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Authors: Mary J. Putney

BOOK: The Bargain
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Chapter 22
D
avid chose to walk to the York Hospital, both to build his strength and to give him time to sort out his chaotic emotions. In most ways, his unexpected inheritance was a great blessing. Certainly he no longer need worry how to occupy himself for the rest of his life; from the sound of it, Westholme would require major attention.
He had a lot to learn about agriculture, since he hadn't been trained as the heir and had left the estate when only twelve. Still, learning to run his estate was a relatively straightforward challenge. Less certain was the troubling question of how his inheritance would affect his relationship with Jocelyn.
The York Hospital was as dismal as ever, though less crowded now as patients either died or left. When he entered Richard's room, his friend looked up from a book. His injured leg had been splinted and bound, and it would be weeks before he could use crutches again. But his prospects for recovery were excellent, which kept him in good spirits. “Hello. No Lady Jocelyn today?”
David shook hands with his friend. “No, I decided to walk over on my own. She sends her best wishes.”
“Please thank her for the books she sent. With these and the flowers and food she sends regularly, I'm the most pampered patient in the hospital.”
“She's regretting that she doesn't have you at Cromarty House, so she can pamper you more thoroughly.” David sat in the single wooden chair. “There's been a remarkable amount of news since I visited yesterday. To begin with, my sister and Ian Kinlock are to marry.”
“Excellent!” Richard chuckled. “That's quite a job of matchmaking you managed from your deathbed.”
“I hadn't thought of it that way. I shall tell Sally that she must thank me for getting mortally wounded.” He paused, surprisingly tongue-tied about his other news. “That's not all that's happened. I'm going to be selling my commission after all. I've found another situation outside the army. Or perhaps I should say that it found me.”
“Is that an oblique way of saying that your relationship with Lady Jocelyn is progressing satisfactorily?”
“No such luck.” He ran restless fingers through his windblown hair. “I've told you about the three half-brothers that I didn't get on with. What I didn't mention was that our mutual father was the fifth Lord Presteyne. This morning I learned that all three brothers have shuffled off this mortal coil. I have suddenly become a baron.”
“Good God!” Richard said in blank astonishment. “Will you still talk to us commoners?”
David looked up with a flash of real anger. “Richard, don't ever say anything like that again, even in jest.”
“Sorry. I know you would never drop your old friends for such a reason.” He studied David's face. “You look like you've been struck by lightning.”
“That's how I feel.” He grimaced. “I'm not unhappy about inheriting, but the idea will take getting used to.”
“I can well imagine. Luckily my father was an itinerant fencing master, so I have no such surprises in my future. Being a lord strikes me as a very confining occupation.”
David turned one hand palm up. “Confining, yes, especially since the estate isn't in good financial condition. But . . . my roots are at Westholme. Nowhere else could ever be home in the same way.”
“Then I'm glad for you.” Richard's brows drew together thoughtfully. “I assume this eliminates your worries about your station being too far beneath Lady Jocelyn's.”
“Her rank and fortune are still greater than mine, but the differences are minor compared to before.” David drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “The drawback to my change in circumstances is knowing that she has a passion for land. I wonder if she might choose to remain married because of Westholme. Sentimental fool that I am, I'm not sure I would want her to stay for such a reason.”
“If she did, would that be such a bad thing? You get on very well already. A mutual passion for your estate might be a good foundation on which to build a deeper relationship.”
“That's a very cold way to look at marriage,” David observed. “I don't think you'd be so practical if you'd ever fallen in love.”
“Probably not,” Richard agreed. “But I do think you're worrying too much. If she is really in love with that mysterious other man, your inheritance won't make any difference. If she does stay with you, it will be for a good reason.”
David sighed. “You're probably right. I must say, this inheritance is giving me new insight into why Jocelyn has so little use for fortune hunters. It's only been a couple of hours since I inherited, and I'm already thinking the worst.”
“You'll get used to it, Lord Presteyne.”
It was odd to hear the title on his friend's lips, but as Richard said, he'd get used to it. “She's coming to Hereford with me. The next few weeks should tell the tale.”
“You'll carry the day. You've always been a first-class campaigner.”
“I wish I had your confidence.” David thought of Jocelyn's graceful figure, the tenderness of that morning they awoke in the same bed. His jaw tightened. “But if I fail, it won't be for lack of trying.”
Tired by his long walk, he hailed a hack, but instead of going directly to his sister, he gave the address of John Crandall, Jocelyn's lawyer. Talking to Richard had helped clarify his thinking. Now it was time to take some precautions.
Luckily Crandall was free when David arrived. His habitual gloom lightened when he heard of the inheritance. “Does this mean that you and Lady Jocelyn will remain wed? It would be so suitable.”
“That decision must be the lady's. So far, her preference is for annulment,” David said with careful neutrality. “She and I will be traveling to evaluate my estate in Hereford. I think it best to file for the annulment before we leave.”
Crandall frowned. “Do you think that necessary?”
“I do.” David volunteered no more information. Though his will had always been strong in the past, he feared that spending so much time with Jocelyn might warp his honorable intentions of letting her leave him. Far better to institute annulment proceedings now, so that he could not stop the process even if he wanted to. The power
must
be in Jocelyn's hands, since he didn't trust himself.
