Page 17 of Matching Mr. Montfert (Apsley Family #2)

Chapter seventeen

Phillip

Calling on Miss Rigby did not go well. The memory of sitting in her drawing room, the minutes passing in silence, made me cringe. The entire affair had been awkward and uncomfortable. It was not that I did not like Miss Rigby. There was nothing inherently wrong with her. She was kind and lovely, but there seemed little to no connection between us, and thus the conversation had been stilted.

When there was conversation. Her short answers to the questions I prompted her with did not allow for any sort of depth.

I reminded myself that men had married for far less. I could certainly do worse than a wealthy heiress, and having even a small portion of Uncle’s approval to continue the pursuit of Miss Rigby should have been enough to set me at ease.

But it did not.

This decision would determine my future, and I feared I would mold it into something I regretted. I needed Uncle’s approval, but I wanted a wife I enjoyed being around. The two were at war with one another, which left me utterly conflicted.

At least, temporarily. When it came down to things, Uncle’s say in the matter held the most weight. My reliance on an inheritance left no room for anything else.

My valet helped me dress for the day as I pondered my options. I could tell Uncle that Miss Rigby was not a promising prospect. It would not be a lie given the cold welcome I had received from her mother. Something told me Mrs. Rigby had more in mind for her daughter than the nephew and heir of a man who made his rise into the upper echelons via trade. She had her claws out for a title, something I could not offer.

Uncle would be far from pleased, though, if I could not provide a promising alternative. The list held enough options, but I had not established much of an acquaintance with any of the other women.

I needed another meeting with my matchmaker.

Before heading to breakfast, I quickly wrote a note to Miss Scott, addressing it to Apsley. He would ensure his cousin received it. I appreciated his willingness to overlook the impropriety of the exchange, even if he no longer offered his services as chaperone.

I neared the study, intending to take the stairs to the breakfast parlor, when the sound of voices from within brought me to a halt. I recognized Uncle’s raspy, firm tone. It carried the same demand that laced our conversations, but the masculine voice that responded was unfamiliar to me.

“I’ve acquired the new paper, sir, and the new engravings arrived yesterday. It’s a near-perfect match.”

“Good, good,” Uncle responded. “And it has all been set up? You’ve spoken to Mr. Cosway?”

“Yes, sir. He intends to have the first pieces completed tonight.”

“I’ll need this done by the end of the week. The old codger looked mighty weak when I saw him yesterday. He won’t last another fortnight, mark my words; we’ve not much time. Besides, the Restriction Act could be dropped at any moment. The scheme will not work half as well once it does.”

“I’ll instruct them to make haste, sir.”

“Indeed. You will if you know what’s best for you.”

The second man said nothing to this, and Uncle continued. “I have a lead for our next venture, but we’ll discuss it once this is complete.”

There was a long moment of silence. “Sir…”

“Yes?”

I could practically envision the rise of Uncle’s brows merely by the impatience in his voice.

“I…well, I think this will be my last job for you, sir.”

Uncle laughed, the sound almost sadistic. “You think you will walk out on me now, do you? Shall I remind you of the conditions of our arrangement? I pulled you out of the slums, and I can put you back there just as easily. In fact, you and your family will be worse off than before.”

My heart pounded. Uncle was a master manipulator, and whoever this man was, he’d been caught in Uncle’s web. Even without knowing the nature of their business, the poor fellow had my sympathies, especially with Uncle making threats against his family.

A tiny flame of fury stoked within me. Uncle used the same tactic on me, encouraging my obedience by threatening not only my future but Mother’s. He used her well-being to ensure my complacency.

A screech penetrated the air, a chair abruptly scratching against the floor. I backed away as the thump of footsteps grew louder, pressing my body against the wall, but to my relief, the study door was merely slammed closed. I could hear the muffled voices from within, but not with any sort of clarity.

I inched back to the door and pressed my ear to it. Curse my hearing difficulties! I still couldn’t understand a word of it.

“He hates eavesdroppers,” said a voice from directly behind me.

I jumped, my heart flying into my throat, and turned to find Sabrina grinning at me.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

“Me?” She scoffed. “You are the one listening in on private conversations. You ought to know better. He will not be pleased if he catches you.”

I shushed her. She was right; I knew better. Uncle had hit me with his pocket watch for similar behavior before, though it had been some time since I attempted to listen in on his private business meetings.

Sabrina grabbed me by the arm. She led me down the corridor to a room that served as a guest bedchamber and shoved me inside. I crossed the space and threw open the curtains to let in some light as she shut the door, but even with sunbeams pouring in, my cousin’s dark features blended into the shadows.

“What did you overhear?” she asked.

I hesitated. Sabrina did not typically take an interest in her father’s business, and I recognized that determined glint in her eyes. I’d seen it before in the man we were discussing. Such similarities between father and daughter prompted my hesitancy to trust my cousin.

I folded my arms. “Why?”

