The Belligerent Miss Boynton AND The Lurid Lady Lockport (Two Companion Full-Length Regency Novels) (40 page)

"A society to preserve the barn owl? What the devil could the old boy have been drinking when he made that one up?" Kevin drawled, still outwardly calm, although he was mentally toting up his bills and seeing himself being hauled off to the Fleet in chains. "And you're quite sure the Will is unbreakable?"

"Positive, my lord," was the lawyer's cool answer. "And there's more, my lord, much as it pains me to say it. Even if you do marry the child, you must wait a year from the day of the marriage to take control of the money—unless, that is, you solve a puzzle the late Earl has set for you. If you solve the puzzle, the money is yours immediately."

"I hope I won't be shocking you, Mutter, if I ring for some brandy?" Kevin put in as he crossed to the bell pull and rang for Olive. "You've planted me a bit of a facer here this morning."

After downing a neat three fingers of the fiery liquid, Kevin was ready to hear the rest of the "details," as Mutter had termed them. There really weren't many more. Mutter told him of his guess that the Rawlings family jewels were part and parcel of this "puzzle," as none of the jewels had been found in the house after the Earl's death. "Solving the puzzle would be a double blessing then, my lord, unlocking the funds and recovering the considerable Rawlings's jewels. There are large emerald, ruby, and diamond sets, as I recall. Exquisite pieces all, my lord. Plus a good deal more."

"And if at the end of a year I've failed to solve the puzzle?" Kevin prompted.

"You still gain control of the funds, my lord. But the jewels, if that indeed is what this whole business is about, remain hidden. The late Earl did not take me into his confidence concerning the solution to the puzzle."

Kevin began pacing the small open area of the floor, his planned departure to Brighten forgotten. "I could refuse to marry the chit and still receive the income from the estate. Surely I can manage on that?"

"Have you inspected your holdings, my lord? Since the late Earl's next-to-last illness three years ago, there's been precious little in the way of repairs or upkeep on any of the farms. And the forestry section is in need of—well, you get my point, sir. In order to continue making money, you will first have to put quite a large sum of money into the estate. This year will be the last The Hall can remain above water if something is not done, and done soon."

Kevin's rather pithy response to this last bit of unhappy news was interrupted by a babyish, female voice coming to them from the doorway. "Has anyone seen my Elsie?"

Both men turned to see a plump, grey-haired old woman, her hair done in childish ringlets and her gown twenty years out of date, hovering just inside the room. "Great Aunt Sylvia," Kevin muttered, his mind recalling the existence of the late Earl's sister. "Good God, I forgot all about her."

The old lady, not being gifted with an answer to her question, as neither of the men knew just who this Elsie was, entered the room on slipper-clad feet, casting her anxious gaze about while crooning in a high-pitched voice: "Elsie, where are you my sweet darling? Come to Mummy, my precious love. It's time for your porridge and a wee nap. Ah!" she exclaimed at last, excitedly clapping her hands. "There's Mummy's baby. Come here you naughty little puss. Mummy was so
worried
about her darling little sweetums."

Kevin and Mr. Mutter stared, expecting to see a cat or a pug dog emerge from the clutter. But, instead of a pampered animal, Lady Sylvia leaned down, scooped up, and hugged to her bosom a child-sized china-faced doll whose head was covered with long blonde ringlets of human hair, its body clad in a high-waisted white dimity dress and shiny patent slippers. Without acknowledging either of the men, Lady Sylvia retreated from the room, alternately scolding and kissing her precious Elsie as she went.

There was a long silence before Kevin said to no one in particular, "There are times I do believe I envy my great uncle his happy release."

The girl had been inside The Hall only long enough to learn from Hattie Kemp that the new Earl had indeed arrived the previous day and was even now closeted with Mr. Mutter in the Long Library.

"Not for long, I wager," she told the cook with a sniff. "Just as soon as he gathers up the reins of his fortune he'll hie out of here and back to London town like the Hounds of Hell were nipping at his heels."

"Now Gilly," Hattie Kemp scolded the girl, "you'd not be knowin' iffen his lordship's like that."

