Page 52 of The Truth About Lord Stoneville
“I never joke about money.”
It took Oliver a moment to register that incredible bit of news. “Is she aware that it’s so much?”
“I don’t think so. Freddy speculated that it might be as much as ‘ten thousand dollars,’ which the pup seemed to think was an enormous amount. I gather that her father was the frugal sort, and she was kept in the dark about many things concerning his business.”
Oliver knew why, too. He’d already figured out that Adam Butterfield had wanted to run his daughter’s life even from beyond the grave. The man must have known that if she were aware of the magnitude of her fortune, she might balk at his choice for a husband.
It also explained why Hyatt had agreed to marry her despite showing her no real affection. If she chose to sell her half, he probably couldn’t afford to buy it, so marriage was clearly more advantageous to Hyatt. Andlessadvantageous to her.
He scowled at the thought.
“So you see, my dear brother,” Jarret continued, “the answer to our problems is right before you. You could forget about the pretense and marry her for real. That would solve all our problems.”
A cold rage seized Oliver. “It would also make me as bad as Father.”
“And that bothers you?”
“Of course it bothers me! He practically drove Mother to the grave.” Though Oliver had given the final push. “You can forget my marrying Miss Butterfield for her money.” The very idea sickened him.
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t be attempting to seduce her in your carriage,” Jarret said in a steely voice.
Oliver froze. “I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.” Jarret’s face wore that stiff look he sometimes got whenever people insulted their sisters within his hearing. “John informed me that you and Miss Butterfield were stopped in front of the dress shop for several minutes with the curtains closed and without Freddy in attendance. He also said that when you finally emerged, Miss Butterfield was quite agitated.”
Oliver’s fury found a new object. “I see I’ll have to have a word with my gossiping servant. He’s well paid to keep his mouth shut.”
“All the money in the world won’t keep a good man silent when something offends his conscience. Besides, he seems to like Miss Butterfield.” Jarret’s tone hardened. “We all do. You know damned well that she isn’t one of your opera dancers whom you can toy with and cast aside. She’s a respectable woman. If you’re so determined not to be like Father, perhaps you should remember that the next time you think to put your hands on her.”
The fact that Jarret had a point didn’t dim Oliver’s fury one bit. “You don’t know anything about her.”
“Are you saying she’snotrespectable?”
“No, damn it! I’m saying . . .” He strove to contain his temper, which was unreasonably high. “That ass Hyatt wants to marry her for her money, and she’s letting herself be coaxed into it out of some sense of duty to her father or some foolish hope that it will turn out well. I have to convince her she’s making a mistake.”
“I can think of better ways to do that than seducing her,” Jarret said dryly. “Try talking to her instead. You might even spend time getting to know her. I realize that’s not your usual style, but you might have more success if you treat her like the reasonable female she seems to be, instead of another conquest.”
“I’m not treating her like—” He caught himself before he said too much. “Thank you for the advice, but I know how to comport myself with Maria.”
“That remains to be seen.” Jarret rose, then bent to plant his hands on the desk. “But know this—none of us will stand by and let you ruin a young woman just to provoke Gran.”
Oliver shot to his feet. That his brother thought him capable of such a thing infuriated him, as did being lectured by him. It had never happened before, and he wasn’t about to allow it now.
Leaning forward until he and Jarret were eye to eye over the desk, he growled, “And what the deuce do you think you can do to stop me from acting as I please?”
A grim smile touched Jarret’s lips. “I could attempt to steal her from you.”
Somewhere in the recesses of his sanity, Oliver knew he was being baited, yet it made no difference. Just the idea of Jarret seeking to engage Maria’s affections crushed his usual control.
“If you lay a hand on her,” he ground out, “Gabe won’t be the only one wearing a sling in this family.”
With an enigmatic look, Jarret pushed back from the desk. “Fine.” His eyes turned to ice. “But be warned—the rest of us intend to make sure thatyounever lay a hand on her, either.” Without waiting for a response, he strode from the room.
Oliver stood there shaking while anger and some other, indefinable emotion swept through him. The sheer audacity of his brother—to command what he must do! It was laughable. And to think that his most loyal footman had dared—
All the money in the world won’t keep a good man silent when something offends his conscience.
He grimaced. John’s conscience must have been offended indeed, if he’d gone to Jarret about it. And the very fact that the footman had guessed at what had been going on made Oliver’s blood run cold. Why hadn’t he realized what his servants would think?
