“He would need persuasive evidence, but if he succeeds, Society will conclude that he is innocent. He would then be free to marry any of the wealthy heiresses who will no doubt be cast before him by their extremely enthusiastic parents.”

8

Elwin Hastings looked across the desk at his bride of two months. He knew himself to be the envy of many men. Dressed in a fashionable green gown, her honey-brown hair piled high in an elaborate coiffure that required the attentions of a hairdresser every morning, Lilly was nothing short of beautiful.

It was all he could do not to pick up the heavy crystal vase on his desk and hurl it at her silly, brainless head.

“Next time you will show me the guest list before you instruct Crompton to send out the invitations,” he commanded. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, of course.” Lilly clamped her hands together very tightly in her lap. Resentment flared in her eyes. “But you told me that Crompton knew who was to be invited to the ball. You said your secretary is aware of precisely how things are to be done in this household when it comes to social affairs and that I am to leave everything in his hands.”

“I will speak with Crompton immediately and inform him that Anthony Stalbridge is to be removed from all future guest lists,” Elwin said.

“I don’t understand why you are so angry that he attended our ball. Mr. Stalbridge is from a very prominent family. He is the nephew of the Earl of Oakbrook. Indeed, there is even speculation that he might someday come into the title because the old earl has never remarried and there is no heir.”

“Like everyone else in that family, Oakbrook is a devoted eccentric.” Elwin controlled his rage with an effort. “Everyone knows that all the old earl cares about these days is his archaeological research. I am well aware of Stalbridge’s bloodlines, Lilly. I repeat, from now on, he is not welcome in this house.”

Lilly burst into tears. “I thought everything went so well last night.”

The tears were more than he could tolerate. He pushed himself to his feet. “That will be all, Lilly.”

She jumped up from the chair, cheeks flushed with anger. “I do not comprehend why you are in such a temper today. Did Mr. Stalbridge do something to annoy you last night? I heard he left early with Lady Ashton’s relative from the country. I forget her name.”

He ground his teeth. Disaster had struck last night, but he was not about to inform the stupid girl of that unpleasant fact. “My reasons for not wanting Stalbridge in this house are none of your concern.”

“That’s what you tell me every time I ask you what is wrong. You’ve been in an absolutely vile mood since our wedding day. It is as if you have turned into a different person. When you asked Grandfather for my hand you were all that was charming and polite. Now everything I say or do is wrong in your opinion. I vow, I do not know how to please you.”

“Leave me, Lilly. I have business to attend to.”

She whirled and rushed to the door, her eagerness to escape plain.

The feeling was mutual, Elwin thought, watching the door close behind her. She was everything he had believed that he wanted in a second wife: young, beautiful, and, most important, an heiress. True, her grandfather had made his fortune in trade, but after a couple of generations had passed one could overlook that sort of family background as long as there was enough money involved.

Nevertheless, Lilly’s empty-headed chatter and her obsession with gossip and clothes were driving him mad. On top of everything else, she was useless in bed. Unlike Victoria, she had no intuitive understanding of his special needs.

There were certainly times when he missed Victoria, he reflected. Fortunately, there was an establishment in Winslow Lane where his particular requirements were understood and catered to in the most satisfactory fashion.

He would give a great deal to be rid of his new wife, but he could not afford to dispense with her just yet. On their wedding day he had discovered to his horror that he had not obtained control of Lilly’s entire inheritance. Her grandfather, the clever bastard, had tied up the remainder of her fortune in such a way that it was doled out in annual stipends.

For all intents and purposes, Elwin thought bitterly, he was being forced to live on an allowance. Furthermore, if anything untoward were to happen to Lilly the yearly payments would be stopped immediately.

It was demeaning. Humiliating. An outright insult. This was what came of allowing men like Lilly’s grandfather to buy their way into Society. Bloody hell. If it weren’t for the damned money, he would never have even considered a woman with Lilly’s background as a potential bride.

This was the second time he’d been forced to marry well beneath his station. First Victoria and now Lilly. And all because of money.

