didn’t know. I asked him, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled out a number of papers—notes and deeds. He had the deed to that piece of land that Grandfather sold to Squire Mayfield before he died, as well as the hunting cottage I sold two years ago. I sold it to an Englishman, but apparently he was merely a solicitor buying the cottage for someone else, an American. Last year Squire Mayfield sold his plot to the same man, as well.”
“The same one who owns the mine? But, Jeremy, who is this man? Why is he buying so much of our property?”
“Apparently he is obsessed with the English nobility. That’s the only thing I can think of. It is all so bizarre. He must be excessively wealthy, and I assume he is trying to—to buy his way into Society. I am not sure what his reasons are. Pettigrew would not explain it, really. He is quite polite, but you cannot pry anything out of him that he does not want to say. Believe me, I tried all the way up here from London. But he would just start talking about the scenery or asking questions about the estate.”
“But why did this man choose you to buy these things from? And how can closing down a mine and buying property in England make him a part of Society?”
“I can only assume that the Stanhopes must have been an obvious choice—titled and desperately in need of money. Besides, we have the other main requirement.”
He stopped and eyed his sister a little uneasily. Angela looked up at him. “What is that?”
“A female of marriageable age and condition in the family.”
Angela froze, staring at her brother mutely. She felt as if all the air had been knocked from her lungs.
When she said nothing, Jeremy went on hurriedly. “That is the plan, apparently. He wants to marry into the British nobility. I presume he must realize that no matter how much land he might buy or how much wealth he might have, he would never be accepted. So he wants to marry a daughter or sister of an earl or a viscount or.” He trailed off miserably, sneaking a glance at Angela’s stricken face. “I am sorry, Angie. You don’t know how sorry I am that he should have chosen to fix on this family.”
“Oh, he chose well, all right,” Angela said bitterly. “A family with a daughter so disgraced that they could not hope for any better marriage for her. One they would be happy to sacrifice for a little money.”
She jumped to her feet and began to pace agitatedly, her hands clenched into fists at her side. “I won’t do it, Jeremy! You cannot ask this of me. Our grandfather already sacrificed me once for money for the family. You cannot ask me to do it a second time!”
Jeremy rose and went to her, reaching out to touch her shoulders. She flinched away from him, and he sighed. “I wish there were some other way, Angela. I talked to Pettigrew until I was ready to drop. I pleaded and argued and pointed out the unfairness of it. He apologized and flushed and looked perfectly miserable, but he would not budge. He is not the one who makes the decisions. He is merely representing someone else.”
“Why should you have to beg and plead and argue?” Angela turned to face him, her eyes bright with anger and a touch of fear. “Just because he owns some land that was once ours does not mean he can bend us to his will. They’re closing the mine, anyway—Oh, wait. Of course. I see. That’s why he talked about shutting down the mine. He will close it only if I don’t marry him. Is that it?”
Jeremy nodded, unable to meet Angela’s eyes. “And if you marry him, he will make the improvements so that the mine will earn more money.”
“Ah, I see,” Angela’s voice was bitter. “Both the carrot and the stick. So if I don’t agree to marry this—this bully, the family will not only lose the money we are getting now, we will lose the added amount we would have gotten. Well, he has certainly contrived to put me into a thoroughly untenable position.”
Jeremy groaned, turning away and plunging his hands into his hair. “That isn’t even the worst of it. He bought up my notes, as well.”
“What notes?”
“Practically every one I have ever signed. Personal notes, all the encumbrances on the property—almost every cent I have borrowed in the past ten years. I owe it all to him now! If he chose to call it due, I would be ruined. I could not begin to pay it. He could take half our land. Oh, God, Angela, I don’t know what I am to do!”
“Jeremy!” Angela gazed at him, shaken. “What kind of man would do that? Arbitrarily choose a family, people he has never met, in an entirely different country, even, and inflict such damage on them? Bend them to his will by any means, fair or foul?”
“You, of all people, must know that there are such men,” Jeremy blurted out.
“Sweet heaven, you are right.” Angela passed a suddenly trembling hand over her face. “Doubtless Dunstan would have done the same if he had lacked position in Society.”
“No. I should not have said that.” Jeremy swung around to face her. “This man is not necessarily like Dunstan.”
“Someone who wields a club like that over your head? Someone that ruthless? That unfeeling? What else would he be like?”
“It does not mean that he would be the—the same sort of husband. That he would … would …”
“Beat me?” Angela supplied, when Jeremy could not get the words out. “Make my life unbearable? Of course he would. Do you think such a man would brook disagreement in a wife? Or refrain from taking it out on me when he is in a bad temper? Jeremy.” Angela felt panic rising up inside her. “You said when I ran to you that I would never have to marry again. You promised me!”
“Oh, God! Don’t, Angela. I won’t make you. I could not force you, anyway.”
“I am dependent upon you.”
“You think that I would turn you out if you refused to marry him? Is that the sort of man you think I am?”
“No.” Angela sighed. “I think you are a very good man. A kind one.”
It was that very fact that made her hate to refuse him. Jeremy had been kind and loyal to her. When she ran away from Dunstan, he had taken her in and given her his support and protection. She was certain that Dunstan had brought pressure to bear on Jeremy, but he had not crumpled. He had not given her up. He had stood by her through the horrid mess of the divorce, through the rumors and snide gossip, through the awful, damning testimony. He had passed through a crucible, too, during that time, suffering the snubs of some of his peers and the whispers of most of them. Yet he had supported her, both emotionally and financially. He still did. She lived in his house, on his land, ate food at his table. He even brought her the news and gossip from London periodically to enliven her days. He had allowed her to heal, and had never asked anything from her in return. Indeed, she did not know of any way she could have repaid him … until now.
If she married this man, this loathsome, coercive bastard of a man, then she would be giving back, in full measure, what Jeremy had done for her. He had saved her life, despite the loss of money and face he had endured. Now, she would be giving him the money he so desperately needed and saving his name from the stigma of bankruptcy—at the price of the rest of her life.
“I can’t. Oh, Jeremy, I cannot,” she moaned, hating herself for her cowardice even as she said it.
“I won’t ask you
