetables.” He heard the sound of the bell pull being tugged.

“Thank you.” He rolled over, willing his queasy stomach to lay still. He had an awful feeling he’d made a jackass of himself at his club. When things improved inside of his skull, he’d review the situation.

“Open your eyes!”

He felt a light touch on his shoulder. “No.”

“Yes!”

She poked at him. The woman was downright vicious. As slowly as he dared, he opened his eyelids, just a fraction. It hurt. He shut them again.

“More than that. I want you to look at something,” Maude laughed, prodding him again.

He moaned, then rolled himself to a sitting position while she propped up the pillows behind him. Finally he sat back and opened his eyes. There before him was an enchantingly lovely lady, clad in a stunning forest-green velvet riding habit in the latest mode, with cinched waist and white lace jabot at the neck. And surrounding her lovely face was a riot of auburn curls, peeping from beneath a black hat, set at a rakish angle.

“What...? Where on earth did all the hair come from?” Radford frowned at the effort that sitting up had taken.

“You don’t sound too impressed,” Maude said, disappointment in her voice. She had been awake for half an hour, dressing with special care to show off for him.

“On the contrary,” he said, groaning again. “Were it not that I expect to die at any moment I would be all over you with compliments to your beauty. Where did you get all that hair by the way?” He made an effort to smile at her. That hurt, too.

“Remember last night, I told you I cut off my hair before I ran away from Romney Manor?” Maude removed the hat and bent her head down so he could see the back. “Well, I brought it with me, so they would not think to look for a male, and when Madame Arnaud suggested that the wigmaker could make me a chignon, I remembered I had it. So you see,” she announced triumphantly, “it’s my very own hair, pinned onto my head.” She paused, waiting for some sign of approval.

Relenting, he smiled at her. “You are indeed both ravishing and enterprising, and you are the only young woman of my acquaintance who is beautiful both with hair and without.” He reached up and touched a tendril that curled against her neck. “Although I must say I will miss your short, fetching locks.”

“I’m not at all sure you will miss them, Edward,” she said with mischief in her eyes. “I have half a mind to keep my hair short and just wear the chignon when I have to go out. I’ve loved the freedom of short hair.” She gave a shake to her head. “Hair is so heavy. I never realized it before. And so much trouble to brush and arrange. I rather like the idea of just keeping it in a box.” She laughed and sat down gently on the bed.

“Now, my love,” she said softly, “I am sorry about your poor head, not that you don’t deserve it. The expression ‘drunk as a lord’ comes to mind.”

She put cool fingers to his temples and massaged gently. He sighed in contentment. Just then there was a knock on the door. At Maude’s “come in,” one of the kitchen maids entered, carrying a large tray with a silver service. Maude could smell the strong coffee and the inviting scent of freshly made toast. The girl set the tray down without looking at either of them and quickly left the room.

At the smell, Radford seemed to revive a bit, casting a longing eye at the coffeepot. He made no move, however, to get out of bed.

“I suppose you expect me to get up and fetch it for you?” Maude taunted, knowing how loathe he was to move at all.

He gave her a pleading look, and she relented, springing off the bed with a bound that made him cringe. She poured the steaming black liquid into the delicate Wedgwood cups and placed one into his waiting hands, seating herself with her cup at the foot of the bed.

“Ah, that’s much better,” he said, sitting back after the first sip with a smile on his face. “The stuff is magic. I don’t know why anyone bothers with tea anymore.”

Maude, who did not share his enthusiasm for coffee, gave him a wry look as she swallowed her first mouthful.

“If it’s too bitter for you, you might try it with cream and a little sugar.”

He drained his cup, then slipped out of bed to pour himself another. Maude’s eyes strayed to his naked form, tawny-gold in the morning light. She wondered if she would ever grow tired of feasting her eyes on his magnificent body.

He sat back down on the bed, a piece of toast in one hand and coffee in the other. He eyed her now, with much more attention than he had given her before and grinned. “I must say, now that I get a better look at you, you are a fetching sight indeed.”

She smiled back. “You don’t look so bad yourself, my lord, in daylight and sobered up.”

He laughed ruefully. “I’m afraid I must apologize to you. I know my behavior was appalling last night. I drank in anger and the two are a bad combination. If it’s any consolation to you, I am paying for it dearly this morning, though,” he concluded, rubbing his temple.

“Edward,” she began, the gleam of anticipation in her eye. “May I ride today? I understand there are two riding horses in the stables. I’ve been pining for a good ride ever since I left Romney Manor and there is a splendid park right near here.”

Maude was almost breathless with hope. He could see from her excitement how much this meant to her. “Of course you may ride, monkey. I bought one of the horses just for you, and that’s why I had the riding habit ordered up first thing. But you must wait until the new groom arrives. Frederick hired him yesterday and he will start today. After all”—Radford laughed—“I couldn’t risk having one of my staff come to you here, not while ‘Mike’ is so fresh a memory.”

He held up his hand at the beginning of her protest. “No, don’t even think it. I know you are used to a great deal of freedom as Mike, but Maude is going to have to remember what is expected of ladies in London society. And riding abroad alone is out of the question.”

Maude sighed. He was right, of course. At Romney Manor, buried away in the countryside, she had been free to roam alone on horseback at will. Perhaps it had been socially incorrect, but Claire had not cared and Maude had not seen fit to remind her aunt of strict proprieties which would have curtailed one of her few pleasures.

“I can see I’m going to have a time taming you.” Radford laughed. “As I recall, you had precious little supervision as a child. You do know the rules of etiquette, I hope? Well enough to fake it at least?”

She gave him a saucy grin. “If I absolutely have to. For short periods, perhaps.”

“I suppose you realize that as my countess you will be expected to be a paragon of all the social virtues?”

He was smiling, but did she detect just a hint of uncertainty hidden beneath his smile?

“I don’t really recall agreeing to be your countess.” Maude sipped delicately at her cooling coffee.