Page 37 of When the Marquess Needed Me (The Rake Chronicles #4)
Chapter Thirty-Five
W hen Leith woke the next morning, Beatrice was still sleeping. He eased out of the bed, not wanting to wake her, but needing to stretch his own legs.
She loved him.
And she had told him so.
He needed to walk, to reflect, to glory in this unexpected victory. He was too excited to lie in bed—for he felt an entire future unfolding before him.
It was not an acceptance of his proposal, of course, but it was a step closer. And, from a sentimental view, it perhaps meant even more.
Leith pressed a kiss to Beatrice’s sleeping head, quickly dressed, and left the room quietly.
He was prepared to walk in the fields, or at least the gardens, but he was stopped on the stairs by a manservant.
“Letter for you, my lord,” he said, handing him a square of paper.
He saw quickly that it bore Monty’s seal.
His gut began to churn.
He dreaded the recriminations that he imagined lay inside of it. He had broken his promise to his best friend. He could only hope that, with time, Monty would understand why he had done it. That it had been the best decision of his life.
He thanked the servant and headed for the gardens. As he walked, he unfolded it and began to read.
Dear Leith,
You can imagine my surprise when I heard you were headed to Somerset with Miss Salisbury. But now I am very glad for this fact, because I have uncovered some crucial intelligence which needs to be dealt with immediately. After your last letter to me and given that you are with her in Somerset, I can guess at your feelings for Beatrice Salisbury, and so I know you will agree with me on this score and move to do what you must.
Ever since Miss Salisbury showed up on my doorstep, I have been looking into the matter of her family debt. She would not say much about it, other than that it was held by a man named Mr. Sebastian Gordstone, and I decided to look into it, given the size of the debt and that it had been a number of years since the death of Mr. Salisbury. I contacted my cousin Edmund (you remember when we visited him some years ago at his estate and that trouble he was having with his bride, which happily appears all resolved now…) because of his work as a barrister in Chancery.
After speaking to Edmund, it is now my belief that the debt that Mr. Gordstone has claimed he holds over the Salisburys is fake. I have yet to confirm this fact, but Edmund informed me that a Mr. Sebastian Gordstone has been repeatedly implicated in schemes of this type—forging papers in a dead relative’s hand, claiming a large debt, and extorting his survivors.
I advise that you confront the man and scare him off. I believe that the accusation should be enough. Either way, make sure that no one gives him any coin—or any more coin than he already has taken. I will send him a letter doing the same but, since you are on the spot, I believe your delivery will be much more effective.
There is another aspect of the matter that Edmund informed me of, but that I can only speculate in regard to. Perhaps, you, knowing Miss Salisbury better than myself, will have insight into this part. Edmund informed me that Mr. Gordstone is often employed by a third party to exact this pain, although he doubtlessly profits from these ventures himself. It may be that he is not working alone and that another party has the Salisburys in their sights for one reason or another. If so, we would want to locate whoever that individual is, so that they do not refresh their scheme in some other way once Mr. Gordstone has been dispensed with. At the very least, Miss Salisbury and her family (and yourself, given your interest in the affair…) should know of this possibility.
My last word is this one and it does not concern the above; it concerns you, my dearest, oldest friend—I hope that I have surmised rightly and you have found with Beatrice something like my devotion to Olivia. I know you too well to think that you have traveled with her to her home under anything other than the influence of very strong feelings. I do not presume beyond that—but I do wish you all the happiness in this world.
Monty
Leith’s eyes pricked with tears at the last. He had expected Monty to be disgusted with him, to sneer—but instead he had been so generous…and so very correct about his feelings for Beatrice. He realized now that it was not Monty who was inclined to respond with recriminations, to jump to conclusions, but himself.
However, he could not focus for very long on Monty’s generous adieu, given the other contents of the letter. Anger pounded behind his eyes at the thought of this man, Mr. Gordstone, attempting to defraud the woman he loved and her family. Of course, he reflected, once the marriage to Beatrice’s mother had been made legal, it could not be undone. He would have the woman forever, even if his debt was discovered to be fake.
