The Determined Lord Hadleigh

скачать книгу бесплатно


‘I can see why you would jump to that conclusion, so please allow me to reassure you. My actions had nothing to do with guilt regarding your husband or the way his trial was carried out. I am sorry if you find that difficult to hear, but on that score I am remorseless...’ Good grief! Hardly the best way to win her over and accept his benevolence in the spirit it was intended. ‘I acted as I did more out of a sense of regret that you had to suffer more than was necessary and completely unjustly. If the Crown refused to see you right, then someone needed to. I am a wealthy man, so it was no hardship for me to help. Consider it my penance for failing to get the Crown to see sense.’ He was righting a wrong. It was that simple.

‘That does not explain why you saw fit to have me spied upon these past months.’

‘I didn’t have you spied upon.’ So much for sticking to reason, logic and the truth. Hadleigh found himself wincing. She had a perfectly valid reason to be angry with him and now that he was seeing it all through her eyes, he had made a royal hash of it. ‘All right... I suppose in a manner of speaking I did, but again it was not done with any malice. After you had been left with nothing—through no fault of your own, I might add—I needed to reassure myself you and your child were coping all alone. When the Runner informed me you were selling your jewellery...’

‘Insignificant pieces to which I had no attachment.’ Her pretty face flushed as she resolutely avoided her friends’ sympathetic eyes and he realised he had inadvertently put his big, fat foot in it again. Like his mother, she was too ashamed of her situation to accept help despite none of it being her fault. ‘Things given to me by a husband which I would prefer to forget and mine to dispose of as I see fit.’ Despite the fact that both her friends, and he, knew she was pawning her mother’s jewellery to pay her monthly bills, she was still labouring under the misapprehension that her friends, at least, didn’t. ‘I no longer wanted any reminders of him in my house.’

She was proud in the face of defeat and his heart wept for her. His hands wanted to touch her, tug her into his arms and hold her close. What was that about, aside from the bone-deep exhaustion which came from weeks of sleeplessness? No wonder his emotions were a tad frayed and close to the surface. ‘A perfectly understandable reason to sell them and one which makes me sorrier my heavy-handed and unnecessary response has caused you both worry and embarrassment.’

‘I am not in need of charity, Lord Hadleigh.’

‘That I can plainly see, my lady.’ Blast it all to hell, he had gone about this all wrong. Pride always came before a fall and, like his mother, this one would rather suffer in silence than allow the world to see her pain. He, of all people, should have pre-empted such a reaction. ‘And once again, I humbly apologise for insulting you. It was well intentioned, although, I concede, highly inappropriate and misguided.’

It was time to make a hasty retreat before he was backed into a corner of his own making and forced into rescinding his gift before she had had time to mull over the many benefits of it. Given a little time, and the obvious easing of her financial burdens, she might be convinced to keep it.

‘I really meant no offence, or to cause you worry of any kind. Although I can see that my ham-fisted, overbearing and overzealous attempt at helping you has done exactly that, and for that I am sorry. This has most definitely not been my finest hour. But know that I am on your side whether you want me to be or not.’ From his pocket he produced a calling card which he gently pressed into her hand, making it impossible for her to refuse it. For some reason, his fingers longed to linger so he quickly snatched them away.

‘What I should have done all those months ago, rather than put a watch on you, was simply this. Should you need anything...anything at all...money, help...a ham-fisted but well-meaning friend...all you need do is ask. Whatever it is, whenever it is, send word to this address and I will move heaven and earth to see it done.’ Before she could respond he bowed. ‘Good day to you, Lady Penhurst. Thank you for allowing me the chance to explain and to see for myself the error of my ways. You have been most gracious.’ Then, with the swiftest and politest of nods to the room in general, he promptly turned and marched swiftly out the door.

Chapter Four (#u0381e7aa-4e2f-5590-ac52-8eb74b0ad354)

Three days of silence lulled him into a false sense of security, so Hadleigh wasn’t expecting his clerk to inform him she had turned up at his chambers unannounced, wishing to speak to him. While the clerk went to fetch her, he braced himself for another difficult conversation and was not disappointed. She arrived ramrod straight and proud, only her eyes giving him any indication she was nowhere near as confident as she wanted to portray. They were wide and restless, darting every which way before finally settling on him stood politely behind his paper-strewn desk.

