Yuletide Treasure (Thornton 1.50)

“Perhaps some people can be bought, my lord.” Curran came to his feet, indignation etched in his every aged feature. “I cannot. Material gain means nothing if the price is sacrificing a young woman’s life.”

One dark brow rose. “Sacrificing her life? And who is it you fear will destroy her, Noelle or me?”

“Such a question deserves no answer.”

“Nevertheless, I’d like one. Having severed all ties with the rest of the world, I’m curious as to whose reputation is blacker, mine or my niece’s?”

“Your niece is a child, my lord,” the vicar responded distastefully. “I’m convinced that, had she been offered four years of proper love and guidance, she’d be a happy, well-adjusted little girl and this entire conversation would be unnecessary.”

“Really? Then tell me this, Vicar: If Noelle requires no more than proper guidance in order to thrive, why has every virtuous family in your parish returned her within a period of … let’s see—” Eric tapped his fingertips together thoughtfully. “The longest duration was just shy of six months. That was with the Willetts. I’m sure, if there truly is a heaven, those gentle souls have ensured themselves a shining place within its gates. On the other hand, there were the Fields, who endured Noelle for a mere day and a half, until she set fire to the kitchen—and the cook. Overall, I’d estimate my niece’s average stay at one residence to be three months.”

“There are reasons for a child to behave as Noelle does,” Curran said quietly. “But a man like you would have no knowledge of those reasons, nor understand their cause. Therefore, I shan’t attempt to explain.”

“Fine. Then, if it isn’t Noelle’s reputation that strikes terror in the hearts of your parishioners and prevents you from fulfilling my request, I assume it is mine

.”

For a moment, the vicar stared silently at the altar. Then, he replied, “You haven’t emerged from your estate in five years, Lord Farrington. And before that—well, I needn’t tell you how shocked the parishioners were at Liza’s death, nor how horrified they were by the part you played in driving her toward her untimely end. Most of your former servants still pale when they speak of those final weeks. It was a heinous tragedy, unparalleled in our small, quiet parish. To be blunt, the entire village is terrified of you. No one, regardless of how poverty-stricken they might be, would agree to relinquish their daughter into your hands.”

Eric’s features had hardened to stone at the mention of his sister’s name. “I disagree, Vicar. For the right sum, people will do anything. Even negotiate with the Devil himself.”

Curran shook his head. “You’re wrong, my lord. Nevertheless, there’s another, equally daunting, obstacle we have yet to discuss. Farrington is deserted, save, of course, you—and now Noelle. You dismissed your servants directly after Liza’s death and have never replaced them, I presume?”

“Correct. And I have no intention of altering that arrangement.”

“That decision is yours to make. However, I assume you expect Noelle’s governess to reside at Farrington?”

“Governesses customarily reside at the home of their charges.”

“Indeed they do. But this is not a customary situation. You are an unmarried man suggesting that a respectable woman share your home, unchaperoned and unaccompanied by anyone save a four-year-old child. Even if your past were untainted and your reputation flawless, no proper young woman would accept such unorthodox living arrangements.”

A black scowl. “I hadn’t considered that. I suppose I should have.” Swiftly, Eric reassessed his options. “Fine. I shall amend my offer.” Determination glittered in his eyes, laced his tone. “I’ll double my donation to the church from five thousand pounds to ten, and, rather than a governess, consider my offer to be for a wife.”

“A wife?” Curran’s head shot up, and he raked both hands through his silver hair. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Eric rose. “I’m sure you know that I’m an exceedingly wealthy man. My circumstances have more than reversed themselves over the past five years. I’ve not only recouped my fortune, I’ve doubled it. As my wife, the woman in question will have access to all my funds. She needn’t limit her spending, nor answer to me on her purchases, since I myself have no use for extravagances. She can send for whatever she wants: jewelry, clothing—a whole bloody wardrobe if she chooses—and whatever other insipid vanities women require. I don’t give a damn what she buys—nor what she does, for that matter. So long as she does it within the bounds of my estate and solely during those scant hours when Noelle sleeps. It goes without saying that her conduct must be above reproach, given that she will be Noelle’s only role model—and her only contact. The right candidate must understand that Noelle will be exclusively hers. Not only to oversee, but—to be blunt—to keep as far away from me as possible. And one thing more. Make certain the young lady you select is not the restless type. There will be no excursions to London, no balls or soirees, no outings in the country. In short, I remain at Farrington, and as my wife, so will she.”

“To translate, she’ll be your prisoner.”

Eric’s eyes flashed. “No, Vicar, she will not be my prisoner. She’ll be Noelle’s guardian. Which, whether you believe it or not, is a full-time job.”

“What about the young lady’s family ties?”

“They’ll have to be severed. No one is permitted to visit Farrington.”

“Why can’t she visit them? With Noelle, of course. Certainly, you agree it would be good for the child to have a change of scene now and again.”

“No!” Eric’s fist slammed against the pew, the wood vibrating from the intensity of his blow. “I want no link with the world, no matter how indirect. Farrington—and all its occupants—remain where they are. As for diversion, Noelle will have hundreds of acres to destroy. That should be enough, even for her.”

Dragging his hand through his hair, Eric brought himself under control. “Now, given those unnegotiable terms, who would you recommend I interview?”

Curran blinked in astonishment. “I cannot provide you with a candidate instantly—if ever. You’ll have to give me some time.”

“And during that time, do you trust a blackhearted sinner like me alone with Noelle?” Eric asked in an icy, mocking tone. “Because, quite frankly, I don’t.”

The vicar had just opened his mouth to reply when an unladylike shout permeated the church.

“Damn her.” Eric’s head snapped around.