A Countess of Convenience (17 page)

"Perhaps his sister...” Walton's voice trailed off when he saw Malvern's angry frown.

"She knows no more about his whereabouts than I do. You keep searching, and I'll make some inquiries of my own. In the meantime, stall his creditors."

Prudence looked about the dining room, noting that the furniture was really quite sound. A good rubbing with beeswax and reupholstering the chair seats would return the table and chairs to their original elegance. Of course, the draperies were faded beyond recall and the colors had worn away in some places on the carpet. The house really needed to be redone and doing it would give her another opportunity to win Malvern's admiration.

A small noise alerted her to Lindley's presence. “Mr. Weathersby is in the sitting room, my lady. He says he must see you at once."

"Thank you, Lindley.” Wondering how Neil had learned she was here, Prudence hurried to the sitting room.

As she entered, he rushed toward her. “Thank God I've found you."

"What's wrong?” Noting his dust-coated clothing and mud-spattered boots, she added, “You look a sight."

"I expected you to be at Malvern Hall and have just ridden there and back."

"What is so urgent?"

"I take it your presence here indicates all is well between you and Malvern?"

Could he possibly be this concerned about her welfare? Perhaps his conscience had pricked him over forcing this marriage upon her. She patted his hand reassuringly. “You need not worry about how we're getting on. He is a true gentleman."

Neil caught her hand in a grip that bespoke desperation. “You've got to help me, Prudence. Intercede on my behalf with Malvern."

"I think he's getting over his anger with you."

"Where is he now?"

"His man of business sent for him."

Neil released her hand, took several steps away from her, and began to slap little clouds of dust from his shoulders. “He'll have new reasons to be angry with me when he returns."

She sighed. “What have you done now?"

He turned to one side and examined a porcelain figurine on the mantel. “You know my financial situation has not been good. I've run up some debts and need Malvern's help."

"It hardly seems proper for me to interject myself into a business matter. I'm sure if you explain the situation, he will be willing to loan you enough—"

"Loan?” He turned on her with flared nostrils. “You cannot receive a loan unless you have prospects of repaying it."

"What about the land that came with your inheritance?"

"That went years ago; it barely earned enough to pay the taxes, anyway."

"What about your uncle, Viscount Weathersby? Won't he help you?"

Neil glared at her as if she had said something truly stupid. “The only help my dear uncle has offered is a commission in the army—the infantry. If it had been the cavalry I might have considered it, but not the infantry. I really think he'd like to see me sent to a God forsaken outpost where I'd die of some miserable fever."

"But if you had no income, why did you go on spending money?"

"I am a gentleman, Pru. Except for an accident of birth, I would be a viscount with a large estate."

She looked at him for a moment, dumbfounded. “I'd say it is God's will that you were the son of a second son and that your uncle now has three sons of his own. Have you never thought of providing for yourself?"

He huffed. “I expected to marry well, but the rich guard their daughters as closely as their bank accounts."

Her stomach lurched as the full meaning of his words washed over her. “So, when you couldn't find a rich wife, you tricked a rich friend into marrying me. Everything Malvern has accused you of is true, isn't it?"

He raised his hand with the palm upward. “You're well provided for, aren't you?"

Disgust welled up in her. “Don't even pretend that you did any of this for me. You're the same self-centered boy who took every advantage my father gave you and still looked down your nose at him. It's no wonder Uncle Oscar put us all on a strict budget after Father died."

"Don't blame that man's parsimony on me. Your father didn't care what happened—"

She jumped to her feet. “I won't listen to another word—"

As she headed for the door, his voice rose in what could only be described as a wail. “I'm going to prison."

She froze. “What?"

"Warrants are out. Constables are looking for me. I'm in hiding."

She turned to look at him. His face was pasty white and tears rimmed his eyes. “Oh, Neil, surely not."

"Once I'm arrested, they won't let me go until I pay all my debts.” The tears began to stream down his cheeks. He turned, propped one arm against the mantel, and buried his face against it. “If no one rescues me, I could be there for years."

