If He's Sinful (30 page)

“My family is destitute,” he said bluntly. “My father was faithless, extravagant, and irresponsible. He left us all so deep in debt that my only choices are to wed an heiress or walk away from everything the Radmoors have built since the time of Elizabeth.”

“That still does not explain why you cannot marry my niece and do not try to tell me you were not the one who took her innocence,” said Olympia.

“I know what I have done is wrong but I never lied to Penelope about what my plans were or how they could not be changed no matter what I wanted. I have two brothers, three sisters, two aunts, and a mother I must support. I loathe the fact that I am naught but a fortune hunter, but needs must when the devil drives, and all that. And Charles holds all my father’s markers. He can easily ruin my family with them.”

“Do you have some strange aversion to Penelope’s money?”

“I do not have any money, Auntie,” Penelope said. “A small pension or whatever one might wish to call it, some money from the fathers of the boys, and that house that Charles claims is his. It is not enough to save Radmoor and his family from debtor’s prison. Charles will never allow him to pay those markers off slowly for he is determined that Clarissa marry a man of high title and a long heritage. Ashton needs a lot of money.”

Suddenly Aunt Olympia tensed and looked toward the door. A moment later Penelope knew why. Every hair on her body stood on end. She glanced at Ashton and saw him pull up his sleeves and stare at the upright hair on his arms in astonishment. Uncle Argus was here.

A tall, broad-shouldered man strode into the breakfast room, detached a grinning Darius and an equally happy Paul from his body, and shooed them out of the room. Paul was not Argus’s son but the boy adored the man and the man adored him. That man shook back his long black hair and fixed a dark, fierce gaze on Ashton. Penelope quickly put her hands over Ashton’s already glazing eyes and scowled at her uncle.

“You will not do that to Ashton,” she snapped. “There is no need. We are keeping no secrets, and will answer all questions.”

Argus rolled his eyes and sat down next to Olympia. “You allow a man no fun.” He began to help himself to what was left of the food.

Ashton pulled her hands away and stared at her in confusion. “What did he do? One moment I was ready to stand up and greet him, or accept a fist to the mouth, and the next? Well, I am not sure.”

Penelope sighed. “Uncle Argus, I would like to introduce Ashton Pendellen Radmoor, the viscount of Radmoor. Ashton, this is my uncle, Argus Wherlocke, Sir Wherlocke, and he has a gift for making people want to tell him anything and not recall that they did.”

“Truly?” Ashton stared at Sir Argus with interest.

“Ashton, the man just tried to force you to tell him all your secrets! Why are you looking at him as if he is the solution to all your problems?”

“Do we not have a few people we need some answers from?”

“Oh.” She looked at her uncle, who gave her a beguiling smile. She did not believe it for a moment. Uncle Argus was at his most dangerous when he looked so sweet.

“Tell me all while I fill the hole in my belly,” Argus said and began to eat.

Yet again Penelope told her whole story, her troubles, Ashton’s troubles, and all of their suspicions. She hoped no more of her relatives showed up because she was getting weary of telling it all. She especially hated to keep saying, aloud, that she and Ashton could not marry for it hurt each time she did so.

“So toss aside that scheming bitch Clarissa and marry our Penelope,” said Argus.

“I do not have the money he needs,” protested Penelope, trying not to lose her patience over having to repeat herself. “I just have a house and a small fund. Charles holds all the markers left by Ashton’s father, and if he calls them in, that will utterly ruin Ashton’s family. They could easily all end up in debtor’s prison.”
Please let this be the last time I have to say this
, she added silently.

“Of course you have money. Damn, girl, your father was so tight with a coin it screamed. He had a lot of properties that were not entailed and a small fortune in the funds. God knows what else he had. If the Hutton-Moores have told you that you are poor, they are lying. Your father would have made sure that everything that was his became your mother’s and yours with few ways open for a second husband to get his hands on any of it. He would have left something for his sons as well. Did you not read the damn will?”

“It was read to me by the solicitor, Mr. Horace Earnshaw,” Penelope said quietly. “I fear I was grieving so when it was read that I did not pay close attention. There was so much my mother and I had not agreed on and I knew that I would never be able to take back any angry words or come to an understanding. She was gone and the distance that had grown between us would never be crossed. It broke my heart. I did ask for the will once, but Charles told me the solicitor had it. I wrote the man a letter but he never responded and”—she shrugged—“I fear I forgot about it after a while. Things can get a little busy here. But—”

“It would help if you had a servant or two,” Ashton muttered.

“What are you grumbling about?” said Argus. “Of course she has servants. Who was that burly fellow at the door?”

“One of my mother’s footmen. I had him and his brother come here after Mrs. Cratchitt’s men broke into the house and started to destroy it.”

“Why did you not hire some, girl?” Argus stared at her in confusion, an expression that made his harsh face look almost boyish.

“Because I do not have any money. I have enough for us all to live here, clothe, and feed ourselves, but little more. What extra coin I had I have used to pay Septimus to tutor the boys. And to be quite blunt, it is a pittance, and if he was not family and so fond of the boys, he would soon find a new position.”

Argus sat back in his seat and dragged a hand through his hair. “But I have sent you money every week. I know the others send money near every month. I cannot remember the exact sum, but it would certainly be enough to hire a maid or two.”

Penelope stared at her uncle and then, as a cold knot formed in her belly, she looked at Ashton, who was frowning. “They have known about this house since the beginning. They have found some way to take most of the money sent to me.” She looked at her uncle. “Did you send it here?”

“I believe most of us did. Are you saying they managed to get their greedy hands on the money we sent to our children?”

