Free A Well Pleasured Lady by Christina Dodd

they ought to be—especially that twisted weasel who called himself Lord Whitfield.
    â€œI remember seeing you when you came to speak to my father-in-law,” Nora said to Mary. “You were little and brave, and he threw you out.”
    Sebastian glared at Bubb.
    Bubb stared at his toes and rocked back and forth.
    Heat climbed in Mary’s cheeks as she realized her prayers had not been answered—the prayers that requested that episode be erased from everyone’s recollection.
    â€œHe tried to do the same with me once.” Nora pleated the silk of her skirt between her fingers and watched the motion steadily. “I had Bubb to stop him.”
    Mary felt an unwilling empathy with her aunt by marriage. “Better to be married to a Fairchild than to be one, then.”
    â€œOh, I wouldn’t say that.” Nora frowned, then her brow cleared. “You’re joking, of course. Excuse me, they say I haven’t got a sense of humor.”
    Mary hadn’t been joking, but neither did she want to disillusion Nora.
    â€œWhen Lord Fairchild—Bubb’s father—tried to throw me out, he’d already disinherited your father, so I suppose he had to tether one son at his side.”
    Not a flattering portrayal of Bubb’s role all these years, Mary noted. But a fair one? “Then he left me the money. Why?”
    â€œGuilt over the way he treated your father?” Nora spread her palms to indicate her ignorance. “Or you? I think most likely, spite against Bubb.”
    â€œIf I might offer a supposition?” Lady Valéry said. “I knew the marquess for years, and I think he left the money to Mary simply because he knew it would cause an fracas among his progeny.”
    Nora’s mouth puckered and her nostrils flared. She might have been consuming rotten meat, or smelling the sickly odor of decay. Mary suspected she was instead thinking of her father-in-law, although her voice remained polite enough. “You are probably right, Lady Valéry. One shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but such a scheme would appeal to him. Why else would he have left everything, the whole, immense fortune, to a granddaughter he easily dismissed before?”
    Strange, how discussing Mary’s newfound wealth vanquished the ill effects of road travel. “Just how much money are we talking about?” she asked.
    â€œBubb has the title, of course, and the lands are entailed to the eldest male heir.” Nora stroked one curl that rested on her chest. “Aside from that, yourgrandfather amassed over one hundred twenty thousand pounds.”
    A film of moisture suddenly formed all over on Mary’s skin, and Sebastian murmured, “You’re flushed.”
    Of course she was flushed. She’d never heard that much money even mentioned at one time.
    Bubb clapped his hands, and the small explosion of noise made everyone in the room jump. “This is a cause for celebration. Let’s lift a toast to my newfound niece and her newfound fortune. It’s good to be back in the fold, heh, Guinevere?”
    Mary stared at him for a few moments, just long enough to make him squirm. Was he sincere? He couldn’t be.
    But a housekeeper always makes those around her comfortable.
    Taking a careful breath, she told herself she no longer had to monitor the contentment of the people around her. Still, the habits of ten years died hard, and she kept her tone polite. “I prefer to be called Mary now, Lord Fairchild.”
    â€œOf course.” It seemed Bubb was unaware of any undercurrents, for he beamed like a boy who’d been invited to share a confidence. “Call me Uncle Bubb. After all, I’m your guardian now.”
    In that instant, with that one sentence, Mary saw the genius in Sebastian’s plan. Unmarried women had no rights over their money. If she kept quiet about the sham betrothal, she would be subject to Bubb’s manipulations of her