Free Amy Lake by The Earls Wife Page B

You’ve been making free with the de Lancie money, haven’t you?  thought Edward.  And if Claire and Jody aren’t about to require any part of it, so much the better.
    And wouldn’t things be even easier for Sandrick Rutherford if Claire and Jody were dead?  Edward felt a chill run down his spine as he considered that the de Lancies’ uncle might, at this point, have very little to lose.
    “My lord, this is infamous!”  Rutherford was on his feet, waving his arms in agitation.
    “I think not.”  The earl brushed an imaginary piece of lint off his coat and yawned.
     “You obviously know where my niece is. I demand that you return her at once!  I will have you arrested for . . . for–”
    “Shut up.”
    Rutherford’s mouth closed with a snap.
    “Let me explain what you are going to do, and I suggest you listen carefully, because I have neither the time nor the patience to repeat myself.” 
    Rutherford sat down hard in a chair.
    The earl opened the leather portfolio he had carried with him and extracted a sheaf of papers. “I very much doubt that anyone will question my right to marry Claire de Lancie. Nevertheless, as her guardian, you will sign papers giving your permission. As soon as we are married, of course, your involvement with Miss de Lancie will be at an end.”
    Rutherford was breathing heavily, infuriated but not daring to speak.
    “You will also sign papers turning over the guardianship of Jodrel de Lancie to me, effective this day.”
    “My lord, I will do no such thing!”
    The earl stood. “This becomes tiresome. You will do exactly that. In return”–Rutherford went abruptly silent–“you may retain Miss de Lancie’s fortune, or what you’ve left of it. I will, of course, require Jodrel de Lancie’s full portion to be put into my keeping.”
    “Ah, well, my lord,” began Lord Rutherford, licking his lips. “Perhaps, with some adjustment, we could come to a manageable arrangement.”
    “No. The arrangement is as I have outlined. Otherwise,” said the earl, standing directly over Rutherford’s chair,  “I will extract Miss de Lancie’s legacy–every last ha’penny–from what is left of your miserable hide.” 
    Rutherford looked up at the earl with impotent loathing. “I see,” he muttered, examining the papers Edward had put in front of him. He hesitated, then began quickly scrawling his signature on the various sheets.
    “Good. And one last thing, Rutherford,” said Edward. “My fiancée has recently been shot at–twice–in the parks of London. I do not like it. Should any further attempt be made to harm her or her brother, I will be back to question you about it personally–and at length.”  The earl gathered the papers, turned on his heel, and walked out.
    Edward was mounted on Achilles, ready and thankful to leave Cheltdown, when he heard someone calling his name.
    “Lord Tremayne!”
    The earl turned around. Sandrick Rutherford stood there, a pensive look in his sunken, watery eyes.
    “You may have no reason to believe me,” said the man, for once looking directly at Edward,  “but I did not shoot at my niece. I have done many things the ton delights to accuse me of, my lord, but I would not attempt to murder my own kin.”  He turned and walked back into the house.
    Edward stared after him for a moment, then gave heel to Achilles.
    * * * *
    Claire sat on her bed, watching the door. Where was Lord Tremayne?  Perhaps he was taking his pleasure with Lady Pamela–the night before his wedding, no less!–while she sat captive in her room, afraid to leave for fear of running into his dreadful aunt. Jody was probably safely ensconced in the kitchen–she doubted that even Lady Gastonby was capable of intimidating Mrs. Huppins–but Claire would be easy prey at the dinner table.
    “Send the brainless little chit away,” she imagined the woman saying to Boggs.  “I won’t dine with the likes of her!”
    Maybe she could ring for Flora and have the