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RAVENSTHORPE HEIR
By
Catherine Stang
© copyright by Catherine Stang, February 2007
Cover Art by Jenny Dixon, © February 2007
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living person or events is merely coincidence.
Chapter One
Returning from the dead was such a bloody nightmare. If he had any sense at all he would have stayed dead and let his brother deal with the headaches of the title.
"Are you listening, Your Grace? I said it is gone. All of it."
Burke Stewart, Duke of Ravensthorpe, stood to stare out the window. He didn't dare look at the older man sitting across the huge desk from him. Seeing the disappointment in his father's best friend's eyes was more than he could bear at this point. So instead, he rested his arms on the either side of the glass staring down at the vast estate he had inherited, but could no longer afford to maintain.
"You're sure?" His voice was hoarse with suppressed emotion.
"I've been through all the ledgers. Your father's solicitor, Baron Warwick, depleted all the accounts except for the household one and some trust money. I wish my review of your holdings held different answers." Oliver Springfield, Earl of Stratten, cleared his throat. "You can recheck my figures."
Burke couldn't admit that simple task would take him hours and mostly likely produce the same result.
"I trust you. Barclay's shipping business is still intact, though?"
"Barely. You will have a modest income from that if you make higher than expected profits from these last shipments. But not enough…."
Not enough to keep up his several estates, the town house or pay his mother's clothing bills.
"If you want my opinion you should contact Inspector Reynolds and let him know the full extent of Warwick's theft."
That was the problem; he didn't know the full extent of Warwick's deception. And he wasn't about to tell Stratten how much help he needed to discover the truth. The irony was that he had encouraged his father to retain Warwick after their old solicitor died suddenly. He had trusted Justin with all his secrets. Hell, they were practically brothers. How could this have happened? How could he have been so wrong about Justin?
"I don't want Scotland Yard involved in my personal business."
"Then you aren't worried about the reports that Warwick escaped from Newgate?"
"I'm still struggling with the fact that my best friend plotted to kill my father and ruin my family. Besides, those are just rumors. Scotland Yard claims he died in custody." He leaned his forehead against the cool glass. "I don't know what to believe anymore. Right now I have more pressing issues than Warwick. What should I do to raise funds? Aside from bringing my brother, Barclay, back from America."
Stratten hadn't mentioned the income from his tenants. Burke wasn't sure if he should bring the subject up. He'd been trying a profit sharing deal with them or least the ones were comfortable with the idea. At first he had less income, but it had slowly increased or so he thought. Maybe he was wrong and that hurt his situation, too.
Burke cleared his throat. "The profits are up from sheep farms and my other ones, aren't they?"
"Yes, but not enough to cover all your losses. It will take time. I'm impressed with your ideas. I'm thinking of trying the profit sharing with my own farms."
That shocked him.
"What I'm trying to tell you is that I know you are trying, but it isn't enough in the short term. A quick fix would be to marry well."
Burke snorted. "All the match-making mamas will line up to marry their daughters off to me, a rake who has only recently returned from the dead? If my outlandish drunken behavior didn't scare them off, the curse surrounding my family surely would."
Stratten rounded the desk to stand beside him. He put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You're being too hard on yourself, son. There are women out there who love to buy a title."
Jolly right, he was sure he'd climbed through their bedroom windows to pleasure them when they grew bored with the husband they bought.
"Ironic that I would turn to a loveless marriage."
"It doesn't have to be that way. I'm certain my wife knows women who would be to your liking. I'm wagering you could woe a lady. If the rumors are true you've done so countless times in the past."
He didn't know about winning a woman's heart. He was the man they'd meet in the dark, but not be seen with by the light of day. Not even his title made him respectable company. His twin brother, Barclay, could have fixed this mess.
Fate was fickle. Barclay should have been born first. Instead, the continuation of the Stewart line was in the hands of a drunken rake; make that an ex-drunken rake. He hadn't had a drink since his return from the dead. His father was probably rolling over in his crypt right now. Then again, maybe there was poetic justice in this turn of events. Maybe his father got who he deserved for an heir.
He turned slowly to face Stratten. "Arrange it for me. Help me come out again into society. Don't breathe a word of our financial situation to my brother or mother or even your wife. Rightfully or not, I'm the head of this family and I'll take care of our needs."
