Impulse (3 page)

Angela couldn't help but smile. “Poor man. I am sure you did nothing to ease him.”

“Of course I did. I curtsied and asked if he wanted me to unpack his bags, trying to act like there was nothing wrong. But he kept apologizing
to me.
” She shook her head in amazement.

“Well, he is American. Perhaps he's not used to castles and servants and such.”

“More like he's not used to girls,” Kate retorted. “He's got a prim-and-proper look to him, so stiff you think he might break if he tried to bend over. And plain dressed. Not badly dressed, just…so very severe. All the other girls think he's dead handsome. I thought him only all right, if you like that sort of pasty look of a man who spends his life indoors. Me, I like a man with a little meat and muscle.” She grinned. “Gives you something to hold on to, you know.”

Angela shook her head in mock despair. Kate was an inveterate flirt, and Angela was sure that she had broken more than one poor man's heart. But she liked to talk as if she were a wilder sort than she was, primarily, Angela thought, to entertain her.

“Did you find out why he's here?” she asked as Kate finished with her shoes and rose to take a critical look at the overall effect.

“No. Dead mum about it, His Lordship's man is, which I'm thinking means he doesn't know. All I know is, Ned said later that he caught a glimpse into one of the bags, and it had a powerful lot of important-looking papers in it.”

“A solicitor, perhaps. Or a man of business. I wonder what he has to do with Jeremy,” Angela murmured.
“Even more, what could it have to do with me? Well, I suppose the only way I shall find out is to go down there.”

But Kate would not let her leave until she had fussed with her hair a bit, pinning in the strands that had come loose during Angela's walk. “There, now you look beautiful.”

Angela barely glanced at her image in the mirror. It had been many years since she fussed over her looks. All she cared about was appearing neat and ordinary. The latter was a difficult task for a woman with hair the color of burnished copper, she had found, but over the years she had made blending in an art form. She wore subdued colors and plain styles, and her hair was always done in a simple bun worn low upon her neck. She never wore any jewelry, except perhaps for a cameo brooch at her throat. Even her hands were without adornment, the nails clipped short and no rings upon her fingers.

She walked down to the library and knocked softly on the door. Jeremy answered, bidding her enter. When she stepped inside, Jeremy rose to his feet, as did the man who was sitting in the wingback chair across from him. Angela cast a quick, curious glance at the other man, noting that he was, as Kate had told her, not bad- looking, but perhaps a trifle rigid.

“Angela.” Jeremy smiled and went over to her to kiss her lightly on the cheek. “You look in health.”

“As do you. This is a pleasant surprise.”

“Not so pleasant for Grandmama, I believe.” He smiled. “I thought she might eat me for arriving unannounced.”

“Is Rosemary with you?” Angela asked as her brother led her toward the chairs.

“No. Couldn't expect Rosemary to leave London
during the Season.” He stopped in front of his guest. “Angela, I'd like you to meet Mr. Pettigrew.”

The man in question bowed stiffly to her, and they exchanged greetings. Almost immediately Pettigrew excused himself, saying that he was sure the Earl would wish to talk to his sister alone. Angela waited politely until the young man had left the room, then turned to her brother, eyebrows going up.

“Jeremy…what in the world is going on? What are you doing here in the middle of the Season? And who is that young man?”

“An American. An assistant to another American— whose name I don't know,” he added darkly.

“But what has it to do with me? Grandmama said you wished to see me.”

“It has a great deal to do with you. Well, with all of us, but you are the one who—” He stopped and sighed. “I'm sorry. I am telling this all muddled. I have been in such a state recently…it's a wonder I can make any sense at all. Here, sit down, and I shall start all over.”

