The Indebted Earl by Erica Vetsch (love letters to the dead TXT) 📕

to say, and she still struggled with his role in Rich’s death, he had been kind, especially to Mamie. For that alone, she would have counted his visit welcome.

She hurried back to the drawing room, and in an instant knew something was terribly wrong. Perry Richardson stood before the curio cabinet, picking up and setting down shells, his back to the room. Sophie wanted to smack his hand. Those shells belonged to Rich. Nobody touched them.

Mamie was drawn into herself, a small figure in the corner of the settee. Her eyes had a bewildered, faraway look. Sophie went to her, putting her arm around the older woman.

“What is it?” Sophie bristled and steeled herself. If he had been rude to Mamie, she was going to forget her manners and give him the tongue lashing he deserved.

Mamie studied Sophie’s face. “He says we have to leave Primrose?” She asked it as a question, as if seeking confirmation.

Perry cleared his throat, tossing the last shell onto the shelf and turning around. “This house is the country seat of the barony. It comes with the title. I’m sure you understand. It belongs to my family now.”

Thuds and thumps came from overhead, and a crash followed on the heels of a yell from one of the boys. Millicent Richardson’s voice could be heard like a nail on glass as she scolded her sons. At the rate they were going, Primrose would be a pile of rubble within a fortnight.

Anger flickered like hot tongues of fire across Sophie’s skin. A tremor went through her, a little flash of recognition that she was about to say something she might regret. The brashness of the man, parading in like a field marshal and setting down demands.

“Sir, that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard uttered. You cannot possibly throw Mamie Richardson out of Primrose Cottage. It’s her home. You must have lost your reason.”

“It was her home. Now it is my home.” He shook his head. “Come, come, woman. Do not become hysterical. I’m not intending she should be destitute. I’m sure there is a small cottage in the village where she can live out the rest of her days. I’m not completely callous. She is my relative, after all.” He narrowed his eyes. “You have not explained your presence here, however. Just who are you? A paid companion, I assume? Well, you may keep your position as long as your wages are not exorbitant.”

Mamie’s hand fluttered, and she murmured, but Sophie spoke first. “I am not a paid companion. I am Lady Sophia Haverly, sister to the Duke of Haverly, who happens to be the overlord of this property. Mamie’s son, Baron Richardson, was my fiancé, and he charged me with caring for Mamie and Primrose Cottage until his return from war.”

Perry flinched when she gave her title and relationship to the duke. Then he rallied. “I am sorry for your loss, but that loss does mean the barony passes to me. Your duty to Aunt Mamie ceased when Rich died. I will see that she is taken care of, installed in a reasonable cottage in the village, and has a pension for her needs. I’m not a monster. I should think you would be grateful to have someone take her off your hands.”

“She’s not a stray dog. I have no desire to be freed of the pleasure of looking after her.” Sophie tightened her hug around Mamie’s shoulders. How could this be happening? It felt as if everything was being ripped from her.

Surely this couldn’t be God’s will. God, You wouldn’t take Primrose and Mamie from me, would You? You’ve already got Rich and the future we’d planned together. Please don’t take this house.

“Whatever your title or position, the truth remains—this house is mine, and you will need to vacate it. Sooner rather than later. My wife is most eager to begin the renovations, and she has no desire for relics of former barons to hang about. I shall go into the village to search for a suitable cottage for Aunt Mamie. If you choose to stay on there, be advised you will contribute to the household expenses. It’s one thing to pension off a relative, but I won’t be responsible for your upkeep as well. Though I suppose, as a daughter of a duke, you have some means …” He appraised her. “In any case, I expect you to be out of the house tomorrow at the latest.”

Heat charged into Sophie’s cheeks, and again that tremble that told her to bite her tongue rippled through her bones. The gall of the man.

A movement caught her eye. Captain Wyvern stood in the doorway, bicorn in hand, cloak over his shoulder. How much had he heard?

“Lady Sophia, Lady Richardson.” He bowed as he came into the room. “I must thank you for your gracious hospitality. I could not have asked for more welcoming hostesses.” His voice was as dry as pillow ticking. “You are kindness personified. Before I take my leave, I must renew my offer of assistance. Are you certain there is nothing I can do for you?”

Mamie rallied at his strong voice. “Captain Wyvern, it appears we are in need after all. Would you consider staying on to help us sort things out?”

Sophie wanted to protest. They had asserted that they were not in need of the captain’s assistance. But if Mamie wanted the captain to stay, Sophie wouldn’t contradict her.

It wasn’t as if they needed him though. Sophie had family to aid her, and not just anyone, but a duke. With one word of assent, they could accept Marcus’s offer to live at Haverly. It wasn’t as if they would be homeless.

Though that would feel like admitting defeat. Of surrendering her independence and her future. Still, if that was what was best for Mamie, she would do it. Mamie at Haverly Manor was much better than Mamie shunted off to some cramped cottage in the village.

“We will accede to your demands, Baron Richardson.