Free An Early Engagement by Bárbara Metzger Page B

that way lies perdition.” Hah! The last time Ingrid was tempted by the flesh she had another serving of roast beef. With her hair scraped back from her sharp features, and her perpetual mourning clothes shaped like sacks, not even Old Nick would be lured by her.
    “Reject the devil-worship of greed, money, and ambition. Repent! Repent!” Now, that was more like it, Morgan decided. Maybe Ingrid would begin to see the evil of her ways and feel the urge to share some of her wealth. Give to the needy, sister, and one of the neediest was sitting beside her. Clutch-fisted old bat could line Brother Blessed’s pockets and let her own husband punt on tick. Damn! And double damn his brother. Now, there was a soul he’d like to see writhe in Satan’s grasp. Repent, hell, Morgan wanted revenge!
    He wanted the money, he wanted the heir, and he could not see his way to either of them now. At least his miserable niece wasn’t breeding—his spies in Arstock kept him well informed—so there was no immediate danger from her. Those threats from Stokely held his hand from any thoughts of danger to her, especially since Emilyann’s money would only go into the Stockton coffers now anyway. Besides, with any luck, and the Lord knew Morgan was due for some luck, that rackety hero of hers would get himself killed in the wars. No, his only hope was Ingrid, or getting rid of her.
    “The true jewels of life are piety and purity; do not seek the false gems of earthly trappings.”
    Now, how did the fellow know Ingrid’s diamonds were paste? Morgan had been selling off the Arcott jewels one by one, after having copies of the entailed heirlooms made for the vaults. Never mind hell, he’d go straight to Newgate for that if old Baxley got wind of it.
    “Elevate your mind to the Almighty! Divorce yourself from the bondage of the body!”
    Well, there was always divorce. It took time and a lot of money and made a scandal, none of which mattered if he had any grounds for getting rid of the sanctimonious albatross legally. Barrenness was legitimate, but there was the evidence, albeit weak, of Bobo. Adultery? Not even Golden Ball had enough blunt to hire some poor blighter to seduce her, for a crim. con. case.
    “The devil reads your mind. You cannot hide your evil thoughts. Get them from you. Banish them. Cleanse yourself in a spiritual rebirth!”
    A new wife, that was it. Morgan knew he was virile enough for a fruitful young bride if only he were free. Unfortunately, he was a coward. Just enough of Ingrid’s preachings had roosted in the tiniest corner of his shriveled heart, just enough to cause a niggling, nagging fear of that eternal hell she was so sure of. The fear wasn’t enough to keep him from shaving the cards, of course. A fellow had to get by, you know. But it did stop him short of killing his wife.
    “And the Lord helps those who help themselves.” So bad oysters and loose saddlegirths didn’t count. “Let us bow our heads and pray for salvation that we may leave this mortal coil for a better life.” Morgan’s amen was the loudest in the room.
    * * * *
    Lady Ingrid Aylesbury returned to Arcott Hall in Northampshire for her health. She felt her life’s work was in the city, where evil abounded, and Brother Blessed was there to give spiritual guidance, but even the staunchest warrior in the battle against sin had to rest from his wounds occasionally. She never did find out how those wild mushrooms got into her stuffed capon, or why the fireplace in her bedroom should be stuffed with rags. Perhaps it was all part of a divine plan to bring spiritual fulfillment to the ignorant masses in the countryside.
    She burned every pack of cards in the house, those devil’s hymnals, and threw Emilyann’s collection of novels out in the trash bin, where the maids retrieved them and had the housekeeper read aloud about the Masked Marquis and Dimquith the Demon. The girls trembled in their cots at night and went stumbling to Ingrid’s