* * * *
Phoebe Walcott tugged her gown's bodice up as she scanned the beautifully dressed people in the ballroom. Her brother, Percy, Marquis Atwood, had wanted it low and that annoyed her.
Up until two weeks ago, Percy had cared not a rip about her, her younger brother Hugh, and little sister Maddie. In the years after their father died and their mother retreated to her chambers to mourn, Percy had run wild, filling the scandal sheets with his exploits. She knew, because her maid secretly snuck them to her. Reading about London society was her favorite hobby.
As child, she dreamed of having a season. In her mind, she imagined going shopping with her mother for new dresses and putting the dancing lessons her father had given her to good use. But those dreams withered three years ago when her father became ill and died. When her mother had refused to come out of mourning, she resigned herself to staying in the country to care for her mother and younger siblings.
Then, two weeks ago, Percy showed up to drag her and her siblings off to London for her season. What was once a dream now was a nightmare. Percy didn't understand what it took to bring a girl out. His taste in dresses was more suited to older married women looking for an affair than someone her age. So here she stood in a gown she hated and was afraid her breasts would spill out of if she moved wrong, trying not to appear out of place.
"I told you not to be a wallflower."
Phoebe jumped at the sound of Percy's voice next to her ear. She straightened her spine for battle. He expected her to be the belle of the ball, but he gave her no tools. Instead, she looked like a mistress in waiting.
"I'm not. No one has asked me to dance." She let out an exasperated breath.
"No one will if you look so unapproachable." Muttering something rude under his breath, he stepped in front of her, tugging her bodice down. "You don't have that much to offer. You need to make the most of it."
"I don't think this is working. The other girls are more polished."
He rolled his eyes. "You're fine. You just need to act like you know what you are doing. Let's find someone to get you started dancing. All it takes is one gentleman and the rest will follow suit."
He guided her toward a tall, broad-shouldered man with eyes the color of a stormy sky, who stood next to the punch bowl, watching the crowd. The man shifted his gaze to them and looked none too pleased that they were headed his way. Good heavens, it was the infamous Duke Ravensthorpe. Would this night ever end?
Burke almost gagged on the too sweet punch as he saw Atwood dragging his sister across the room. At least he assumed she was his sister, since they resembled each other. Surely, he couldn't be planning to introduce them. What the bloody hell was he thinking?
Did Atwood have money? The nights of carousing with him were hazy. He pasted a smile on his face and decided to find out.
"Atwood." Burke nodded a hello.
"Ravensthorpe. I want you to introduce to my sister, Phoebe."
"Nice to meet you, Lady Phoebe."
Her smile said she was afraid he'd eat her alive.
"I've heard so much about you. It is nice to finally meet you."
He almost laughed at the flush creeping up Percy's neck. She cut them both with two sentences. Jolly good.
"You can't believe everything you hear. If you give me the pleasure of this dance, I'll show you that I can be a gentleman."
Percy looked like he wanted to all but shove her in his arms. That surprised him, since they'd been out carousing together. Whatever was up, he had no intention of embarrassing Phoebe.
She looked like she swallowed a lemon. "This will be my first dance tonight."
"Then I'll try not to step on your toes." He offered his arm.
Without a word, she took it. As they made their way onto the dance floor, hushed whispers swirled around them. Burke groaned at how some of the older matron's voices carried, even though they were whispering.
"I heard Ravensthorpe was dead."
"No, he only pretended to be dead so that he could live in brothels and gamble all day."
"That's not the story I heard. He pretended to be dead so his brother would assume the title. Then he sometimes masqueraded as his brother, so he could have the pleasure of being the duke without the responsibility."
"I heard…."
Burke winced as he guided Phoebe away from the gossiping matrons.
"How much of it is true?" she asked softly.
"All of it."
She had grown quiet, making him wonder if she regretted dancing with him. That thought hurt more than he cared to admit.
"If you want to run, I wouldn't blame you," he said softly, staring down into her serious expression.
"What, and give them the pleasure of knowing they bothered us? I'm made of sterner stuff than that."
Her retort surprised him. He wasn't used to people standing by his side. He wasn't quite sure how to respond.
He cleared his throat. "Are you enjoying the ball?"
"It's just like I imagined. All the beautiful dresses and sparkling lights. I'm memorizing everything so I can tell my younger sister all about it when I get home."
Was he ever that young and enthusiastic?
"You must think I'm silly prattling on like this."