Gilly nearly choked on the jam-laden biscuit she was just then popping into her mouth. "The devil I don't! And you know as well as I do, Hattie Kemp! The last time that popinjay was here he took so little interest in his surroundings that he ordered me to help him off with his boots. Had me straddle his leg, he did, and then he pushed at my rump with his other foot until, when the boot finally came loose, I flew across the room and landed in the fireplace. And," she continued loudly, to be heard over the cook's laughter, "after all of that, all the man wanted to know was if his boot had suffered any permanent damage. Idiot! Lucky for him there was no fire in the grate—I'd have taken out a log and branded him. Why, he didn't even know I was a girl! Oh, no, Hattie. The man doesn't care two feathers for The Hall, or us."

"You was wearin' Lyle's old breeches and your hair all tucked up under Fitch's second-best cap, Gilly, m'love," Hattie Kemp reminded the girl. "His lordship ain't all at fault iffen he mistook you for a lad."

"
Hrruumph
!" was all Gilly would answer, wiping her jam-rimmed mouth none too tidily on her sleeve before she stalked off to get a peep at the new Earl. Maybe she'd even give him a piece of her mind while she was at it, tell him what she thought of him and the way he'd neglected his duty to The Hall. After all, it wasn't as if he didn't have it coming.

#

"Although I'm convinced it must fatigue you, Mutter, my good, but just perhaps ever so slightly
vague
man, I can only beg your kind indulgence for a space," Kevin drawled once Lady Sylvia had retired from the room. "You see, I find I wish to discuss this dilemma a bit further, set it more clearly in my mind, as it were. Please have patience whilst I endeavor to clear that same mind of the cobwebs destined to grow when a man's wits are allowed to stagnate in the dull atmosphere of the ton, as opposed of course, to being in the company of a man such as yourself who is, I have rapidly come to appreciate, an utter master of subtlety, strategy, and understatement."

"My lord?" Mutter asked, nearly swallowing the words in an agony of embarrassment, and not a little trepidation.

Kevin permitted himself a small smile. He was under control again, his usual urbane manner reassumed now that he was past the initial shock that had, if the truth be told, very nearly unnerved him when he had heard the lawyer's explanation of the late Earl's Will. His rapid recovery, to continue serving only truth, could be credited as easily to the liberal splash of spirits he had quickly downed as it could to a lifetime of hiding his true feelings.

Kevin's entreaty, the iron fist skillfully hidden beneath the velvet glove, but obvious all the same, had been spur enough to send Mutter's treasured gold repeater watch back into its specially designed pocket, and Mutter himself back behind the desk from which he had risen in anticipation of departing The Hall for the friendlier climate of the village pub. The lawyer did allow himself one small show of spirit (more a show of bravado really, as seldom had he been tempted to assert himself outside his own household—witness his long service to the whims of the domineering late Earl).

Reassuming his former dignified (he thought) posture, and cloaking his mind in its usual attitude of prepossession (so useful when forced to deal with lesser but nonetheless opposing minds) Mutter intoned severely, "I am at your service, my lord, of course. But I fail to see how I can be more explicit. I believe my explanation was exceedingly clear. Perhaps," he offered more gently, "if you were to tell me the points on which you are unclear, I can guide you through to a place of understanding."

Mutter was pleased to see his smile returned by the new Earl. Of course he was. So how could he explain the queer shiver that ran down his spine as he lifted his head and encountered Kevin's glittering, icy blue glare, which seemed so curiously out of place in his smiling face?

He stumbled into speech. "Er, yes. Yes, indeed, my lord, as I've said time and time again—just ask my wife, or anyone at The Hall, or in the village—Henry Mutter's greatest pleasure in this world has been to serve the Earl of Lockport any way I can. Yes indeed, any Earl. Any need. You just ask." The man was gibbering, as surprised at the sound of his own high voice as his words tumbled out over themselves unbidden as the Earl was disgusted (and taking no pains to hide that disgust) by the same.

Kevin waited for the flustered country lawyer to subside, now confident he was the one in the position of power, and that he would no more be treated like a bacon-brained youth or a truant schoolboy. But, all the same, he also knew it wouldn't do to have Mutter terrified of him. It was already difficult enough ascertaining information from the man. Upset him further and the lawyer could become incoherent. It sufficed that Mutter now knew who was in charge.

