Bane Beresford. Ann Lethbridge

where was the earl?

      Ah, here he came, last but definitely not least. He prowled into the room, looking far more sartorially splendid than the dandified Jeffrey. Perhaps it was his size. Or the sheer starkness of a black coat against the white of his cravat. The room certainly seemed much smaller upon his entrance. And even a little airless.

      His hard gaze scanned the room, missing nothing. Indeed, she had the feeling his eyes kept on moving until he discovered her whereabouts. He looked almost relieved, as if he feared she might have loped off, as Sally’s cockney coachman would have said.

      Ignoring the group at the hearth, he swung one of the plain wooden chairs near her window seat around and sat astride it. Arms across the back, he fixed the solicitor with a grim stare. ‘Get on with it, then, man.’

      The fussy little solicitor tugged at his neckcloth, then broke the seal on a rolled document. He spread it out on the desk. ‘This being the last—’

      ‘No need to read all the curlicues and periods,’ the earl interrupted. ‘Just give us the details.’

      ‘Yes, my lord.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Basically, the title goes to you, but all the unentailed income goes to Miss Wilding on condition that she marry within the year.’

      The earl’s gaze, steel hard beneath lowered brows, cut to her face. A muscle jumped in his jaw.

      What had the solicitor said? No, she knew what he had said. But what did it mean? The unentailed income?

      ‘There are ten guineas for Manners, five for Mrs Davis and another ten for Ragwell for his excellent stewardship this past many years.’

      The servants mumbled and sounded pleased. They shuffled out of the room at the solicitor’s wave of a hand.

      Mrs Hampton put a hand to her throat. ‘What about my son? And Jeffrey.’

      ‘It is my understanding that the late earl passed on any personal trinkets prior to his … his—’

      ‘His death,’ the earl growled.

      ‘I got his ring,’ Gerald announced, waving his hand about for everyone to see.

      ‘The seal of the Beresfords belongs to me,’ the earl said with almost a snarl.

      Gerald thumbed his nose. ‘This was my grandmother’s ring.’

      The earl scowled. ‘Then where is the seal?’

      Gerald shrugged.

      ‘With the earl’s effects,’ the lawyer said stiffly.

      Mrs Hampton’s pallor increased. ‘I thought there was to be some—’ She caught herself.

      The earl stood up and looked down at the little solicitor. ‘How much of the income from the estate is unentailed?’ His voice was soft, but no one in the room could possibly doubt his ire.

      ‘All of it,’ the little man squeaked.

      The ensuing pause was charged like air before a storm. The earl’s gaze shifted to her and the heat in their depths flared bright before he turned back to the lawyer. ‘And you permitted this abomination? This dividing of the money from the land? What man in his right mind does such a thing?’

      ‘The late earl was not always rational when it came to the matter of …’ His breathless voice tailed off.

      ‘His heir,’ the earl said flatly.

      ‘I followed instructions,’ the lawyer pleaded.

      The earl’s silver gaze found hers again. This time it was colder than ice. ‘Very clever indeed, Miss Wilding.’

      She stiffened. Outrage flooding her with heat. ‘I do not understand what this means.’ At least she was hoping that what she understood was not what was really happening.

      ‘You got the fortune,’ the earl said. ‘And I got the expenses.’

      Then she had interpreted the lawyer’s words correctly. How was this possible?

      Beresford turned on the solicitor. ‘It can be overturned.’

      The man shook his head. ‘If Miss Wilding marries within the year, she gets all income from the estate. If not, the money goes to the Crown.’ He glanced down at his papers. ‘That is, unless she dies before the year is up.’

      ‘What happens if she dies?’ the earl asked harshly.

      Mary froze in her seat. A shudder took hold of her body. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. The man spoke about her death without the slightest emotion. He was positively evil.

      ‘In that case, it goes to you, or to your heir, currently Mr Jeffrey Beresford, if you predecease him,’ the solicitor said. He smiled apologetically at the young man who was watching the earl with icy blue eyes and a very small smile.

      The wretch was enjoying the earl’s shock.

      The earl said something under his breath. It sounded suspiciously like a curse. ‘Clearly the man was disordered. What will the courts think of that?’

      ‘My father was not mad,’ Mrs Hampton said haughtily. ‘Madness does not run in the Beresford family. But you wouldn’t know that, since you have had nothing to do with any of us.’

      Mary listened to what they were saying, heard them perfectly well, but it all seemed a great distance off. She didn’t think she’d taken a breath since the earl had explained. She worked a little moisture into her dry mouth. ‘The will requires that I marry in order to inherit?’

      The lawyer nodded gravely. ‘Indeed. Within the year.’

      ‘Marry who?’ she asked.

      The earl’s mouth curled in a predatory smile. ‘That is the question, isn’t it?’

      Irritated beyond endurance, she rose to her feet. ‘You are hardly helpful, sir.’

      Forced to rise also, the earl gave her a mirthless smile. ‘I thought you said you were clever, Miss Wilding.’

      She looked at him blankly.

      ‘He means you must marry him,’ Gerald said, scowling. ‘But you could marry Jeffrey or me. That would put a spoke in his wheels.’

      The earl glowered, but said nothing.

      She strode over to the solicitor, whose forehead was beaded with sweat. He pulled out a kerchief and mopped his brow. ‘Well, Mr Savary, is it true?’ she asked. ‘Does the late earl’s will require me to marry …’ she waved an arm in the earl’s direction ‘… him?’

      ‘It is silent on the issue, Miss Wilding.’ He swallowed. ‘Under the law, no one can require your marriage to any particular person. However, if you wish to inherit the money, you must marry someone. Perhaps there is someone….’ His words tailed off at a low growl from the earl.

      Someone. She wanted to laugh. And then she wanted to cry. Someone. She was a schoolteacher. A charity case. And a beanpole to boot. Suddenly a very rich beanpole. She glanced over at the earl. ‘No doubt there will be many someones lining up at my door on the morrow.’

      The earl glared at her. ‘Over my dead body.’

      ‘Or over mine,’ she said as the full enormity of it all solidified in her mind.

      ‘There is that,’ he agreed.

      ‘Are you saying you intend us to marry?’ she asked.

      He looked at her for a long moment and she had the feeling that sympathy lurked somewhere in those flat grey eyes, then they hardened to polished steel and she knew she was mistaken. ‘Marry to suit my grandfather?’ he rasped. ‘Not if I can help it.’

      She flinched at the harshness of his reply and was glad that he did not see her reaction as he turned at once to the solicitor.

      ‘There must be some