Chapter Two
May 21, 1815
Prentice House
Hanover Square
Mayfair, London
“I don’t give two braces for what you want, Maddie. You will marry the Marquess of Inglehart in a week and that’s the end of it.”
Miss Madeline Hardesty narrowed her eyes. It wasn’t always like this with her brother. When their parents died, the responsibility of the estate and title was passed to him, and since he’d never matured enough to pilot himself through life, he certainly wasn’t equipped to take up the mantel of Viscount Prentice.
Or anything else that required attention and clarity instead of selfishness and instant gratification.
“What about my hopes, my dreams? What about my heart?”
There was a time when she had thought she would have been married by now, had even planned for it, but those hopes had been dashed by the bloody war that continued to rage onward. Now that she was eight and twenty, Madeline didn’t know if she wanted to extend her heart to someone a second time.
But she did know that she didn’t wish to marry a man she didn’t know let alone had only met a few times and certainly didn’t trust or even love.
Richard came toward her while shoving a hand through his hair. “I don’t care about any of that. In the event that you’ve forgotten, you are my sister, and since I’m the head of our family now, it is my responsibility to see your future cared for. While your purpose is to make an advantageous marriage to benefit me and the family coffers.”
For one moment there she might have thought he actually cared about her. Then the moment passed, and he continued to show her his selfish side. “You love money more than me.” It wasn’t a question.
“In this instance, yes.” He continued to pace through the drawing room, apparently oblivious to the lovely spring day occurring just outside the windows, which had been thrown open to catch the floral-scented breeze.
“There is more to life than coin.”
At least that was what she’d wanted to think, to believe in. All her life, Madeline had been talented when it came to singing. When her mother had been alive, she’d engaged tutors and music masters to encourage that skill. As Madeline grew older, she had dreams of being an opera singer or at least some sort of professional singer, especially after her fiancé perished. There was nothing else left for her in life, and if she were to be a spinster, she might as well occupy her time with singing and having an income from it.
Singing made her happy and helped her to forget the losses she’d had in her life, but now that her brother was the viscount, he had blocked those dreams every single time. Singing was her ticket to freedom, she still would bet on that, but how when he would force her into an unwanted marriage that would push that freedom farther away?
“More to life than coin? What sort of poppycock is that, hmm?” Annoyance threaded heavily through his voice as she drifted toward the window. He’d developed quite the temper since coming into the title, and she was wary of that, for the scar on her right cheek had come at his hand. “Women are here to marry off, reproduce, and keep a house. There is nothing else.”
“As if we are cattle, with the exception of keeping a house. Since livestock don’t do such things, they have more freedom than I.” Tears filled her eyes. “I was engaged before, to a man I loved. It has barely been three years, and I still carry his memory in my heart. Making me marry Inglehart is cruel. I don’t love the marquess, don’t even like him. He’s a horrible man if one listens to society gossip.”
She’d met Gordon at a rout a few weeks before he went off to war. There had been a connection between them, as if their souls had recognized each other, so when he asked for her hand, she immediately accepted. Surely it was fate that had brought them together.
For three years, they wrote letters back and forth, came to know every little thing about each other. He came back to London once on leave, and they met again at a ball where she danced away the night with him. Of course, she knew she loved him and there was plenty of time in the years to come to know him even better.
By the time his commission was nearing expiration, they had already set a wedding date, which would occur a month after he returned to London. They would go to Brighton for their wedding trip, then tour the coast before coming back to start their wedded lives together, for he intended to work in a counting house since he was good with numbers. The dear man wanted to buy them a cozy cottage in Surrey or perhaps rent a modest townhouse in London, where they would have started a family and spend the rest of their lives together.
But then, in the last battle he entered, three days before he was due to come home for good, he was killed by cannon fire, he and six of the men he was with. There wasn’t much of a body to send home for burial, so he and his friends were buried in a common grave in Portugal, alone and forgotten.
Except for the people who loved them.
“Then stop listening to gossip.” Her brother’s waspish tone wrenched her from the bittersweet musings. “I don’t care about your reservations or your melancholy, Maddie. Love is for children and fairy tales. It’s not real and just an excuse.” He came to a stop near her position. “You are going to marry the marquess next week and that’s final.”
“But—”
“No. I will not change my mind.” He crossed his arms at his chest. “The only good thing about your prior engagement was that it knocked the stupidity of that old crush out of your head. I had doubts as to whether you would ever behave logically after that summer. Now, finally, after those silly schoolgirl fancies and dreaming of marrying a man far below you in society, you’ll make me proud when you wed Inglehart.”
“Odd that me wedding a blackheart will make you proud.” Then she frowned as the rest of his words sank into her brain. “What crush are you referring to?”
“The one you had for Ravenhurst, or rather the Earl of Quinnbury as he was known back then. His parents owned the estate that shared the southern border with Papa’s land in Essex.”
