The Lady Travelers Guide To Larceny With A Dashing Stranger. Victoria Alexander

mean to—”

      “Of course you didn’t, dear, and you are quite right. I have no particular fortune—I never have. I am the last person creditors would approach in their efforts to seek repayment. But you know how determined those sorts can be when they wish to get what is owed to them.”

      “Actually, I’m afraid I don’t,” Willie said, bemoaning once again her failure to pay the slightest bit of attention to George’s finances. But then what woman did know the true state of her husband’s financial affairs?

      Admittedly, in hindsight, there were subtle hints as to their dwindling resources. Willie had noted the country house was showing signs of disrepair but whenever she had mentioned her concerns, George had said he would arrange to have it taken care of. They would then be off to London or to a party hosted at a friend’s estate in Essex or Kent or wherever and upon their return nothing had changed. Willie had suggested on more than one occasion that they sell the terrace house in Mayfair left to her by her grandmother in favor of a larger residence, as it was nearly impossible to entertain properly. George would dismiss the idea by pointing out they were rarely in London and wasn’t it far more fun to be a guest at someone else’s party than to go to all the bother and expense of hosting their own gathering? She hadn’t given his objections a second thought at the time. Now it struck her it wasn’t so much the bother as the expense that concerned him.

      “No, dear, creditors looking to recoup their losses would never contact me, especially as we are not blood relations. However...”

      Willie sucked in a sharp breath. “Father?”

      “I’m afraid so.” Poppy winced. “He called on me, oh, a good six months ago when you were still in Wales. It did appear to be a strictly social visit although, as I have only seen him a handful of times since your baptism, it did seem rather odd.”

      “No doubt,” Willie said under her breath.

      “He wanted to know if I had heard from you and of course I said no.” She cast her goddaughter a smug smile. “I had no idea why he wished to know and no intention of offering him any assistance whatsoever.”

      “Thank you.” Willie and her father, the Earl of Hillborough, hadn’t spoken in nearly eleven years. On occasion, she missed the father he might have been but not once did she regret the loss of the father he was.

      “Any man who disowns his own child simply because she has the temerity to follow her heart and marry the man she loves, even if against his wishes, will get no help from me,” Poppy said staunchly. “At the very least, he could have given you your dowry.”

      “That would have been helpful.”

      “It was entirely inappropriate of him not to do so. You are his only child after all.” Poppy huffed. “Children are a blessing and are not to be squandered simply because they have minds of their own. I know if dear Malcolm and I had been lucky enough to have children, we would never have turned them away because of a difference of opinion.”

      Willie managed a half-hearted smile. In addition to everything else, all that contemplation in Wales had brought her to the inescapable conclusion that in his objection to her marriage with George, Father might well have been right. Something Willie was determined never to admit aloud. Regardless, her father’s rejection made little difference in her life as he had effectively disowned her when she was not born male.

      “After a bit of not very subtle probing on his part, your father finally admitted that he wished to contact you to inform you George’s creditors had contacted him. He wanted you to know he would not settle the debts of a man he disapproved of.” Poppy’s lips pressed together in a hard line. “He was quite firm on that point.”

      “Nor would I ever ask him to.” Willie raised her chin, a gesture of defiance that had driven her father mad for as long as she could remember. “I would become a beggar on the streets before I would ask him for anything.”

      Not that it would come to that. At least not yet. In the few months since returning from her self-imposed exile, Willie had reluctantly sold the country house and had managed to pay off all of George’s creditors. She had also discovered most of the jewels given her by her husband were paste, nice enough to look at but essentially worthless. She did hope any jewelry he had no doubt given those women who had been the objects of his fleeting affections through the years was no more valuable than hers.

      Willie had long suspected George had not been entirely faithful but in this Willie was something of a coward. She had never confronted him about his dalliances with other women. Upon reflection she wasn’t sure why, although there was a vast difference between vague suspicion and certain knowledge. She had on occasion been tempted to stray from her own vows of fidelity but could never quite bring herself to do so. In spite of her many faults—and she was fairly certain that was a very long list—disloyalty and dishonesty were not among them. Still, it was one thing to lie outright and quite another to prevaricate, evade and omit.

      “Exactly how bad are your financial circumstances?” Poppy asked.

      “Well...” Willie searched for the right words. As much as she needed Poppy’s help she did hate to worry the old girl. “They’re really not nearly as bad as they were.” She drew a deep breath. “I sold the country house—fortunately it was not entailed and so mine to do with as I pleased. And I am now debt-free.”

      “A difficult step but I must say I am impressed by your decision.”

      “I did so love that house.” Willie couldn’t quite hide the mournful note in her voice. From the moment she’d first set eyes on Bascombe Manor, a vaguely whimsical concoction of every popular construction style of the last three hundred years surrounded by grounds that were every bit as capricious as the house itself, she had fallen head over heels. It was a happy, welcoming sort of place and a far cry from her family’s country house. Hillborough Hall was an imposing, unyielding fortress of marble and granite. The building proclaimed someone of unrelenting propriety and single-minded determination held sway here and fun would not—would never—be allowed.

      “And your house in town?”

      “That I have managed to retain, at least for the moment.” It was perhaps best not to tell Poppy that the Mayfair house was very nearly stripped of all its contents. Willie had felt obligated to pay the servants at both Bascombe Manor and the London house what was owed to them before she regretfully terminated their employment. Her butler and cook—Majors and his wife, Patsy—had refused to accept their dismissal, declaring she was their family and one did not abandon family when times grew difficult. As much as Willie felt a great deal of affection for them, she did not expect this kind of loyalty. The kind that brought a warm rush to one’s heart. Willie and Patsy had wrapped their arms around each other and wept for a few moments. Even Majors—as properly trained as any butler anywhere—had sniffed back something that might well have been a tear. “I would hate to lose that house, as well. I do need somewhere to live.”

      “Perhaps, Wilhelmina—” Poppy chose her words with care “—now is not the appropriate time for a trip abroad.”

      “On the contrary, Poppy, this is not merely the appropriate time but it’s imperative that I leave as soon as possible.”

      “Are you in some sort of danger?” Poppy’s brows drew together. “Have those beastly creditors threatened you in some way?” Her expression darkened. “I daresay between Lady Blodgett, Mrs. Higginbotham and myself we can probably come up with a name or two of some disreputable types who might be able to—”

      “No, no,” Willie said quickly. “It’s nothing like that. As I said, I have already paid off George’s debts and I have enough left to repay a loan and reclaim something of great importance to me. Well, to my future really.” Willie paused for a moment to consider her words. She did so hate to make George appear more of a disappointment than he was but it really couldn’t be helped. Besides, he was dead and probably would be more amused than annoyed by her revelations. And she did need to look out for herself now. After all, aside from two loyal servants and an elderly relative, she was on her