Love With the Proper Husband Read Free

proceed, Miss Townsend, this is not another apology.” He huffed. “What I am trying to say is that Albert’s inexperience five years ago led him to make certain assumptions based on what he knew of your father’s affairs. He was correct, but only insofar as those issues he was versed in. He was not aware, as I was, that your father had made certain provisions for your future.”
    “Provisions?” She held her breath. “What kind of provisions?”
    “He did not leave you with nothing.”
    For a moment, the world tilted about her. Her perfect posture failed, and she collapsed back in her chair feeling much like a sail suddenly bereft of wind.
    “Are you all right, Miss Townsend?” Whiting leaped to his feet and started around the desk toward her.
    He did not leave you with nothing .
    “Quite.” She shook her head to clear it and waved him away. “Do go on.”
    “Very well.” Whiting studied her carefully, then returned to his seat. He glanced at the papers on his desk. “Upon the birth of each of his daughters, your father set up accounts to provide you both with incomes in the event that you were unwed upon his death. When your sister married against his wishes, he abolished her account.”
    “Of course,” Gwen murmured.
    She couldn’t remember the last time she’d thought of her sister. Louisa was thirteen years her senior and had fallen in love with a daring, dashing, adventurer when Gwen was very young. Louisa had married against her father’s wishes and left with her husband to travel the world, severing all ties with her family. At least that was Gwen’s understanding from what little she’d heard through the years. She’d wondered on occasion about this sister of hers that she barely remembered. Where she was and what she was doing. And if she ever thought of the younger sister she’d never really known.
    “As I was saying, the annual income is not extensive but will allow you to live modestly. In addition, his legacy to you includes a small house in the country, near the village of Pennington.”
    “An income and a house.” She stared in disbelief for a long moment. “An income and a house?”
    “There’s more. Shall I go on?” Concern colored his face. “Are you certain you’re all right?
    “I don’t know.” She shook her head. An income and a house? “I don’t believe I am.” At once the absurdity of it all struck her, and she laughed.
    “Miss Townsend?”
    “Oh, do wipe that look off your face, Mr. Whiting, I am not going mad. It’s simply…” She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to fully absorb the import of his words. She could not possibly explain to this relative stranger the relief, no, the joy of finding salvation where none is expected. A thought struck her, and any amusement vanished. “Why was I not informed of this before now?”
    “Miss Townsend, as I explained, Albert was—”
    “Albert be damned.” Abrupt, unrelenting anger pulled her to her feet. “You are the man my father trusted to handle his affairs, not your nephew. The fault here, Mr. Whiting, is yours and yours alone!”
    “Indeed it is. And I accept it. It is precisely why I paid for your passage home.” He too was on his feet. “My mistake was sending an inexperienced boy to begin handling the details of your father’s estate. I had no idea he would leap into it to the extent he did. He was not charged with informing you of anything whatsoever. In truth, I sent him to Townsend Park in advance of my arrival to do nothing more than begin sorting through your father’s papers, quite within the jurisdiction of my responsibilities as his executor. I joined Albert the next day, but you, my dear young woman, were already gone.”
    “What did you expect? My fears had all been realized. My father was dead.” She swiveled and paced before the desk, her words as much for herself as for him. “Yes, I’d spent much of my life away at school and I barely knew the man, but still he had