Page 88 of His Wife, the Spy
“I asked him not to throw good money after bad, because you are an endless well of bad decisions.”
Purple splotches bloomed across his red face. “To think that I would live to see the day that a daughter of mine would speak to me so.”
Annabel resisted the urge to step away, to apologize. She’d done that before, when she’d discovered his ledgers. But now she wasn’t just his daughter, and she wasn’t dependent on his goodwill. “Someone should have done it a long time ago.”
“If Rachel wishes to marry, I will choose her husband.” He thumped his hand to his chest. “There are several men who are wealthier than Drew could dream of being, and they would look favorably on their new father.”
“Father.” She snorted in disgust, both at his suggestion and his whiskey-soaked breath. “They’ll be your age or better, and they’ll treat Rachel like property because that’s what you’ll make her. You’ll sell her into marriage for the price of worthless stocks and then look the other way when they take their losses out on her.” She was lucky that—or worse—hadn’t happened to her.
“You’ll give your mother tea and sisters dresses, but you won’t spare me an investment that will put me back—”
“I will give the girls a chance at a better life, which is the same as you have now. Your debts are paid. Your rents are yours again.”
“Rents are a pittance.” It was his turn to snort. “It would take years to finance an investment that would make any difference.”
This was not the father she knew. He’d spent hours tromping through the fields surveying fence lines and livestock, laughing with the farmers who depended on him. Some of her fondest memories were of him rowing across the small lake as she listened to stories from his childhood.
“When did our home, our family, stop being enough for you?” she asked. “When did it become all or nothing, and this grasping desperation?”
“You know nothing of what it takes to make a success.”
He was wrong. She’d watched Jasper since their marriage. He worked diligently at both building his reputation and protecting his family. He was honorable and kind, intelligent and patient.
He was also an arse who had just put his mistress in the room across the hall.
“I know it’s not being blind to what you’ve done to the people who loved you.” Annabel blinked away her tears. She would not cry in front of him. “It’s not drinking in a shell of a house and bemoaning the luck you made for yourself. And it isn’t sellingyour nineteen-year-old daughter to a man old enough to be her father.”
“In time she will realize how this decision benefits her family.”
The man she’d loved would have never treated his daughters like commodities to be bartered for his own benefit. If he had, she never would have left them alone with him. She wasn’t going to abandon them again. “I have risked more than you will ever know,” she said. “And I will lose more than you will ever understand.” She drew a deep breath. “But my sisters will marry men who love them.”
“You have no say on this matter.” He reached for the copy ofDebrett’s.
She pushed it away. “I have no say, but I have a voice. If you barter Rebecca and Rachel for foolish schemes, everyone in thetonwill know.” She knew better than anyone how one whisper would become a chorus. “All of London will learn that you would see your wife in the poorhouse and your daughters sold as broodmares and mistresses so long as your pockets are lined.”
“You wouldn’t court a scandal like that.”
She had married a man to spy on him and ended up in his bed. She had shot at highwaymen and held that same husband’s bleeding body in her arms. She’d confessed her mission but withheld her heart, and he’d installed his mistress under her nose. “I am already scandalous. It won’t make a difference.”
Especially if she was never seen in London again.
“Annie—”
She ignored his wheedling tone and lifted a page from the sheaf of paper he always kept nearby. “Go upstairs and do something about your appearance.” She took his pen. “I’ll summon Mr. Drew here immediately. When he arrives, you will apologize for being out of sorts and give your permission for this marriage.”
If he didn’t, she’d loan Rachel the Ramsbury carriage for a run toward Scotland.
He remained in his chair, daring Annabel to move him like a child. Unlike the last time they’d argued, when she’d let him continue driving them toward poverty, she stared him down. Relief only came when realization dawned, and he pushed himself upright and walked toward the door with a straight spine but wobbly legs.
Once alone, Annabel finished the letter before ringing the bell. She was blotting the ink on the envelope when Symes, their beloved butler, appeared. His face was lined with concern.
“You rang, Lady Ann—Lady Ramsbury?”
She wasn’t sure what kept him with a family who couldn’t pay him, but she was forever grateful for his steadying presence. “Please have this letter delivered to the Drew household immediately, and ask Cook to prepare for visitors.” She stopped. “Father will require a strong pot of coffee.”
“A maid just took up a tray.” The old butler smiled. “We thought it would be wise to have on hand.”
“Thank you.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his rough cheek as she left the room. “And Lady Annabel is fine, Symes.”