"No, actually, I find it refreshing."
She smiled, blushing slightly. He hoped that by dancing with her, he didn't ruin her chances with other more reputable suitors. It would have been better if he had walked away. That thought tightened his gut.
Yet, despite the fact that he shouldn't, he couldn't help but savor the feeling of holding Phoebe. She felt so good in his arms. Her petite frame made him protective. A feeling he wasn't used to. Most of the women he knew took care of themselves.
He had to remind himself that Phoebe was beyond his reach. But that was easier said than done. She was curved just perfectly in all the right places. In fact, he couldn't believe Atwood let her wear a dress that was so low cut. Not that he minded the generous view of her creamy breasts. It just bothered him that other men might have the wrong idea about her.
Although the green in her dress brought out the rich green in her eyes, it was not an appropriate color or style for a young woman making her first season. Her golden blonde hair looked like it had been carelessly arranged, making him wonder if she had done it herself. Heaven knows, he usually avoided the marriage mart, so his experience with young debutantes was limited. If he noticed how ill prepared she was then it must be blatantly obvious to everyone in the room. What was Atwood thinking?
"Don't let them bother you."
"What?" He almost missed a step when she spoke.
"The trick to avoiding the effects of gossip is to keep your head up and make believe you don't hear them or better yet, with a toss of your head let them know you couldn't care a wit what they are saying."
"Oh, and you have vast experience in dealing with gossip?" He regretted his teasing remark as soon as he saw her eyes cloud over.
"I've had to ignore my fair share of it. My brother is considered a rake, too."
"Too? You mean like me?"
She nodded.
"I don't know if I consider myself a rake. A cad, perhaps, but not a rake. Rakes tend to attract women. Most ladies here wouldn't openly dance with me. At least not the decent ones."
"But they want to. From the looks I'm getting, I gather that half the women wish they were dancing with you and the other half hope their husbands don't know what they are thinking."
He laughed. "And what are you feeling?"
"Nervous."
"Ah. I like honest women. But you have nothing to fear from me."
"Should I be honored or insulted?"
Before he could answer, the music came to an end and Percy grabbed her arm.
"Come, I want you to meet Sinclair."
Was Atwood finding his sister a husband or making her a courtesan? The men he was foisting her on had more interest in a new mistress than settling down with a wife.
"Isn't she a little young for you?" Eve Townsend, Countess Holbrooke, his childhood friend and at one time the woman everyone assumed he would marry said beside him.
At least she was still talking to him in public.
He took her arm. "Dance with me. It will tweak off your husband to no end."
"I'm sure I'll pay."
"And enjoy it."
She blushed, patting her gently rounding belly. How he envied the Townsend's happy marriage.
"What do you know about Atwood's situation?" Burke asked, hoping she wouldn't read too much into his question.
"Probably less than you. I thought the two of you were friends."
"I've been places where he has been, but I don't know him very well." That was partly true. Other than the fact that they liked the same kind of whiskey, wild women and games of chance, he knew nothing about Atwood's private life. "I didn't even know he had a sister until tonight."
"Nobody did until he showed up with her a week ago. I've heard they stay in the country except for Atwood. After their father died a few years ago, their mother became a recluse," she replied, tilting her head up to give him a quizzical look.
He laughed. "I love the ladies' gossip network. I knew I could count on you. I wonder why he brought her out."
She shrugged. "The usual reasons, I assume."
"I'm not so sure his intentions are quite so honorable. He seems bent on introducing her to the wrong sort. None of the gentlemen, and I use the term loosely, he has introduced her to so far are good husband candidates."
"Including you?"
"Definitely, including me."
"Then why are you here?"
He was silent for a long time, wondering what he should tell her. Or better yet, what she would believe.
"I guess I'm ready to settle down."
She stiffened and he immediately regretted his choice of words. They had been close. He knew at one time she had expected him to propose to her, but he could never bring himself to do that.
"You weren't when I wanted you," she challenged him.
"No, I wasn't ready then. I think I did you a favor. Holbrooke seems like a good husband."
"He is. But I don't understand why now, all of a sudden, you want a wife."
It was his turn to shrug. "I need a family. Taking responsibility for my title made me realize that."
"So you are actually looking?" She cocked her head, daring him to give her a direct answer.
Burke laughed at the glint in Eve's eye. "But don't let it out or everyone will run for cover."