‘Please forgive the intrusion, Lord Hadleigh, but I needed to speak with you.’

The gaunt, pale woman from the courtroom was gone and clearly her appetite had improved in the intervening months, as the same dull spencer which had once hung from her frame was now filled with gloriously feminine curves. She might be petite in stature, but there was no disguising she was all woman. Something he had no right noticing considering the circumstances.

‘It is no intrusion at all.’ He gestured to the chair opposite and she sat daintily on the edge, gripping her reticule for all she was worth. Her errant hands, once again, saying much more of the truth than he was likely to get out of her pretty mouth. ‘What did you wish to speak to me about, Lady Penhurst?’

Her dark brows drew together in an expression of what he thought might be distaste as her fingers toyed with the ribbon handle of her bag. ‘I am not Lady Penhurst any longer and, if you don’t mind, I would prefer not to be addressed as such. I go by Mrs Henley now, which was my mother’s maiden name.’ Her troubled blue eyes flicked to his briefly as she shrugged an apology. He found himself drowning in their intense, stormy depths. ‘There is less chance of my being recognised with a run-of-the-mill name and I would prefer not to use my real married name any more...for obvious reasons.’ And there it was again, that flash of distaste, although whether it was at the thought of her husband or her situation, he had no idea.

‘Of course...very wise.’ He settled back in his chair, hoping his posture would help her to relax, calmly waiting for her to proceed. It didn’t. Only the smallest fraction of her bottom was on the chair, her knuckles quite white as she continued to nervously fiddle and twist the ribbons further.

After a few seconds ticked by awkwardly, she sat up straighter. ‘The thing is, I went to visit my landlord, Mr Cohen, this morning...and was informed you have made no attempt to contact him since our last meeting...to retrieve your money.’

‘Mrs Henley, might I speak plainly?’ She nodded, eyes widening once again as if fearing his words. ‘I think we would both agree our last meeting was a little awkward. I believe we both left a great deal unsaid.’ How to frame these next words in the most gentle and appeasing way and leave her dignity intact? ‘For my part, I realised that neither Clarissa nor Seb knew you were selling your jewellery, so I quickly backtracked to avoid further embarrassing you.’

‘I explained about the jewellery, Lord Hadleigh.’ Two charming pink spots began to appear on her cheeks which called her a liar. ‘They were gifts from my husband and I no longer wanted them.’

Pride always came before a fall. ‘I beg to differ. I saw you that morning outside the pawnshop.’ It had done odd things to his heart.

‘You did?’ That seemed to surprise her and set her expressive eyes blinking. She had lovely long lashes. Dark and thick. The sort that waylaid a man’s thoughts from the important task at hand, much like the way she filled out that spencer.

‘Indeed I did, so I saw for myself how difficult you found it to part with them.’ Should he tell her he had the brooch? That it was safe with all the other trinkets necessity had forced her to sell and hers again whenever she wanted? Probably not. It would make her feel more beholden, when clearly beholden was the state which caused her the greatest discomfort. ‘I also went in and questioned the pawnbroker who showed me the piece. It was old and well-worn. You were married only three years, were you not? Hardly long enough to cause the deterioration I witnessed in that brooch. Which lead me to believe it was hardly the sort of piece of jewellery a husband would give to his wife.’

‘My husband was not a generous man...’

‘Mrs Henley, we both know that was your mother’s brooch or your grandmother’s. It was a sentimental item. Worth more to the heart than the purse.’ He had similar items himself. The handkerchiefs his mother had embroidered for him. Her letters sent while he was away studying. The last one filled with no hint of the nightmare she was living or the absolute fear she must have been feeling in the days before her death. If only he could turn back time.

‘And what if it was?’ The sudden affected bravado was brittle and unconvincing. Eerily familiar. ‘It was still mine to do with as I wished.’

