His Christmas Countess

Blackmail? That had to be what they were discussing.

‘Two hundred,’ a man snapped. And that must be her brother, Henry.

‘Two hundred pounds? Two thousand four hundred a year. My goodness, that was ambitious, Henry.’

Kate sounded not at all shocked. In fact, from her question, she had obviously expected to hear that money was being extorted. A faint hope that she was talking about money for the support of her child faded. That sum was way in excess of what might be expected to provide for a by-blow. Not that he’d ever had to do the sums himself... Grant jerked his attention back to the voices in the room.

‘And it is guineas, not pounds.’

‘Two thousand five hundred and twenty pounds. A mistake to gloat about the guineas. That’s an additional one hundred and twenty you are going to give me.’

Nausea gripped his gut. Kate wanted the blackmail money, was demanding it in a hard, cold voice that belonged to another woman, not the one he’d married. Not his Kate.

‘Give you the money?’ her brother protested. ‘Are you insane? Why should I do a damn fool thing like that?’

‘Because I’ll see you in gaol if you don’t, brother dear. My child, my fear and danger, my near disgrace. I think I have earned it, don’t you?’

Grant reached for the door handle, his vision blurred by a haze of anger and betrayal. Kate, his Kate. He would never have believed that the woman he trusted with his life and his honour would turn into this hard-voiced, grasping witch.

Never have believed it. He jerked his hand back so hard his knuckles hit the rough surface of the brick, the pain like a dash of icy water in the face. Trust. If he abandoned her at this first test of his feelings, what did that make of their marriage but a hollow sham? This was Kate. Yes, she had not told him that Baybrook was Anna’s father. Yes, she had not told him why she had come to Essex. But there could well be reasons as painful and as difficult to talk about as his feelings about Madeleine had been. He owed Kate his faith and, if things really were bad, his understanding and forgiveness. He had to get her to trust him to give her that and he could begin by not leaving her to fight this dragon alone.

* * *

Henry was spluttering now. ‘Where the devil do you think I am going to get that money from? I have spent most of it.’

‘Well, unspend it, Henry. Sell things, borrow, pawn. I want a banker’s draft for every shilling.’

‘Or what? All right, I agree that I’ll write to Baybrook, tell him his debt’s paid. But you can’t get the money out of me, and if you utter any more threats, I’ll just have to keep you here until you see reason.’

So, she had been right to leave Giles with instructions. ‘My man is outside in the carriage. He knows what to do if I do not come out, or if I send him a note without a certain code word in it. I really am not as foolish as you always thought me, Henry. And as for how I intend to extract that money from you, why, I will simply confess all to my husband. Grant Rivers is a law-abiding, honest man and—’

The door behind her opened. ‘I am flattered that you think so, my dear,’ said a deep, calm voice.

‘Grant.’ Kate found she was on her feet, facing the door where her husband stood surveying the room with a chilly hauteur that sent a dangerous wave of sheer desire through her. Behind the broad shoulders in the caped greatcoat she could glimpse the butler, bobbing about in agitation.

‘Sir? My lord?’

Grant half turned and handed Claridge his hat and gloves. He kept hold of his riding crop. ‘Thank you. That will be all.’ He shut the door in the butler’s face. ‘Sir Henry Harding, I assume? My brother-in-law.’ He stayed on his feet, looming over the seated man at the desk. ‘I wish I could say it is a pleasure, but I doubt it will be, for either of us.’

‘Grant, please sit down.’ He might be intimidating Henry, which was a good thing, but he was terrifying her.

‘If you wish, my dear.’ He picked up one of the heavy carved chairs that sat against the wall and spun it across, one-handed, to thud in front of the desk next to Kate, then he sat down, crossed one booted leg across the other and began, very softly, to tap the riding crop against the polished leather. ‘So, allow me to summarise the situation as I see it, Harding. Your sister is with child by Baybrook. You send her away where he cannot marry her even if he wishes to, and then you extort money from him under threat of informing his immensely wealthy and very, very moral prospective father-in-law. Am I correct so far?’