They sat down in the leather wingback chairs, facing one another, and Jeremy, taking a deep breath, plunged into his story. “It started, oh, I'm not sure, a year or two ago. Someone bought a portion of my share of the tin mines. We needed to repair the house in the city, and somehow Rosemary and I seemed to have an inordinate amount of expenses as well, and, anyway, I sold a goodly block, I'd say about ten percent of the mine. Then, just this last year, I sold another portion of it, not that much. At the time, Niblett brought it to my attention that someone had bought others' shares in the mine. You know, Aunt Constance had owned a part, and then it was split among her children when she died, and all of them sold their shares. There had been several sales like
that. I thought it odd. Niblett didn't want me to sell any more, but I couldn't see any harm. It was not the same person who had bought the first amount I had sold, or so I thought, and the others had been sold to still other companies and people. So I sold another chunk, almost ten percent again. But three or four weeks ago, well, Niblett got this letter. It seems that a company in the United States claimed that it owned a—a majority of the mine. It turns out that Wainbridge—Grandfather's friend, you remember him, don't you?—had sold this company his fifteen percent. And Tremont—that's the name of the American company—owned all the other bits and pieces that had been sold over the years, too, including both the ones I had sold.”

Angela gazed at him for a moment, assimilating the information. Finally she said, “You mean that this American company actually controls our mine now?”

Jeremy nodded, looking miserable. “I'm sorry, Angela. I don't know how it happened. Even Niblett was surprised. He knew there had been some activity, but he did not know that it was all being bought by the same company.”

“Is it so very bad? I mean, I understand that you are getting less money than before, but that would have happened even if different people had bought from you.”

“Yes, but Tremont now has control over the decisions. I do not. It can do whatever it wants with the mine.”

“I see. So if they make poor decisions, you will suffer.”

“We will all suffer.”

Angela was well aware that this was true. She was completely dependent upon her brother, and her mother and grandmother largely were, also. Whatever wealth the Stanhopes had, had passed to Jeremy.

“Of course. But is it so bleak? We cannot assume they will make bad decisions, can we?”

“According to the letter, they intend to close the mine.”

Angela gaped at him. “What? You can't be serious!”

He nodded vigorously. “I am. I couldn't believe it, either, at first. But this week Mr. Pettigrew showed up in London. I've been meeting with him and Niblett and my solicitor. It is worse than bad. It's… Oh, God, Angela, this American practically owns me!”

“Mr. Pettigrew?” Angela's voice rang with disbelief. “But he seems so mild….”

“No, not him. Though he is not so mild when you are dealing with him in business. But I am talking about the company that bought the mine. It is owned by some American. I don't know who. I haven't met the man. Mr. Pettigrew is merely his representative, and he refuses to say who the principal is.”

“But, Jeremy, this doesn't make any sense. Why would anyone buy a mine only to close it down?”

“I don't know! That's what
I
argued. Pettigrew said that the mine simply was not producing enough. He showed me all these figures demonstrating how its production had gone down over recent years. Of course it has. That's precisely why everyone was so willing to sell to Tremont. He went on and on about how we had been taking everything out of the mine and not putting anything back in. He talked about all the improvements that needed to be done to make the mine profitable again, though we had not used the profits to do so. We just took them out and spent them. You can't imagine how lowering it was to have to sit there and hear him point out how foolish I had been, all in that quiet, prim
way. Of course, Niblett had said the same thing to me time and again, but I had never done what he advised. You know me. I never have had a head for business. I assumed that Niblett was just complaining. And, besides, we were always desperate for money. You know how it's been with us. Rosemary's money wasn't enough to save us, and after—” He stopped, red flaring up in his cheeks. “Well, that is, you know, we simply haven't had the money.”

“I know.” Angela looked down at her hands in her lap. She knew what he had been thinking but had stopped himself from saying. Angela was the reason that they had not had the money. When she fled Dunstan, she had lost his money for the Stanhopes, and in that way she had failed her family, finally and enormously. It was to Jeremy's credit that he had never thrown that up to her. He had never even tried to convince her to go back to Dunstan.

“Anyway, Pettigrew said that they had considered making those improvements, putting money into the mine so that the profits would be greater. But he said that they had decided that they did not have enough—
connection
was the word he used—to make that great an investment.”

