A Lady's Vanishing Choices (24 page)

Chapter 28

Bethany quivered with anxiety while she gazed out the window.
What if I do have a dowry?
Her hopes soared and the soft spot she harbored for her husband grew. Although Royce had graciously told her a dowry wasn’t necessary, she still longed for one. Her fingers trembled, and she balled her hands into fists to stop the shaking.

The afternoon sun pierced the light covering of clouds when the carriage pulled to a halt. The imposing front of a two-storied building of red brick boasted rows of tall windows trimmed with dark casings and wide stone steps reaching to the door. Bethany found the façade of the structure intimidating and chose to lower her gaze while Royce helped her down.

The smell of old leather, cigar smoke, and the odor of ink mingled with parchment lingered in the air when they entered the offices of Sterns & Brinkwater.

A clerk, somewhat average in appearance, jumped up and rounded his desk. “How may I assist you?”

“Lord and Lady Rivton to see Mr. Sterns,” Royce announced, handing the clerk his card.

“One moment.” The clerk viewed the card before he hurried toward a door marked with imposing blocked letters reading, Mr. Paul Sterns, Solicitor. Seconds later, a distinguished gentlemen with dark hair graying at the temples followed the clerk forward. The tailoring of his garments and his erect carriage denoted an established figure of authority. He held the card in his hand while he bowed to the Rivtons. “Milord, milady, let us be comfortable in my office.”

He led the way into his inner sanctum filled with shelves loaded with books and an imposing desk placed before the window. Royce and Bethany each chose a chair in front of the desk before Mr. Sterns took his seat. Drawing a stack of documents forward, he glanced at Royce. “The papers are in order and waiting for your signature.”

“Then I do have a dowry,” Bethany breathed and shifted restlessly in her chair. A sensation of excitement made it impossible for her to sit still.

“No indeed. Not merely a dowry, but a full estate,” the solicitor replied.

Royce’s brows climbed. “What estate?”

“Why Birdelwood Manor and the surrounding grounds, farms, everything, including quite a sum invested in the funds. I believe Viscount Henry Littleton purchased it not long before he and his wife perished.”

Royce rubbed one brow with his fingers before bringing his steady gaze to bear on the solicitor. “I was led to believe the estate belongs to Arthur Littleton and his family. He assured me there was not even a small dowry.”

“Not a small dowry, but everything. Arthur Littleton and his family moved into Birdelwood Manor not long after Viscount Henry Littleton’s tragic demise.”

“How is that possible? Why didn’t the estate pass to Arthur Littleton when Henry died without male issue?”

“The estate belonged completely to Viscount Henry Littleton, purchased with his private funds left to him by a great aunt. There is a small holding, quite a snug little property in Essex, that is entailed. It belongs to Arthur Littleton, but it’s nothing compared to Birdelwood Manor. It’s long been rumored their father gamed away everything he could lay his hands on. A pity, but there it is.”

Bethany interrupted, “Why was Uncle Arthur and his entire family allowed to inhabit the manor, manage the lands, and act as if everything belonged to him if none of it is entailed?”

“Arthur Littleton had a daughter about your age and he consented to care for you as his brother’s orphaned child.” He raised one brow. “Your guardian approved of the arrangement. Arthur Littleton could and did draw on the estate for expenses to raise you. He doesn’t own the manor or any of the proceeds from the estate. Not even the invested funds. All belongs to you, Lady Rivton.” He smiled over at her. “Now, the management of the properties, funds, and other assets shall be transferred into your husband’s capable hands.”

Her chest swelled with indignation. “I know Uncle Arthur is a nip-farthing, but if the funds belonged to me, why wasn’t I allowed to own so much as a horse or seldom even a new gown? Eleanor had a horse and was gowned in high style. I’ve never had a say as to the spending of a single pence or pound of my money.”

Mr. Sterns pursed his thin lips. “I assure you, there was always more than ample funds allowed for housing expenses, a generous clothing allowance, and so forth. A vast amount was approved only last year for your come out ball and items necessary for the Season.”

Shocked, Bethany denied, “I did not have a London Season. No stylish new gowns either. I was educated because Eleanor progressed much better when we were schooled together.”

