Treacherous Temptations(66)

Throwing down her gardening gloves, and divesting herself of cap and apron, she bustled inside to steel herself for battle. Mary decided to receive him in the same library where they had first discussed her marriage. This time, however, the battleground was to her advantage, for rather than shrouded in black crepe, the windows were uncovered, allowing the afternoon sunlight to stream brightly into the room; and now it was Mary, rather than Sir Richard, who commanded the overstuffed chair behind the imposing mahogany desk.

When her footman flung open the door, she rose with a counterfeit smile, designed to conceal her feebly quivering insides. But she nearly lost her poise completely upon the entrance of not only her guardian, but the unholy triumvirate of Sir Richard, Lady Blanchard, and her would-be betrothed, Baron Barnesley.

“Sir Richard, Countess, Lord Barnesley,” she nodded coolly to each. “To what do I owe the honor?”

Lord Barnesley advanced with a smile, reaching for the hand she quickly buried in her skirts. His brow twitched above his black eyes but he otherwise ignored the slight to sketch a shallow bow instead. “Must I have a reason to call on my betrothed?”

“My guardian has misrepresented my interests to you, my lord. If you think to return me to London, I fear you have wasted a trip.”

Sir Richard stepped to the fore with eyes bulging and face nearly purple with rage. “Do you know what this is?” he demanded, shaking a sheaf of parchment in her face.

“I have no idea,” Mary replied.

“It is the executed marriage contract with Lord Barnesley—a legal bond that you have broken! He has every right to file suit for breach of contract!”

“There is truly little cause for concern, my dear,” Lord Barnesley interjected in a surprisingly solicitous manner. “I have already assured your guardian that all may still be amicably settled.”

“How kind of you, my lord, but there is nothing more to be done outside the courts of law, for I have already wed Hadley, Lord Blanchard.”

“Have you indeed?” His mouth pursed. “How very unfortunate for me. Then I suppose there is nothing further to do but offer my felicitations to the lucky bridegroom.” He cast a lazy gaze about the room. “Do you expect Lord Hadley soon?”

Mary scrambled for a reply. “Sadly, he has business that will detain him for some time.”

“You think yourself so very clever, don’t you, gel?” Sir Richard slammed his beefy hands on the desk. “But I know for a fact that Hadley is nowhere in England. With his recent windfall, he has absconded for France.”

“Windfall?” Mary repeated. “What are you talking about?”

“Your dowry! That’s what I’m talking about!”

Mary gaped in disbelief.

“No doubt this comes as a painful shock,” Barnesley regarded her with sympathy. “But it appears you have become a victim of fraud.”

“Fraud?” she gave a nervous laugh. “But whatever can you mean?”

“I’m sorry my dear, but your entire marriage was only a sham to allow Lord Hadley access to your funds.”

Mary’s gaze darted from Lord Barnesley to Sir Richard and then to the countess, who failed to hide her smirk as she perused the bookshelves. “I still don’t believe you,” Mary said but her insides quivered with confusion, hurt, and rage.

“Sir Richard?” Barnesley prompted her guardian with an aristocratic inclination of his head and then perched a hip on the desk with a careless air. His overtly languid comportment brought to mind a stalking panther.

“What is this?” Mary asked when her guardian produced another document and dropped it on the desk in front of her.

Barnesley replied, “Hadley’s note of hand to a Westminster money lender.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“It’s a copy of the promissory note for ten thousand pounds that Lord Hadley secured against your dowry before he departed. It’s all there in black and white.”

Mary picked it up with trembling hands to study the signature. She had seen enough of his distinctive handwriting to know that it was Hadley’s. It was also dated the same day as their marriage certificate. Dear God, what did this mean? Had he planned to dupe her for the money all along? If so, why had he returned to her once the ink was dried? It made no sense.

“There is some mistake,” Mary said.

“Yes, your marriage to that scoundrel,” Sir Richard replied. “And a damned expensive one, for now your dowry must be doubled to compensate Barnesley for the loss of your maidenhead.”

“How dare you!” Mary cried, her cheeks instantly flaming with indignation.

“Come now! There’s no need to play the affronted virgin when we know Hadley made you his whore before his desertion.”

“Whore? I am his wife!”

“Is that so? What proof have you?”

Mary unlocked the desk drawer and retrieved her marriage certificate. “Here it is, signed by the Reverend Keith, and two witnesses. It is perfectly legal,” she insisted.

Sir Richard picked it up as if to examine it more closely and then smiling before her eyes, folded it in half, shredded it, and tossed the fragments into the hearth to be instantly consumed by the banked coals. He turned back to her with a smug look. “You will find the page in the register at St. George’s Chapel, Mayfair has suffered a similar fate.”