The Virtuous Courtesan. Mary Brendan
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me and I will endeavour to delay my departure. It is best to close this business today.’
It seemed that within one stride Gavin Stone’s tall figure was at the exit and he was stooping in anticipation of quitting the office through a low sloping portal. Slowly he straightened and frowned at the scrawny clerk who had silently appeared and was now in his way.
The young man stretched his neck in his stiff collar to take a peer around the broad chest blocking his vision.
‘Excuse me, Mr Stone…Mr Pratt,’ he piped. ‘Miss Marchant is below and sends her apologies for her late arrival—shall I…?’
‘Show her up…show her up,’ Mr Pratt hissed impatiently, finishing the nervous youth’s sentence for him. A flapping hand stressed the urgency to fetch her. ‘There…she is at last arrived,’ Joseph soothed. ‘We might speedily set to and you will still be refreshed and away in good time.’ He sidled closer. ‘Please, sit down?’ he hesitantly suggested, for the saturnine fellow remained close to the exit.
Gavin muttered something inaudible beneath his breath and, ignoring the invitation to be seated, strolled to an open window, braced a hand against the frame and moodily stared out. His dark humour started to evaporate as warm scented air teased his senses and he squinted against late summer sunlight.
At this time of the year this small country town was undeniably a pleasant spot. Picturesque cottages and the green sward of the town square could be seen from his vantage point. Pratt and Donaghue, the legal firm whose letter concerning his brother’s demise had summoned him from London, held offices on the first floor of a redbrick townhouse. The building was flanked either side by similar properties with sturdy entrance doors bearing brass nameplates of the educated fellows trading within. Along both sides of a narrow High Street were shops of varying sizes, some with wares displayed outside. It appeared enough was on offer in Willowdene to meet a person’s needs. Nevertheless, Gavin remained surprised that his brother had some years ago relinquished his Mayfair lifestyle to reside permanently in what, to Gavin, was simply a quaint backwater.
‘I’m so sorry to be late. I hope you have not been greatly inconvenienced.’
Her voice was attractively youthful despite its note of husky anxiety. Gavin slowly turned his head, thinking it highly unlikely that Miss Marchant might look as good as she sounded. If he was surprised by what he saw, he restricted the emotion to a thoughtful pursing of his lips.
When informed earlier this afternoon by Joseph Pratt that a Miss Marchant had been named in his brother’s will, and would be joining them to hear of her bequest, he had imagined a loyal spinster servant was to be handsomely rewarded for looking after Edward, and asked no more.
Eddie had lived apart from his wife, Janet, for more than fifteen years. In the absence of a wife to marshal his household, it would be expected that a competent female would be hired to do so. Edward was ever a methodical man, if one disinclined to part with a penny more than he had to. It would not surprise Gavin one bit to find his brother’s menials were all owed back pay.
But this was no middle-aged servant. He levelled a steady blue gaze on the slender young woman who was in the process of removing a bonnet from her pale blonde hair. She then stripped off her gloves, very quickly, as though to make up for lost time. This was a lady of refinement. Had she not already spoken and revealed her class, he would have known from her deportment and poise that she was gently bred. But what kept Gavin momentarily spellbound was her undeniable beauty. And then misanthropic thoughts started to fill his head.
His eyes narrowed and his mouth took on a cynical slant. Perhaps he was beginning to understand his brother’s passion for the place. Considering the girl’s obvious youth and breeding, his suspicions should have been dismissed as ridiculous. Nevertheless he continued to ponder whether Edward might not have been quite the pious prig he’d liked to make out.
‘Umm…please sit here, Miss Marchant.’ Joseph indicated a similar armchair to the one Gavin had vacated. ‘And we can immediately begin. Mr Stone is impatient to get back to London tonight.’
Sarah Marchant took a step forward, her eyes again drawn to the imposing figure positioned by the window.
So this was Gavin Stone! He appeared stern, soberly dressed and nothing like the carefree wastrel Eddie’s description had led her to imagine. But it was not just his appearance that surprised her; she had expected a younger version of Eddie, for he had said they were physically alike. Sarah suppressed a wry smile. Eddie had obviously wished it so. This man was far taller and broader than his older brother had been and, she had to admit, far more handsome. He had darker colouring than Eddie and a luxuriant mane of hair framing the rugged planes of his face. Eddie had fretted over losing what remained of his thinning locks by the time he reached forty. Poor Eddie had been two years short of that milestone birthday when he caught smallpox. Sarah swallowed the little ache in her throat at the memory of his horrible illness. Thankfully it had been of short duration and he had succumbed quickly to its ravages.
Sarah quickly averted her eyes. She had been staring in quite a vulgar fashion whilst she compared the brothers. Remembering her manners she dipped into a neat bob. She also delivered an apologetic smile despite his surly countenance. But then Sarah accepted Gavin Stone had every reason to be annoyed. In fairness she would not have been pleased either to have kicked her heels in Mr Pratt’s office for so long. Before sitting down she made an effort to appear confident and briskly repeated her apology and strengthened her smile.
‘I hope you were not delayed by anything unpleasant?’
Sarah’s topaz eyes flicked to Gavin. He had uttered that in an odd tone…as though he expected her to furnish a reason for her tardiness. And now, far from appearing aloof, he had an amused, almost scornful look deep in his eyes that she found distinctly disquieting. ‘A domestic matter, sir.’ The concise information was quietly conveyed. She deliberately looked at the lawyer. A small nod of her blonde head indicated she was ready to proceed.
Joseph swung a sly glance from Mr Stone to Miss Marchant. He sensed a certain amount of friction between them already. Ten minutes hence, when the full extent of Edward Stone’s last will and testament was made known to them, he expected sparks to fly. He coughed and collected his papers together in a businesslike manner. Although he knew each protagonist was perfectly aware of the other’s identity, he made brief formal introductions. He could sense that Gavin Stone was intrigued and not a little impatient to know what part this lovely young woman had played in his brother’s life.
Earlier, when he had attempted to while away time by making small talk with Gavin Stone, he had purposely steered conversation away from the lady on whom they waited. Too much information about her might alert him to what may lie ahead and thus spoil the sensational surprise.
Gavin settled himself back in the chair he had recently vacated, but in such a way that he now faced Miss Marchant rather than the desk behind which the lawyer was hunched.
Aware that she was under scrutiny, Sarah flicked up her dusky lashes to boldly gaze back. When that did not deter him, but rather intensified the amusement at the back of his eyes, she flushed. She sensed that Gavin Stone had already taken against her. Perhaps he thought she was about to snatch away his inheritance. Well, she knew she was not. Eddie had told her that the bulk of his estate would pass to his only sibling despite the fact he didn’t like Gavin and rarely saw him. But he had promised to make adequate provision for her future. Today she was to find out what that was. She was hoping for a permanent tenancy of Elm Lodge, and an annuity. She flushed, ashamed of her mercenary thoughts. But then everybody must live…somehow… She just wished that there had been no need for her to participate in this pantomime in the lawyer’s office today. In life, Eddie had chosen to avoid his brother; she was coming to wish he had afforded her that privilege after his death.
‘I will come straight to the point,’ Joseph said in a ponderous tone and swept a glance between the pair seated opposite. ‘Mr Edward Stone, deceased, has left his entire estate and possessions to his brother, Mr Gavin Stone.’ He paused for a moment to allow that information to be digested. ‘However, there is a condition attached to the house in