Mr. Sterns turned to Royce. “We shall demand an immediate accounting from Arthur Littleton.”

Royce’s face darkened and his jaw tightened. “No need. I’ll see to it.”

The solicitor leaned forward and moved several papers to the edge of his desk. “If you and your lady will sign these documents, everything shall proceed immediately.”

“Am I still to have no say?” Bethany demanded.

Mr. Sterns cleared his throat. “Milady, according to the law, your husband is in charge of managing your wealth. When all is said, females rarely have the understanding to handle finances.”

“I have the understanding,” she objected. “I kept the records for the estate. Mostly because it was difficult and Uncle Arthur didn’t want to bother.”

In a steady, low-pitched voice, Royce said, “Of course you have a say Bethany, but you shall spend my money. Not your own. I’m responsible for you. I assure you, you’ll find a generous allowance at your disposable, but as your husband, I support you.”

She grinned. “I have no objections to spending your coins. However, I would like to be consulted about my wealth on occasion.”

He rolled his eyes. “I shall certainly bore you with the details if you wish. Let me read through the papers first. Then we’ll sign and be on our way.”

She watched while he scanned every line of the several pages until satisfied with the contents. Such efficiency had her respect.

He glanced up at her. “Your father made provisions for you to have a quarterly sum for you to disperse as you see fit. If you need advice, I’ll be happy to help you. Otherwise, you are in charge of a large sum, but be warned, I support my family. None other.”

Royce signed the documents and pointed to the place for her signature. Signing the forms, she followed Royce when he stood and passed the pages to the solicitor.

Mr. Sterns rose. “Everything shall be transferred to your management at once. If you have any questions, don’t fail to ask. I’m at your disposal at any time.”

“Thank you and good day.”

Thrilled from the top of her spine to the bottom of her toes, Bethany could hardly believe all that had happened. She had a dowry after all, more than a dowry. Still a little stunned when Royce helped her into the carriage, she dropped into the seat and began to reason out the changes in her life. Not only what a dowry would mean to her marriage, but what having her own wealth would mean to her. One thing was for certain. She wanted the entire Littleton family out of her house.

Royce climbed in beside her and settled back.
Arthur Littleton and Bethany’s wealth. I can see why he might want her dead. Her approaching majority and stoppage of funds would be ample reason for a person such as Littleton to turn traitor, as well.
“I suppose your uncle has feathered his nest very comfortably after this many years.”

Bethany fumed. “Certainly he has done so. What could stop him?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I want Uncle Arthur, the entire family, as a matter of fact, out of my house at once. I may still be too tall and even clumsy, along with all the other things Aunt Gertrude taunted me with, but no more. The manor belongs to me.”

“Certainly it does, but at least Eleanor deserves some consideration.”

“She did her share of ridiculing too. On that head, there is no doubt and no discussion. When she received a new gown, she dressed, and with an extremely smug expression, flaunted it before me. As you said, Uncle Arthur feathered his nest. They may all live on that.”

He exhaled a long breath. Now, how could he explain the necessity of keeping the Littletons under his eye for a bit longer to her? “Bethany, please understand. If the family is forced to remove from the manor, I’ll lose the opportunity to complete the investigation of these murders. Have you ever considered your uncle may be the one behind the attacks on you?”

She shook her head and argued, “I deliberated on that, but he definitely wasn’t the man digging the grave. He didn’t try to run me down either. He didn’t have time to drive out of town and return so quickly.”

“A valid point, I’ll admit.” Royce allowed a moment to pass before he continued. “However, that does not absolve him from the other attempts to remove you. The traitor aspect of this situation needs more consideration as well.”

“You still think he may be involved with the traitor?”

“More now than ever. I need time to determine the extent of his entanglement with treason.”

She dropped her gaze and after a long, uncomfortable silence, she said, “Since most of your concern is for Eleanor, she must be informed of her misfortune. You know how cruel society can be. The gossips may think she knew all along and tried to make a fool of everyone.”

Needled, Royce stated a little more harshly than he intended, “I don’t want anyone to know until after the ball.” He conquered his irritation and softened his voice. “At least, let us spring that trap before the final accounting is made.”

