28 December, 1822
Loughton Manor, Leicestershire
“Everything?” Mel squeezed her fingers against a sudden pounding in her forehead.
“Yes. Except for a few legacies to servants. Aside from the cash holdings which will come to you, you will also have the controlling shares in the bank, unless you choose to sell them.”
Before his stroke, her grandfather had changed his will, leaving her almost everything. A great deal of money, certainly, but… the bank. The magnitude of the responsibility swamped her.
“But, why?”
She’d had a plan, and it had involved her small property in Durham and the income from her investments, the challenge of growing her nest egg, the prudence, and struggle, and work of managing it, with only herself to look out for… and Hermione too of course. Her dear cousin had only a meager income.
“Mr. Sawley was quite taken with you when you wrote and visited, and very happy when Mr. Lovelace—Lord Loughton—sought out his blessings for your betrothal.”
But of course, Grandfather was pleased. It was his suggestion that they marry.
“And the sudden death of the late Lord Loughton made him sense his own mortality.”
“Who did he disinherit in making this change?”
“He had planned an endowment to educate the children of the lower classes.”
“Oh.” A worthy cause. One she could support, if she didn’t mismanage the bank and lose all the money.
How was she to do this?
A footman came with the tea tray and Mel swallowed a surge of nausea, her hand shaking as she poured.
But when she lifted her own cup, bile rose in her again and she pressed a napkin to her lips.
“Do excuse me a moment.” She hurried to the door and pushed it open. And found Fitz, looking windblown, and concerned, and so handsome.
“Mel.” He grasped her arms. “Biggs said Smith is here. Is it your grandfather?”
She nodded, fighting both the spasms in her stomach and in her heart, taking deep breaths until she could finally speak.
“He died. I must have a moment.” She waved a hand. “Tea. Mr. Smith.”
And then she hurried away.
She nearly collided with Lady Loughton in the hall where she was handing over the four noisy boys to the nursery maid.
“We’ve returned safely,” Lady Loughton said. “Though everyone has had entirely too many sweets. James, stop baiting your brother. Edward, stop whining. Everyone upstairs for your supper and we’ll play games later. Lady Hermione and the girls will arrive any moment.”
All Mel could manage was a nod. She clamped a hand over her mouth and hurried up the stairs.
“Miss Parker? Are you unwell?”
Mel rushed into her bedchamber and reached the basin in time.
A soft hand touched her shoulder. “Oh, my dear.” Lady Loughton’s gentle tones made Mel want to melt into a puddle of tears.
Which she would not do. “My grandfather has died. His secretary is in the library with Fitz.”
“Oh, no. Oh, my poor, poor dear.” Lady Loughton’s skirts swished and she reappeared with a glass. “Here. Take a sip of water.”
Mel croaked out her thanks and let a dribble of water touch her tongue.
“My sincere condolences. Hermione told me you’d only just become acquainted with him.” Her hand, smooth and cool, brushed a lock of hair from Mel’s cheek. “It’s very hard to lose someone we care for, and in your condition… any upset can make the nausea worse. It’s dreadful, I know, casting up one’s accounts at every turn, but it usually passes after a month or two, or in some cases three. Or sometimes longer. I recall that when I was carrying Fitz—”
“Oh, my lady.” Cheeks flaming, Mel sank onto the edge of the bed. “What you must think of me.”
She’d been as reckless as her mother. More so, when one considered that she was five-and-twenty, whereas her mother had been a mere girl of fifteen.
Lady Loughton settled next to her. “I have found the suffering to be worth it in the end. Fitz is a good man. Surely you will marry him. Do you not love my son?”
“I haven’t been sure he wants me, and I won’t force marriage on an unwilling m-man.”
Lady Loughton studied her, her eyes filled with kindness and… sadness.
“I’m sorry.” Mel wiped away a tear. “Drat it all. I’m not normally such a watering pot.”
The lady smiled. “That’s part of it as well. Do not you worry. I know for a fact that Fitz is not unwilling.” Lady Loughton patted her hand. “You’ll grow to like him one day.”
“I like him now.” She squeezed the older lady’s hand. “I… I care for him.”
Despite her doubts, that was true. When they were with one another, Fitz was kind and easy to talk to. The moment he’d stepped into Lady Clitheroe’s parlor, she’d been drawn to him. He was handsome—of course there was that. But there had also been his air of vulnerability, a recent widower being chased by young magpies angling to marry him. His patient courtesy had stirred her. And still did, when she was with him. And yet… So much had happened. Could she truly trust him?
“Perhaps he told you he’s made a muddle of the estate’s finances, Mel—may I call you that?”
“Of course. And the finances? That is nothing.” Especially now. “Did you know that he stopped answering my letters?” Her voice cracked and she swallowed hard.
At first, she’d explained away his failure to write. She’d forgiven. And then she’d felt hurt, and as she began to be sick day after day, she grew worried, and then so angry.
She cleared her throat. “But worse, is this business of neglecting the boys under his care, Lady Glanford’s boys. Will he neglect me? Will he neglect a… a child of his own?”
