There was an odd silence as Churchward finished, like the lull before the first bolt of lightning split the sky. Garrick saw Joanna and Tess exchange a look and then Merryn’s chair clattered back with such sharpness that they all winced.
“Why?” she demanded.
Garrick could see that she was trembling. Her entire frame shook with the force of whatever anger or misery possessed her. Her eyes were huge. He could feel her passion and the pain beneath it, so raw and fierce it hurt. He put out a hand toward her, instinctively wanting to offer comfort again, and saw her recoil.
“Because Fenners should belong to you.” He spoke directly to her, as though the others were not there. “I did not know that my father had purchased the estate. He should not have done so. It is rightfully yours. So I am giving it back.”
She looked right into his eyes and Garrick felt the force of her gaze sweep through him. She was so transparent, so honest a person that nothing was hidden. There was no artifice in Merryn Fenner and that meant she had no defenses at times like this.
“This is to ease your conscience!” Her words hit him with the force of a blow. She swept the deed of gift to the floor with an unsteady hand. “You killed Stephen and now you think that this will be recompense?”
“Merryn.” Joanna had placed a restraining hand on her sister’s arm. “Please …”
“It is in no way intended as recompense,” Garrick said. “The death of your brother was—” He stopped, remembering the moment in the library the previous day. No words of his could ever give the Fenner sisters back what they had lost. There had been plenty of reasons to rid the world of a scoundrel like Stephen Fenner but he was not about to reveal them here. It would do no good. Merryn Fenner would never forgive him, no matter the truth. And once he were to start speaking of the tragedy he would put at risk all the people he had sworn to protect and all the secrets that had been so carefully hidden twelve years before. He chose his words with care.
“It is something that I regret every day of my life,” he said. That at least was true but he saw from the flare of contempt in Merryn’s face how inadequate the words were.
“The gift of Fenners,” he continued, “is, however, a matter apart. It should not belong to the Farne Dukedom. That is wrong. So I am giving it back.”
Alex Grant spoke for the first time. He had sat very still and silent throughout, but now he shifted in his chair.
“That is … generous of you, Farne,” he said.
“It is right,” Garrick said shortly, “not generous.” He felt Grant’s perceptive gray gaze rest on him for a long moment. He wanted no credit for his actions. He simply wanted to be rid of the estate.
“One hundred thousand pounds to share between us,” Tess Darent said. “How marvelous!”
Merryn turned on her. “Surely you cannot be intending to take it?” she demanded. “You are rich—you do not even need thirty thousand pounds!”
“I always need thirty thousand pounds, Merryn darling,” Tess said calmly. “Any right-thinking woman would.” She wrinkled up her nose. “You can have the house, though. I hate living in the country.”
Garrick could see all the emotions chasing themselves across Merryn’s face, bewilderment and disgust, closely followed by despair as she realized that her sisters, so much more worldly and, arguably, less-principled than she, were very likely to accept the offer. She looked intensely lonely, just as she had when she had walked away from him at the library.
“I won’t take it!” She turned back to Garrick, fury igniting her gaze.
“You cannot refuse it,” Garrick said gently. “It is a gift.”
“I can try.” She took an angry pace away. “I’ll give it away.”
“That is your privilege.”
She gave him a look of such searing contempt Garrick felt it all the way to his soul.
“Damn you,” she said distinctly.
Garrick thought of Harriet Knight. There was quite a queue of people wishing him in perdition. Interesting that he had cared not a jot for Harriet’s dismissal of him. It had left him utterly cold, whereas Merryn Fenner’s scorn raked him more deeply than he would have liked. He inclined his head. “Quite so, Lady Merryn.”
“I think,” Alex interposed, “that we had best discuss this matter in private.” He stood up. “Mr. Churchward.” He shook the lawyer by the hand. “We will be in touch. Thank you. Farne …” His nod was a shade more cordial than it had been at the beginning of the meeting.
“You will not buy me off,” Merryn said through her teeth.
“Come along, Merryn,” Joanna said, sounding like a governess.
They went out. Garrick could hear Tess Darent’s voice fading away as she chattered to Joanna about the new winter wardrobe she would purchase with some of her thirty thousand pounds. He saw that Churchward had overheard Lady Darent, too. The lawyer grimaced.
“The late Lord Fenner’s daughters are all very different from one another,” he murmured.
Garrick thought that of the three, Tess was actually the one most like Stephen Fenner. Stephen, too, had been blessedly short of moral scruples when it came to money. Joanna, he rather suspected, had hidden depths. She might appear to be a society butterfly but she could not have attracted and held the love of a man like Alex Grant without some substance. As for Merryn, well, she was as transparent as glass, painfully honest and demanding the same integrity from all those that she met. He winced as he remembered her disillusion on hearing Tess’s response to the deed of gift. Life could be very cruel to idealists. Which was another reason why to tell her of her brother’s true character would be wantonly cruel.
He stood up, stretched, feeling the tension drain away from his body.
“Thank you, Churchward,” he said, shaking the lawyer by the hand. “I appreciate your support.”
“One hundred thousand pounds,” Churchward mourned. “You are sure you will not change your mind, your grace?”
Garrick laughed. “Too late. Lady Darent will already be spending her share, I feel sure.” He sighed, straightened. “Please let me know as soon as Lady Grant responds formally to the offer and please have all the estate papers ready to send over to her.” He smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Churchward.”
He went out. He felt a huge wash of relief to be outside in the fresh air. He resolved to ride out that afternoon. His ducal duties could wait a little. He needed space and speed and the opportunity to outrun his ghosts. Merryn Fenner filled his consciousness with her vivid passion and the sharp awareness that undercut every one of their encounters.
You will not buy me off …
He had not for one moment thought that he could.
“HAVE YOU A MOMENT, GUV’NOR?”
The man who had stuck his head around Tom’s office door was Ned Heighton, one of the men who worked for him picking up information in the rookeries and coffee shops of London. A former Army Provost, Heighton had fallen from grace through some misdemeanor and been court-martialed and dishonorably discharged from the army. Tom had never inquired into the cause of his disgrace, although he suspected it was drink-related. Heighton could be a little too fond of the bottle. Still, the army’s loss was Tom’s gain. Heighton was a very sound man.
“What is it?” he asked, as the old soldier came in and shut the door.
“Your six o’clock