No matter how bad or foolish his behavior had been, Prudence could not bear the thought of her, proud, devil-may-care brother being locked away in a grim debtors’ prison. She raced to his side and threw an arm around his heaving shoulders.

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Malvern hurried up the steps of his town house, wondering how he should tell Prudence of her brother's latest blackguardism. Perhaps it would be best not to tell her. The news would surely distress her and add to her embarrassment over the way Weathersby had forced the two of them into marriage.

Lindley opened the door promptly and extended his hand for Malvern's hat and gloves. As he stripped off a glove, Malvern said, “I told Blake to wait in the back hall for some messages I need delivered. I want you to take them to him as soon as I've written them."

"Yes, sir."

"Is Lady Malvern about?"

"She's in the upstairs sitting room with Mr. Weathersby."

Malvern stared at the butler in surprise. “Weathersby is here?"

"Yes, sir, he arrived a short time before you."

He slapped his gloves into Lindley's waiting hand. “Tell Blake I won't need him after all.” Then he turned toward the stairs anticipating the chance to tell his dishonest brother-in-law exactly what he thought of him.
Brother-in-law
. He reminded himself of the family connection. How could he protect Prudence's feelings and avoid further scandal and yet not mollycoddle the spendthrift?

Opening the sitting room door, he saw the brother and sister in a tender embrace, her face etched with sympathy. Prudence saw him and pulled away from Weathersby. Guilt remolded her features. She knew. Of course she knew. Why had he thought she wouldn't? These conniving siblings had played him for a fool from the beginning.

Weathersby faced him with a stricken expression. “I suppose your man of affairs has told you what I was forced to do."

Malvern's blood pounded through his veins with a martial pulse. “Forced? Did someone put a pistol to your head and force you to send half the merchants in this city to my door?"

Trying to look manly, Weathersby stepped forward, a little in front of the whey-faced Prudence, but his voice shook with emotion. “I regret having to do that, but if you don't help me, I'll go to prison."

Shaking his head angrily, Malvern said, “And so you should. Debtors’ prison is meant for men like you."

Prudence rushed forward, laying both of her hands on his forearm. “Oh, no, Malvern, please don't let him go to prison. We can postpone remodeling the house. I won't buy any new clothes. I'll do anything you say."

As he looked down at her tear-streaked face, his gut knotted in agony. Was this why she'd responded to his kisses so readily? Why she'd been so sweet and willing? Had she set out from the very beginning to win his affections so he'd save her brother? He jerked his arm free from her pathetic grip. “What can you possibly do that will be worth five thousand pounds?"

She gasped and stepped back, swaying as though she might swoon. If she did, her brother would have to catch her, for he damn sure wouldn't.

"Don't take this out on Pru,” Weathersby said. “She didn't know how bad my debts were."

"Of course not,” Malvern said with a sneer. “She's as innocent as a newborn."

He heard her gasp again, but forced himself not to look at her.

Weathersby's back stiffened. “You have every right to be angry with me, but face the fact that we are now connected. What will people say if the rich Earl of Malvern lets his wife's brother rot in debtors’ prison?"

"That fact is the only reason I haven't called the footmen to throw you out.” Malvern couldn't resist emphasizing his words with jabs of his index finger. “I'll pay your debts, but I won't
give
you the money. You'll work for it."

Weathersby's instant look of relief turned into a frown on hearing the word “work.” He stared at Malvern open-mouthed.

"I've been thinking of rebuilding the breeding stock on my Yorkshire estate. You've spent so much time at the race track, you must know something about horses, so you can go there and see to my stables."

"Yorkshire?” Weathersby's face grew as pale as his sister's. “I've heard you say your estate there is in the middle of nothing."

"Exactly,” Malvern said with growing satisfaction. “That's the only way to keep you from running up more debt."

Weathersby reached out and braced himself on the back of an armchair. “How—how long will I have to stay?"

Malvern smugly gave the question a long moment's thought. “I couldn't possibly pay a stable master more than a thousand pounds a year."

With his eyebrows arched in horror, Neil wailed, “Five years!"