It wasn’t right that a man of his breeding should be forced to stoop so low. A white-hot rage seared through him. He suddenly realized his hand had closed around a heavy silver paperweight. He hurled it against the wall. It struck the blue velvet drapes with a soft thud and tumbled onto the carpet.

He had needed money very badly this past year. Things had started to go wrong almost at once after Victoria died. It was certainly fortunate for him that Society did not condemn a man to three years of mourning as it did widows. Widowers were expected to remarry, the sooner the better. Although he’d had no particular desire to acquire another wife, it had not taken him long to realize that a financially sound marriage was his only hope of remaining solvent.

In the months following Victoria’s plunge into the river he had suffered several serious financial reverses. The death of Phillip Grantley two weeks ago had come as a devastating shock. Among other things, he had depended on Grantley to collect the blackmail money in an anonymous, untraceable manner. The blackmail scheme was the only one of his business arrangements that had continued to work properly after Victoria’s demise.

More crucially, it was Grantley who had concocted the plan for the new investment consortium that was his only hope of freeing himself from Lilly and her stingy grandfather.

Grantley’s supposed suicide had panicked him for several reasons. The fear that one of the blackmail victims had discovered the identity of the agent who collected the payments and had taken lethal action had badly rattled his nerves. Victoria had insisted that they select victims who were wealthy, elderly, and frail. It was difficult to imagine any of them tracking Grantley down, let alone killing him, but the possibility that one of them had done just that could not be ignored. What if that same individual had also learned that he, Hastings, was the person behind the scheme? It was that fear that had caused him to hire the two guards.

Luckily, there had been no further indications that he was in danger. Indeed, in the past few days he had begun to believe that he had overreacted. Perhaps his suspicions and fears were groundless. Maybe Grantley really had taken his own life. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, because the investment consortium was fully formed and ready to be launched.

He had even been thinking of dismissing Quinby and Royce, but the disaster last night had changed everything. The fear had returned to chew on his vitals. Much as he disliked having the guards constantly hovering, they were necessary for his peace of mind, if nothing else.

He consoled himself with the thought that when the profits from his new investment venture began to pour in he would at least be able to rid himself of his irritating bride. He wondered if the suicide of a second wife would raise too many eyebrows in the Polite World. Perhaps an accident this time. But first he had to deal with the current catastrophe.

He reached for one of the velvet bell pulls hanging on the wall behind his desk and yanked hard, twice. Quinby and Royce appeared immediately.

He looked at Quinby first. It had been evident from the outset that he was the more intelligent of the two guards. He was also the most dangerous and the most annoying.

“Tell me again what happened in the hall outside my bedroom last night, Quinby.”

“I already gave you a full report, Mr. Hastings.” Quinby raised one shoulder in a careless shrug. “Nothing more to add.”

Elwin clamped down on another wave of rage. Quinby’s attitude was infuriating. He was rarely overtly insolent or disrespectful, but the lack of deference for his betters was always there, just under the surface. It was obvious that he had been born into the lower classes. He did a remarkably good job of concealing the accents of the street, but they were there, nonetheless, in his speech. That gold-and-onyx ring on his finger was clearly expensive—a gentleman’s ring—but the bastard worked for a crime lord. How did he dare to consider himself the equal of a true gentleman?

Royce, on the other hand, hulking and dim-witted, at least displayed proper respect for those born into a higher station.

If he had any choice in the matter he would dismiss Quinby in a heartbeat, Elwin thought. But that was the problem, of course. He did not have a choice. He required protection, and, according to Clement Corvus, Quinby was the best in that line. Elwin believed it. One look at Quinby’s eyes told you that he was cold to the bone.

“Go through your tale again,” Elwin ordered evenly.

“I was doing my usual rounds,” Quinby said, sounding bored. “Keeping an eye on the interior of the house while Royce watched the gardens. I finished the top floor and went down the back staircase to the floor where the master bedrooms are located. There was a lady and a gentleman in the hall. They were kissing.”