The Bride Says No (29 page)
Apparently so.
That her father had sent for her also had to mean that perhaps he was over his snit and they could talk and reach an understanding.
She knocked on the door.
“Come in” was the abrupt order.
Tara turned the handle and entered the room.
Her sire sat at his desk, mounds of ledgers spread out before him. She rarely saw him like this. Aileen had been the one to keep the books and accounts in order.
A lamp had been lit, and its yellow light highlighted the sheen of sweat on the earl’s pale complexion. He did not wear a jacket, and he had loosened his neck cloth.
The bottle was no longer on the liquor cabinet but sat on his desk, close at hand.
“You sent for me, Father?”
“I did. Sit.”
She took one of the upholstered chairs around the small table. He came around from his desk, shut the door and faced her, placing his hands behind his back. For a long moment he stood, his lips pressed together sternly.
Tara tried to sit still, to wait. At last she could stand the silence no longer. “If you are going to berate me, start on it. I’m tired and ready for my bed—”
“We are done up,” he interrupted.
“Done up?”
“Broke, gone, bankrupt.”
The air seemed to leave the room. Tara forced herself to be calm. “How can that be? Didn’t Mr. Stephens pay a marriage portion even though I was not the one he married?”
Her father’s scowl deepened. She waited. At last, the words almost bursting out of him, he said, “I spent it.”
“
All
of it?”
He snorted his amusement. “It was gone before we left London.”
Tara grabbed the arms of the chair as if they were lifelines. “All of it,” she repeated in amazement.
He nodded and sank into the chair opposite hers. “There were a couple of fights, and I wagered on the wrong men. Then there was that night I went out with Crewing. That night didn’t end for two days.” He rose from the chair and crossed to the desk to pour whisky into a well-used glass. “I thought I could earn it all back.”
“Oh, Father,” Tara said, her stomach sinking.
“I have a bit of blunt. Stephens bought a mare from me. He overpaid, but the mare didn’t bring in much.” He released his breath as if steadying his nerves before admitting, “And then it becomes worse.”
“Worse? I don’t think I can properly appreciate worse right now.”
“You have to know,” he said. His expression had softened into one of deep remorse, and Tara couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him. Aileen had always been harder on him than Tara was. Aileen didn’t trust him.
Tara felt she had to depend upon him, even for all of his notable faults. Beyond everything else, he was her father.
“What is it I must know?” she asked.
“Someone has purchased my paper. He owns it all.”
“Your paper?” Tara repeated.
“You can’t gamble without money,” he said as if stating the obvious. “I had to reclaim what I’d lost, so I borrowed from moneylenders and a banker here and there. The man who now owns my debts came this afternoon. He expects me to pay. He wants his money now.”
“Can you speak to Blake?” she suggested.
Her father’s laugh was angry. “No, there will be no money from that quarter. He told me he would no longer cover my debts. He said he’d see that food was on my table, but he’d not cover my losses.”
Tara could not blame Blake. She forced herself to take a breath. “What of Annefield?”
His manner lightened. “It’s entailed. There is no fear there. It will go to my heirs. I haven’t lost that yet.”
“But what have you lost?”
“It’s what I
could
lose that matters. What I will lose.”
“And what is that, Father?”
“My horses. I built my reputation on them. My pride,” he added. “It shames a man to know he is that foolish.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Aye, the land around Annefield.”
“
What?
” Tara came to her feet. “Did you not say it was entailed?”
“The house is entailed, the rest is gone unless I can meet my obligations.”
“Then we shall meet them.” Here was something she could sink her teeth into. The case of blue devils that had been following her since Aileen and Blake had left was immediately lifted from her shoulders, and in its place stood generations of pride. “We shall not lose the land. It is ours. Tell me all, Father. Between the two of us, we can create a plan. Who is this man who has purchased your paper?”
“Breccan Campbell.”
It took a moment for Tara to overcome her shock. “Campbell? He has that much money?”
“He may be a giant oaf of a man, but he has a shrewd mind. He showed me the vouchers. They have my signature.”
Tara found her temper. “I have
never
liked that man. I saw him not too long ago, and I thought him a brute. He was so rude.”
“Rude?”
“Aye, of the boldest nature. I tell you
I welcome
this fight. So he thinks he can best us. Well, he is wrong.”
“You are right, Daughter,” the earl said. “Although he did offer me a solution, and one that I have accepted.”
“What solution is that, Father?”
The earl sank down on the chair beside hers. “Perhaps. Maybe you made a better impression on him than he did on you.” His tone had grown hopeful.
“I don’t care what he thinks of me. I don’t like him. In fact, I detest him. Yes, that is how I feel. I have no desire to set eyes on him again.”
The earl lifted his glass to his lips and poured it down his throat before saying, “That is unfortunate, my girl. Because the terms of receiving all my paper back is that you marry him.”
That statement caught her attention. “Marry him? Me? Oh, no, that will not happen—”
“As a matter of fact, it
will
happen, and it will be done in one hour’s time. Campbell will be here with Reverend Kinnion and the witnesses. You’d best go dress, girl. You are about to become a bride.”
CATHY MAXWELL
spends hours in front of her computer pondering the question, “Why do people fall in love?” It remains for her the great mystery of life and the secret to happiness. She lives in beautiful Virginia with children, horses, dogs, and cats. Fans can contact Cathy at
www.cathymaxwell.com
or PO Box 1135, Powhatan, VA 23139.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
T
HE BRIDE SAYS NO
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