Eleanor And The Duke (Berkshire Brides Book 1) (27 page)

“Miss Easton, please accept my apologies for arriving without an appointment,” he said. “But my schedule these days is impossibly full, and the Duke of Beckworth was quite insistent that I see you personally, as soon as possible.”

“Beckworth?”

“Yes, I came at his behest,” Mr. Evanhurst said, “though I must apologize – yet again – for the delay. I did come, as instructed, a few days ago, but you were unavailable. Unfortunately, I was unable to return before today.”

“You say you were here a few days ago?”

“Yes, on the day the duke visited my office and made the changes.”

“Changes?” She felt rather jingle-brained, repeating his every word.

He opened a worn, leather portfolio and drew out a sheaf of papers which he passed to her, turning the papers so that she could read them. “The duke has signed all authority over your father’s annuity to you. He made himself trustee in name only. Of course, this change was to have taken place on the day of your marriage, but circumstances changed . . .”

Eleanor struggled to take it in. Beck had intended to give her control of the annuity when they married?

And he’d done it anyway . . .Days ago? Before sharing her bed?

“I . . . I see,” she said. “Are there any . . . conditions to this new—”

“No, no, absolutely none at all,” Evanhurst quickly replied. He pointed to the wording on the first page of the agreements. “He was quite clear that you were to be in sole control of the funds. However, if I might offer some suggestions . . .”

“Yes, in a moment.” She sat down in her father’s chair. Skimming through the papers, she looked up sharply when she read the balance sheet at the end. “Mr. Evanhurst, this is a far larger portion than my father ever indicated. More than double. More than . . . How can this be?”

Evanhurst stood and came around to Eleanor’s side of the desk. “If you’ll take note of the date here.”

The entry to which he referred was dated the week after she became engaged to Beckworth. She looked up at him. “I don’t understand.”

“Your father put Beckworth in charge of your annuity in March of last year.”

“When we became engaged?”

“Er, I have no information regarding your engagement.”

“It doesn’t matter. Go on.”

“Since this date when the duke took control of these funds, he has made a few key investments, the result being a substantial increase in the net value of the funds. Do you see the principal here?” He moved his finger down a few rows. “These are the earnings to date.”

Eleanor rubbed her temple as comprehension eventually settled in. Andrew had set her free. And he had done it with a magnanimity she feared she did not deserve.

She sat back in her chair. “This is . . . Well, it is quite unexpected, Mr. Evanhurst.”

“I understand, Miss Easton,” he replied.

She stared absently at the documents before her. The sum at her disposal was enormous. She was wealthy. Modestly wealthy, but if these numbers could be believed, she was a woman of means. And it was all because of Beckworth’s careful tending of her annuity.

She could remain independent for the rest of her life. Italy was no longer out of the question, but Eleanor realized she’d lost the desire to return there. She was home, in England.

And she was not quite so anxious to get away from her former fiancé. She feared she’d wronged him quite unforgivably, yet he’d not only forgiven her, he still wanted her.

“Do you have any questions, Miss Easton?” Evanhurst asked. “The duke was quite clear that I was to present these documents to you personally, so that you would have a chance to read and absorb everything. He wanted you to ask me about anything that is unclear.”

She looked up at the solicitor. “I understand that the duke has turned over the annuity to me. Complete control.”

“That is correct.”

“Which means he trusts me to manage it.”

“I would say so, Miss Easton.”

“And the investments?” She looked again at the last sheet and saw numerous additions to the principal.

“That is entirely up to you. If you would like me to invest the funds, I would be pleased to serve in this capacity.”

“And the duke?”

“That, you must negotiate with him.”

“I need no service from you, Squeers,” Andrew said. “Your four cohorts are in custody. You ought to consider whether you’ll enjoy spending the rest of your lives in New South Wales. Or perhaps the judge will just hang you from the Reading gallows and save the crown the expense of your transport.”

Squeers squinted, rubbing a hand across his chin “Now, see here, Duke. You have no call to say such—”

“Mr. Squeers,” Andrew said calmly, “you are not exempt from the crown’s punishment if you are found to be complicit in bribery or coercion. And, of course, there is the charge of attempted murder. Bear it in mind as events unfold these next few days.”

Squeers twisted his expression into an ugly sneer, but Andrew walked past him without another word. He disliked resorting to his father’s methods but had to admit that intimidation and use of his rank could be useful and justified at times. This was one of those times.

He entered the noisy, crowded tavern with Claymere at his side. Pushing past the men at the bar, they joined a group of friends who’d commandeered a table.

“Bloody hell,” Claymere said, tipping his head toward the back corner where Weatherby sat at a table with his back against the wall, carefully observing his surroundings. The earl met Andrew’s eyes, but did not acknowledge him in any way.

Andrew spoke quietly to Claymere. “Send someone for the constables.”

Andrew approached his table. “I thought I might find you here, Weatherby, when I saw your accomplice outside.”

“Accomplice?” Weatherby growled. “How dare you.”

“You did not truly believe I would let this matter go, did you?”

“What matter?” Weatherby drawled. He stood, bracing his fingers on the table before him.

Andrew spoke just loud enough for Weatherby to hear him. “When your accomplices give evidence against you—”

“What evidence?” Weatherby roared. He took a step toward Andrew, and Andrew felt his friends move up to flank him. Weatherby’s face reddened and his hands fisted at his sides. “Why, you—”

“Your felonious pawns have just learned they can escape the gallows by revealing who hired them.” Andrew did not wait for Weatherby’s retort, but turned to leave.

