Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
After everything that had occurred in the past days, May desperately needed to clear her head. When she left for London in the morning, she had no destination in mind, but her legs brought her to the one place that plagued her most on their own accord.
The pawnshop smelled of tobacco and stale air.
The thought of her mother’s precious necklace spending another minute in its hold had tainted her waking hours for far too long.
But that time was coming to an end. Elias was starting to realize Lord Spencer’s true devotion.
And that would complete May’s task, fulfilling the terms of their agreement, and securing the remainder of her payment.
He would not go back on his promise, would he?
No. That was not the man she’d grown to know, to… care for.
May squeezed her eyes shut, as if chasing away the reality of everything Elias was to her. Right now, she needed him to just be His Grace, the magnanimous duke, fulfilling their contract so that she could recover her one remaining sliver of home.
Not that she could regain possession of it today, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d come here to stare. The tourmaline stones were set in gold. The sight always gave her clarity. She could use that today.
What should I do, Mother?
She trailed her hand across the glassed display only to come to a stop as the necklace’s spot was laid bare, nothing beneath but an impression upon the green velvet backing. A pang of anxiety swept through her body as she looked at the clerk who tended the counter.
“I beg your pardon, may I see the tourmaline necklace that’s reserved under May Carr?”
The boy roused himself from idleness with a deep sigh before lazily flopping through his book of records.
“Sorry, miss, that one’s reserved.”
“Yes,” May tried to ignore her building anxiety, “Just as I said. Under May Carr. That is me.”
“Nay, miss. Says reserved under Lord Baxter ‘ere. Conditional on the last payment.”
Cold dread seized May. “That cannot be. Please, call the owner. Mr. Banks!”
Despite the clerk’s protestations, she kept calling until Mr. Banks emerged from the back at last, popping a magnifying glass out of his eye as he came.
“What’s all this, then?”
“That is precisely what I wish to know, Mr. Banks. What connection does Lord Baxter have with the necklace I am paying off?”
“He can pay, that’s what. Double what you can, and quicker, too.”
“You cannot do that, Mr. Banks.” May fished out the promissory note and slammed it down onto the display. “We’ve had an agreement.”
“Aye, that we had.” The man leaned over it, inspecting it with a grunt. Then, quicker than she’d ever seen him move before, the man had ripped the paper in half, then in quarters—
She desperately clutched at the fragments, clawing back the one mangled quarter bearing her own signature as Mr. Banks swiped the rest into his pocket.
Her hope—her only inheritance—her mother vanished at a moment’s notice with the swipe of a cruel man’s hand.
“Lord Baxter is no one I can afford to offend, not for such a paltry sum. It is unfortunate enough, but you, girlie…” He eyed her and her rescued piece of paper for a moment, as if considering whether he wanted to fight for it, then deciding against it.
“Aye, I’ll have to offend ye. Now, leave.
Ain’t no point hanging about here unless you’ve means to overbid him. ”
“You can’t...” May muttered weakly.
“’Tis done.” The shopkeeper’s eyes were flinty. “No use hanging about. His Lordship’s man will fetch the trinket on the morrow. Until then, it is kept nowhere you can reach, so don’t get no ideas.”
May stumbled back with salt on her lips.
What a fool she’d been. This was London’s true face.
Just mere weeks in the duke’s estate lulled her into utter complacency.
Now, she’d gone and seen her only recourse ripped to pieces.
Did she truly think she could forget about the realities of survival forever?
She was no lady.
Reality did not knock; it shattered the very walls that mended her heart, extracting a price she could never pay.
May staggered out the door and let London swallow her whole.
The possibility that Lord Spencer was not an opportunist had crossed Elias’s mind before, but he had never entertained it in earnest. As his sister’s only guardian, his role was to protect their little family. He could not afford to fall for an act.
But as he moved to sit opposite the man who’d somehow managed to charm Hannah, Elias couldn’t help but consider May’s words.
May, whom he had to remind himself, Elias had only known for weeks, not months.
