allowing him the contentment he deserves in what little is left of his life.’
‘Would your mother have approved of you being such a martyr?’
A flash of anger came into her eyes, lighting the brown to a clear and brittle velvet. He was surprised by such a quick change. Not quite the demure woman he had imagined, after all. ‘I think you forget, my lord, that I am as much a martyr to my family as you are to yours.’
‘Touché.’ Indeed she was right, the long line of Montcliffe ancestors all looking at him to save the Earldom for posterity. ‘And if your father dies sooner rather than later, are the conditions within our marriage null and void?’
Her face crumbled into sheer distress. ‘I sincerely pray that Papa should not succumb to his malady so readily, My lord. I should also impress upon you that putting aside a marriage so quickly would need to be most carefully handled.’
He almost laughed, thinking that she had no idea at all as to the whims of the ton in their dealings with the protection of large inheritances. Indeed, a hundred marriages that he knew of were conveniently forgotten about in the face of shapely courtesans and willing mistresses. Another thought also worried him. Perhaps in her circle of acquaintances such a truism was not as absolute.
He had never been a flagrant womaniser, but neither was he a man who would want to be bound for years in a union without love or respect.
When Robert Cameron came back into the room Daniel lost his chance to ask exactly what she thought to get from this alliance personally. Her father looked absurdly pleased with himself, a smile from one side of his face to the other.
‘I hope you have been able to find out a little about each other. My Amethyst was the cleverest of all the young ladies at her school, my lord, and won the first prize for academic endeavour for her year.’
‘I am certain he cannot be interested in such things, Papa, and—’
But Daniel did not allow her to finish. ‘Rest assured, Mr Cameron, I am.’
Her father frowned and helped himself to a drink. His bride-to-be stood perfectly still, a statue before the windows, her lustreless hair caught in the shafts of sunlight as she warned her father off saying more. Another darker thought suddenly occurred to him.
‘Have you had trouble with those who waylaid you before?’
Cameron looked at his daughter. God, Daniel thought, had Amethyst Cameron been hurt by the thugs, too?
‘The wheel of a carriage we were in sheared off just under a year ago because it had been cut almost right through,’ she answered, the fright in her eyes visible. ‘Our conveyance overturned a number of times and Papa and I were caught inside. We were out on business, you see, and those responsible knew we would be travelling on that road on that day.’ Daniel did not speak, but waited as she went on. ‘Papa was hurt a little and I was hurt a lot.’
‘Who are these people?’
‘Criminals who prey on those who might afford to pay them. Men who see an opportunity in the threatening of others and who with a great amount of force can intimidate without fear of redress.’ Robert gave him this answer.
‘So you refused their demands?’
‘You pay once and you never get free,’ Amethyst answered, her eyes daring him to criticise things that he knew nothing about. ‘People have been brought in to protect us since, and this was working well until...’ She faltered.
‘Until I found your father in the alley a few moments away from having the life being beaten out of him?’
Unexpectedly she smiled. ‘They were more afraid of you than any man Papa had employed before. It is one of the reasons we offered you the marriage agreement.’
‘I see.’ Did these people always have to be so wearingly honest in their truths? Daniel’s own jaded understanding of principle had long ago been leached from him and there was a sort of brave virtue in such directness. The ton would tear such rectitude to pieces, he thought, and wondered how life could mould people so differently.
‘Have those demanding money ever contacted you in the form of a letter?’
Robert took over the discourse now. ‘Once they did. More normally they just turn up unannounced at the warehouse door.’
‘Do you still have the correspondence?’
‘Yes.’
‘And yet you have not sought anyone to help you in this matter?’
‘Help me?’ Robert’s voice was puzzled.
‘Threaten them back. Make them realise they were playing a game they had no hope of ever winning.’
* * *
The Earl’s tone was weary, Amethyst thought. The utter nuisance of having to deal with people of the trade who had a raft of bullies chasing after them was more than he wanted to consider. Why, he probably thought such inconvenience was par for the course, just another way to show how base and shabby those below him in rank really were.
She wondered if he would simply turn tail and let himself out of this room full of problems, his beautifully cut tailcoat showing off fine shoulders and the breeches long and tapered legs.
A man of reduced means but of great presence, a man whom women would watch with hope in their hearts. Even she had watched him as he had ascended the stairs with her father outside of Tattersall’s and dreamed that she was a different girl with softer hair falling to her hips in luxurious waves as he admired her.
Such nonsense made her smile. She was her father’s daughter with trade flowing through her less-than-exalted blood line, the hunt of a good deal or an unexpected profit making her life...whole. Women like her did not marry for love and men like Lord Daniel Wylde invariably chose the beautiful butterflies who were the toast of a society Season.
It was only lack of money that stopped him doing exactly that and thinking otherwise would lead to disappointment. The marriage agreement held as much fear for her as it did for him, but she needed her father protected and she wanted to see him face the last months of his life with hope.
She had visited his doctor alone on her own accord after her father had told her of his ailment. The specialist had reiterated that there was little more the medical fraternity could do, but had been most insistent on the medicinal value of hope. Miracles had arisen from a happy demeanour or a looked-forward-to occasion that the sick one had no intentions of missing. Aye, he had said in tones that bridged no argument, there were miracles in the benefits of laughter that even the greatest brains of the time had not yet figured out. ‘Keep him happy, Miss Cameron, and he may live longer. That is the only sage advice I can give you at this point.’
Well, Amethyst decided, she would do everything in her power to advance this theory and her papa would have each second of his life tempered with good humour and possibilities. She swore to the heavens above that this would be so.
A few moments later after a general conversation with her father on the merits of a horse that had won a recent race at Newmarket, Lord Montcliffe reached for his hat and made for the door, giving only the briefest of goodbyes to her as he left. A man who was being forced into something he plainly did not want and yet, given