Weatherby grabbed his arm and tried to pull him around, but Andrew stood fast, jerking his arm away from the earl. The crowd in the tavern went silent as Andrew slowly turned his head and spoke. “Put your affairs in order, sir. It will not be long before you are arrested and tried for attempted murder.”

The room remained silent as Andrew and his friends stood fast at the door, interfering with Weatherby’s exit. Constables arrived quickly and took Weatherby into custody, under protest, of course.

But Andrew used his ducal authority to see that Weatherby was held until Stillwater arrived. He accompanied the men to the hospitium where Weatherby was locked inside one of the rooms.

“You will pay for this, Beckworth!” Weatherby shouted.

Andrew ignored him and walked away. He knew every member of the Privy Council and felt certain they would not allow such blatant attacks upon Andrew’s men to go unpunished. Especially since they all knew Weatherby’s reputation and what he was capable of.

“Where are you headed now, Beck? It has gotten quite late,” Claymere asked. “Do you ride back to your lodgings?”

Andrew gave a quick nod.

“Beckworth!” Weatherby shouted.

Andrew spoke to the constable in charge. “Do not allow Lord Weatherby to leave, no matter how much he rants.”

“No, Your Grace.”

He and Claymere walked to the front of the building and stepped outside. Claymere motioned with one hand to beckon one of his footmen, who approached immediately. “Davies, I want you to go home and bring Camden and Markey to me.”

Andrew raised a brow.

“They are two of my footmen – the burliest and most able, I might add.”

“Look, Claymere, now that Weatherby is in custody, I have no need of any more—”

“I would say you still do,” the earl countered. “I saw Weatherby’s face, and I can only imagine what Squeers is capable of. You need to have armed men alongside you when you ride into the countryside. Besides, it will be dark soon . . .”

Andrew gave him a nod. Claymere was right. Squeers was not above hiring some brutes to waylay him on the road back to Primrose Manor. “Have them meet us at the livery.”

Eleanor hardly knew what to think when Mr. Evanhurst left the house. She was wealthy and independent.

Beckworth had given her exactly what she wanted – security and freedom. She did not need to rely upon him for anything, not unless she chose to.

Her head fairly spun with the information the solicitor had given her, and she feared she really had misjudged Beckworth. There was still no explanation for the document Lord Weatherby had shown her, but she had begun to believe that Andrew had been wronged, even before Evanhurst’s visit.

She did not understand why Weatherby had deliberately caused strife between her and Andrew. Had she or her father offended him in some way? Or was Andrew the one?

It had to have been Andrew. Eleanor had no idea what Lord Weatherby had against him, but apparently it was enough for the earl to create havoc in Andrew’s life. He’d done so by scaring Eleanor away from their marriage. She still could not fathom how Weatherby had gotten those papers, and what they really meant were questions Eleanor would like answered. Because apparently the truth was not always what it seemed to be. She needed to talk to Andrew.

But as the afternoon wore on and he did not return, Eleanor knew she needed to find something to do. She could not bear to wait passively in the house any longer. She would go mad with impatience.

She went out to the stable and asked William to saddle her new mare. Once that was done, he rode out on the old gig gelding behind Eleanor, keeping her company and making sure nothing untoward happened, as any well-trained groom would do. Eleanor put Blossom through her paces, walking, then cantering, and finally a short gallop until she found herself at Lucy Stillwater’s House.

“I believe I’ll stop for a few minutes, William,” Eleanor said. They rode up to the front of the house and the groom helped her dismount. “Wait here for me. I only plan to say hello to Miss Stillwater and show her my new mare. Then we’ll return home.”

Eleanor stepped up to the front door and was admitted by the butler. “Good evening, Miss Easton.”

“Is Lucy at home, Phillips?”

“Yes, Miss. Come in, and I’ll get her for you.”

He showed Eleanor to the drawing room where she’d recently been subjected to Lady Kildrum’s presence, but the room was blessedly vacant. Lucy arrived shortly thereafter.

“Eleanor!” Lucy took her hands. “I’m so glad you’ve come.”

“The house is awfully quiet.”

“Everyone has gone to a party at Ritchfield Manor,” Lucy said, “but Mother preferred to stay home. I decided to stay with her.”

“But you still must leave on Sunday?”

Lucy nodded. “My aunt and uncle want to get underway early.”

“Oh, Lucy, I will miss you.”

“And I you,” Lucy said sadly. “I don’t know how long they plan to keep me in Scotland. Probably until I marry.”

“B-but if you marry a Scotsman—”

“’Tis likely I will have to remain in Scotland.”

Eleanor swallowed. “Then I will pray that you find someone you like there.”

Lucy shook her head. “If they are all like that Scot, Lord Kindale whom we met at Lady Shefford’s house party last year . . .”

“Was he so terrible, Lucy?”

They’d met the Scottish earl while Eleanor was being courted by Beckworth. Eleanor had been very much in her own world at the time, but it had been impossible not to notice how very attractive Kindale was.

Lucy pursed her lips, obviously disinclined to speak of him, so Eleanor changed the subject. “I think you were right about Lord Weatherby.”

“Oh?”

“You said the other day that perhaps he ought not to be trusted.”