Tis the Season to Be Sinful (5 page)

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Authors: Adrienne Basso

Tags: #Fiction, #General

BOOK: Tis the Season to Be Sinful
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Mrs. Perkins stood her ground, glaring at the earl. Alarmed, Juliet rose to defend her servant. “Mrs. Perkins was following
my
dictates, Gerald. All guests are announced when paying social calls. You mustn’t scold her for doing her job.”
The earl glowered at Mrs. Perkins, an expression the older woman returned with equal measure before turning and leaving the room.
“I clearly stated that this was not a social call,” the earl insisted, his stark blue eyes cold. “I’ve come to straighten out the latest mess you’ve gotten yourself into, Juliet.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Juliet said, crossing her arms defensively over her chest.
Good Lord, how did he know about the sale of the manor already?
Struggling to remain calm, she lifted her chin and held the earl’s incensed gaze without flinching. “There is no
mess
.”
“Mr. Fowler tells me that you have promised to sell the manor house to an industrialist, an American Colonist, no less.” Gerald lifted his head and sniffed, his manner reeking of disapproval. “Naturally, I cannot allow such a travesty to befall my family. I have instructed Mr. Fowler to cancel the sale and send this Harper fellow on his way.”
Juliet’s heart jumped. “You can’t do that.”
“On the contrary, Juliet. I can do whatever I damn well please.”
A cold trickle of annoyance at his inappropriate language dripped down her spine, but Juliet forced herself to stay calm. His crude comments hurt and infuriated her. It was insulting and degrading to speak to a lady thusly, especially one he had promised to care for and protect.
Though Gerald liked to pretend he was always acting in her best interest, Juliet had realized long ago the truth of the matter. Her brother-in-law was a bully who delighted in taunting her. He thought of no one’s comfort but his own, placed his own needs and desires above all others. She had long ago accepted his selfish nature as something that would never change, yet she had foolishly hoped he would be more sympathetic when it came to the welfare of his brother’s children.
Knowing it would in all likelihood enrage him not to appear visibly shaken, Juliet still refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cringe. She advanced slowly, elegantly to meet him in the center of the room, ignoring her shaking knees.
“I’ve already signed the papers, Gerald, and received a substantial down payment. Mr. Harper is a shrewd businessman who will not allow himself to be swindled.”
“I don’t care if he’s the bloody Prince Consort. I refuse to allow an upstart, uncouth interloper in my brother’s home.” Gerald was breathing hard, his beefy hands closed into fists at his sides.
“Henry is dead,” Juliet said flatly. “The house belongs to Edward, as you very well know. As his guardian, it is my right to decide what is best for my son’s future. The debts on the estate are continually mounting. Selling at this time will give Edward a sound financial start when he reaches his majority. Besides, this arrangement will relieve you of any further financial obligations toward us. I thought that would make you happy.”
“Happy?” The earl’s eyes bulged, his face reddening. “It appears that you have conveniently forgotten that I am also Edward’s guardian and have an equal say in the boy’s future. And I give you fair warning, Juliet, I will not stand idly by and watch you squander my nephew’s rightful inheritance.”
Juliet snorted.
How dare he?
Gerald didn’t give a fig about Edward’s inheritance, or have a concern for any of Henry’s children. If he did, he would not be so miserly in his care of them.
“I had no choice,” she said. “Aside from the estate going deeper into debt each year, my own bills are impossible to meet on my current allowance.”
“Clearly you are too extravagant.” Gerald’s mouth took on an ugly twist. “You must learn to live more frugally.”
Juliet bristled at the unfair attack. Extravagant! Why, they barely paid their bills as it was, and had little left over for anything extra. “You can’t be serious,” she said in stunned disbelief. “Are new shoes for my children an extravagance, Gerald? Or clothes that fit properly? Or perhaps it is the food they eat? That is what I spend my very limited resources upon.”
“I will not be spoken to in such a disrespectful manner,” the earl insisted, nearly quivering with outrage.
Juliet flinched as he slammed his closed fist down on the table next to her, rattling a delicate porcelain vase.
“Disrespectful? Really, Gerald, I am not the one shouting and slamming my fist,” Juliet said calmly. Despite her rising fear, she was careful to keep her voice low and even.
The earl’s face contorted into an angry grimace. “Do not push me any farther, Juliet, or I swear on my brother’s immortal soul that I will not be held responsible for my actions.”
“A man is always responsible for his actions,” said a masculine voice from the doorway. “Especially the ill-conceived ones.”
Juliet jumped.
I know that voice.
With a jolt of pure shock, the truth registered in Juliet’s brain. She turned and saw a man standing in the doorway.
Oh, goodness.
Tall, broad, and handsome, his face was devoid of expression, yet his eyes were hard and menacing.
From behind the man’s imposing figure, Mrs. Perkins stood on her toes and gave Juliet a satisfied grin. “Mr. Harper to see you, ma’am.”
 