Prudence roused herself enough to say, “Don't argue, Neil. Think of the alternative.” Then she turned tear-sparkling eyes on Malvern with a small smile of gratitude.

He had no intention of letting her work her wiles on him again. “So you won't be lonely, your devoted sister will go with you."

She staggered back as though he had physically struck her and sank weakly onto the sofa. He had no pity for her.

He turned back to Weathersby. “My man Walton will draw up a promissory note for you to sign. I'll not pay a dime until you do. If you don't follow through on the terms, I'll put you in prison, myself."

He turned back to his crumpled wife. “I'll send word to my bailiff at Aysbeck Manor to expect you and instruct Walton to issue you an allowance. Please vacate this house as soon as possible. I'll stay at my club until you do."

She looked up at him and malice flashed from her eyes. He told himself he was finally seeing her true nature and left the room with a feeling of self-righteous disgust.

Prudence stared after her stiff-necked husband as he stalked out of the room, the perfect image of an outraged aristocrat. What madness had caused her to think the Earl of Malvern might come to love her or to take their marriage seriously? Without a moment's hesitation, he had turned on her and cast her away for no sin of her own.

"Go after him, Prudence. Persuade him to reconsider,” Neil demanded.

She looked at her brother—half-brother—and saw him clearly for the first time. His fine manners, elegant clothing, and high opinion of himself had masked his weak, selfish core. Even his professed brotherly love was false. He'd used her to save himself and thereby ruined any chance she might have had for a normal relationship with her husband, and still he expected her to help him. “You'd better go pack any possessions you've managed to hang onto. I have to vacate this house as soon as possible."

He dropped heavily into a chair. “You can't mean to comply with his demands! You're a countess. Assert yourself."

She huffed in disgust. “I'm a countess only because I'm a wife, and wives must obey their husbands."

Neil raised his hand imploringly. “When he calms down, he'll listen. He must have developed tender feelings for you. After all, he brought you to London. Remind him of—"

A surge of anger brought her to her feet. “Enough! I'm trapped in a loveless marriage because of you. Don't expect anything more from me."

"But, Prudence,” he said in a weak voice. “How can we endure Yorkshire?"

"Frankly, I'll be glad to be back in the country. I only wish I could leave
all
the false-hearted men in my life behind. Unfortunately, you're coming with me.” With a swish of her skirt, she marched from the room.

Neil sprawled in his chair, propping his elbow on the arm of it and his chin in his hand. How had everything gone so wrong? He'd planned to approach Malvern man-to-man at his country home and explain the situation in such a way as to prevent the appearance of underhandedness. But then Malvern and Pru had disappeared to some hunting lodge and Lady Caroline had
kindly
arranged for Neil's return to London.

He had spent a week hiding from constables, and then gone back to Malvern Manor on a borrowed horse only to discover that Malvern had returned to London and taken Prudence with him. Neil had naturally assumed this meant Malvern's feelings for his sister had greatly increased. So it seemed only sensible to have Prudence intercede for him. He had never expected Malvern to turn so harshly against both of them.

Why was the man being so pinch penny? Five thousand pounds would hardly beggar him, and with an earl for a brother-in-law and his debts retired, Neil could surely marry an heiress and pay Malvern back. He found it hard to believe that his former comrade could be so shortsighted.

And now his own sister had turned against him. How unfair was that? He'd secured her future before he'd made a move to save himself. He'd known her to be naive, but now he wondered if her basic intelligence was limited. She had obviously touched Malvern's emotions; why did she refuse to use her power?

Yorkshire! He shivered at the thought. It would be worse than Manchester. At least there were wealthy tradesmen's daughters in Manchester. Yorkshire was full of nothing but sheep. How could he find his heiress there? If he hadn't sold his dueling pistols, he'd be sorely tempted to put a ball in his brain.

The butler appeared in the doorway and, with disapproving frown, stared at Neil's dusty boots that extended out into the middle of the carpet. “Is there something you require, sir?"

With a huge sigh of resignation, Neil slowly got to his feet. “My hat and gloves, if you please. I have packing to attend to."