Lady Loughton stilled next to her for a long moment and finally spoke. “Have you asked him about these matters?”
She nodded. “He claimed he didn’t receive all the letters. But regarding the neglect of his wards… he was dodging, and then we were interrupted.”
Lady Loughton stood, gripping her hands in front of her, and paced to the mantel, and then back to the bed. “There’s a story here that is not truly mine to tell. I don’t know it all, but—”
The door opened and Fitz entered.
Mel jumped up. “I should return to Mr. Smith.”
“He’s just departed,” He crossed the room to her. “He said he rode straight through with this news and is ready to drop. He’s taken a room at the inn and will return to us tomorrow. He begged me to make his excuses.”
“Of course.”
Fitz took her hands. “Mother, would you allow us a private word?”
Under his kind demeanor, Fitz radiated tension. He’d heard all about her inheritance and was, perhaps, upset by it. She certainly was.
With that money, she could help him now. Would pride prevent him from accepting it? Would he be shamed by a wife who worked as a banker? Would he still want her? What was she to do?
“No, Fitz.” Lady Loughton took a seat near the hearth and beckoned them. “Come, both of you, and sit. You may talk later. I have something to say before I leave.”
The tone of Lady Loughton’s voice, velvet over steel, startled her out of her worries.
“Very well.” Fitz’s lips clamped together and he followed Mel to the sofa.
Lady Loughton folded her hands together in her lap. “The news of another loved one’s death makes me feel low. I confess, your father’s death almost destroyed me.”
“Oh, my lady” Mel said, and “Mother,” Fitz said at the same time.
“No, no, grieving takes time, but I’m adjusting to being without him, day by day. Just as when we married, we had to adjust to being together, day by day. My dears, I can’t let you proceed without giving you the benefit of some hard-won wisdom. You are two caring people with a chance for as much happiness as my Lord Loughton and I had. There are no guarantees, but that is part of the pleasure of plunging in with someone who you already admire. If you make the effort, you come to know each other better. You work together. You sacrifice for the other. Those things you must do, because there are always challenges—years when crops are bad, leaking roofs, troublesome children. A happy marriage requires courtesy, a willingness to forgive, and honesty. Fitz, you were discourteous to Mel, and she’s not sure she can muster the willingness to forgive and commit her future to you because she has valid worries—worries that you can resolve by being honest with her. You must trust her. You must tell her about Glanford and Alice.”
The long speech sent a flood of color into Fitz’s cheeks. “How—”
“I love you, my darling boy. It wasn’t hard to puzzle out.” She stood and waved Fitz back into his seat. “Now. I shall change out of this damp gown while you two talk.”
Mel studied the flames, working out what was so terribly obvious to a girl with parents like Major and Mrs. Parker. Alice was Fitz’s late wife. Glanford was his friend. “They had an affair.”
“Yes.”
His jaw had tightened. He’d been angry about it. And humiliated most certainly. She sensed there was more.
“Tell me,” she said.
“A gentleman doesn’t speak ill of his wife.”
If only her father and mother had shared those scruples. “For Mary’s sake?”
“And because it’s wrong.”
“Oh. You are right. And vice-versa for a woman and her husband. I have heard that affairs are not uncommon among the aristocracy.” It was also true among soldiers and their wives. “I would never want that sort of marriage for myself, going my separate way after…”
After the birth of an heir and a spare. Fitz only had Mary. His wife had died giving birth to a stillborn son. She’d violated even that society norm.
Mel clutched his hand and held it between both of hers.
“Mary’s birth was so difficult that Alice and I, we lived separately, and then, a few years later she suddenly joined me in London at the very end of the Season, welcoming me into her bed. A month later, she was increasing.”
“Perhaps the child was yours.”
“No.”
“You didn’t suspect anything?”
“I was so happy she wanted another child, I believed her.”
Fitz was the sort to see the best in people.
He sighed. “I didn’t know until later. She’d encountered Glanford in March at a hunt. And still he had the nerve to ask for another loan that spring. Then, in the autumn he fell from his horse. I was attending his funeral when Alice went into labor, three months early, yet the child was full-term. Mrs. Astrop knew. I knew as well, when I saw him. I was wild with grief, and anger, and guilt. To my shame, I was also relieved. That child, had he lived, would have been the Loughton heir.”
“You are a good man, Fitz. You would have done right by him, no matter what.”
“Would I have?” He shook his head.
“Yes, you would have, hard as it might have been. Did Lady Glanford know?”
“No, and she still doesn’t. I wasn’t certain the child was Glanford’s until after Father died. If Mother suspected, then Father knew as well. He pushed me to do more with the estate, and Mother persuaded me to let Mary continue in her care so I could go out more in society. I had no intentions of marrying again—until I met you. I love you, Mel. Can you understand? Can you forgive me?”
She thought of her mother and her many infidelities. Good heavens, if Fitz learned of those, he might worry she’d be her mother’s daughter. Alice had hurt Fitz terribly. Papa had armed himself with indifference, but Mel had seen the hurt lurking beneath. She’d seen what it took for him to hold his head high and go back into battle.
