Page 8 of The Baron Takes a Bet
Holly tried not to appear affected, even though it wasn’t a terribly flattering question.
“John was aware of my family’s misfortunes and wanted to help. But his charity was too akin to pity and I couldn’t bear it. Until the last time he asked.”
“What changed?”
Holly sighed, shifting uncomfortably beneath his questioning.
“He said it was his dying wish. I couldn’t refuse that,” she explained. The memory of her dear friend, lying on his back in his bed chambers, resurfaced in her mind. He had been so frail, and it had broken her heart when he begged her. “I could rarely deny him anything, really, but in his last days, his only concern was for my siblings and myself and I couldn’t… I didn’t want him to be cross with me.” She sniffled, giving a half-hearted laugh. “It was a foolish reason, I suppose.”
A wayward tear rolled down her cheek, and she was mortified to have exposed her emotions so blatantly. When a handkerchief appeared in her blurry vision, she glanced up and saw the concern in his hazel eyes. She took it and dabbed her cheeks quickly before handing it back to him.
“That makes sense enough,” he said gently, tucking the handkerchief back into his pocket as he turned to Mr. Armstrong. “But I’m still confused about why he would set up a proxy marriage.”
Holly faced the lawyer as well, who suddenly appeared slightly red beneath the collar of his shirt.
“I don’t understand it either,” she said. “John swore that as his widow, I would be entitled to certain protections. There was certainly no need to marry me to his nephew.”
“Well, who knows why great men do anything?” Mr. Armstrong asked, a thin sheen of perspiration appearing at his hairline. “Now, on to finances. I believe the former baron promised to fully restore Felton Manor, buy back the manor’s livestock, allot you an annual allowance of…” The lawyer scanned the paper in from of him. “…five thousand pounds—”
“Five thousand pounds yearly?” Lord Bairnsdale asked, his brow raised with surprise.
Mr. Armstrong nodded before continuing.
“—as well as finishing paying for Mr. Smyth’s tuition to Eton, sponsoring Miss Smyth’s season, and paying off the remainder of your family’s debts. But as you are not a widow but rather currently the baroness, your access to the estate’s accounts will be at the discretion of your husband.”
The word husband hung in the air like a guillotine and the realization that she was now at the mercy of this man made Holly’s head swirl. How could John have done this?
“Um,” Holly started, feeling suddenly dizzy.
“But there are several items at Bairnsdale Terrace that he had wanted the baroness to have, exclusively,” the lawyer continued. “The cat, for example.”
“The what?” Lord Bairnsdale asked, frowning.
Ignoring the question, Mr. Armstrong went on. “But your uncle was very insistent that you retain his journals, my lord. He wished that you would read them once, and then destroy them. I was instructed to take them with me to London last time I was here, and I have placed them at Bairnsdale Terrace.”
“Why would he want me to destroy them?”
But the lawyer didn’t answer. Instead, he faced Holly.
“Have I covered all the points that were discussed with you in the original agreement, my lady?”
A bolt of shame coursed through her as the new baron watched her. Yes, John had promised her that Felton Manor would be restored. The roof had nearly collapsed last spring under the weight of an oak tree that had fallen on it, making the entire third floor uninhabitable. The stables had needed to be re-established for nearly a decade.
There were also her brother’s increasing debts that Holly suspected were coming from his inexperience at the faro tables and the need to set her sister up for a remarkable season. Holly had thought all of this would be taken care of by John’s estate, as he had promised, but now she was at a loss. She onlywanted to restore Felton Manor and fund her sister’s season. Then, once Katrina was married and Jasper was handed a viable, working farm to provide him an income, she could settle quietly somewhere, knowing that she had done her best to see that her siblings were leading happy, stable lives.
What shereallywanted was to go back to her peaceful existence before her mother’s death and before she assumed all the responsibilities that kept her awake at night. But that was an impossible wish. The best she could hope for was to find a way to live peacefully—and the only way she could do that was by relying on herself and herself alone.
She felt her cheeks warm beneath the heavy gaze of Lord Bairnsdale. She turned her attention to the lawyer.
“Yes, Mr. Armstrong.”
“Yes indeed,” the lawyer said. “And of course, as the baroness, you are entitled to a great deal more than you would be if you were merely a widow.”
Holly’s eyes widened. Was that why John had arranged a proxy marriage? So that she had more justification to use his coffers? Had he not trusted his nephew to take care of her and to follow through on the promises John had made?
A long sigh sounded beside her.
“Ah,” Lord Bairnsdale said. “I see.”