She shrugged one shoulder at him and turned slightly away. “I find it most distressing, but I suppose you are correct.” Under her breath she muttered, “You usually are.”

He grinned and sank back against the seat. “After the ball, then all shall be put to rights.”

Beside herself with agitation again, for a far different reason, Bethany shifted restlessly. She longed to inform Eleanor of her change in status from daughter of a wealthy landowner to merely a relative of the true titleholder, and all for revenge.
Unworthy.
Naturally, she wouldn’t stoop so low, but she had to fight the temptation. Royce needed her silence. She sighed, gazing out at the lamps glowing in the windows and along the lane.

A mischievous thought struck her. “How late do the dandies go on the strut? I don’t suppose it would do to parade round in the near dark.”

Royce shot a quelling look at her, crossed his arms over his chest, and chose to ignore her lapse from conduct expected of a lady. She bit back a laugh and relaxed in a much-restored frame of mind. Silence reigned until the carriage reached the house. Now she had to face Eleanor across the dinner table while keeping her tongue between her teeth. She let out a long sigh.

Chapter 29

Royce halted at the bottom of the steps to glance up at the second level. Frowning, he drew a deep breath and straightened the sleeves of his blue jacket. With a critical air, he examined his image reflected in the hall mirror and approved the lay of his snowy cravat. He brushed a lock of hair off his forehead and turned away.

With the hour approaching to leave for the theater, an atmosphere of excitement hung over the entire household and affected him with restless energy. He glanced up the stairs once more and fingered the velvet case before slipping it into his pocket.

The scheduled departure, a short half-hour after dinner, necessitated moving the meal forward. If Bethany didn’t hurry, there would be no time to swallow even a bite.
What is she doing?

Royce drew his watch out of his pocket and viewed the hour with a shake of his head. The women had spent hours fawning over Bethany’s new gowns and hours more in preparation for the visit to the theater. He only hoped the play at the Theater Royal in Covent Garden would prove delightful, meeting Bethany expectations. He halted at the door to the parlor where Sara and John sat deep in conversation, but decided not to intrude. He peered at the upper level of the landing again while impatiently pacing along the hall.

Bethany came into view and floated down the stairs, gowned in a pink garment of
peau de soie
shot with
de blanc
. With her hair in a cluster of curls falling to her shoulders and satin slippers peeking from beneath the edge of her gown, she’d never appeared lovelier.

She belonged to him and pride swelled his chest. The need to carry her back up the stairs flooded through him. He longed to strip away all the fancy adornment and expose the loveliness beneath to his gaze. Instead, he drew a deep breath and stepped to the bottom of the staircase with his hand extended when she reached the floor.

“Enchanting, my dear.” He gathered her fingers in his and kissed her knuckles. Withdrawing a long, thin box from his pocket, he handed his gift to her. “I meant to give this to you before, but I was delayed.”

After opening the case, she stared in speechless surprise. A lovely string of perfectly matched pearls with a diamond clasp glimmered in the velvet nest.

“Oh, Royce,” she finally murmured. Twirling around in invitation, she lifted her silky hair off her neck. “Please, would you be so kind?”

He fastened the necklace and placed a swift kiss on her nape. “I’d love to drape you in pearls—and nothing else,” he whispered and turned her to face him, giving her a wicked grin. His smile widened when swift color flushed her face.

“And these are for your lovely ears,” he said, displaying a pair of pearl drop earrings. As he attached the earrings, he brushed the satin skin of her cheek and throat with his fingers. She shivered, smiling up at him.

“And this is to shackle you to me.” He clasped a matching bracelet around her wrist and dropped a light kiss on her lips.

Nothing could be more beguiling than being shackled to him through the night. She read desire in his eyes and her breathing quickened. At his touch, passion stirred within her and every nerve tingled just below the surface.

Eleanor erupted into the corridor. Her stare of envy raked Bethany from head to toe, lingering on the magnificent jewelry. Eleanor fingered her own modest string of simple pearls and with a condescending smile said, “Oh, I hope you have the grace to carry off such finery. You know how you are.”

Bethany cringed and her shoulders slumped. Eleanor could always diminish her confidence.

