Page 22 of Her Beast

“So, Harlow’s money talked louder than his lordship’s love, did it?”

“That’s about right.”

“What’s Harlow getting out of this—other than a title for his daughter and a son-in-law who will despise him?”

“The duke sits on an important tariff commission.”

“Ah.” Harlow made his money in shipping; it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

“So, papa duke needs blunt,” Malcolm mused. “What about the dukeling?”

“Sebastian don’t have his pa’s fever for the tables, but he’s mighty expensive. Keeps two hunting lodges and some of the best horseflesh in the entire country. He fought the duke tooth and nail about the marriage even knowin’ how badly dipped the family is. Neither of them was too keen to form a connection with a girl who has Harlow’s blood in her veins.”

Malcolm scowled. Fucking aristocrats and their tedious bloodline fuckery. “But they obviously changed their minds.”

Joe nodded. “Harlow finally tipped the scales in his daughter’s favor by offering Sebastian a horse breeding operation. Apparently, the stud is worth a fortune and produces the finest hunters in the country.”

Malcolm snorted. “I don’t suppose you know if the girl wanted a toff for a husband?”

“Miss Harlow’s ex-maid said the lass would do just about anything to get out from under Mrs. Harlow’s thumb. Besides,” Joe scratched his head and shrugged, “Lord Sebastian Basingstoke is considered quite a prize in the marriage market.”

Malcolm kept his thoughts on that subject to himself. Instead, he flipped through the papers and photographs, pausing at a large envelope. He opened it and several photographs slid out.

The first was of Julia Harlow, the sort of picture you could get taken at studios anywhere in the city. It was far less formal than the betrothal picture and had been tinted. She wore a frothy pale pink gown and the artist had done an amazing job coloring her eyes and adding a faint blush to her skin.

Malcolm couldn’t stop looking at her face and it was a struggle to flip the picture over and set it face down on the desk.

Get control of yourself, man, he ordered, more than a little disturbed by his rampant obsession for a woman he’d never even spoken to.

The second picture was of the old woman who’d been with Julia. The nameAnnette Fowlerwas written in Joe’s small, neat handwriting on the back. There were strange indentations around the edges of the photo.

“Did you take this picture from a frame?” he asked.

“Aye, right beside her bed. Wasn’t no other way, sir.” Joe gave him a sheepish smile.

Malcolm chuckled at the man’s brazenness. “Tell me about Fowler.”

“She claims that she was Mrs. Harlow’s—formerly Nadine Sheehan’s—childhood nurse, but she’s actually Mrs. Harlow’s aunt on mother’s side, although hardly anyone knows.”

“Nadine Harlow keeps her own aunt working as a maid?”

“Aye.”

Malcolm gave a low whistle. “There is a new low in family relations. How long has this been going on?”

“Mrs. Fowler has worked Nadine’s servant ever since Nadine married Harlow over fifteen years ago”

Huh. Malcolm had never heard the like.

“Anyhow,” Joe continued, “About five weeks ago, Mrs. Fowler came to London with Miss Julia to keep her out of trouble before the wedding.”

“Out of trouble?” Malcolm repeated.

“Aye, it appears the lass is a bit of a terror. Miss Julia is horse-mad, loves to ride to hounds, and is reckless.”

Malcolm would neverunderstand the aristocracy’s fascination with chasing a fox with a pack of bloodthirsty dogs. Still, he was amused—albeit darkly—that the daughter of Tommy Harlow, a rookery lad, engaged in such rarified sport. Tommy had always been a pretentious git so he must be thrilled to bits by his daughter’s toff pastime.

“How did hunting and horses get her in trouble?” Malcolm asked. “I would have thought her prospective bridegroom loved that about her.”

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