Married: The Virgin Widow

A few minutes later Mr Pryce returned, bearing a tray laden with tea things and a plate piled high with spicy-sweet nuggets of gingerbread. While Susannah and Belinda tucked into those with exuberant relish, Laura took a guarded sip of her tea. Pleasant as these small luxuries were after months of frugal living, they came at too high a price to suit her.

Despite Ford’s assurance that her family was welcome to visit at Hawkesbourne, she knew he must want her gone as soon as possible. Every time they’d spoken in the past two days, she had braced for him to raise the subject. With any other gentleman, she’d have been confident he would never turn out an ailing widow and her penniless daughters. But Ford had boasted of his ruthlessness and she knew from bitter experience that he was not a man to let other people’s problems stand in the way of his plans.

When the others had finished eating, Laura rose from her seat. “Enjoyable as this has been, we must not tire Mama.”

“No indeed.” Ford shot to his feet so quickly his arm brushed against hers, sending bewildering sensations rippling through her. “I have an appointment with Repton to look over the accounts and review his running of the estate in my absence.”

His sharp tone and piercing look made Laura wonder what this meeting with his man of business had to do with her.

“Pray excuse me, ladies.” After a stiff bow, he stalked away, leaving Laura feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of her.

As he marched toward the office of Hawkes-bourne’s estate manager, the devilish hot ache in Ford’s loins began to ease. The slightest accidental brush against Laura was all it had taken to set him on fire. Of course that had only struck a spark to the fuel, which had accumulated splinter by combustible splinter as he sat beside her. Hard as he’d tried to ignore her by focusing all his attention on her mother and sisters, he had failed.

The mellow lilt of her laughter had made him long to drink it from her lips like sweet wine. The sidelong glimpse of her dainty hands had made him yearn to feel her fingers running through his hair. But why?

Much as he’d loved Laura Penrose seven years ago, he had not burned for her with such fierce intensity. Was it the time he had spent trying to forget her? Had the blaze of his outrage kindled this unruly passion? Or was it some streak of perversity that made him crave her because she had spurned him?

He had no time to ponder such riddles now, Ford reminded himself. There were more practical questions to be answered first.

“Tell me straight, Repton.” He dropped into a chair across the desk from the estate manager. “How bad is it?”

If the condition of the Hall was any indication, Hawkesbourne must be deep in debt. Ford recalled Laura’s mention of economic hardship after the war.

Repton’s brow furrowed at the question. He was a slight, balding man with ink stains on his thumb and forefinger. “I beg your pardon, my lord? How bad is what?”

“The debts, of course,” snapped Ford. “How much do we owe and to whom? You needn’t be afraid to tell me. I have the resources and the energy to set things right.”

“I’m sure you do, sir.” Repton pushed a large ledger book across the desk. “But I don’t know where you got the idea that the estate is in debt. You can see for yourself—though there are improvements needed, Hawkesbourne is quite solvent.”

Ford scanned the neat columns of figures. Seven years ago, he would not have been able to decipher them. Now he had no trouble. Rents minus expenses yielded a modest profit.

“Then why was so much of the house shut up?” he demanded. “And most of the servants gone? The larder nearly bare?”

Repton closed the ledger. “I told her ladyship the house was part of the estate and should be maintained in a suitable manner at the expense of the estate.”

Ford nodded. “You were quite right.”

“Thank you, my lord.” A look of relief lightened Repton’s stubby features. “Her ladyship did not agree. She refused to have any money spent on the house apart from a few urgent repairs, the coal bill and salaries for the cook and butler. Without your authority, I could not go against her wishes.”

Ford mulled over this information, not certain what to make of it. In a similar situation, his stepmother would not have hesitated to maintain herself in luxury at someone else’s expense. “Did her ladyship offer any reason for all this?”

Repton shrugged as if the explanations of women made no sense to him. “She said it was enough that her family should live under your roof without your permission. She did not wish to be any deeper in your debt.”

Ford fancied he could hear Laura speaking those words in a haughty tone that grated on his pride. Had she assumed he would fail in the Indies and not be able to afford the expense of maintaining her family? Did she think he would be too mean to extend them decent hospitality? Or did she have some other motive for playing the poor but proud widow?