“Yes. And I won’t play you false, Fitz.”
“Nor I you. No more secrets?”
She gulped and nodded, but her hand reflexively went to her stomach.
Fitz opened his mouth, but the door crashed open before he could speak.
“Mel,” Hermione cried and then spotted Fitz.
“What’s wrong, Hermione?”
Her gaze skittered from Mel to Fitz and back. She bit her lip and huffed. “I cannot believe the woman. She’s here.”
A chill settled over Mel, and she fought a wave of panic. She couldn’t face her today. Not today.
“She?” Fitz asked. “Who is she?”
Hermione focused on Mel, ignoring Fitz. “Neda is going to her now.”
Mel leaned her head back and groaned. “My mother has tracked me down.”
Hermione moved closer, wringing her hands. “It’s my fault, Loughton. I wrote to Mel’s mother about your engagement. I happened to mention that she’d visited Mr. Sawley. Next thing we know, a letter arrives saying to expect her by Christmas, and demanding that Mel should break with you. She’d got the harebrained idea that Sawley would leave Mel his fortune. So here Gwen comes, rushing back from France, and if I’ve read between the lines correctly, she’s found a relation of Starling for Mel to marry.” Hermione spluttered. “This will be about her wanting money. I’ll go assist Neda—shall I tell Gwen you won’t see her?”
It would only delay the inevitable. “No. Go and I’ll join you in a moment.”
“We’ll both join you,” Fitz said.
No more secrets. Fitz watched Mel straighten her spine and firm her jaw, as if putting on armor. He’d shared his worst secret with her, but she was, most certainly, holding back. First there was that hand to her belly, a tell-tale sign if ever there was one, especially atop all the gagging. And now this business with her mother.
The door closed on Hermione. “You’re frowning,” he said. “You’re tense. You’ve gone pale. I sensed you weren’t close with your mother, but you seem… fearful.”
“Fearful?” She scoffed. “I’m not fearful. But she’s so… oh.” Jaws tight, she squeezed her fists and shook one in the air. “I try to not speak ill of her, but I did so already to you, didn’t I?”
He hid a smile, remembering her astonishing words. “You told me no one in their right mind would leave her a pile of money.”
“Yes. The money. I never expected Grandfather would…” She choked in a breath.
“Smith told me. Slow down and breathe.” He stroked her back while she gulped in more air.
“When her letter came, we decided to leave Hampshire immediately. Before that, we were going to wait until the weather cleared to travel to Durham.”
“Durham?”
“My cottage is in Durham.”
“Good God, woman, that’s almost to Scotland.”
“Yes, well, needs must. I assumed you no longer wanted to marry me, and I wanted to see it, and there was a good chance Mother knew nothing about it and wouldn’t find me there. She’s plotting. Starling has a nephew, or cousin, or some other relation who needs a rich dowry. Mother is capable of anything—I don’t know what lengths she would go to. And I’m not going to marry him.”
“You most certainly will not.” Damnation. Mel was of age, but she was a woman with only Hermione to protect her, and if two determined men were after her, that was no protection at all. “Who is Starling?”
“Lord Starling is Mother’s husband.”
“Come here.” He pulled her onto his lap and buried his face in her hair. She had been running away, but not from him.
Though that hand to her belly… Durham was a good distance from Hampshire. She thought he’d abandoned her, and preferred giving birth quietly in the hinterland to entering the deceptive marriage her mother was plotting. What a brave girl she was.
But… a child. His child. His heart took off in a brisk gallop. A brother or sister for Mary. Mel was marrying him. There’d be no question about it.
She wriggled in his arms. “We must go down and rescue your mother.”
“Shhh.” The fire in her soft cheeks had subsided and they were dry. She hadn’t cried over her grandfather yet, but that would come. “Mother is very strong. And so are you.”
“After five minutes with Gwendolyn Sawley Parker Starling, she’ll demand you escape such a tawdry connection. I’ll understand. I don’t wish the connection to my mother either.” Her mouth firmed and her fists clenched again. “But, oh my God, the inheritance. What am I going to do?”
You’re going to marry me, of course. “Mother won’t send you away, nor will I. If you run off to Durham, I’ll come after you—you, Mel, not your money. Regarding that, I made a promise to your grandfather and I mean to keep it. Shall we go and beard the lioness?”
“Oh Fitz.” She kissed his cheek and stood. “I’ll speak to her. Though when she learns of grandfather’s bequest…” She rubbed at her temples. “She’ll hound me until—”
“No, she won’t. I’ll be damned if I’ll allow them to bully you.”
Downstairs in the hall, the butler stood guard at the parlor door.
“How dare you, Hermione. I should like to speak to her—” The shrill voice penetrated the solid wood panels.
“Mortifying,” Mel muttered. Color bloomed again in her cheeks, embarrassment warring with anger warring with… the fear had returned.
But she wasn’t alone. She’d never be alone, not facing her mother, not facing the rest of the directors of her bank, either. He might not have a vote, but he could stand by her side.
He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Biggs, have the visitors’ carriage pulled round. They’re not staying. Come, Mel. Let us see what she has to say.”