When Mr. Aaron Trent left Bath that morning to call upon his cousin at Merton Manor, he had not expected to lodge overnight at The Stag and Hounds. During previous visits, he’d often used the inn as a watering hole, but had only once before, when a snowdrift had made it impossible for him to reach his cousin’s house, sought bed and board beneath Griffin’s roof.
That morning, Aaron had traveled to Newton Saint Loe, a small village near Corston, with the intention of calling upon his cousin, Lord Phillip Merton. However, upon reaching Merton Manor, Aaron had been greeted at the door by Carter, the butler, and informed his cousin wasn’t receiving visitors that day. Carter had been instructed to say his lordship was indisposed until further notice.
Ignoring this message, Aaron entered the manor, and shrugging off his caped greatcoat, he passed it to the butler, along with his beaver hat and kidskin gloves.
“There is no need to worry.” Aaron touched Carter reassuringly on the shoulder. “I shall see you are not dismissed for allowing me entry. But if you should be, you may call upon me at Windhurst Hall, and I shall find you a position. That is, if I still have a roof over my own head.”
Then, unceremoniously, and with angered haste, Aaron made his way up the grand staircase until he reached his lordship’s bedchamber.
Without a knock, he entered.
The room wreaked of stale smoke, alcohol, and the stench of…sex.
Beneath the curtained canopy of the four-poster bed and shrouded in rumpled, disheveled bedsheets were Lord Phillip Merton and an unknown woman. They were naked and lying entangled in one another’s arms.
Fleetingly, Aaron wondered how long his cousin and the young woman had been asleep. It was nearing mid-afternoon and they were still dead to the world. But with ruthless disregard for their slumberous condition, Aaron walked to the window, pulled back the heavy, velvet drapes, and flung the windows open wide, allowing the chilled air outside to invade the stiflingly hot, reeking room.
The woman was the first to stir. “Oh…lordy, lordy, lordy. I ain’t supposed to be found here. If Mrs. Hawkins should find me…”
She reached for the sheets, trying to cover herself and shield her body from Aaron’s scathing stare. From her accent and words, Aaron surmised that the wench was a house servant of sorts.
“I suggest you leave,” Aaron told her.
Scurrying to collect her scattered clothes, she hurriedly dressed and fled the bedchamber, slamming the door fiercely behind her before Lord Merton had an opportunity to stir.
“Phillip, wake up. Get out of bed, man.” When there was no response from his unconscious cousin, Aaron picked up a pitcher of water from the washstand and poured its contents uncaringly onto the dozing Phillip.
His lordship was instantly awake. Spluttering and shouting, he cursed until he eventually recognized Aaron as his abuser.
“Damnation, Aaron. I thought you were Carter. What in the world are you doing in my bedchamber? And why the sudden awakening?” Phillip put his hand to his brow, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight as he turned the air blue with profanities. “I feel as if an axe is buried in my head. How much did I drink last night?”
Aaron shrugged his shoulders and returned the now empty pitcher to the washstand. “How the hell should I know? I was not here.”
Standing with his arms akimbo, Aaron assessed his cousin’s condition.
“Well, you ought to have been here,” said Phillip. “That scullery maid was more than accommodating, and I’m sure she could have found a suitable friend to satisfy your needs.”
Aaron gave a snort of disgust. “Your offer, although I’m sure kindly meant, would have been refused. I like my women willing, not coerced. Servants generally feel under an obligation to their masters, whereas courtesans, although more expensive, are less of a problem in the long run. Take my advice and stay away from the servants.”
Phillip scratched his head. “What are you doing at Merton Manor, and at this ungodly hour? As far as I knew, you were supposed to be somewhere on the south coast, recovering from war wounds. I was told it would take at least a year for you to fully recover. There were also rumors you would not make it at all―that you would die.”
“Is that why you spent most of my fortune and entailed my estate?”
Before enlisting and leaving England to fight Bonaparte in France, with the likelihood of not returning from the war, Aaron had signed a document stating that in the event of his death, his cousin was to be the sole beneficiary of the estate. During his absence, Phillip was also to act as trustee and executor of any business involving Windhurst Hall. Only the plan had backfired.
Returning to England, Aaron discovered the trust he had placed in his cousin had been abused. Having gained access to Aaron’s fortune, Phillip had squandered most of the holdings and had entailed Aaron’s home, Windhurst Hall, leaving Aaron with only a pittance upon which to live.
Phillip had visibly whitened. “How did you hear of this?”
Aaron’s brows drew together. “Renchester let slip the information when we were sparring at Jackson’s boxing saloon. He told me you were in dung territory. Said you are up to your eyes in debt and have creditors knocking at your door. Apparently, you confided to him that you had to pay off your debts at the faro table as you were short of the ready. It seems you thought I would not mind if you pledged my estate to that bounder, Cuthbert Williams. I believe he is now holding Windhurst Hall as collateral until your debt is paid.”
“Damn Renchester. Damn the lot of you.” Phillip tossed back the sheet, clambered out of bed, and shrugged on his banyan robe. Going over to the washstand, he picked up a towel and dried his dampened face.
Aaron clenched his fists. “I foolishly trusted you to take care of my property and servants while I was away. I have now come to Newton Saint Loe to confront you and demand answers.”
“I’ve none to offer,” Phillip said with a careless shrug. “Except to say I was in need of the brass. Anyway, it wasn’t a problem, and it still isn’t. Williams gave me a year in which to pay him off.”
“If you needed the money, you should have sold Merton Manor to pay your gaming debts, not Windhurst Hall. Come to think of it…you still can.”
“Can what?”
“Sell Merton Manor, and then return Windhurst Hall, along with my savings, to me, or else―”
“Or else what?” asked Phillip.
“It will be pistols at dawn.” Aaron disliked threatening his cousin, but it had to be done.
When Aaron’s parents died, his uncle, Lord Merton, had generously taken Aaron to live at Merton Manor until he came of age and could claim Windhurst Hall as his own. Aaron had been grateful for the kindness shown, and to a certain extent, had felt indebted to his uncle.
It had been hard going at first, but when Aaron returned to Windhurst Hall, he had worked his fingers to the bone, day and night, to expand his estate and return it to the prosperous, thriving business it had once been. He had gone from being a gentleman of means, with nothing much to occupy his time, to being a farmer with responsibilities. The farmland had been worked and cattle reared to bring in a substantial annual income. And when war broke out, he had also carved out an army career, and his earnings weren’t to be sniffed at. Then Phillip had totally ruined his good fortune, and Aaron couldn’t forgive the deceit.
Phillip had gone behind his back. His cousin had hoped to get away with his gaming and philandering, and in Aaron’s eyes, Phillip was no longer a true gentleman with honor. As a result, Phillip’s wrongdoing had to be punished.
As a child, his cousin had always been spoilt, but even though they had been close and raised as brothers, Aaron could no longer accept or condone Phillip’s misconduct.
There was only one course of action for him to pursue. He decided that if his lands and funds were not returned intact and promptly, he was prepared to challenge Phillip to a duel and demand satisfaction. It was the least he could do to save face.
“You can’t be serious.” Phillip was now completely awake and fully alert.
“I’m in deadly earnest.” Aaron walked to the door of the bedchamber and yanked it open. He turned to look back at his cousin, and with a glare of displeasure, he said, “I shall be staying at my apartment in Bath. You may reach me through my solicitors. I believe you have their address. Why they allowed you to squander my funds at the gaming tables, I have yet to discover, but make no bones about it, my lands will be returned.”
Without a backward glance, Aaron walked away, not caring if he had left his cousin shaken, bemused, and wondering what was to come.