Royce learned down close to her ear. “You look more than beautiful. You look ravishing.” He turned to Eleanor. “I believe the others are waiting. Shall we dine?”

He extended his elbow for Bethany without the same courtesy toward Eleanor. At his defense, a healing balm washed over her, and Bethany walked beside him much restored. She gave him a grateful smile and straightened her shoulders. One of these days, if only she could bring herself to do so, she determined to slap her cousin’s face after such a belittling remark.

The ladies took a seat before the gentlemen settled in their chairs. Bethany gathered her aplomb and smiled at the assembly before signaling for the first remove to be served. General threads of conversation gradually eased the tension slicing through the dining room. With each dish served, the mood around the table lightened.

Bethany could hardly wait to leave for the theater. She shifted with eagerness. “My first visit to the theater. I am so thrilled I can barely remain still.”

Smiling broadly, and in his offhand way, Royce said, “Try to swallow a few bites, else you may fade away before my very eyes. I’m certain that divine gown shan’t burst at the seams with only a small measure of food to sustain you.”

“Royce,” Bethany scolded, but she picked up her fork and began to nibble at the serving of partridge in her dish.

Finally, the hall clock chimed the hour, and the gentlemen assisted the ladies to rise. The entire group donned capes and gloves before venturing out to the waiting carriages.

The entourage required two coaches. Eleanor and Freddy occupied the first one, while John and Sara accompanied Royce and Bethany.

“I hope the weather holds,” Sara stated with a long breath. “Fog can be so drenching, and my hair never appears the same.”

“Wish upon a star. It may happen.” Bethany laughed and leaned back to enjoy the trip. When the carriage arrived, the long line waiting to deliver passengers moved slowly forward. Bethany gazed out the window at the fashionable ladies decked in muted colors and draped with sparkling jewels of every description. The men, in formal wear, added glamor to the scene. Once in the theater, Royce led the way to his box while the chatter mounted to a dull roar.

Bethany surveyed the interior of the theater with vivid interest. Candles glimmered in crystal chandeliers, glinting around the entire theater. Three tiers of seating reached toward the elaborate concave ceiling, separate from the crowd below. Several oil-lamp footlights lit the stage. When their party entered the box, heads swiveled. Overwhelmed with the attention, Bethany hesitated until Royce urged her forward and helped her into a chair. She could view the stage to advantage, plus the audience as well.

Wild excitement surged through Bethany. Hovering on the edge of her seat, she was eager to witness Edmund Kean as Shylock on stage. She held her breath when the orchestra struck a cord and the curtain lifted. The play began. Riveted to the action on the stage, she leaned forward.

The rich details of the elaborate costumes and the stage props along with the colorful backdrop enthralled Bethany. Edmund Kean’s lines were delivered with such emotion she reeled in admiration, completely captivated.

Gradually, she became aware of a sensation of being watched. She quickly glanced around and grabbed Royce by his arm. Urgently, she whispered, “Royce, do you notice anyone watching us? I mean me especially.”

He straightened and searched the crowd. “Several, and who can blame them?” Smiling down at her, he sobered with her frown. “Why the frown? Is something amiss?”

“He’s here.” Menace seemed to brush against her senses. “The evil.” She shivered. “I feel the evil. The same evil that threatened me at the lake.”

Royce stood and glanced around again.

The Frenchman, well pleased with his decision to dress in black velvet, noted he blended into the background of the theater box as he intended. He stood behind the dark curtain and gazed down at the Rivtons. He longed to kill Lord Rivton, the devil’s own spawn. Now he needed to seize the opportunity.

How I hate Rivton.
Lifting the corner of his mouth in a slight smile, he determined not to allow his compulsion to spiral out of control. Joliet died because he lost control of the situation. Counting her loss to Rivton, he determined, never again. He couldn’t stop brooding over his sister, and her betrayal ate at him continually. He had to silence her, but when he felt the thump of her body crushed beneath the wheels, something seemed to depart his own body. Ever since that day, hollowness consumed him, and he found it difficult to function. The completely empty sensation must be stopped. He stared at Lady Rivton for several long minutes and straightened against a column. Riveted, he drew a sharp breath and continued to stare at her.