On principle, Richard made it a point never to get involved in other people’s domestic disputes. Be it husband and wife, brother and sister, or parent and child, he steered clear of any and all of them.
Yet as he stood in the doorway of Mrs. Wentworth’s drawing room, he knew he was about to ignore one of his own cardinal rules and become embroiled in something that was most likely none of his damn business.
Richard eased into the room, smiling as he strode. “Regrettably, I appear to be the cause of some family disharmony, Mrs. Wentworth. What can I do to make amends?”
“Crawl back under the rock from whence you came and never return,” the man beside her said, drawing himself up to his full height. Which wasn’t more than average.
Coupled with a stocky build that was steadily running to fat, thinning hair, and soft, fleshy hands indicating an aversion to strenuous activities, the man posed little physical threat. But Richard was ever on the alert. The only way to avoid an ambush was to be prepared at all times and expect the worst.
Mrs. Wentworth’s hand went to her mouth. “Gerald, please!”
“What? That would solve all this rather neatly. He goes away and is never heard from again.”
Richard stared for a long moment at Gerald, his stony expression giving no hint of his simmering anger. Mrs. Wentworth edged closer to him, an apologetic expression on her face.
“Please forgive my brother-in-law’s rudeness, Mr. Harper. He’s had a bit of a shock.”
“Don’t you dare apologize to this upstart!” Gerald screeched, his face red with rage. “Not when he is the cause of all this commotion.”
Deliberately ignoring the man, and his ranting, Richard focused his gaze on Mrs. Wentworth. “I presume this has something to do with the sale of the estate?”
Mrs. Wentworth fiddled with the lace on the cuff of her sleeve, a pink blush stealing into her cheeks. “I’m afraid it does.”
Cocking his head, he eyed her thoughtfully. “The agreement is between the two of us. Your brother-in-law’s opinion is of no importance.”
“No importance!” Gerald growled in frustration. “Good God, man, do you know who I am?”
“Actually, no.” Richard turned with a grunt of disinterest. “We haven’t been introduced.”
Mrs. Wentworth made a strange, inarticulate noise, then quickly recovered. “Gerald Wentworth, the Earl of Hastings, this is Mr. Richard Harper.” Her voice dropped an octave lower. “Mr. Harper, the earl is my late husband’s older brother. He also serves as a guardian to my son, Edward.”
Damn, the British were an odd sort. Stopping in the middle of a heated argument to politely make introductions. It was ridiculous. But the interruption gave Richard a moment to think. Discovering the earl was also the boy’s guardian changed things considerably. Clearly the sale of the estate was in jeopardy.
Walk away.
Sensible, logical, smart. It was how Richard operated, but hell, he couldn’t get his feet to move. Mrs. Wentworth appeared to be holding her own when he came into the room. But things could turn ugly fast, and he felt compelled to be here if she needed his assistance.
It had been quite a number of years since Richard had resorted to physical violence, but he certainly hadn’t forgotten how to land a punch square in a man’s jaw. Almost as if sensing his thoughts, Mrs. Wentworth wedged herself between the two men.
“Gerald and I were discussing the sale of the estate,” she said quietly. “He has a few concerns.”
“It sounded like more than a few, isn’t that right, Mr. Wentworth?” Richard asked.
“Lord Hastings,” the earl said through clenched teeth. “That is the proper form of address for a peer of the realm.”
Richard shrugged. “I’m an American. Titles don’t impress me much.”
“Well, they should,” the earl replied, bristling with animosity. “They represent an established tradition of honor and integrity.”