Seeing that David was not going to elaborate, Crandall said, “I have conferred extensively with the proctor—that is, the ecclesiastical lawyer—who will present the case to the consistory court. Church courts are different from king's courts in that the principals do not testify. Evidence consists of depositions from witnesses.” He gave a dry little cough. “Two medical affidavits certifying the extent of your injuries will be required. I presume that you have doctors who will bear witness to that.”
David nodded, reasonably sure that wouldn't be a problem. And if he later decided to marry to get an heir, well, he could always claim a miracle had occurred. “What about the evidence concerning Lady Jocelyn?”
Looking embarrassed, Crandall said, “There must be an examination, of course. Perhaps a midwife can be brought in, in deference to the lady's sensibilities.”
That was a good idea, though the examination was sure to be unpleasant no matter who performed it. “Do you think that the court will be sympathetic to our case, given the unusual circumstances?”
Crandall leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, more at ease now that the conversation had returned to legal issues. “I believe so. It would be considered only reasonable for the late Earl of Cromarty to hope his daughter would carry on his blood, if not his name. The fact that the lady followed her heart to marry a gallant hero of Waterloo, then found herself in a position where she might be deprived of children . . . yes, I believe the court will take a compassionate view of the issues.”
The lawyer's florid description made David suspect that the man secretly read Gothic novels, but no matter, as long as he was accurate in his reading of the legal situation.
After the remaining points had been discussed, David left, secure in the knowledge that the annulment would proceed with maximum efficiency.
Hell
.
The evening before Sally had mentioned that she would be at Kinlock's consulting rooms in the afternoon, so David sought her there. He found her with her head bent over a ledger and a quill in one hand, but she glanced up when he entered. “Behold your sister, the clerk,” she said gaily.
He kissed her cheek, then sat on one of the benches. “The work seems to suit you. Or is that the glow of new love?”
“Both. I'm managing by nature, so I quite enjoy seeing that Ian's office runs smoothly. It's better for him, better for the patients. As to Ian himself—well, I'm pinching myself hourly to see if I'm dreaming.”
Her happiness lightened his mood. “It doesn't sound as if it took you long to accept when he proposed.”
She blushed. “Actually, I asked him. He took some persuading, too!”
After an instant of surprise, David laughed. “You
are
a managing woman. But by the time the two of you broke the news, he was obviously entranced by the prospect of marrying you.” His amusement faded. “Today I was visited by a Mr. Rowley, the Lancaster family lawyer.”
Sally tensed, as wary as he had been. “Yes?”
“Our three brothers are dead. All of them,” he said baldly. “I'm the seventh Lord Presteyne.”
The quill snapped in her fingers. “Good God! How . . . remarkable. What happened?”
After he explained, she said, “I suppose I should make a show of good Christian regret, but I can't. They reaped what they had sowed.”
He and his sister shared somber glances. In all the world, only the two of them would ever know the whole wretched story of abuse. Their parents had prevented the worst excesses, but hadn't been aware of the small daily humiliations Sally and David had endured. That shared persecution was the foundation of their unusual closeness. Someday it might be possible to pity the three older Lancasters, but for the moment neither of the younger ones had any desire to try.
David broke the silence. “The estate is short of money now, but eventually, you'll receive the marriage portion that should have been settled on you.”
“Good. Betrothal is making me amazingly practical.” Sally chuckled. “Ian hates to admit it, but he's the son of a Scottish baron. He once mentioned that his mother worried that he'd fall prey to some totally ineligible female, so she should be happy to know that I'm the sister of Lord Presteyne.”
“You always were.”
Her face hardened. “I'd rather have been an orphan than claimed Wilfred as kin.”
Kinlock chose that moment to return from his call on a patient. He entered the reception room with his medical bag swinging in one hand as he whistled like a schoolboy. Impending marriage definitely agreed with him.
The surgeon greeted his visitor jovially, then perched on the desk, one hand on his fiancée's, while David told him about the barony. Kinlock was intrigued, but not particularly impressed. Pedigrees interested him much less than people did.
After explaining his inheritance, David asked, “May I talk with you privately, Kinlock?”
“Of course.”
Seeing his sister's raised eyebrows, David assured her, “Nothing to do with you, Sally. Remember, I'm a former patient.”
Kinlock gestured him into the inner office. When they were private, he said, “You look hale enough. Do you feel as if something is going wrong with your recovery?”
“This concerns a different aspect of my injuries.” David hesitated, wondering how best to broach the subject. “I don't know if Sally has told you that Jocelyn will be seeking an annulment on the grounds of impotence.”
Kinlock's brows shot up. “It's too soon to be thinking like that, lad. You're not fully recovered, and I don't think that the injury you suffered will have that kind of long-term effect. Give nature a chance to take her course. Worry itself can cause exactly the condition you're worrying about.”
David raised a hand. “You're right, it's too early to be sure. That's why I thought it best to obtain medical depositions now, when they won't present a challenge to the conscience.”
“I . . . see.” Kinlock folded his arms. “Then again, maybe I don't. Perhaps you'd better explain.”
David paced across the room to the window, hating that such private issues must be discussed, though he supposed that with a lawsuit pending, it would only get worse. “Miracles can have unexpected repercussions,” he said stiffly. “Our marriage . . . was never intended to last.”
After a long silence, Kinlock said, “Serious spinal injuries like yours can be braw tricky. It's certainly not beyond the realm of possibility that sexual function could be affected. Send your lawyer, and I'll make a statement to that effect.”

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