Sabrina mirrored my stance with an exasperated look. “Because I want to know. It is not as if I intend to tell my father you were listening or what you heard.”

“You still did not answer my question. Why do you want to know?”

Sabrina bit her lip, considering me. “Can I trust you, Phillip?”

“I cannot think I have ever given you a reason not to.”

She came closer—so close that she needed to lift her chin to hold my gaze. “You are my father’s heir. That is reason enough for me to question things. I have yet to decide if you will turn out like him.”

My brows furrowed. Her words stung, but they did provide me with understanding. I had never considered what Sabrina thought of me. I had never had a reason to, distant as she had been. “You do not want me to become him.”

Her expression softened, if only slightly. “I wouldn’t wish anyone to become him, and while I would like to think the two of you are very different, my father expects you to follow in his footsteps. To make decisions as he would. There may come a time when those actions prove…unethical. What will you do then? I know he holds the inheritance over you. I know you need it. So tell me, Phillip, are you prepared to do whatever you must for it?”

I opened my mouth, but words escaped me. I did need the inheritance, but Sabrina implied there might be a cost. One I hadn’t considered. “Your father has never asked anything unethical of me. He is ruthless, I will admit, but—”

“Just because he has not asked yet , does not mean he won’t. You may trust me on this. I have been watching my father for some time now, listening without his permission. Wealth and social recognition are all he has ever cared about, and he will say and do whatever is required to have them.”

“Such as insist his daughter marry a man over twice her age?”

Sabrina grimaced. “I wish that was the extent of it. My marriage is nothing compared to everything else.”

Everything else? I studied her. Sabrina had never opposed her father like this. At least, she hadn’t before the house party. Something had changed since then, and not just in terms of her willingness to do whatever her father asked.

I rubbed a hand over my chin. “You said you’ve been watching him. And listening.”

“Yes.”

“What have you learned, Sabrina? I know the two of us are not confidants, but I can promise you, I have no desire to be like your father. I need the money—that I will not deny—but I’ve no intention of taking on his entire persona.”

“So, if he asked you to do something that went against the law, that defied your sense of morality, would you refuse him?” Her brows raised in challenge. I wanted to answer with a firm yes , but I hesitated. What would I do if faced with such a predicament? I wanted to believe I would never break the law or compromise my integrity, but what if by refusing, I lost everything?

After all, if I lost, so did my mother.

My jaw clenched, and frustration swelled within me. Sabrina’s question was fair. I would not put it past Uncle to do something of an illegal nature, and I wanted no part in it. But desperation often made people do things they otherwise would not.

“Your hesitation does not bode well,” she said.

I shook my head. “It’s not easy for me to answer. You know your father has me under his thumb. I’ve no wish to see my mother destitute, but I also know she would not approve of us gaining any of this”—I gestured around me—“by me becoming someone I am not. By ignoring my principles.”

Sabrina clasped her hands in front of her. “What do you know of my father’s will? Are you currently named as heir?”

“Yes, though he threatens to have things changed on a regular basis.”

“That is not surprising. Leverage is his key to success. And blackmail.” A line formed between her brows. “Father has not corrupted you yet, but if we want to keep it that way, then I need more evidence.”

“More? That implies you have some now.”

She averted her gaze.

“Sabrina, what do you have evidence of?” I asked, my tone more demanding. “At present, I will inherit all of your father’s holdings. If he’s involved in something criminal, I deserve to know.”

“I agree. You do deserve to know, but I cannot tell you. Not yet, anyway.” She sighed, and there was an element of genuine exhaustion to it. “I will explain soon, but I need to be certain of a few things first. It might help if you told me what you overheard.”

I shook my head. “Nothing incriminating. Your father threatened to ruin a man, but that is hardly an offense the courts would do anything about if the fellow isn’t titled.”

Sabrina’s shoulders slumped. “I know who the man is. He is neither titled nor wealthy, and this is not the first time Father has threatened him. Did he say anything else?”

“Something about acquiring paper and engravings. Said he needed things ready soon because someone was…well, someone was near death, by the sound of it. He also mentioned the possibility of a new lead. Your father said they would discuss it next time they met.”

This piqued her interest. “Did they say when?”

“No. I’m afraid not.”

“Drat. I must find out when that meeting is.” She met my gaze. “Let me know if you hear anything more. I know it is difficult to understand—likely difficult to even trust me. I have not been very warm toward you in the past. Still, I wish to put an end to my father’s machinations, Phillip. He’s hurt more people than you know, and I do not want the same for you. To be hurt or to be forced to hurt someone else.”

I was uncertain how to respond. My inheritance had always been complicated, but this information, the idea that anything about Uncle’s holdings could be dirty, left me feeling unwell. I did not want to become part of some scheme to harm others. “I will inform you should I hear anything, so long as you promise to explain all of this.”

“I promise,” she said with conviction. “Soon.”

Sabrina bid me goodbye, leaving me alone in the bedchamber. Leaving me more confused and worried about my future than ever.