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to carve a life for themselves.
She had been born to a wonderful, caring family with means. And then
she had been forced to the bottom of the cesspool and made to scrape her
way back up. It had been a living hell.
Sure, there had been moments of fun, of jobs if gone well, riches
collected or nabobs given a well-deserved fleecing. There had been
exhilaration the first time she knew without a doubt that she was one of
the best. She had celebrated, then Flanagan had cuffed her, reminding her
it was only a job, and the next one would probably leave her dead.
There were moments of camaraderie among the different groups,
Flanagan s, O Leary s, and the other rings. But it was an artificial feeling,
superficial and tenuous. Every day was a new challenge, a new threat, a
new death. Death was part of the game. Part of the life. Inescapable. The
friend you hugged while dancing and drinking ale was the same soul you
laid to rest a week later.
Never get too close. Never make friends, only contacts. Never get
personally involved. Those were the rules, and they were implacable. She
had learned them the hard way.
She was stuck with Faye. Her sister was the one person in her life she
couldn t keep out. She would keep Faye safe and never let another in. It
was as simple as that.
She continued south, lost in thought. She could keep Chalmers out.
Emptiness lay beneath that charming façade--there was no depth. If she
could just convince herself of that . . .
Audrey looked up, and Newgate Prison wobbled in her vision. She could
smell the unwashed bodies, the decaying odor of spirits long dead.
Whether it was real or dredged from memory, she had no idea. The rats,
the confined cell, the greasy hands. She retched in the street, but felt
nothing, as if she was detached from her own body.
People passed by, no one offered a helping hand. They just stared straight
ahead. Good. She wouldn't have helped them, either. Her hand shook as
she wiped it across her mouth.
Dear Lord, she would have to go back in there to find Faye. She had to
see if her sister was still alive.
She forced herself to walk past the prison, everything inside her urging
her to run.
Johnny would have whipped the gang into a frenzy, calling for them to
charge into the prison and rescue Faye. He would have had no plan, no
organization. Yet he had always managed to convince people of his
outrageous ideas, until Flanagan unfailingly had to cuff him in the noggin
to silence him.
Johnny had been able to charm all with his bright green eyes full of
mischief and . . .
Audrey stopped. Johnny s eyes hadn t been green. They d been . . . they d
been . . .brown?
It didn t matter her friend was gone. She grabbed a lamppost and shook
the image of Stephen s eyes from her mind.
She walked toward Mayfair. Travers had said he was going to remove
Chalmers from the situation. But how was he going to do it? And could
she use Chalmers in the meantime without Travers knowing? She needed
to put her rapidly developing plan into action.
Stephen s lazy grin appeared in her mind. Never get too close. Never
make friends, only contacts. Never get personally involved.
Johnny hadn t followed the other rule of the game. Never trust anyone.
Audrey moved toward her target.
She wouldn t forget.
Chapter 8
" What do you mean there s no money, and the estate is bankrupt, Mr.
Logan?"
The lanky man shifted his spectacles. "The funds are gone, Your Grace."
Stephen leaned forward in his chair. "Cousin Vernon was wealthy. I never
saw any sign of excess."
"The seventh Duke of Marston implemented a total redesign and
redecoration of the various estates. He incurred very large expenses and
did not spend his money wisely."
Stephen tapped an impatient finger. He vaguely remembered Vernon
talking about redecorating the primary seat. "l would have heard if
Vernon were having trouble."
Logan shook his head. "Not to speak ill of the dead, but the seventh duke
was not very good with figures. I doubt he even truly realized the
extravagance of his expenditures, and he was not willing to be guided. I
attempted to speak with him about it many times and was always
rebuffed. There is also one large gaming debt to his name."
"Who holds the marker?"
"The Earl of Bessington."
"And the redecoration was done mainly to Marston Manor?"
"Yes. Although, a number of the other properties were updated and
renovated as well." He listed five.
"How much did he spend?"
"Two hundred thousand pounds."
"The estate should be able to handle that."
"Not if a number of crucial investments failed as well. Unfortunately . . ."
Stephen gave an ironic laugh. "Well, at least that means no money needs
to be spent on the lands. We'll just have to live off the year s income."
