The Bad Luck Bride (The Brides of St. Ives #1)(53)
Christina lowered her head, though Alice had a feeling she was not feeling even a bit of shame. “Yes, sir.” She was quiet for a few moments, and Alice could almost see the words she was trying not to say pushing against her sister’s tongue. “But it would be exciting, even to just pretend.”
Richard cast his wife a look of frustration, and her mother pressed her lips together in an effort to keep from smiling.
“Pretend all you want, but if you so much as make even a hint about murder or dead wives, I will lock you in your room for a year,” Richard said, but an emptier threat had never been uttered by her father. Christina had her father wrapped around her little finger and everyone in the house, including Richard, knew it.
“Yes, Papa,” Christina said. “But what if he brings up the subject of his dead wife?”
Richard scowled at Christina, and she begrudgingly agreed that nothing should be said.
*
The next day was blustery and unusually cold, and the sea turned violent, with large waves smashing against the shore and sending spray up onto the cobblestone streets of St. Ives. A steady wind-blown rain fell, and Henderson couldn’t be certain when the drops fell against the window, sounding like small pebbles being thrown against the glass, whether it was the rain or the spray from the sea.
As soon as Berkley’s carriage pulled up to his hotel, Henderson hastened out, not waiting for the footman to lower the stairs, instead doing the deed himself and pushing quickly into the interior where Berkley sat, looking elegant and every inch the earl he was. A large black umbrella was propped in the corner next to him, and Berkley gave it a pointed look before taking in Henderson’s half-drenched state. Henderson gave himself the mental reminder to make use of a valet, at least when he was in England. A valet would most certainly have provided him an umbrella. Though his clothes were expensive, his hair neatly trimmed, and his face freshly shaven, he still did not have the polished look of Berkley, nor of Northrup. If he wanted to somehow win Alice’s hand in marriage, he must at least look the part and not remind Lord Hubbard at every turn that he was nothing more than a commoner.
Berkley gave him an assessing look, as if he were thinking the same thing. He was silent for a few minutes before asking, “How is it that you know the Hubbards?”
“I met their late son, Joseph, at Eton. We became best friends and I often spent summers at Tregrennar. The Hubbards were always kind and treated me like a member of the family.”
Moving his thumb slowly over his chin, Berkley seemed to absorb this information before shaking his head. “And so you fell in love with the daughter, couldn’t allow your feelings to be known, because, well, you were a guest in the house and Alice was Joseph’s younger sister, and so, de facto, your little sister.”
“That’s about the gist of it. When Joseph died, it crushed us all. I was supposed to have been with him that night, but I made other plans.”
“Ah. You feel partly responsible.”
“Wholly responsible. I left for India directly after the funeral. I didn’t say good-bye, I just left, believing in my heart it was for the best. I was only twenty-one and Alice was just seventeen, not even out yet. She got engaged a year after I left.”
Berkley appeared taken aback. “I thought you said she was nearly engaged. If she’s engaged, that quite changes things, Southwell.”
“You misunderstand. Her first fiancé died just prior to the wedding. In the church, as a matter of fact. This latest fiancé jilted her at the altar but arrived not two days ago to beg her forgiveness. As far as I know, she hasn’t forgiven it fully yet, though her parents seem more than willing to forgive him. There’s been no announcement, and the actual engagement was nullified when Northrup failed to show up at the church.”
“Harvey Heddingford? That Lord Northrup?”
“The same. Why, do you know him?”
Berkley smiled. “No,” he said calmly. “But my father did.”
Henderson recognized the look on Berkley’s face. Even though he hadn’t known the man long, he could tell when something devious was brewing inside him. “I do not want to win the lady through extortion, my lord.”
Berkley held up his hand, a wholly unconvincing look of innocence on his face. “I would never stoop to such levels. I would, however, enlighten Lord Hubbard of any interesting financial predicament that would harm his own purse.” Berkley sighed. “The information I have is old and may not even be pertinent to the current situation, so I will tread carefully.”
“Northrup is in financial straits?”
“He was two years ago. Gambling debts to a few gentlemen who were, let us say, less than happy with the situation. My father’s reach never fails to surprise me.”
Henderson thought on this as the rain slashed against the carriage, a noise that periodically lessened as they went under trees along the way to Tregrennar. If Northrup was still heavily in debt, he had no right to marry Alice. Perhaps Henderson was not the wealthiest man in England, but he had amassed a nice nest egg whilst in India and knew he could build a comfortable life with Alice, one that very closely matched the life she was accustomed to.
“The Hubbards are aware I am coming, are they not?”
Berkley smiled blandly. “Now what would be the fun in that?”