Leith strode back to the house, intent upon waking Beatrice and telling her of his discovery. He gained the hall and crossed towards the staircase—but then he saw a carriage in the drive. And Mr. Gordstone standing before it.
He exited the house, unable to control his rising wrath.
“Mr. Gordstone,” he yelled upon approach. “I am glad to see you by a carriage. Because you will be leaving Parkhorne Hall immediately.”
The man blanched but then looked back towards the carriage.
Leith peered inside and saw a gray-haired gentleman who looked to be about twenty years older than Mr. Gordstone. He was clutching onto a little gold-handled cane.
“Lord Holcombe, I presume,” Leith said, remembering the warning in Monty’s letter. It all made sense now, he realized. The man still held a grudge against Beatrice for what had happened with his son.
“Ah, Lord Leith,” Lord Holcombe said. “We have never met, but we need not be at cross purposes. I am aiding Mr. Gordstone with his most unfortunate predicament with this house. I understand you have contracted a relationship with Miss Salisbury. She is comely enough, surely, but that has no bearing on Mr. Gordstone’s matter of business.”
He heard footsteps behind him and he turned. Beatrice stood there, studying the two men. She looked mildly perplexed.
“Lord Holcombe,” she said, making a slight bow. “I am surprised to see you at Parkhorne so early. It has been many years since we met.”
“And I certainly never wished to meet you again.” Holcombe sneered. “I certainly never wanted to again reflect on the insignificant nothing of a girl who ruined my son.”
“Take care, Holcombe,” Leith growled, wanting to pummel the man, but finding it impossible given his age and feeble looks.
“I did no such thing,” Beatrice retorted. “Your son ruined himself. If he turned out wild, it had nothing to do with me.”
“ You were the first trouble I ever had with him,” the old man cried. “And after you, he was never the same.”
“I cannot be sorry now, Lord Holcombe, that you barred him from marrying me. I would have accepted because I was young and foolish. And my life would have been much the worse for it. But Gilchrist was disappointed, very disappointed, by your refusal, although he obeyed and gave me up. If his heart was broken, you only have yourself to blame.”
“Insolent girl,” Holcombe screamed. “I will see you ruined.”
“No, you will not,” Leith interjected. “You will both leave the premises and never return. Mr. Gordstone, I know that your debt is a forgery. My friend, the Earl of Montaigne, has all but confirmed it.”
“It isn’t true,” Mr. Gordstone cried. “I will have Eleanora.”
“You will never marry Mrs. Salisbury,” Leith said, advancing on the man. “Even if your debt was real, which it very much isn’t. And if you don’t get into this carriage at once, I will make sure that you never get to so much as look at another woman again.”
Mr. Gordstone cowered. “But my things—my trunk—”
“Will be destroyed. You don’t deserve a thing after what you have stolen from Miss Salisbury. Leave. ”
“Fine,” he ground out, moving to get into the carriage.
But Lord Holcombe barred the door with his cane.
“I will not take you anywhere, Mr. Gordstone. You informed me this scheme would work if I paid your expenses.”
“You will take him,” Leith commanded. “Or else this tale of your perfidy will be spread all over the ton . My mother is the Dowager Marchioness of Leith and is a bosom friend of every gossipy matron in Mayfair. She could have your reputation by next week.”
Lord Holcombe moved and Gordstone, needing no further encouragement, scrambled in.
“And if you ever bother Miss Salisbury or her family again, Holcombe, I’ll have your head.”
“Go to the Devil, Leith,” Holcombe said.
But he tapped on the roof of his carriage and his coachman, who had been watching the exchange with evident amusement (Leith couldn’t imagine that the man was loved by his employees…), drove the two failed conspirators off together.
Leith watched them disappear down the drive and then over the hill.