Rivton’s demise must wait
.
Destiny is upon me. Joilet hasn’t returned to haunt me as I supposed, but to be with me. Magnificent. Lady Rivton looks so like my Joilet—she could take Joilet’s place in my life. And wouldn’t that cut Rivton like a knife?

He straightened and rubbed his eyes. Joliet. He could erase the past, ease the torment, and claim Lady Rivton for his own. Joliet restored to him. No need for more anguish.
Careful, don’t allow complete control to slip away again.

He ground his teeth when his Joliet laid her hand on Rivton’s arm. She went so far as to lean close and whisper in his ear. The Frenchman ducked farther behind the drape when Royce glanced around, seemingly searching for someone.

The Frenchman hadn’t planned to carry her off to France so soon, but he could be flexible. How could he accomplish such a deed? No doubt, Rivton would raise a hue and cry for her return.
This needs very careful planning to snatch her from Rivton.
The Frenchman clenched his fists.
No man shall keep her from me
. He turned and stalked out of the theater.

Royce lifted Bethany to her feet and guided her to the back of the box.

“Excuse us,” he whispered and led her out into the corridor running behind the theater boxes.

“Explain,” he demanded when he led her a little further away from prying ears. “What did you mean?”

She raised her eyes to his. With an uncertain stammer she said, “I felt the same feeling when I came up out of the water.” She glanced behind her with unease. One hand touched her trembling lips.

Royce acted quickly. On his card, he scribed a message. He fished a coin out of his pocket and handed both to an attendant. “See that Sir John Carrington receives this as soon as possible. Box eight.”

He turned to Bethany. “We are leaving. I’ll send the carriage back for the others.”

After rushing her into the carriage, he gave the signal to depart. “Bethany, you’re trembling like a leaf. I’m taking you home to Stroter Hall where you’ll be safe. I thought London would prove secure, but I was mistaken. We must return to the hall.”

He gathered her close and held her against his side. “We shall set out tomorrow.” Grinning at her to lighten the mood, he changed the subject and patted her cheek. “Supposing we have enough carriages to contain your new wardrobe.”

She leaned away from him and looked into his eyes. “Do you think I chose an excessive amount? I don’t actually need so many.”

He kissed her temple. “Don’t be absurd. I want you to have every single item. I was jesting to take your mind off of the evil.”

Silence blanketed the couple, each gazing out at the scene passing by the window. Heavy, damp fog had rolled in and now shrouded the coach, causing the progress to be necessarily slow. Lanterns cast an eerie glow along the cobbled street rumbling beneath the wheels. A small lamp, hung on a hook, chased away the darkness inside, adding a measure of comfort to the journey.

She leaned against Royce, drawing ease from his presence.
I have nothing to fear with Royce by my side.

Early morning sun glinted off the polished brass lantern on the carriage with the Rivton arms emblazed on the door. Undercover on a small swell of ground, the watcher observed servants below loading the second coach with trunk after trunk.

To shelter his features, he wore his hat pulled low over his brow. With one finger, he defiantly hooked a hunting vest over his shoulder, ignoring how conspicuous it would be in the city.

The fool.
Does the so self-righteous Lord Rivton really believe he can steal her away, hide her somewhere safe?
The mere thought made him furious. He scoffed at the absurdity. Even if Rivton kept her under lock and key, he determined to succeed. Nothing would hamper him. Rivton would find the Frenchman’s intellect far superior.

He rubbed his hand down his face.
Rivton fails to understand. Joliet has returned to me. To me. She shall be loyal to me, love me, be totally committed to me alone. I shall worship at her shrine, and as repayment she shall please me in every way I desire this time around.

She was not for the likes of Rivton. The mighty military man, wealthy lord and Lord Lieutenant. Small wonder he felt strong and invincible, but he would fail. All that scurrying around to leave the city. Did he actually imagine the country a safe haven? How amusing.

He couldn’t keep a laugh from escaping. Smothering the sound with his scarf, he furtively surveyed his surroundings. Carefully, he eased away from his hiding place and strolled down the lane with a jaunty spring in his step.