"Well, you see, that is also a problem. While the residences have been
maintained, the tenants' properties have not. Many of the buildings need
repair and updating. The tenants have become angry about their
conditions and lazy in their output."
Stephen gripped his pen. Damn Vernon. Spending money on trappings
and not his people. "How much is needed for this coming year?"
The solicitor listed exorbitant figures for all of the entailed estates. By the
end of the recitation, Stephen was in a state of shock.
"I can t believe it is that bad. There are at least two properties, Fieldstone
and Pimont s Park, that should be producing enough money on their own
to pay for the rest."
"Yes, but they have been poorly managed. The duke refused my guidance
and insisted that his own men run both estates. Look at the figures here."
The solicitor pointed to two unbelievable deficits.
Stephen digested the information. The dukedom was utterly devoid of
funds. Which also meant there was no money for his cousins' debuts.
"This is unbelievable."
"l didn t believe it either, Your Grace. I dismissed the stewards
immediately upon the discovery."
"Why was I not informed about this before?"
"The duke kept the books in his office. Didn t trust anyone, He was a very
secretive man. lt has taken nearly this entire time to locate the books and
understand his notations."
Stephen frowned. Vernon hadn t been secretive. He had been indulged,
yes. The excesses sounded like Vernon⬠to a point. But secrecy?
Overspending?
"That doesn t sound like Vernon."
"Had you seen him recently, Your Grace?"
Stephen shook his head. "No, in the past few years I have frequently been
out of the country."
The solicitor nodded. "He changed, Your Grace. Something caused him to
be secretive and wary. Please ask your aunts or your staff here in town."
"I confess I haven't moved into Marston House yet."
"It s only two weeks now since you ve assumed the title. And there are
many matters requiring your time."
But only one matter that truly interested him. And she would probably
steal everything else he had.
"How many years have you served the family Mr. Logan?"
"Going on thirty, Your Grace."
"Vernon passed on three months ago, then Thomas became duke. Did
Thomas know about the monetary situation?"
"Most of it, Your Grace."
Stephen sighed. Suddenly the accidents that had taken his cousins' lives
looked more suspicious. Had the weight of the debts been too much for
Thomas? "How much do we need for operating costs next year?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl aikidobyd.xlx.pl
to carve a life for themselves.
She had been born to a wonderful, caring family with means. And then
she had been forced to the bottom of the cesspool and made to scrape her
way back up. It had been a living hell.
Sure, there had been moments of fun, of jobs if gone well, riches
collected or nabobs given a well-deserved fleecing. There had been
exhilaration the first time she knew without a doubt that she was one of
the best. She had celebrated, then Flanagan had cuffed her, reminding her
it was only a job, and the next one would probably leave her dead.
There were moments of camaraderie among the different groups,
Flanagan s, O Leary s, and the other rings. But it was an artificial feeling,
superficial and tenuous. Every day was a new challenge, a new threat, a
new death. Death was part of the game. Part of the life. Inescapable. The
friend you hugged while dancing and drinking ale was the same soul you
laid to rest a week later.
Never get too close. Never make friends, only contacts. Never get
personally involved. Those were the rules, and they were implacable. She
had learned them the hard way.
She was stuck with Faye. Her sister was the one person in her life she
couldn t keep out. She would keep Faye safe and never let another in. It
was as simple as that.
She continued south, lost in thought. She could keep Chalmers out.
Emptiness lay beneath that charming façade--there was no depth. If she
could just convince herself of that . . .
Audrey looked up, and Newgate Prison wobbled in her vision. She could
smell the unwashed bodies, the decaying odor of spirits long dead.
Whether it was real or dredged from memory, she had no idea. The rats,
the confined cell, the greasy hands. She retched in the street, but felt
nothing, as if she was detached from her own body.
People passed by, no one offered a helping hand. They just stared straight
ahead. Good. She wouldn't have helped them, either. Her hand shook as
she wiped it across her mouth.
Dear Lord, she would have to go back in there to find Faye. She had to
see if her sister was still alive.
She forced herself to walk past the prison, everything inside her urging
her to run.
Johnny would have whipped the gang into a frenzy, calling for them to
charge into the prison and rescue Faye. He would have had no plan, no
organization. Yet he had always managed to convince people of his
outrageous ideas, until Flanagan unfailingly had to cuff him in the noggin
to silence him.