“Before you sold our property?” But she couldn’t remain arch for heat seeped into her cheeks as the remembrance of that young man came back to her. She hadn’t thought of him in years. “It was childish, I know, but then I was exactly that—a child who was infatuated with a neighbor.” In fact, Madeline had been the age of eight when Ravenhurst had been two and twenty and the Earl of Quinnberry at the time. Mercy, but she’d thought she’d loved him in her naivete and young girl dreams, and for years she’d suffered through that crush.
Richard scoffed. “Ravenhurst is a bounder, as I’m sure you know by now. Even if you hadn’t been engaged to Captain Higgley, I would have forbidden you from pursuing him .”
She never understood why her brother hated Alexander, but then, it didn’t matter. “As if I would have pursued him. That’s not how society works, and I’m not that forward.”
Or she wasn’t back then.
Now? Perhaps she bordered on desperate and wanted to make her own future, but she’d never told her brother about the treasure she received from her mother shortly before she died. Her mother had been well aware of Richard’s tendencies for gambling and whores, so she swore Madeline to secrecy regarding the inheritance of the ruby, for her mother wished her to follow her dreams, because she’d said women should have that freedom too.
“Well, Ravenhurst is irrelevant. He’s been missing for years. God only knows where he’s got off to, and besides, there have been rumors he’s a harsh hard man.”
Madeline frowned. “How would you know?”
He shrugged. “Gossip is the heart of the beau monde .”
If anyone knew, Richard would, since he landed in it regularly. “But why is it so important that I marry the marquess?”
“Inglehart bought up all my vowels and he doesn’t care I don’t have a dowry on you. How many men would do that?”
Though she wasn’t aware of how deeply Richard was in debt, it had to be extraordinary since he’d sold the country estate in Essex this past year. Madeline crossed her arms at her chest. “That’s not a good enough reason. There must be more to it than that.” When he didn’t answer, she frowned. “You’ve always been into questionable endeavors and have fallen victim to your vices. Why should I have to sacrifice myself for any of them?”
For the first time, a trace of fear went through his expression. “There are things you don’t know…”
“Then tell me. Is it something to do with Papa?”
Their parents had died together in a carriage accident one rainy, foggy night as they were returning from a society event a few months after she lost her fiancé. Though her father had left them decently off, her brother couldn’t leave off with gambling and had quickly gone through whatever was left in their coffers. No doubt he’d start selling off paintings and other things from the London townhouse soon.
“Not directly.” He shifted his gaze to something over her left shoulder. “Suffice it to say Inglehart knows a secret about me that if it’s leaked into the beau monde , your reputation and mine will be damaged beyond measure.” he finally said in a whisper.
“…and we don’t have a country estate in which to flee.”
He nodded. “That’s some of it, yes. I could sell the townhouse, that is if anyone would do business with me after said news got out.”
This was a waste of time, and her patience had evaporated with him. “What’s the secret?” Gladder than ever that she had a treasure which would give her the freedom she craved, Madeline allowed hot anger to bubble up in her chest.
“I can’t.” Richard turned away from her so she couldn’t see his expression.
The anger multiplied in her person. “What. Is. The. Secret? If I’m to sacrifice myself on the altar of sibling love, I want to know why.” A strong swath of anger and annoyance went through her. He’d always left her to the wolves since their parents died. Always thinking about himself and didn’t care about anything else. “Tell me now.”
It could be any of his vices: gambling, women, rich foods, expensive clothing, dreadful company, which was how he came to know the marquess, who apparently had a worse reputation than the Duke of Ravenhurst. Allegedly. What else was more horrid than those things?
“I…” Ruddy color appeared on his neck above his cravat as well as on his cheeks as he turned to face her. “I…”
Hesitation wasn’t like him, and that was concerning. “Tell me, you bloody fool!” Rarely did she let her temper fly, but he’d annoyed her beyond measure, mucked up their lives and she had a feeling it was too late to correct.
He blew out a breath. “I’ve made a decent amount of coin by moving human cargo.”
“What?” The urge to retch took hold. “Do you mean slaves to America?”
“Some.” The word sounded wrenched from his throat. “Very lucrative business that, but the great bulk of my money has come from procuring and shipping, ah…” He cleared his throat. “Young boys and girls, ages ten through probably fifteen.”
Of course, with every word, his actions had grown worse. “For domestic help?” She let a hand drift to her throat, perhaps to keep from screaming in frustration.
“Sometimes, but mostly to countries abroad, for rich men whose sexual interests run to that sort of predilection.”
Oh, dear God.
Madeline sat abruptly down on a nearby chair. “Please tell me that’s a lie to frighten me.”
“I can’t.”
Her throat felt far too restricted. “Were you responsible for snatching these children, too?” No wonder he wanted to keep it a secret.
“At times.” Again, he glanced away. “During others, I had a couple of partners. We were given a set amount of coin per head and collected once they were put on a ship.”