He mentally took a step away from those old emotions which had suddenly decided to plague him to focus on the here and now. An unfair wrong he could easily right and the woman his soul appeared to demand he rescue. ‘The Runner said you took the money from the jewellery each month directly to the shops and used it to pay your accounts.’ Hadleigh decided to present her with irrefutable evidence in the hope she might realise further lies were pointless. ‘You always go to Palmer’s Shop of All Things first because it is closest to the pawnshop. Then you walk to your landlord Mr Cohen’s place next, followed by Shank’s the butcher and Mrs Writtle’s bakery. I can even tell you how much you paid to each of these merchants and how much you received for each precious piece of your mother’s jewellery that was sold.’

She blinked rapidly, her mouth opening to speak before she closed it firmly. For several moments, she seemed smaller and he realised now might be the best chance he had of appealing to her logic. ‘You see, I had a very clear picture of your finances, Mrs Henley, before I took it upon myself to assist you with them.’ He exhaled slowly and waited for her dipped eyes to pluck up the courage to rise back up to meet his. ‘You were barely making ends meet and unless you have a jewellery box stuffed full of old earrings and brooches to sell, I also knew your reserves would likely soon run out. That is why I stepped in...or stomped in more like.’ He smiled to soften the blows he had just dealt her. ‘I wanted to take that worry away from you. I still do. That is why I have not, nor will I make any attempt to get the rent money back from Mr Cohen. Allow me to help you.’

She was silent for an age, sat perfectly still. Only the occasional movement of the fingers now buried within the folds of her skirt made her appear less like an inanimate statue. ‘Your Runner really was thorough, wasn’t he?’

‘I made sure I engaged the best.’

‘Except he didn’t know everything, did he?’ Her head tilted and she gazed at him down her nose, her slim shoulders rising proudly. For some reason, he liked that version of her more. She wasn’t broken. She had gumption. ‘I am leaving Cheapside soon to take employment elsewhere. That has always been my intention. So you see, Lord Hadleigh, your decision to pay a year’s worth of my rent was quite pointless.’

He didn’t believe her. ‘Perhaps—but at least it gives you the option to decide whether or not now is the right time to take employment. You have a young son, do you not? Is he old enough for you to leave him?’

‘I shan’t be leaving him. He will be coming with me.’ Her nose rose a notch higher. ‘Therefore, you have wasted a great deal of money.’

‘It is mine to waste, my lady.’

She briefly chewed on her bottom lip, drawing his eyes to it, before she caught herself and feigned nonchalance. ‘Have it your own way.’ She stood quickly, looking as though she was about to break into a run, then surprised him by rifling in her reticule. ‘I anticipated your refusal.’ She placed six guineas in a neat stack on his desk. ‘I believe that covers half of the debt I owe you. I will begin reimbursing you for the rest as soon as I receive my first month’s wages.’

* * *

He hadn’t been expecting that, she could see, because he stiffened and frowned at the coins. Finally, after what felt like an age, his penetrating gaze fixed on her. He had unusual eyes. Golden brown, almost amber in colour. Unnerving and perceptive. They matched his hair which was a tad too long and curling above his collar and austere, simply tied cravat. Pompous and handsome. The all-too-familiar combination. His prolonged scrutiny unnerved her, but she stood proudly. She had made a plan, a good one, and all she had to do was stick to it.

‘There is no way I will accept it.’ To prove his point, he slid the column of coins back towards her. She ignored them.

‘As our business is now concluded, I shall bid you a good day, Lord Hadleigh.’ She had hoped to appear formidable as she said this before turning and striding decisively towards the door.

‘Oh, for goodness sake! Stop being so stubborn when it is patently obvious you need it!’ He stood, his palms flat and braced on his desk as he quashed the brief flash of temper and replaced it with an expression which was irritatingly reasonable. ‘The Crown, in its lack of wisdom, did you wrong and I am simply making it a little bit right.’

‘That is your opinion and you are entitled to it, just as I am entitled to be stubbornly opposed to your unwelcome interference in my life.’ An awkward silence hung and she let it. There was no point in arguing with the man. He was used to getting his own way, as men were, and she needed to get used to being the new improved Penny who was mistress of her own destiny. Besides, it felt empowering to take a little control back from this man who was clearly used to owning it.

The overbearing lawyer stared, then for the first time since she had encountered him he appeared awkward in his own skin. He glanced down at his feet, then raked a hand through his hair before those unusual eyes locked on hers, the emotion in them unfathomable. But there was emotion. And it wasn’t anger at her rude behaviour. ‘Why won’t you allow me to help you?’

