Free The spinster and the wastrel by Louise Bergin Page B

strode into the house. The dimness of the hall caused him to blink after the bright sunlight, but the brisk coolness of the morning seemed to cling to him even after the butler took his overcoat and gloves.
    Still enjoying the invigoration of his daybreak exercise, Sir Gerard asked, "Is Mr. Linton awake yet?"
    "I believe he is in the library, sir."
    The baronet started in that direction, when Newton's harrumph signaled he had more to say.
    Sir Gerard paused. "Yes?"
    "Sir, I wanted to remind you about the trustees' visit to the new village school for this afternoon."
    He had forgotten all about it in the three weeks since Miss Courtney's visit. "Yes, of course. I will be there." He would have to be, if he intended to keep an eye on the school's expenditures. One could only hope that spinster knew enough to keep the costs under control.
    His good mood banished, Sir Gerard stalked into the library. It was a little room, with a sense of closeness caused by the shelves crammed with books. Small tables stood near several chairs scattered about on the green rug. They were meant to hold the light for reading, but Sir Gerard spotted a brandy decanter on the table next to the chair in which Linton slumped.
    His friend had obviously changed from the formal

    clothes of the evening before, but a night's rest had not restored his outlook. He cast a bleary glance at the baronet and raised his glass in acknowledgment. The scent of the brandy wafted to Sir Gerard's nose, and he wrinkled it. Striding over to the table, he picked up the decanter. "Didn't you have enough of this stuff last night?"
    "Apparendy not," Linton mumbled. "My future looks just as bleak this morning."
    Looking at the man, Sir Gerard could well believe that if not bleak, his friend's outlook was certainly blurry. Linton's drinking disappointed him. He set the decanter on a table out of Linton's reach. "I am sorry I cannot help you with your financial difficulties. I truly meant to."
    His friend waved the apology away, causing the brandy to slosh in his glass. "You're my best friend. I won't forget you wanted to help." He toasted the baronet again and then gave a bitter laugh. "But you're in the same boat I am. You're a fortune hunter, too."
    "I don't like that name," Sir Gerard answered sharply.
    Linton shrugged. "It's the truth. Need to be leg shackled. Only marriage can save us now."
    Sir Gerard turned away, not liking to hear his own morning thoughts so crudely spoken. "There must be another way."
    "What?" His friend paused, but there was no reply. "At least, you have an heiress in sight. I have no one."
    Sir Gerard did not pretend to misunderstand. He strode over to the fireplace mantel and stared down at the fire burning there. "I do not want to marry Miss Courtney."
    "What choice do you have?"
    At this moment Sir Gerard could see none, but that did not mean one did not exist. He had lived by his wits for too long not to find a solution to this problem.

    How could he marry the spinster? She might not be the conniving adventuress he had first thought, but she still was not suitable as a wife. He amended the thought, At least not for me.
    He knew what he required in a wife: both money and town polish. As a society hostess, the future Lady West-court needed connections and a strong will. He was willing to concede Miss Courtney had the will, but not the connections. Where was the necessary polish to overlook aristocratic transgressions? Gloomily he knew she was a woman of impeccable moral integrity.
    His hand clenched the mantel, and he eyed the tempting decanter. He shook his head. Forgetfulness in drink would not solve anything. Taking a deep breath, he turned his back on the brandy and glanced around the room.
    The books lining the shelves, the rich wood paneling the walls, even the window glass, painted the picture of gentility and wealth. Yet, the money was only a facade.
    Miss Courtney already owned everything else, did she also own him? Did she control his choice