The Notorious Lord Havergal Read Free Page B

have a seat, Lord Havergal.” He went to the sofa and sat beside Violet, who later told Miss Beddoes that she felt a tremor in her heart at the proximity.
    Again those blue eyes directed a beam at Lettie, asking for some explanation. “You haven’t told me your name, ma’am,” he said.
    “I am Miss Beddoes.”
    “Ah, then my guardian is your father, I take it?”
    “He—he was. Papa passed away a year ago. I succeeded him in the will as testamentary guardian in the trust.”
    He blinked twice. “But you’re a lady!” he said, stunned.
    “Yes.”
    “This can’t be legal!” A bright gleam of hope flashed in his eyes. He suspected there was something havey-cavey afoot here. It was unusual for a lady to be guardian to a grown man—even illegal, or why try to hide it? Immediately it darted into his head that he could upset the trust and get his whole twenty-five thousand.
    “I assure you it is perfectly legal,” she said firmly. “The solicitors examined the matter thoroughly.” She spoke with the confidence of knowledge, hoping that the proud set of her head left no doubt about it.
    Havergal was much inclined to argue, but caution suggested keeping on good terms till he had a word with his own solicitor. “Well, it is very strange,” he said, frowning.
    “Yes, but not unheard of for mothers or aunts to be guardians of children.” He bristled. “Not that I mean to say you are a child!” she added hastily.
    He examined her face for signs of age. The lady was no spring lamb, but she didn’t look forty or anything like it. Her flesh was still firm, and her eyes were clear. “Not quite so—mature as yourself perhaps,” he said ingratiatingly, and was rewarded with a gimlet shot from a pair of angry gray eyes. Thirty-five, he decided, old enough to be tender about her years. “But perfectly competent, I’m sure,” he added.
    “Kind of you to say so. Your cousin Horace did not think me incompetent at least.”
    “Was it his idea for you to pretend you were a man?” he asked in confusion.
    “No indeed. I never pretended I was. I signed my letters L. A. Beddoes. It was yourself who assumed I was a man.”
    “I’m sorry,” he said, and shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was apologizing. The witch had led him astray on purpose all these months.
    Miss Beddoes nodded her absolution. “Were you just in the neighborhood, Lord Havergal, or did you come on purpose to visit me?”
    “Did you not have my note?” he asked, surprised.
    “Not a word since your request for an advance. You did receive my reply?”
    “Yes, but I wrote you again that I would come in person.”
    “When did you write this?”
    “Yesterday.”
    “Then I expect I shall receive it tomorrow morning. The post is not so fast as your carriage, it seems.”
    He disliked the condescension of that speech but held in his annoyance. “Another matter has come up—a business matter that I would like to discuss with you—though I daresay a lady wouldn’t appreciate the marvelous opportunity. It seems a shame to lose out on it when the money is just sitting there.”
    She leveled a cool look at him. “A pity Hamlet let you down, or you might have used the thousand pounds you lost on that race in Green Park.”
    Violet emitted another muted squeak, as though to disassociate herself from the charge. Havergal felt like a schoolboy in the schoolmaster’s office. He squared his shoulders and said, “This has nothing to do with gambling debts. It is business, pure and simple. I should think the very least you would do is listen to what I have to say.”
    “Does this business opportunity guarantee you more than five percent? Is it backed by the government of England?”
    “Of course not! Consols at five percent hardly constitute an opportunity. They are for little old ladies who—” She shot him a glare that reduced his confidence to cinders. He came to an embarrassed pause before stumbling on. “For people who are afraid to take a