Yet despite all the cards she held close, Lady May continued to impress him with her keen understanding of the things and people around her.
She’d earned his trust. Elias supposed he ought to offer the same chance to the man his sister chose.
Or at least converse with the man, before Elias nailed that opportunity shut entirely with his father’s methods. But first… converse.
If he could only find the right words.
“Brandy?” He moved to the parlor’s liquor cabinet before drawing out a bottle. Sometimes inspiration came in liquid form.
“Please.”
Elias poured Lord Spencer a glass to match his own and leaned against his desk, silently observing him with knitted brows.
The man drank calmly, nary a twitch that might betray an anxious state of mind.
Come to think of it, not once had he shown any discomfort in Elias’s company.
Neither Hannah’s trust in Elias nor his position as the duke seemed to daunt the man. What remarkable composure.
Then again, Lord Spencer was a military man until recent times. Who better suited to a good poker face than a colonel distinguished for his war effort by the king himself?
“Good stuff.”
“Indeed. It is easy to get used to the finer things in life, is it not?”
Lord Spencer met his scrutiny head-on. “Would you like to share why I am here, Your Grace, or would you rather go on pretending?”
“I cannot conceive of your meaning.”
“Let us not beat around the bush. You know my story.”
Though Elias despised gossip, the tale got repeated in the ton so often that it was impossible to avoid.
“Very well. You caused quite a stir after your sudden naming as Lord Spencer’s true-born son and heir. I cannot help but feel apprehensive.”
After years and years of military service, the man before him was awarded a noble title for his achievements.
It took the king’s acknowledgment to convince the old Lord Spencer to claim his maid’s son as his one true descendant.
Rumor was that the old curmudgeon sent for his attorneys from his deathbed, reluctant until the end to do something so common as to let his “bastard” inherit.
Not that there was much of a fortune still languishing in his dusty coffers, from what Elias had gathered.
“I am surprised it took you this long to ask. Yes, I am Lord Spencer now, but I have always been my mother’s son,” he continued, ignoring Elias’s raised eyebrow. “I will not deny my origins. Nor am I under the illusion that you won’t hold it against me.”
“You do not seem to think much of me.”
Lord Spencer shrugged. “People of your station are predisposed to assume the worst. Of course, there are… exceptions.” His features softened.
“Lady Hannah is—”
“Lady Hannah is an extraordinary woman.”
“You might speak like you know my sister, Lord Spencer, but I am not so easily convinced. My sister is a romantic, a gentle soul, and easily deceived. You mean to take her away into the North and deprive her of the respectable society she cherishes. While she might be shortsighted, I am far less inclined to be so.”
Lord Spencer regarded him with an odd look. “The Lady Hannah I know is kind and gentle, indeed. Yet she finds little joy in society, which was quite apparent at the last function. Whatever worries you have, do you truly think she did not consider it herself?”
“My sister can be overly optimistic. I won’t let her make a mistake that would cost her entire life.”
“She is also stubborn and proud.” Lord Spencer held fast against the expression of utter incredulity that Elias had trouble holding back.
“Which is why I am quite surprised you find yourself at liberty to make choices for her. I have learned firsthand that any such notions were utterly futile. Believe me, if she did not get her way, I would not be here, speaking with you right now. Let me add this, Your Grace. I intend to let her have her way so long as I am by her side.”
Why, he ought to challenge the upstart to a duel for the nerve.
His sister was, indeed, prideful and stubborn when the occasion called for it.
But who was he to speak? Elias slowly lowered his glass to the table, every moment an internal battle.
The best that Elias could do for Hannah was to let this man leave the room, still breathing.
“You show up here, thick as thieves, without even putting in the least bit of effort to do things by the book. You are rushing into this union. Is it because you are afraid that you will lose her? If you were honorable, you would have sought my approval right away. Instead, all you do is make excuses. Give me one reason not to call you out.”
A muscle flexed in Spencer’s jaw. Good. This was not a game.