Chapter Twenty-Four
The owner of the pawnshop, a portly man in his late fifties, nodded his head in greeting to her, a look of recognition passing across his face.
She hated that he recognized who she was, and only hoped it was from her previous visit and not that he knew she was the Viscountess Walsham.
She didn’t want word of this getting back to Laurence, nor did she want people thinking that he was hard up—that he had to send his wife to a pawnshop in order to fill his coffers.
“Good morning,” she said, feeling sick to her stomach at even being here. Again. She had sworn last time there would be no repeat, and yet here she was, doing what Oliver had told her to. As always.
“Do you have another fine piece of jewelry for me, my lady?” he asked in a greasy voice.
He’s just assuming you have a title, she told herself. He can’t know for sure.
“What will you give me for this?” she asked, pulling the jeweled brooch out from her reticule. His greedy eyes lit up at the sight of it.
“Five hundred pounds,” he said, reaching for it.
She pulled it back, out of his reach. “It is worth much more than that.” In truth, she had no idea how much it was worth, but she had to assume he was trying to get away with offering less than its true value.
And besides, what he was offering wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy Oliver.
And she did not wish to pawn anything else.
“I suppose I could stretch to eight hundred.”
“One thousand,” Anastasia insisted, trying to force her voice not to shake. She hated this whole interaction. But it was necessary. It still wouldn’t be enough to get rid of Oliver, but at least she would be halfway.
He tilted his head from one side to the next, and then nodded. “Very well. You drive a hard bargain, Lady…”
She ignored the clear hint for her to give her name and handed the brooch over, finding it hard to let it go into his eager hands. “And the other piece I brought in is still here, yes?”
He nodded. “Yes, I’m a man of my word. You have four weeks from the date you brought it in to buy it back, before it goes on general sale.”
Anastasia nodded. She had no idea how she would get the money together to buy it back in that time—especially with Oliver asking for more money, which would wipe out her pin money as well as what she had gotten for the pawned brooch. But she had to try. Maybe she could put all this right…
She wasn’t sure she could convince herself that Oliver would not ask for money again. But she could be stronger. Say no this time. Stand up to him. She was an adult now. A married woman. She did not need to give in to her brother’s every demand.
She shoved the money into her reticule and left the shop as quickly as she could, hoping never to have need to pawn anything again.
She was in such a hurry that she did not look where she was going as she exited, and she ran straight into a man on the other side of the door.
“Goodness me, I’m so sorry,” she said, hastily picking up her reticule, which she had dropped, and straightening herself up.
Her blood turned cold in her veins as she saw the man into whom she had walked.
He gave her a leering smile, and then straightened his waistcoat. “No need to apologize, Lady Walsham. No harm done.”
“I am pleased to hear that, Lord Brett,” Anastasia said through gritted teeth.
“I must say, I’m surprised to see you at this end of town. Is the viscount happy with his wife being out, alone, in such a district?”
A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm her. He was going to ruin it all. He was going to tell Laurence, and then her husband would hate her, and everything they’d been building would be ruined.
“I had not realized I had wandered so far downtown. Forgive me, Lord Brett, but I must be leaving.” Perhaps she could tell Laurence where she had been before Lord Brett had a chance to. She could think of an excuse and make everything all right.
But as she turned to walk away, Lord Brett reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Not so fast, Lady Walsham. It is rather fortuitous that I’ve run into you here, for I believe your brother has been avoiding me.”
Anastasia swallowed and looked around for someone to help her—but no one looked in her direction. They kept their eyes to the ground, clearly wanting to mind their own business.
“I no longer live with my brother, so I do not know—”
His grip on her wrist tightened, and she sucked in her breath, wondering whether he would leave a bruise.
“Your brother owes me.”
Anastasia nodded. She did not know what else to do.
“He was going to pay me with a virgin bride—but as you know, that did not go to plan.”
Anastasia was afraid that if she opened her mouth she would throw up, and so she kept silent, hoping he merely meant her to pass some message on to Oliver, and would soon let her go.
“And now he has not stuck to his word. I am a fair man, so I do not expect to be treated like this. You will tell him—I will have what I’m owed by the end of the month.”
Anastasia nodded, desperate to get away from him.
“And if I do not…well, I will take what is owed. In any form I can.”
He gave her a look that made fear and dread fill her soul. And then he let go.
For a moment she stood there, too stunned to move. And then she half-walked, half-ran to the street where she had left her maid and the carriage.