some money to take him farther away.” It would be a wrench to leave this sprawling old mansion crammed with rich history. But giving up the child, who was her only remaining link to her brother and sister, would be a hundred times harder.
“Out of the question.” Uncle Henry seemed surprised and vexed by her reluctance to bow to his wishes. “It would reflect badly on the family when we most urgently need to restore our good name.”
“I cannot hand him over to strangers,” Artemis protested. “He is such a little fellow and so attached to me since his mother died.”
“Attached? Nonsense!” The marquis turned up his nose. “A child that age is more vegetable than animal. As long as it is clothed, sheltered and given adequate nourishment, it will be reasonably content. By the time the boy is old enough to reason, he will have long forgotten you.”
If that were true, the thought did not comfort Artemis. Even if Lee forgot her, she would never forget him or cease to yearn for him. Perhaps because he was so small and helpless, so entirely dependent upon her, she’d permitted him to creep into her aloof, solitary heart.
Before she could devise an argument that might sway her uncle, he rose from his chair, signaling the end of their interview. “I have made my decision. The child must go. You have two weeks to find him a place you deem suitable. If he is not gone by then, I shall take matters into my own hands.”
Though a dozen desperate emotions raged in her heart, reticence and deference were so deep a part of her character Artemis could only murmur, “I understand, sir.”
“That’s a good girl,” said Lord Henry. “Be assured, as long as I am head of this family, you will always have a home at Bramberley.”
As long as she did not try to keep Daphne’s child with her. The marquis was too well-bred to put his threat in such bald terms, but Artemis knew that was what he meant. She had a fortnight to find Lee a good home and reconcile herself to parting from him. Or she would be cast out into a harsh world without friends or resources to scrape a living for herself and her nephew.
As she hurried away from the library, gusts of impotent rage buffeted her, while waves of despair threatened to sink her spirits.
Over and over, she cursed the name of the man who had killed her handsome, dashing brother and ruined her beautiful, vivacious sister. “Damn all Northmores!”
“Hadrian Northmore, what are you doing on this side of the world?” Ford Barrett, Lord Kingsfold, strode across the drawing room to greet his business partner. “Did Tuan Farquhar expel you from Singapore for trespassing on his authority again?”
In spite of Ford’s hearty tone, Hadrian sensed something amiss. Had he come too late to prevent the British government from handing Singapore over to the Dutch?
“Farquhar has been replaced as Resident.” Hadrian wrung his partner’s hand. “Before you ask, I had nothing to do with it. I’ve come to represent our fellow merchants in treaty negotiations with the Dutch. Whatever else the Foreign Office has to concede, they must not give up Singapore. The volume of trade has more than tripled since you left. Before long it will be more profitable than Penang.”
“You don’t need to persuade me.” Ford looked so relaxed and content, he appeared to have grown younger in the two years since Hadrian had last seen him.
Could that be on account of the fair-haired beauty who stood by the window with a young child in her arms, patiently waiting for an introduction? Hadrian had been surprised to receive word of Ford’s marriage—to his cousin’s widow, no less. He wished his partner better luck in marriage than he and Simon Grimshaw had found.
Before leaving Singapore, Hadrian had been charged with fetching back an English girl to be Simon’s mistress. Simon had suggested he find one for himself as well, but Hadrian shrank from the prospect. A mistress was too much like a wife to suit him.
“You will not need to persuade the government of Singapore’s commercial value, either,” Ford continued. “They signed the treaty last month. In exchange for Bencoolen and some other concessions, the Dutch have agreed not to oppose British occupation of Singapore. I wish you and Simon could have been here to celebrate the good news. Now that you are, I must call up a bottle of champagne so we can drink a toast.”
“Not champagne.” Hadrian grinned. “Arrack is the only proper drink for toasting the future of Singapore. But first, I must beg the honor of introductions.”
“To my charming ladies, of course.” Ford beckoned the woman to join them. “Forgive me, my dear. My partner’s unexpected arrival drove all civility from my mind. Allow me to present Mr. Hadrian Northmore, senior partner of Vindicara Company. Hadrian, this is my wife, Laura, and our daughter, Eleanor.”
“I am delighted to meet you at last, Mr. Northmore.” Sincere pleasure beamed like sunshine from the cloudless blue of Lady Kingsfold’s eyes. “I have heard so much about you from my husband. No one could be more welcome at Hawkesbourne.”
The little cherub in her arms stared gravely at Hadrian. The moment he met her gaze, she turned bashful, hiding her face in her mother’s shoulder.
“The pleasure is mine, ma’am.” Hadrian bowed. “I would wish my partner joy, but I see he has already found it.”
“Indeed I have.” Ford’s doting gaze rested on his wife and daughter with such obvious adoration, Hadrian scarcely recognized the grim, guarded man he’d once known. “After we raise our glasses to Singapore, we must drink to my good fortune.”
“If you will excuse us, gentlemen,” said Lady Kingsfold, “we shall leave you to your toasts. Eleanor must have her nap or she will be too cross for anyone but her papa to tolerate. I shall have Mr. Pryce fetch you a bottle of arrack. You must stay the night with us, Mr. Northmore. I hope my husband can persuade you to visit longer.”
“I accept your gracious invitation for tonight, ma’am.” Hadrian looked forward to becoming better acquainted with the woman who had worked such a transformation on his partner. “But tomorrow I must press on for London to see my brother. He is my other reason for returning to England. I mean to do whatever it takes to win him a seat in Parliament.”
It had been his mission for more than fifteen years—to put his brother in a position of power, from which he could work to reform the worst abuses of the mining industry. Abuses Hadrian had experienced firsthand. Abuses that had nearly wiped out their family.
All the warmth drained from Lady Kingsfold’s smile. She and Ford exchanged a furtive glance, which revived Hadrian’s earlier instinct that something must be wrong. As she fled the room without another word, her young daughter began to cry.
“What is it?” Hadrian demanded. “Is my timing off for that as well? Has there been an election already?”
Ford shook his head. “Not for another year or two. It’s just…Have a seat, won’t you? Pryce should be along soon with the arrack.”
Hadrian had never seen his partner so shaken. It did not bode well. “Damn the arrack and damn the chair! Whatever you have to tell me, spit it out, man. Julian’s landed himself in trouble, hasn’t he? Has some little fortune hunter got her claws into him? I told you to warn him about women of that sort.”
“I did!” cried Ford. “It isn’t that. Damn it, Hadrian, I thought the news would have reached you. Your brother is…dead.”