The hair on Penelope’s arms was standing up again and she knew that, although his voice was almost pleasant, her uncle was furious. “I believe they have. I just do not know…” She stopped speaking as she saw the ghost of Mrs. Pettibone standing near the fireplace with her head hanging in shame. “Oh, Mrs. Pettibone, did you steal it?”

Nay. He did. He said he was your brother. Said you were trying to steal from him and all. He gave me a little each time I took a packet
.

Penelope blinked. That had to be one of the most understandable conversations she had ever had with a ghost. It was obvious that what she had done had weighed on Mrs. Pettibone for a very long time.

“It is fine, Mrs. Pettibone, I forgive you.”

The children
?

Clearly Mrs. Pettibone’s skill with words had already faded. “They will forgive you, too. It is not your fault that you believed Charles. He is very persuasive and you have been taught that a man rules.”

Aye. They do
.

Penelope was not about to get in an argument with a ghost about that although a part of her wanted to. “Find your peace, Mrs. Pettibone.”

Hell. I am a thief.

“Nay, you were lied to. It is Charles who will pay. Let go, my dear. Let go.”

When Mrs. Pettibone suddenly smiled beatifically and slowly faded, Penelope looked at her aunt and uncle. “Charles told Mrs. Pettibone some tale about me stealing from him. I suspect the
and all
includes many a slander upon my reputation and good reasons why he could not just take me to a magistrate. So, she took any packet she could get ahold of and gave it to him. He always gave her a little money to show his immense gratitude. Why the woman did not stop and ask why, if I was stealing from him, I was posting the money to myself instead of just carrying it to the house, I do not know.” Penelope knew her voice was tart and short with bitterness but she could not help it. Charles had stolen from her boys, and for that, she wanted to see him pay.

She frowned. “It was odd. The first thing she said was clear and precise. No rhymes, no short words that give a clue but not enough. She spoke to me as if she were right here, alive. Yet when she first appeared, she was just like the others, and after she made her little confession, she went back to short sentences or one word. Has not said a word in between then and now, either.”

“Perhaps she was just saving her strength, practicing what she needed to say so that she could confess it all quickly and clearly,” said Ashton, and then he shrugged. “It was just a thought.”

“A very good one. I may see ghosts and speak with them but I fear the only thing I am sure of about them is that they almost all seek peace.”

“The man who stole from our children will pay us back,” said Argus. “And I will see that Septimus is given a nice sum to make up for wages lost to the bastard.”

“Thank you, Uncle. Sad to say, I am not sure there will be any of the money to retrieve. It was undoubtedly spent on fine clothes, fine wines, carriages, and horses. The trappings that Charles so loves.”

“Then we will take our money back in trade.”

“We can plan that out later, Argus,” said Olympia. “I want to see this solicitor.”

“Once my curiosity about the will was roused again, I began trying to arrange a meeting with him,” said Penelope. “I started by writing a letter every other day, then every day, then two a day.” She shrugged. “Yesterday I sent him four.”

“Perhaps he has not replied because he is buried beneath the letters,” drawled Olympia.

“I have things to do today,” said Argus, “but we will all hunt the man down on the morrow. Has anyone tried to find the will at Salterwood House?”

“It is called Hutton-Moore House now,” said Penelope and almost smiled when her uncle fell into a low muttering of curses. Perhaps she had erred in not sending word to her relatives about her troubles.

“And I need to visit with the boys and little Juno,” said Olympia.

“Juno?” Argus frowned. “A girl?”

Penelope explained who Juno was. “She is still a little uncertain but the boys are already very protective of her.”

“Damn. A girl. Best write to Quintin. He may still be sending money to that bitch to pay for the girl and it had best come to you now.”

“Of course.” She smiled faintly. “I wonder if her dear mother considered her loss of income when she so callously rid herself of her daughter.”

“She will be made aware of it very soon and I would not wish to be her when Quintin finds out what she did.”

Penelope winced. Her cousin was well known for his temper. However, if the woman had a change of heart simply because her purse was now lighter, she would find that she had lost all chance of retrieving her little girl. Penelope would never let that woman near Juno again.

“We will be staying with you,” said Olympia but she was staring at Ashton.

Ashton nearly grimaced. He had finally been able to get Penelope back into his arms and now she would be taken away from him again. Argus was grinning at him and Ashton had a strong urge to kick the man.

“Bit like shutting the stable door after the mare has fled, Olympia,” Argus drawled as he stood up and started toward the door. “Never thought you a prude.”

“Someone should be in this family,” she called after him but he just laughed as the door swung shut behind him. “You may leave now,” she said to Ashton.

Penelope grasped him by the arm when he began to stand up and held him in his seat. “Nay. This is my house, Auntie. I am one and twenty and not a child. As my uncle so indelicately put it, the mare has fled. I know what I am doing would be frowned on by everyone in society if it was discovered, but so would taking care of the illegitimate children of my relatives. I want my time with Ashton,” she said quietly and he grasped her hand in his. “I need it and for once in my life I intend to do what I want.”

“Fine.” Olympia stood up. She walked around the table and looked into Ashton’s eyes. “Stay. But if you break my niece’s heart, I will make you very sorry you were ever born.” She patted Penelope on the head and then strode out of the room.

“Your aunt is a very beautiful woman,” Ashton said quietly.

Penelope suffered a sharp pinch of jealousy. “Aye, she is.”

He nodded. “She is also very scary.”

“True, she is.”

“My mother would love her.”

They looked at each other and laughed.

Chapter Seventeen

“This seems a poor place for a solicitor,” muttered Olympia. “I cannot believe your father would entrust his money and important papers to a man who lived in such squalor.”

Penelope slid her hand into Ashton’s and stared at the building. It
was
a squalid place in a squalid area. Then she frowned. There was also someone dead in there.

“Best we go on up and see the fool,” said Argus, starting toward the door, Darius at his heels.