She snorted. "You underestimate the allure of a grand title. What sort of woman are you searching for, experienced or just rich?"
He missed a step. How did she know?
"I caught you." Her eyes twinkled with mischievous delight.
He swirled her out onto the terrace. They stood in silence for a moment.
"Whatever you think you know, for my family's sake, please keep it to yourself. My mother has had enough grief lately."
"I was just teasing."
He relaxed only slightly at the sincere expression on her face. Damn, he had given too much away. He had no idea how to get out of this conversation and was relieved when he saw Reed Townsend, Earl Holbrooke, heading towards them. Holbrooke was bigger than him, but in many ways they resembled each other. They had the same eyes and coloring. If people looked close they could tell they were half brothers. Holbrooke should have had the Ravensthorpe title. It bothered Burke to no end that even his bastard brother would have been more fit than he.
But that skeleton must remain sealed deep in the closet for both their families' sake and he must play nice.
His brother, Barclay, had accidentally opened that door when he attempted to honor the late Earl of Holbrooke's wish to find his long lost son. That search put in motion a chain of events that ended in the deaths of the Fearless Four, including his father, the late Earl Holbrooke's son and wife along with the late Earl Norcott. When Reed came into their lives, he realized why Sheldon Townsend never returned to America. Because of his mother's reaction to Reed's appearance and her part in the scandal, he'd kept a polite distance from Holbrooke. They might have been friends if fate had dealt them a different hand. Now, he didn't know.
"Don't look now, but I fear you are being rescued," Burke whispered close to Eve's ear.
Eve rolled her eyes as her husband strolled out on the terrace. "We were merely talking."
"I trust you, but it's Ravensthorpe I'm concerned about." Holbrooke pulled Eve to his side, putting a possessive arm around her.
Burke felt his cheeks get hot. "I thought we settled all this. What happened between your wife and I is all in the past. I still feel and have always felt mostly brotherly affection for her."
Eve gasped, pulling away from her husband. She put a hand on Burke's arm. "I always thought you let me go, because you didn't care enough."
"On the contrary. I let you go because I care too much to make you an object of ridicule. I never wanted to be duke and you were destined to be more than a disinherited peer's wife."
Silence hung heavy in the air.
Holbrooke cleared his throat. "I meant no offense. I figure the gossips would label me chump if I left my beautiful wife out here alone with the infamous Duke of Ravensthorpe." He grinned, wiggling his brows.
"You are probably right." Burke turned, heading for the door. He wished he could laugh, but the stain on his reputation still hurt too much.
Eve frowned, watching him go. Reed slid his arm around her, making her shiver with awareness.
"What just happened?" He asked close to her ear.
"Ravensthorpe retreated."
He pulled back to stare down at her. "Why?"
"I don't know, but he is suddenly looking for a wife."
"Ah, so that is what made him brave the whispers and join polite society. If you ask me he looks more like he needs a friend. Too bad the dowager duchess would have a stroke if I tried to be one. Good thing I have a plan for that."
She pulled away, staring up at him. "Is that what your lawman buddy and his daughter are doing hiding out on our estate?"
"Who better to keep watch over Burke than an ex-federal Marshall? I just have yet to figure out how to get Drew into Burke's life."
"Ravensthorpe won't like you interfering."
"I know." Reed brushed a kiss over the top of her head as he led her inside. "That's half the fun."
* * * *
This turn of events was unacceptable. Baron Warwick, Justin Langford, swirled the brandy in his crystal glass, staring out at the lights next door. By right of birth, he should have been at that party instead of hiding in the shadows, drowning his sorrows.
His plan to bring down the fearless four had been so well thought out and brilliantly executed that he couldn't believe it had blown up in the end. Thanks to Daphne Stewart, Barclays' wife, Dowager Duchess Ravensthorpe and Countess Stratten, he was worse off than he when he began. But not for long. He'd have the last laugh. They thought he languished in prison, but it would serve them all right that he had escaped. He'd never leave the stage quietly or early. Not until they all paid and pay they would. It was time for him to bury his Baron Warwick identity and resurrect Lord Justice. Then they would feel the full weight of his vengeance.
* * * *
"You didn't do a very good job of attracting suitors tonight. I didn't get a single request to court you," Percy said.