Johnny had been able to charm all with his bright green eyes full of
mischief and . . .
Audrey stopped. Johnny s eyes hadn t been green. They d been . . . they d
been . . .brown?
It didn t matter her friend was gone. She grabbed a lamppost and shook
the image of Stephen s eyes from her mind.
She walked toward Mayfair. Travers had said he was going to remove
Chalmers from the situation. But how was he going to do it? And could
she use Chalmers in the meantime without Travers knowing? She needed
to put her rapidly developing plan into action.
Stephen s lazy grin appeared in her mind. Never get too close. Never
make friends, only contacts. Never get personally involved.
Johnny hadn t followed the other rule of the game. Never trust anyone.
Audrey moved toward her target.
She wouldn t forget.
Chapter 8
" What do you mean there s no money, and the estate is bankrupt, Mr.
Logan?"
The lanky man shifted his spectacles. "The funds are gone, Your Grace."
Stephen leaned forward in his chair. "Cousin Vernon was wealthy. I never
saw any sign of excess."
"The seventh Duke of Marston implemented a total redesign and
redecoration of the various estates. He incurred very large expenses and
did not spend his money wisely."
Stephen tapped an impatient finger. He vaguely remembered Vernon
talking about redecorating the primary seat. "l would have heard if
Vernon were having trouble."
Logan shook his head. "Not to speak ill of the dead, but the seventh duke
was not very good with figures. I doubt he even truly realized the
extravagance of his expenditures, and he was not willing to be guided. I
attempted to speak with him about it many times and was always
rebuffed. There is also one large gaming debt to his name."
"Who holds the marker?"
"The Earl of Bessington."
"And the redecoration was done mainly to Marston Manor?"
"Yes. Although, a number of the other properties were updated and
renovated as well." He listed five.
"How much did he spend?"
"Two hundred thousand pounds."
"The estate should be able to handle that."
"Not if a number of crucial investments failed as well. Unfortunately . . ."
Stephen gave an ironic laugh. "Well, at least that means no money needs
to be spent on the lands. We'll just have to live off the year s income."
"Well, you see, that is also a problem. While the residences have been
maintained, the tenants' properties have not. Many of the buildings need
repair and updating. The tenants have become angry about their
conditions and lazy in their output."
Stephen gripped his pen. Damn Vernon. Spending money on trappings
and not his people. "How much is needed for this coming year?"
The solicitor listed exorbitant figures for all of the entailed estates. By the
end of the recitation, Stephen was in a state of shock.
"I can t believe it is that bad. There are at least two properties, Fieldstone
and Pimont s Park, that should be producing enough money on their own
to pay for the rest."
"Yes, but they have been poorly managed. The duke refused my guidance
and insisted that his own men run both estates. Look at the figures here."
The solicitor pointed to two unbelievable deficits.
Stephen digested the information. The dukedom was utterly devoid of
funds. Which also meant there was no money for his cousins' debuts.
"This is unbelievable."
"l didn t believe it either, Your Grace. I dismissed the stewards
immediately upon the discovery."
"Why was I not informed about this before?"
"The duke kept the books in his office. Didn t trust anyone, He was a very
secretive man. lt has taken nearly this entire time to locate the books and
understand his notations."
Stephen frowned. Vernon hadn t been secretive. He had been indulged,
yes. The excesses sounded like Vernon⬠to a point. But secrecy?
Overspending?
"That doesn t sound like Vernon."
"Had you seen him recently, Your Grace?"
Stephen shook his head. "No, in the past few years I have frequently been
out of the country."
The solicitor nodded. "He changed, Your Grace. Something caused him to
be secretive and wary. Please ask your aunts or your staff here in town."
"I confess I haven't moved into Marston House yet."
"It s only two weeks now since you ve assumed the title. And there are
many matters requiring your time."
But only one matter that truly interested him. And she would probably
steal everything else he had.
"How many years have you served the family Mr. Logan?"
"Going on thirty, Your Grace."
"Vernon passed on three months ago, then Thomas became duke. Did
Thomas know about the monetary situation?"
"Most of it, Your Grace."
Stephen sighed. Suddenly the accidents that had taken his cousins' lives
looked more suspicious. Had the weight of the debts been too much for
Thomas? "How much do we need for operating costs next year?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]