“What did he mean?”

“I didn't know. I asked him, but he didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out a number of papers—notes and deeds. He had the deed to that piece of land that Grandfather sold to Squire Mayfield before he died, as well as the hunting cottage I sold two years ago. I sold it to an Englishman, but apparently he was merely a solicitor buying the cottage for someone else, an American. Last year Squire Mayfield sold his plot to the same man, as well.”

“The same one who owns the mine? But, Jeremy, who is this man? Why is he buying so much of our property?”

“Apparently he is obsessed with the English nobility. That's the only thing I can think of. It is all so bizarre. He must be excessively wealthy, and I assume he is trying to—to
buy
his way into Society. I am not sure what his reasons are. Pettigrew would not explain it, really. He is quite polite, but you cannot pry anything out of him that he does not want to say. Believe me, I tried all the way up here from London. But he would just start talking about the scenery or asking questions about the estate.”

“But why did this man choose you to buy these things from? And how can closing down a mine and buying property in England make him a part of Society?”

“I can only assume that the Stanhopes must have been an obvious choice—titled and desperately in need of money. Besides, we have the other main requirement.”

He stopped and eyed his sister a little uneasily. Angela looked up at him. “What is that?”

“A female of marriageable age and condition in the family.”

Angela froze, staring at her brother mutely. She felt as if all the air had been knocked from her lungs.

When she said nothing, Jeremy went on hurriedly. “That is the plan, apparently. He wants to marry into the British nobility. I presume he must realize that no matter how much land he might buy or how much wealth he might have, he would never be accepted. So he wants to marry a daughter or sister of an earl or a viscount or…” He trailed off miserably, sneaking a glance at Angela's stricken face. “I am sorry, Angie. You don't know how
sorry I am that he should have chosen to fix on this family.”

“Oh, he chose well, all right,” Angela said bitterly. “A family with a daughter so disgraced that they could not hope for any better marriage for her. One they would be happy to sacrifice for a little money.”

She jumped to her feet and began to pace agitatedly, her hands clenched into fists at her side. “I won't do it, Jeremy! You cannot ask this of me. Our grandfather already sacrificed me once for money for the family. You cannot ask me to do it a second time!”

Jeremy rose and went to her, reaching out to touch her shoulders. She flinched away from him, and he sighed. “I wish there were some other way, Angela. I talked to Pettigrew until I was ready to drop. I pleaded and argued and pointed out the unfairness of it. He apologized and flushed and looked perfectly miserable, but he would not budge. He is not the one who makes the decisions. He is merely representing someone else.”

“Why should you have to beg and plead and argue?” Angela turned to face him, her eyes bright with anger and a touch of fear. “Just because he owns some land that was once ours does not mean he can bend us to his will. They're closing the mine, anyway— Oh, wait. Of course. I see. That's why he talked about shutting down the mine. He will close it only if I don't marry him. Is that it?”

Jeremy nodded, unable to meet Angela's eyes. “And if you marry him, he will make the improvements so that the mine will earn more money.”

“Ah, I see,” Angela's voice was bitter. “Both the carrot and the stick. So if I don't agree to marry this— this
bully,
the family will not only lose the money we are getting now, we will lose the added amount we would
have gotten. Well, he has certainly contrived to put me into a thoroughly untenable position.”

Jeremy groaned, turning away and plunging his hands into his hair. “That isn't even the worst of it. He bought up my notes, as well.”

“What notes?”

“Practically every one I have ever signed. Personal notes, all the encumbrances on the property—almost every cent I have borrowed in the past ten years. I owe it all to him now! If he chose to call it due, I would be ruined. I could not begin to pay it. He could take half our land. Oh, God, Angela, I don't know what I am to do!”

“Jeremy!” Angela gazed at him, shaken. “What kind of man would do that? Arbitrarily choose a family, people he has never met, in an entirely different country, even, and inflict such damage on them? Bend them to his will by any means, fair or foul?”