Ah, men and their assumptions…

Rising to his not inconsiderable height, his muscles rippling ever so slightly beneath his coat, Kevin began another leisurely inspection of the room, using his malacca cane to poke and prod at the mountains of clutter that were everywhere. Without looking at Mutter he then began conversationally, "I've scrawled my vowels all over London these last months, you know, what with setting up my stable, purchasing a suitable curricle and carriage, outfitting myself in the style to which I have always been accustomed but never before felt completely free to indulge in to the top of my bent, and engaging the services of the esteemed Willstone, a man who has made himself quite indispensable to me in our short time together. Ah, yes, my dear Mutter, you may stare. But it's true. Even Willstone was obtained on tick. I blush to say that I owe him nearly two quarter's wages."

Concluding his examination of a particularly repulsive stuffed owl—the bird appeared to be both cross-eyed and moulting—Kevin then spun around in the direction of the lawyer and, with a twist of his wrist, turned his cane into a convincing imitation of a judge's accusing finger. "Yes, I say. Even Willstone. I am, dear Mutter, in debt from one end of England to the other, plus Ireland, North America, and anywhere in the world our soldiers can march or our ships can sail, if my debts before inheriting the title are not to be discounted. I stand before you pockets-to-let, lurched, and on the verge of being clapped up in the Fleet."

Kevin slowly lowered his cane and leaned his clasped hands on its handle as he peered intently at the lawyer. "Now am I making myself sufficiently clear, sir?"

Mutter could only nod and quickly slide his gaze away from this man who made him feel it was his fault, his and his alone, that the new Earl of Lockport was without funds. Which, as he had withheld payment on any of the bills he'd seen in the last several months, wasn't exactly incorrect.

Kevin saw Mutter's embarrassment and quickly pressed his advantage. "Ah! You cannot look at me, can you?" He sighed deeply, a patently unbelievable display of sorrow. "How can I blame you, after listening to my sad, sad tale? It's enough to send a fellow to the dogs directly. But I have hope still in my heart, Mutter, for I am by nature an optimistic fellow. Here's what I need." He named a sum that brought Mutter's eyes up against his will and forced an involuntary "My goodness!" from his lips.

"Exactly," the new Earl of Lockport concurred genially. "It is a considerable figure, but one, I most sincerely trust, that does not exceed the estate's capacity to pay?"

Mutter was forced to agree that the sum did not outstrip the funds on hand.

Kevin's smile was beatific. "See me standing before you, Mutter, near to swooning in gratitude. Now, let us become even more frank, shall we? Just how much is
on hand
?"

Mutter told him.

"I see." Settling his debts would make a considerable dent in the money, but Kevin knew he had no choice. "What additional revenue can I expect in the coming months?" he pressed the man.

Again the answer was disheartening. If the amount was indicative of the depth of the disrepair into which the estate had fallen, large, perhaps even copious, amounts of money must be pumped back into the estate soon or it would be too late. But there was nothing else for it. He could not even consider making any but the most minor repairs on The Hall and grounds themselves until the entire fortune was his.

Kevin swung his cane upward, to tap it rhythmically against his other hand. "Perhaps the old reprobate kept cash on hand of which you were unaware?" he suggested encouragingly.

Now Mutter indulged himself in a bit of revenge for being so sharply set in his place. "Your great-uncle was an eccentric, sir—not a fool! He kept his money where it is still, in banks and the Exchange. If you had contacted me when first you came into the title, it would have saved you the enormous trip into debt you embarked on, according to the bills I have received to date. And surely I have not received a third of them for their total to be so high—as I would then, of course, have been forced to come to you directly and inform you of the conditions of your uncle's Will. In point of fact, my lord, it was nearly four months before I could locate your whereabouts at all," he ended accusingly.

"I was on a repairing lease in the country actually," Kevin responded, admitting that he had employed the age-old tactic of avoiding one's creditors—unavailability.

"That had been my deduction, my lord," Mutter said, once again looking more smug than Kevin would like. But the man could think what he wished. Kevin wasn't going to enlighten him as to his real reason for being out of touch, that of helping his friends foil a plot bent on murder. He would rather be thought a spendthrift and a vacant-headed popinjay, not that Mutter's opinion mattered all that much.