“No disrespect to your traditions, but in my world a man’s worth is judged by his accomplishments, as well as his actions. Character is not measured by birth, but instead by deeds. And I never thought there was anything remotely honorable in bullying a helpless woman.”
The earl and Mrs. Wentworth stared at him in openmouthed astonishment. Richard crossed his arms over his chest and waited. As he expected, the earl exploded.
“This is none of your bloody business. And you had best keep your remarks to yourself, especially when you are unaware of all the facts. I can assure you, Mrs. Wentworth is more than capable of inciting a man to violence. Restraining myself takes Herculean efforts.”
“You must forgive me if I don’t applaud,” Richard drawled.
The earl’s mouth opened and closed like a caught fish. The aristocracy might enjoy letting people know they firmly believed themselves to be superior in every way, yet it hardly seemed true at the moment. The earl was acting like a fool.
“As the head of the family, it is my responsibility to set an example of respectability and decorum,” the earl huffed. “Selling you my nephew’s estate is a breech of that covenant and I will not stand for it. Under any circumstances. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
Richard cut him off with an impatient gesture. “I possess a legal document signed by Mrs. Wentworth and myself that states otherwise. For a man who claims such great concern for his family name, you seem very eager to drag it through the courts.” Richard rocked back on his heels. “And the scandal sheets.”
“Are you threatening me?” the earl asked, halting his tirade.
“Merely stating the facts, your lordship, since you seem to like them so much.” Richard glanced out the window and saw how dark it had grown. A storm was on the way—perhaps one to rival the tempest taking place in this very room?
The earl shot him a look of pure disgust. “I suppose this means you won’t behave like a gentleman and withdraw your offer?”
“You suppose correctly.”
“This is far from over, Harper,” the earl said, puffing out his barrel chest. Richard took a long look at him and knew it wasn’t an idle threat.
“Then I guess I’ll see you in court. Have a pleasant day, Gerald.”
The familiar use of his first name rankled the earl, as Richard knew it would. Casting him a scowl teeming with resentment and anger, Gerald stalked out of the room, slamming the drawing room door on his way out.
There was a long moment of quiet until the sound of thunder rumbled in the distance. Richard hoped a teeming rain was on the way, one that would give the earl a royal soaking. Perhaps it would cool off his hot head.
Mrs. Wentworth sighed, then pressed her lips into a thin line. “Well, that was unpleasant.”
“He did seem rather upset.” Richard trudged to the window and gazed outside, glad to see the rain had started falling. “I gather old Gerald riles easily.”
“You could say that.”
Richard brushed a speck of lint off the black sleeve of his jacket. “I’ve dealt with many men like the earl over the years. The trick is to carry yourself with confidence and speak with authority. Even when they glare at you with open contempt, as if you were something they scraped off the bottom of their shoe.”
“I will have to remember that advice.” Mrs. Wentworth moved to tend the fire, then seated herself in a brocade wingchair near the marble fireplace. “I must confess that I enjoyed seeing Gerald so riled. At one point his face turned from puce to purple. Seeing it was almost worth losing the sale of the estate.”
The tight lines around her mouth and across her brow eased and she smiled unexpectedly—a smile full of laughter and mischief. She was breathing deeply and he could see the expansion of her rib cage as she drew in air. Such a neat, trim, tight waist, for the mother of three children.

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