Her stomach heaved. “I can’t believe this. You are trafficking human cargo, Richard! For depraved purposes and you knew that ahead of time. How could you?” Her voice rose with each statement.
“Shut up!” He wheeled about, drew back a hand, and slapped her cheek. Hard.
“Ow!” Tears sprang into Madeline’s eyes. This wasn’t the first time he had been violent toward her, but she’d thought he might have grown out of it. “Do you think this makes what you’ve done better?” Tears fell to her heated cheeks. She tried to ignore the pain. “You’re just as bad as the marquess. Hell, I’m surprised he’s not in the business with you.”
“Why should he be? He makes more coin blackmailing men like me than not.”
In that moment, she despised her brother. “You are despicable.”
“You know nothing about what drives me.” When he raised a hand as if to hit her again, she braced herself for the blow, but then he backed away. “It was the only way to raise cash and capital for various ventures in the hopes of filling our coffers again.”
“But you failed at it!”
“I’m not a businessman!”
Tension brewed between them. “You could be if you stopped throwing yourself away on your vices!”
“No.” He shook his head as shadows haunted his eyes. “I’m not strong like you or Mama.”
“Oh, that’s quite evident. You are a coward, Richard, but I can see how this will ruin us both, and quite frankly, I feel sorry for you. When you have had ample opportunities and time to be better, you’ve chosen the horrible path, the questionable answers, the shadowy course.” She shook her head. “What happened to you? When you were a younger man, you weren’t like this.”
“Life is more… difficult than I’d anticipated after being handed the title so abruptly.” When he met her gaze, panic and sadness lurked there. “I don’t know how Papa did it. He never let on how much the title demanded or how hard it was on him, trying to make ends meet with only so much income from the estate and investments coming in.”
“Papa was a unique man, a proud man, as well as an intelligent one.” And her brother was nothing like him. “But he would never allow himself to fall into bed with the people that you have. He would have been appalled to learn what you’ve done, all in the name of money.”
“No doubt he would have tossed me out on my arse.”
“Yet you have no desire to be better, and you’re forcing me to do something I don’t wish to do because you mucked up your life.” She pressed her hand to her still warm and stinging cheek then traced the jagged scar there that he’d given her a little over a year ago. “You have landed in dire straits indeed.”
“Which is why I need your help.” Hope flitted through his expression. “Will you marry the marquess?”
Though she wanted to rage against the circumstances, there was very little recourse. Tamping on the urge to vomit, Madeline nodded. “You are my only remaining family. Of course, I will do this for you even if you would never sacrifice yourself for me .” After everything, she still loved him, and he was all she had left of her parents. Perhaps one day he could be reformed.
“It is the way of the world, I’m afraid.” Yet he could barely contain his grin.
Bastard.
She snorted. “For men, who can have whatever they want while women are bartered, traded, and sold like a commodity or thing to be owned. Make no mistake, Richard, you are a nodcock and a disappointment. For me, I would like to hope you’ll make better choices in the future, for this may just be your last chance.” Quickly, she stood up from the chair. “Now, if you will excuse me? I’d better put together a trunk or a trousseau before you spend the remainder of the funds available to you. At least if I’m to do this, I wish to look as if I’m excited to be wed.”
By no means would she tell him about the financial boon her mother had given her in secret. Even now, no one knew about it, despite multiple casting guesses.
When she made to move around him, Richard stopped her by the upper arm. “I’ll oversee the packing of your things.”
That provoked a frown from her. “Why?”
His eyes were hard. All trace of earlier emotions had vanished. “I don’t want you taking something that doesn’t belong to you.”
“What?” She couldn’t help but gawk at him. “What does that mean?” Had he gotten wind of her inheritance and wanted to find it before she left?
“Everything you have is mine by rights as the heir. You’re welcome to your clothing, however. The rest I’ll go through before it’s packed.”
“At least you’re consistent.” She wrenched her arm from his hold. “This is the last favor you’ll have from me. I’m done with the horrible way you fund your lifestyle, done with knowing how you con your way through the ton , and try to placate people with poor excuses. I love you, Richard, but it is beyond the pale to ask this of me.”
“I’m not asking.”
“No, you’re demanding, and that makes it worse.” What did it say about her to know she would do this for him, who was no better than the marquess? Tears unexpectedly jumped into her eyes. “I expected at least some love from you, since you’re my brother.”
“Circumstances don’t allow for such emotions, and I’d rather not be killed for those.”
Why am I so weak just because he’s family?
Out of the pan and into the fire as the saying went. Sure, she could cry and gnash her teeth and rail at the heavens due to what fate had handed her, but that wasn’t becoming and quite a waste of time. Instead, she would bide her time knowing she had the security to fund her freedom, and when an opportunity presented itself, she would take it.
Richard, as well as Inglehart, could go to the devil. Perhaps they could both take comfort in the company. And if she survived the ordeal of her forced marriage? Well, she would make certain she disappeared while finally pursuing exactly what she wanted.
Familial bonds be damned.