Alexander unlocked the door and took the key. “I’ll lock it from the outside.”
They plastered their backs against the wall, each standing on opposite sides of the window. The warm glow flickering against the glass was a sure sign someone had entered the kitchen.
They heard what sounded like pots banging, doors slamming. “What the hell am I supposed to eat? Even the street urchins would turn their noses up at this.”
They heard sighs and muttered curses.
“What are you complaining about now?” Miss Sutherby’s voice silenced her brother’s grumbling.
“There’s no food.”
“Of course, there is. There’s bread and fruit and a small chunk of cheese. I’m not a cook. I’m not a maid. Don’t expect me to wander the markets haggling for scraps.”
“Bread and cheese? I’d be fed better if I was locked up in Newgate.”
“And whose fault is that? Everything would have worked out perfectly if you’d not been so damn careless.”
“Me! You’re the one who told me to secure a betrothal. One way or another, you said.”
“Are you stupid? Miss Bromwell is far too intelligent to be won over with amorous kisses and moonlit liaisons.”
Alexander couldn’t help but form a smug grin. Eve loved nothing more than secret liaisons and passionate kisses — just not with Mr. Sutherby.
“I was desperate. I could have forced the deed had it not been for that devil Hale showing up.”
Anger erupted in Alexander’s gut, and his fingers pulsated as he imagined throttling the man.
Sensing his shift in mood, Elliot shook his head and waved his hands, a gesture to calm a volatile spirit.
“The Earl of Hale obviously has designs on her himself,” Miss Sutherby said. “You’ve seen his estate. It’s practically a ruin. I’m sure Miss Bromwell’s sizable inheritance will go a long way to securing his land for future generations.”
Elliot gave him a sidelong glance. “Inheritance?” he mouthed.
Alexander shrugged. Although Miss Bromwell and her aunt moved about in Society, they appeared to live quite modestly. They’d hired a carriage to bring them to Mytton Grange and boasted only a handful of servants. Unless all of her inheritance was payable upon marriage.
“Perhaps Hale is interested in more than her money. I’ve seen the way he looks at her. I mean she’s damnably pretty and always pleasant company.”
“I knew it,” Miss Sutherby exclaimed. “You’ve developed a liking for her. I’ve seen it in your eyes when you speak to her.”
“I have not.”
“You believe yourself in love with her.”
“I do not. Now you’re being ridiculous.”
“If you think you’re going to marry her and not share the money with me, then you can think again. I know enough to see you swing from the highest tree.”
“Miss Bromwell will not want to marry me now. Not after the debacle in the garden.”
“Well, you had better hope that she does. We owe rent on this house and at Mytton Grange, not mention the bill for the modiste, the tailors —”
“Perhaps we should just leave here and move on. What about York or Edinburgh?”
“Move on!” Miss Sutherby shrieked. “It will take months to find another heiress. What are we supposed to eat in the meantime, Scotch mist? You really do say the most pathetic things.”
“Why do you always treat me like a child? You take your role of sibling far too seriously.”
“One of us has to take control else we’ll end up in debtor’s prison.”