Page 89 of Too Scot to Handle
He paused, as a vicar might, to lock gazes with the object of his discourse. Miss Anwen was agitated, which brought out the color in her cheeks rather unappealingly.
“Please be brief, Mr. Montague. The sooner I speak with the children, the more likely they are to recall something useful.”
She was trying to make some obscure, righteous point. Logical discourse was beyond most females, though they had all the animal cunning in the world when intent on procuring a new bonnet.
“The orphanage is doomed,” Win said. “The infusion of cash effected by your little card party is a temporary measure, and merely perpetrates the cruelty of a false dawn on those who’ve known enough hardship. The money will run out, the expenses will never end. Trust me on this, for my grasp of economics is thorough. Even if the money were abundant, scandal will be the ruin of this institution and of Lord Colin.”
Win would see personally to that last part.
“I will not be made to listen to this.” She started for the door on a righteous swish of skirts, but Win had longer legs and a superior male brain. He beat her to the door and held it closed by the simple expedient of leaning on it.
“I wish you didn’t have to hear what I must say,” Win replied. “But consider the facts. Lord Colin becomes associated with the orphanage, and young John goes badly astray. A few weeks later, our estimable Mr. Hitchings is making noises about stepping down, and we’ve liquidated valuable assets such as any respectable organization knows are necessary to maintain its dignity.”
“Because that rattletrap coach and nasty team were sold?” she said, hands going to her hips. “And Lord Colin hadn’t been officially appointed to the board when John faltered.”
“You and I know that timing, and you and I know the sale of the coach was a desperate measure, but to those looking on from the outside, appearances outweigh facts. A house is only worth what its equipage is worth, and John stole from an upstanding citizen. None of that matters now, because Lord Colin is very likely to be arrested for stealing a significant amount of cash.”
She crossed her arms and strode across the room as if somebody had opened a privy door upwind.
Win had the fleeting thought that he should have started the day chewing a deal of parsley—Rosalyn was a great advocate of parsley—but the thought of fresh greenery aggravated his already troubled digestion.
“You had more motive and opportunity to steal than anybody,” Miss Anwen retorted. “Why aren’t you worried about being arrested?”
He guffawed, which was terribly ungentlemanly of him. “Because I didn’t take the money, of course, and because I am the son of a much respected, titled family, English to the bone, a marvel of good breeding, and esteemed by all. MacHugh is a Scottish upstart, to the distillery born, for God’s sake, and I doubt very much he can account for his whereabouts between his departure from the premises last night and his arrival here this morning. I can.”
Well, no he couldn’t, but doubtless Twilly and Pointy would accommodate that oversight.
“Where were you?”
She was such an innocent.
“A gentleman wouldn’t say in the presence of a lady, much less in the presence of his intended.”
Her expression underwent a curious progression, from indignant, to astonished, to blank. “I am not your intended.”
“I can rectify that with a simple call on your uncle, and before you sputter about tender sentiments and other impracticalities, allow me to explain your situation to you. If you agree to accept my proposal, then I will delay speaking to the authorities while we conduct a more thorough search of the premises. Lord Colin will have time to make an expedient trip north, though he’ll be regrettably unwelcome in England for the rest of his days.”
Miss Anwen turned her back on Win, probably to hide tears. The ladies were prone to such histrionics. Rosalyn could cry over Lady Dremel’s missing fan and usually to very good effect.
“Your settlements,” Win went on, “will be discreetly modified to replace the funds missing from the orphanage’s exchequer, in due course. The Windham family bears some responsibility for the entire situation, after all. But for their connection to MacHugh’s ducal brother, your head would never have been turned, MacHugh would never have become involved, and we’d all have been spared that wretched card party.”
The future Mrs. Winthrop Montague turned to face him, not a trace of a tear to be seen. If Win had to guess, he’d say she was revising her opinion of Lord Colin, and the rubbishing mushroom had best be making plans to leave the country.
“Are you finished, Mr. Montague? A fortune has gone missing, and while my future concerns me, the future of the children concerns me more.”
“Their future concerns me as well, though you should know, the condition of this building is unacceptable. The children aren’t safe here, from what I can see. Something must be done and soon. Perhaps you’d like to offer your opinion on that topic?”
She wrapped her arms around her middle. Some ladies did that because it emphasized their bosoms, but Miss Anwen was so modestly attired, a man was hard put to recall she had a bosom.
Though cursory inspection reassured Win that she did, thank God.
“Allow me to summarize your offer,” Miss Anwen said. “You will marry me, have the benefit of my settlements, see the missing funds replaced—funds you had motive and opportunity to steal—and likely close the orphanage nonetheless, but you’ll allow Lord Colin to flee under a cloud of disgrace entirely of your own manufacturing.”
“Well put, though you neglected the sad consequences of the alternative. If you and I wed, then Lord Colin becomes a family connection of mine, hence my willingness to hesitate before contacting the authorities. In the absence of such a connection, my duty to the children means Lord Colin will be arrested by Monday morning.”
Win speared her with his best raised eyebrow, lest the lady mistake his point. “I’m not saying he’s guilty. That will be for the authorities to decide, and I will defend Lord Colin at every turn. I will also honestly regret that he has no alibi, and that will speak volumes. Finally, I will state my opinion to all and sundry that you, yourself, despite being a somewhat eccentric, difficult woman, would never be so bold as to steal, or to raise funds expressly so you could turn around and appropriate them for yourself. A gently bred lady could never be so devious.”
That last part was an inspiration, but it could work, with the right regret sighed into the right ears after the right number of drinks, especially if Rosalyn lent a hand.