“I am surprised my cousin did not leave her better provided for.” Leaning back in his chair, Ford strove to make the comment sound casual. “I thought he had a fair fortune of his own.”

Repton grimaced. “A man can go through a deal of money if he isn’t careful.”

“Cousin Cyrus always preached frugality to me.” The old fellow had kept him on a tight allowance. If Ford hadn’t borrowed against his expectations, he never would have been able to live the way a gentleman was expected to. “But I suppose keeping a young wife and all her relations can be quite an expense.”

“Lord Kingsfold made her ladyship a very generous settlement at the time of their marriage,” said Repton. “I believe she provided for her family out of her own allowance. At least, I never received any bills for their support.”

“That’s right, you administered my cousin’s personal accounts as well as the estate’s.” Ford pretended he had just recalled the fact.

“I hope you don’t think I failed in my duty.” Repton sounded defensive. “Or abused your cousin’s trust in any way.”

“Nothing like that, I assure—”

“Because you would be welcome to review the accounts,” Repton rattled on. “Everything is perfectly in order.”

The offer was too tempting for Ford to refuse, though not because he suspected Repton of any underhand dealings.

“I’m certain it is,” he agreed in a reassuring tone. “But if it would ease your mind for me to see the figures, I am willing to take a look.”

“I would consider it a service, my lord.” Turning to a shelf behind his desk, Repton drew out another ledger. “Perhaps you could assure her ladyship everything is perfectly above board. I tried to go over the accounts with her after his lordship died, but she found it very distressing to see how little money was left.”

Rather than passing the ledger across the desk, Repton brought it around to Ford, opening it to a page dated 1815. He pointed to a very large disbursement. “There is the sum he gave her ladyship upon their marriage.”

Three thousand pounds? Ford’s eyes widened. “Have you any idea what she did with the money?”

“She did not entrust the handling of it to me, my lord.” Repton’s tone bespoke offence over Laura’s decision. “Perhaps she has her own man of business in London, though to my knowledge he has never called at Hawkesbourne.”

What had become of that money? Ford wondered. Surely Laura would not be living in such straitened circumstances if she had an amount like that at her disposal.

“As you can see, my lord, all was well then.” Repton turned the page. “By the next year, however, expenses had begun to exceed income. Your cousin was obliged to dip into his capital to make up the shortfall.”

Ford did not need to be told what a dangerous downward spiral that created.

“I urged economy and retrenchment.” With a sigh Repton turned to the accounts for Cyrus’s final year. “My warnings fell on deaf ears.”

His cousin’s fortune was gone. Ford no longer doubted it. The evidence was there in black and white. But that evidence raised more questions than it answered.

“You have been most helpful.” Ford rose abruptly and shook the man’s hand. “I am relieved to discover the estate is not in debt. I shall return tomorrow to discuss what improvements are needed.”

Repton tucked the ledger under his arm. “I should be happy to discuss them now if you wish, my lord.”

Ford shook his head. He needed some time to collect his thoughts. “Other matters require my attention just now, if you will excuse me.”

He took his leave in haste, heading back to the house through the neglected gardens that had once been his grandmother’s pride. Now several newly hired gardeners were busy digging and pruning. Ford paid them scant heed as he trod the overgrown paths, lost in thought.

It seemed Laura had told the truth when she’d claimed her inheritance was a paltry one. What she had failed to mention was the handsome settlement Cyrus had made her before her marriage. Had she squandered that, too? Or had she squirrelled it away somewhere while she played at poverty for some devious reason he could not fathom?

Rounding a boxwood hedge near the east wing of the house, Ford came to a sudden halt. Ahead, he spotted Laura talking to a slender young man with ginger hair. She was smiling at the young fool in a way Ford had not seen her smile since he’d returned to Hawkesbourne.

His heart began to hammer against his ribs as if trying to batter its way out of his chest. A bubbling cauldron of acid seethed in his belly. Could this be the reason Laura had remained at Hawkesbourne feigning penury? So she could stay close to her next conquest, engaging his sympathy and assistance on her way to winning his heart?

Ford wondered if that was the reason for her thinly disguised hostility toward him. Perhaps Laura feared he would spoil her plans to secure a new husband.