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he knew it. By the time they finally retired at night, Bess was too
exhausted to talk, of course.
His dear wife was trying to avoid his presence, Bradford believed, so
that he couldn't press her about the succession, as if, by ignoring the issue,
she could make it disappear. Instead, with every ball and breakfast,
Carroll was more convinced that he was too old for all this claptrap, that
he should get his house in order before it was too late.
So he went looking for Oliver.
His hapless heir wasn't in attendance at any of the court functions, nor
any of the sporting events, coffeehouses, or gambling establishments.
None of the girls had seen their cousin or his wife, either. Lord Carroll was
able to track them down finally, but only through Joia's husband's
contacts at the Consulate. Sons-in-law were handy for something, even if
they couldn't purchase their own wives' bride clothes.
The address the earl had been given was in an unfashionable outskirt of
Vienna, where few of the foreign tourists bothered to visit. The earl was
happy he'd brushed up on his schoolboy German. He was also happy he'd
thought to change his blunt into local currency. Oliver's landlady, it
appeared, was not about to permit him to visit the sapskull until Oliver's
rent was paid, plus bills for his medicine, doctor, and food.
The once-dandified Oliver was a sorry mess, and Lord Carroll was never
sorrier he was connected to the makebate after he'd heard Oliver's tale of
woe.
Aubergine, it seemed, regretted her bargain within days of the hasty
marriage. The Tulip's shirt points were the only stiff thing about him, the
earl surmised from Oliver's garbled account. As soon as they got to Vienna
and the new Mrs. Carroll realized that she was even less socially acceptable
than before, that Oliver's expectations could not gain her entry into the
haut monde, she'd been more displeased. She didn't speak the language,
not even French, didn't have a single acquaintance among the English
elite, and didn't want to waste her brass paying the inept wastrel's
gambling debts. So she'd decamped with a Polish count and Lord Carroll's
wedding gift money.
Oliver hadn't been able to satisfy his obligations, not even the Austrian
boot-maker who, unlike the English tradesmen, actually demanded
payment on delivery. The fop knew he couldn't send to his cousin for more
funds, Lord Carroll having made that clear on the occasion of signing the
wedding check. So Oliver went to a moneylender. When he found that his
luck hadn't turned, that he couldn't repay this new, higher-rate-of-interest
creditor, Oliver did what he usually did: he cheated at cards. And what
happened was what usually happened: he got caught. This time the flat
he'd chosen to fleece was a Prussian major who called him out, then laid
him out with a bullet in the shoulder. Which still didn't get Oliver's debts
to the cents-percenter paid. That displeasured businessman sent an
associate to beat Oliver to a pulp, saying he'd kill him in a fortnight if the
money was not forthcoming.
And that, Oliver concluded, was why he was hiding out in a run-down
room with a lamprey for a landlady, both eyes swollen shut, half his teeth
missing, and his dealing arm in a sling. He'd take any offer his cousin was
willing to make if it would get him out of this benighted country alive. An
allowance, a minor title, and a plantation in Jamaica? Where should he
sign his disclaimer to the succession? Oliver would endorse it without
looking, with his left hand. Hell, he'd use his own blood if the landlady
wouldn't provide ink.
Sons-in-law were deuced convenient indeed, Lord Carroll congratulated
himself. Rendell's people handled the settlement with the moneylender,
Comfort's connections made the travel arrangements, and Max's
departing army friends acted as escort to ensure Oliver got on his ship. Of
course, all three of the girls' husbands were happy to get their
cousin-by-marriage, clunch-by-birth, out of the country and out of their
lives. They weren't as happy as Lord Carroll, however. Bess was ready to go
home.
Merry and Max were anxious to take up the reins of their own property.
They invited the earl and countess to come along to Kent, to offer advice
and suggestions toward making the farm profitable, the house livable.
Merry could have managed the place with her eyes closed, but she was
wise enough to let Max do the deciding. Merry was good for the lad, and
his quiet calm was good for her. They didn't need their in-laws hanging
about.
Not even Bess could think of an excuse to linger in Kent, especially not
with Joia and Comfort expected back in England soon. The countess was
planning to meet their arrival in London to save them the extra travel [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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