‘I have no need of anyone’s help, my lord.’

‘I think you do. The life you now have is no life for either you or your son.’

That was insulting. It might well not be much of a life yet, but it was infinitely better than the one she had had and she was committed to making it better. What right did he have to judge her? To do what he thought best and enforce his will? ‘My life is none of your business.’ Another rude outburst which she wasn’t the least bit sorry for. Clearly, a tiny bit of her spine had already grown back to so plainly voice her outrage.

‘I cannot, in all good conscience, allow you and your son to continue living like thatwhen I have the means and the desire to help you. Is a life of poverty, pawnshops, scrimping and saving...’ he scowled again as if the cosy little oasis she had lovingly made was somehow abhorrent ‘...truly the life you want for your son?’

‘Was it your intention to insult me and the life I have worked hard to make for myself? For if it was, you have succeeded, sir.’

‘I meant no offence. I am merely trying to help to make your lot in life better after the grievous injustice you have been made to suffer.’

‘By bullying me into your way of thinking? By accepting your money to make yourself feel better about whatever it is that has put a bee in your bonnet?’ She watched his golden eyebrows draw together a second before his eyes dropped to stare at the ground. ‘If you really want to help me improve my lot, my lord, then you can start by sparing me the continued ordeal of your presence or interference.’ Realising her feet had taken her back towards his desk during her impassioned speech, Penny briskly walked back to the door, strangely enjoying the sensation of being angry at a man and not fearing his retribution, although bewildered as to why she didn’t fear it with him when he was so annoyingly overbearing.

It made no difference that his broad shoulders were slumped or that his normally piercing gaze was rooted to the floor as if he was miraculously unsure of himself. As if a man like him would ever know what it truly felt to be uncertain about anything. He deserved one more parting shot and so did she. ‘I have spent three miserable years being dictated to by a man. Three years being bullied and lectured.’

‘You cannot compare my actions to his.’ He appeared hurt at the suggestion.

‘Can I not? You had me spied upon, just like him. You are trying to enforce your will upon me—just like him. And ultimately, whatever your intentions, noble or otherwise, you are using my weaknesses to control me. You just belittled me to my face. Just...like...him.’ She sounded like her old self, the one before Penhurst she still liked. It was a heady feeling and she was proud of herself. This was the Penny she wanted to be again. Brave and undaunted. Unapologetically marching to the beat of her own drum.

‘You are not my master, sir. I cannot begin to tell you how relieved I am that nobody is any longer nor will anyone ever be again. Nor do I need a benefactor. What you see as for my own good to right a wrong, I see as unwarranted and insulting interference now that I finally have my freedom back. If I want money, I will earn it. My labour in return for wages! Because that is an equal transaction, one I am entirely familiar with. One both parties can terminate whenever they see fit.’

Head still bent, his eyes lifted, seeking hers almost tentatively. ‘I find myself again in the awkward position of having to offer you another heartfelt apology, for if you misconstrued any of my actions as bullying then I am mortified. I abhor bullies and it is humbling to realise that in attempting to enforce my will, I inadvertently became one. You are quite correct—you have every right to be angry at me. If it is any consolation at all, I am furious at myself.’ He looked pained and awkward as he slowly picked up the six guineas from the desk and placed them in the drawer. Only once he had pushed it closed did those unusual perceptive eyes lock with hers again. They were swirling with an emotion she couldn’t quite fathom. Regret? Sadness? Shame? Whatever it was it made him seem more human. ‘But for the record, despite all the mounting evidence to the contrary, I swear to you on my life I am nothing like him.’

Chapter Five (#u0381e7aa-4e2f-5590-ac52-8eb74b0ad354)

The pews in St George’s in Hanover Square weren’t meant for big men, yet for some inexplicable reason the ushers at Lord Fennimore’s wedding had decided to seat the two biggest together in the middle of a row. Seb Leatham’s ridiculously burly shoulders were encroaching into his space on one side and a strange woman’s ludicrously large bonnet inhabited the other. In silent, tacit agreement, both men were twisted at the same obtuse angle to try to make the best of it.

‘Dear God, I hope the bride arrives soon!’ Leatham hated social occasions and was already getting twitchy.