Phoebe settled back in the carriage, letting the darkness surround her, so Percy couldn't see the hurt on her face. She knew she wasn't the hit of the ball, but she didn't make any major mistakes and was received relatively well. What more could Percy ask of her first night?
"I understand that happens," she said, trying to remain calm.
"Well, I don't have time to wait. I thought I'd have you married off by now. I had no idea it would cost so much to bring you out. Do you really need a different gown for every ball?"
"That's what Madam Regina told me."
"She would." He rolled his eyes. "She has a vested interest in selling you gowns. This is turning into a bigger ordeal than I ever imagined."
She felt the same. Phoebe had always imagined discussing the night's events over teas with her mother. Not arguing over her lack of offers with her unreasonable brother. His attitude was taking all the magic from her season.
"Then why don't you just take me home," she snapped, regretting her tone as soon as she saw Percy's eyebrows rise.
"After all, I'm worried about mother being all alone." Her tone lightened this time.
"She'll be fine as long as Dora keeps the blinds pulled shut and she doesn't have to face life."
Phoebe tossed her fan at him. "How can you be so hard-hearted? Don't you care?"
"Gad, I need a drink." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course I care. Her behavior is a bloody embarrassment to the family. What do you want me to do about it? Being suddenly head of this family is no simple task, you know."
"It would help if you took your responsibilities more seriously."
"I do. I brought you out, didn't I? I had an offer from Baron Neville. He has been on me to let him court you, but I've been putting him off."
She shuddered. Neville was a nasty man who liked young wives. They had a habit of dying a few years after marriage. The man had yet to have an heir.
"His interest in you made me realize that you've grown into a young woman." He continued, seemingly undaunted by her silence. "If I knew it was this much trouble to bring you out, I would have let Neville marry you and be done with it. Finding you a higher titled husband and bigger purse may not be worth it."
Phoebe stiffened. He wanted to sell her off to the highest bidder. Didn't he know that most respectable peers expected a dowry? She didn't like to think what sort of man needed to buy a wife.
She swallowed the fear tightening her throat. "What's the rush? I'm only nineteen, hardly on the shelf."
He sat back in the coach, his face hidden in the shadows like hers. "I--we need money. I've had some luck at the gambling tables, but that will only take us so far."
That shocked her. "I thought Papa left us well set."
"He left us some funds, but no instructions. His man of affairs gave me poor advice, so you are our best hope. Neville will pay off our debts and give me an allowance. I only bought three gowns. If you want someone else, you'll have to make better use of them."
Our debt. Anger coursed through her. Of all the nerve. Our debt. They had been scrimping at home, while he played. He didn't care about her at all. He wanted to sell her off, so he could have more pocket money. That thought stabbed through her like a knife.
She could hardly look at Percy without wanting to strangle him. It wasn't her fault he had drank and gambled away her family's future. Be damned if she would marry some nasty old man just to save Percy's hide. On the other hand, if she could find someone nice who could help her care for her younger siblings and get them out from under Percy's control, then she might consider it. Three balls were hardly enough to make a good match.
Their coach jerked to a stop as the one in front of them made an abrupt turn.
"Damn Ravensthorpe," Percy muttered. "Thinks he owns the whole bloody town."
Phoebe craned her neck to see where it turned. Hope fluttered in her heart.
"Is that Duke Ravensthorpe's carriage? I didn't know he lived here."
"Right next door."
Ravensthorpe. Just the thought of him made her skin tingle. She could still feel the warmth of his hands through her dress as they dance. There was something about the way his stormy blue eyes softened when he talked and crinkled at the edges when he laughed. Like all the women in London, she supposed he drew her like a moth to a flame. After everything she had read about him, she hadn't wanted to like him, but she couldn't help herself. He was charming in an irreverent sort of way.
Phoebe sighed inwardly. Despite her best efforts not to let him, Ravensthorpe intrigued her. Try as she might not to, she found her gaze drawn to him. Something about him didn't add up. He had a reputation for being a scoundrel, yet when she watched him this evening he had been unflinchingly kind to everyone. Even those who didn't deserve it. He danced with all the women, young, old, pretty and awkward alike. The way he gracefully handled all the stares, whispers and direct cuts amazed her. If anyone could understand her situation, it might be him.
She sat back in her seat. Fate may have just handed her an answer. For the first time since she arrived in London she felt hopeful. She could feel a plan forming. It was up to her to save their family.
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