Loving A Lost Lord. Mary Jo Putney

He pulled a gold ring patterned with a twisting Celtic design from his waistcoat pocket. She accepted it with trembling fingers. The ring was well worn and utterly familiar. Her father wore it always.

      Her gloved hand clenched over the ring as she accepted that Burke was telling her the truth. She was alone in the world. Her last letter from her father didn’t say that he had called on his long estranged relatives yet, so they wouldn’t know of her existence. She didn’t have the faintest notion where his family lived, so she couldn’t write them and introduce herself. For all practical purposes, they didn’t exist.

      She was alone. Granny Rose and her father were both gone, and all she had was Hartley. But that was a good deal more than she’d had two months earlier.

      Still between shock and disbelief, she asked, “Why didn’t you notify me so I could see that he was properly buried?”

      “At the time, I didn’t know of your existence. But you may rest assured that he was buried decently. Since I’d known him, I gave the local authorities the money to put him in a local churchyard. I also gave them the name and address of your father’s lawyer, whom I’d met during the transfer of Hartley’s ownership. I expect you’ll hear from him.”

      “Thank you,” she said numbly.

      “This is very difficult, Miss Clarke, but I must tell you that your father cheated in the game where he took my estate,” Burke said tersely. “I was prepared to challenge him legally, but his death complicates the situation. I returned to Hartley to reclaim my property, and learned about you. I decided I’d best call to give you the bad news if you hadn’t heard.”

      His words cut through her numbness. “How dare you make such an accusation! You insult my father, sir!” Despite her words, a small, cold corner of her mind wondered if the claim might be true. Her father was generally an honest gambler. As he had told her more than once, that was just good business. A cheat would soon be barred from play with gentlemen.

      But Charles Clarke did know how to cheat. He’d demonstrated various methods of crimping cards and signaling and other techniques so that Mariah would be able to recognize the tricks when she was herself playing. She was a competent card player, and she had found that great ladies might cheat no matter how old and honorable their family names. If necessary, Mariah knew how to cheat back.

      But she would not show doubt about her father to Burke. “My father is an honest man. If he were here, he could defend himself from this slander!”

      “Since he is no longer with us, I shall speak no more of what he did.” Burke studied her face, his pale blue eyes calculating. “Miss Clarke, I know this is not a good time, but a thought has occurred to me. You have been orphaned, and I want my estate returned. I was prepared to go to the law to reclaim that, but the courts are slow and expensive. There is a more convenient solution for both of us.”

      Mariah gazed at him, only half aware of his words. There was no solution that would bring her father back.

      “I need a wife, and you are a gentle lady in need of a man to protect you,” he continued. “I propose that we marry. There will be no lawsuit and no unpleasantness. Both of us will have a home, income, and standing in the community. It will be a most suitable match.” He glanced around the salon approvingly. “I can see that the household runs well under your supervision, which pleases me almost as much as your beauty and grace. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, Miss Clarke?”

      Her jaw dropped in shock. A complete stranger was asking her to wed because it would be convenient? That was the trouble with pretending to be ladylike: obviously she looked like a helpless fool.

      His proposal was outrageous, even if she’d liked the man, which she didn’t. Granted, he was good-looking and his offer had a treacherous logic to it, but she had no desire to join her life to a gamester’s. She had seen what hell such men created for their families. If she wed the man, she would be at his mercy.

      The absurdity of Burke’s offer pushed her to the edge of hysterical laughter. She put a hand over her mouth in a vain attempt to smother that.

      His jaw tightened. “You find the idea laughable? I assure you that my birth is more than adequate, and I should think it would be obvious that marriage is in the best interests of us both. To be blunt, you will benefit more than I, given your rather murky origins. In your position, I would consider an offer of honorable marriage most carefully.”

      Mrs. Beckett had warned her against Burke, and the expression in his eyes confirmed that he could be a dangerous man to cross. She sobered and gave him her best wide-eyed gaze. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Burke. I was laughing because I am overwhelmed by all that…has happened.” It was easy to sound confused and grief stricken. But what excuse could she give that would send him off once and for all?

      An outrageous thought struck her. She considered it for an instant, rather appalled at her own ability to prevaricate. But this particular lie would serve her purpose well. “I am honored by your offer,” she said with her most sincere expression. “But I already have a husband.”

      Chapter Three

      “You’re married?” Burke’s gaze shot to Mariah’s left hand.

      Mariah resisted the temptation to hide her hands behind her back. Luckily she was wearing gloves, since she’d been about to walk to the village, so he couldn’t see her bare third finger. “Indeed I am, Mr. Burke. Though I am honored by your offer of marriage, I obviously can’t accept.”

      “No one in the village said anything about you having a husband,” he said suspiciously. “And you are called Clarke, like your father. In fact, you’re called Miss Clarke by everyone.”

      “My husband is a distant cousin, also named Clarke.” She shrugged. “Since I have been known as both Miss and Mrs. Clarke, I answer to both.”

      He glanced around the room as if expecting her husband to materialize. “Where is this mysterious spouse?”

      “I’ve only been in Hartley for a few weeks,” she pointed out. “He has not had time to join me.”

      Burke looked even more suspicious. “What kind of a man isn’t with his beautiful wife when she moves to a new home?”

      Deciding she’d had enough of Burke, she swept to her feet. “The kind who serves his country in the Peninsula rather than gambling away his patrimony in a drunken stupor! It is time you left, Mr. Burke! Take your grandmother’s table and go.”

      Instead of losing his own temper, the infuriating man smiled at her. Like all gamesters, he loved a challenge. Loved risk. “Forgive me, Mrs. Clarke. I should not have spoken with you about personal matters when you are still absorbing the news of your father’s death.” He bowed. “I offer my condolences. I shall return for the table at some later time.” He turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

      She would prefer never to see Burke again, but at least his presence had been a distraction. Knees weak, she sat again and opened her right hand to reveal her father’s gold ring. He was dead. It still didn’t seem real. She must contact the London solicitor who had handled the transfer of ownership for Hartley Manor and ask him to investigate further. Perhaps more details would make Charles Clarke’s death seem more real. She would also see if his body could be brought to Hartley for reburial. Papa had so looked forward to living here….

      Mariah closed her eyes, tears stinging. He had been too young to die! Too necessary.

      But she had seen sudden death more than once and knew it played no favorites. She must make the best of her life here in Hartley. She gave thanks that she was in so much better a position than she had been two months before. Her father’s luck at cards had left her a young woman of means rather than in desperate straits. It was his last gift.

      The only thing desperate about her now was the enormous lie she had just told. Years of traveling with her father in sometimes sticky situations had made her very good at prevarication. She could open her big brown eyes and lie with utter conviction