‘It’s the bride’s prerogative to be late, so please try to sit still.’

‘My leg is going to sleep. My backside is already numb!’

‘Then it shouldn’t be long till your leg joins it and you won’t feel the pain any more.’ If only all pain could be so easily desensitised. The dull, constant one in his conscience had taken permanent root since she had held a mirror up to his face. What had he been thinking? Acting like the Admiral of the fleet, snapping out orders and expecting them to be followed, when any fool with half a brain would know a woman who had suffered at the hands of a dictatorial, brutish husband was never going to respond well to such behaviour. Common sense would tell them that the reaction would either be cowering fear or bristling outrage. He was heartened that her response to his I-know-better-than-you tactics had been to fight back. He doubted he could live with himself if he had caused a woman’s fear. No matter how much he worried that the man in the mirror that day might be a little too much like his father for comfort, to be that much like his father made him feel physically sick.

‘The bride is certainly milking her prerogative to be late! There is late and then there is just plain self-indulgence.’

A scowling society matron offered them a pointed look, one which clearly said shut up. Hadleigh lowered his voice further, because he couldn’t pretend even to himself any longer that he didn’t need to know. ‘How is she?’ A very touchy subject, seeing as Leatham had threatened to break his idiotic, ham-fisted and worthless neck over the guineas incident three weeks ago.

‘How the blazes do you think she is?’ Seb offered him his most withering of glances. ‘Applying for every blasted housekeeper or governess job from here to John O’Groats to no avail to pay you back what she owes you. Hell-bent on leaving London as soon as possible regardless. Scrimping on food for herself to make the last pennies she has stretch further. Clarissa is beside herself with worry! I hope you are pleased with yourself. If she ends up working for some robbing scoundrel for farthings in the back of beyond, I give you fair warning, I’ve promised my wife I’ll give her your jewels as earrings.’ His friend threw up his hands despite the confined space. ‘I just don’t understand it. You are normally such an affable fellow. Charming, even. Upright, upstanding—normally annoyingly very sensible. Yet in all your dealings with poor Penny you have been a total oafish idiot!’

Hadleigh couldn’t argue with that description. ‘Surely I can do something to help? I could try talking to her again...’ Something he had desperately wanted to do since she had given back his now-tainted six guineas and left him with a heavy heart and his tail between his legs. He only wanted to make things right and it was driving him mad that he had been thwarted in that noble quest.

‘Stay away from her!’ Seb’s elbow jabbed him hard in the ribs. ‘Unless you know some generous toff with an estate that needs a very well-paid housekeeper, you’ve caused more than enough trouble already!’ Hadleigh had an estate... She wanted to trade her labour for honest wages...that might just work...

No! Bad idea... A very bad idea. For so many reasons.

‘Hallelujah!’ Seb’s cry had the stern matron frowning again. ‘I do believe it’s finally time for the off.’

Hadleigh settled back in the pew as the organ began to play and fixed his gaze firmly on Lord Fennimore waiting nervously at the altar in an attempt to stop his mind whirring. There was no point in attempting to meddle again. She wouldn’t take well to it and Seb would kill him. Clarissa, too. Lady Penhurst probably hated him. Another depressing thought. Not that he wanted her to like him, but still...she thought him a bully. No better than her awful husband. He felt an ache form between his eyebrows and realised he was scowling, something which was hardly fair on the bride, so he stalwartly banished all thoughts of saving the proud and exasperating woman who didn’t want rescuing to focus on the unlikely wedding about to take place in front of him.

The Commander of the King’s Elite was close to sixty and, up until recently, had been a confirmed bachelor wedded solely to his profession. Yet, like Warriner, Leatham, Flint and Gray, he had also fallen victim to the parson’s trap. All five men—Hadleigh’s friends and comrades—had succumbed in quick succession this past year. Like dominoes, lined up just to fall, there had also been an inevitability about it. The ladies they had fallen for were all perfect for them. But out of the five of them, only Lord Fennimore’s impending nuptials had surprised him. Not because his choice of bride was wrong—Hadleigh had developed a soft spot for the indomitable Harriet and wished them all the happiness in the world—but because he saw a great deal of himself in old Fennimore. More, he hoped, than he saw of his father.