"Though I'm sorry to intrude at such a time, your grace," the solicitor said, "there are several pressing matters that must be addressed without delay."
Justin winced inwardly. Five days of being the ninth Duke of Thornborough was not long enough to accustom him to his new status. "I assume that you are going to tell me that the financial situation is difficult. I'm already aware of that."
Another little cough, this one embarrassed. "While you are extremely well-informed about estate matters, there are, ah, certain other items that you might not know of.'
With sudden foreboding, Justin asked, "Had Gavin run up extensive personal debts?"
"I'm afraid so, your grace. To the tune of… almost a hundred thousand pounds."
A hundred thousand pounds! How the devil had Gavin managed to spend so much? Justin wanted to swear out loud.
Seeing his expression, Mr. Burrell said, "It was unfortunate that your brother's death occurred just when it did."
"You mean the fact that he died while on his way to marry May Russell? It certainly would have been more prudent to have waited until after the wedding," Justin said bitterly.
It would have been even more prudent if Gavin had stayed in the private Thornborough railway car. Instead, he had been taken by the charms of a French lady and had gone to her compartment. When the train crashed, the duke and his inamorata had both died, locked in a scandalous embrace. If Gavin had been in his own car, he would have survived the crash with scarcely a bruise.
Oh, damn, Gavin, why did you have to get yourself killed?
Justin swallowed hard. "Obviously drastic measures will be required to save the family from bankruptcy."
"You could sell some land."
''No!'' More moderately, Justin said, "The land is held in trust for future generations. It should not be sold to pay frivolous debts,"
Burrell nodded, as if he had expected that response. "The only other choice is for you to make an advantageous marriage."
"Become a fortune hunter, you mean?"
"It's a time-honored tradition, your grace," pointed out with dignity. "You have a great deal to offer a well-dowered bride. One of England 's greatest names and the most magnificent private palace in Great Britain."
"A palace whose roof leaks," Justin said dryly. "Even as we speak, dozens of buckets in the attic are filling with water."
"In that case, the sooner you marry, the better." solicitor cleared his throat with a new intonation. "In fa Mrs. Russell hinted to me this morning that if you interested in contracting an alliance with her, she Ą look with favor on your suit."
"Marry my brother's fiancee?" Justin said incredulously. He thought of how May had looked earlier at Gavin’s funeral, weeping copiously, her beautiful face obscured by her black mourning veil. Perhaps if he had looked more closely, he would have seen a speculative gleam in her eyes. "It's hard to believe that even she would go to such lengths to become a duchess."
"The lady implied that she has a certain fondness for you as well," Burrell said piously.
"The lady has a deficient memory," Justin retorted. It was May Russell who had first called him the Gargoyle. She had been demonstrating her wittiness. Even Gavin had laughed.
"She has a very large fortune under her own control," the solicitor said with regret. "But I suppose you're right it would be unseemly for you to marry your brother's betrothed. Do you have another suitable female in mind?"
"No. For the last several years, I've been too busy look for a wife." Justin returned to his position by the window and stared blindly across the grounds. Burrell was right-marriage was the only plausible answer. Justin wouldn't be the first, and certainly not the last, to marry for money.
Even as a younger son, Justin would have had no trouble finding a wife, for he was an Aubrey, had no appalling vices and he had inherited an adequate private income. Yet though Gavin's entertaining had brought a steady stream of polished, fashionable females through Swindon, there had never been one whom Justin had wanted for a wife.
Except…
He closed his eyes, and instantly the memory he had tried to suppress for months crossed his mind-a perfect spring day, a tall, graceful young woman with a smile of such bright sweetness that she was nicknamed for the sun. The image was more real than the foggy landscape outside.
Though Justin had hated himself for his weakness, he had compulsively tracked Sunny Vangelder's triumphant passage through English society. Scarcely an issue of the Morning Post had arrived without mentioning her presentation at court, or her glowing appearance at a ball, or the fact that she had been seen riding in Rotten Row. Rumor said that many men had asked for her hand, and daily Justin had steeled himself for an announcement of a brilliant match. Yet at the end of the season, she had left London still unbetrothed.
He drew a painful breath. It was absurd to think of such an incomparable female marrying someone as ordinary as himself. But Gavin had said that she was the greatest heiress ever to cross the Atlantic, which meant that she was exactly the sort of wife Justin needed. And it was also said that her mother wanted to see her a duchess.
Scarcely daring to hope, he asked, "Do you know if Miss Vangelder has contracted a marriage yet?"
"You want to marry the Gilded Girl?" Burrell said, unable to conceal his shock at such effrontery. "Winning her would be quite a coup, but difficult, very difficult. There's a mining heiress from San Francisco who might be a better choice. Almost as wealthy, and I am acquainted with her father. Or perhaps…"
Interrupting the solicitor, Justin said, "I would prefer Miss Vangelder. I met her once, and found her… very amiable."
After a long pause, Burrell said doubtfully, "Of course, you are the Duke of Thornborough now. Perhaps it could be done."
Justin smiled humorlessly at the slate-gray pools of the water garden. "How does one go about selling oneself, Burrell? My experience is sadly deficient."
Ignoring the sardonic tone, the solicitor said, "I shall visit Lady Westron. She's the girl's godmother, you know. If she thinks the idea has merit, she can write Augusta Vangelder."
"Very well-call on her ladyship before the roof collapses."
"There is one thing you should consider before proceeding, your grace," Burrell said with a warning note. "Certainly there are more American heiresses than English ones, and they tend to be much more polished, but the drawback of such an alliance is that the families usually drive hard bargains. You would probably have restrictions placed on your control of the dowry, and you might have to return the balance if the marriage ends."
Justin's mouth tightened. "I wouldn't be marrying the girl with the intention of divorcing her, Burrell."
"Of course not," the solicitor said quickly. After a shuffle of papers, he added, "If I may say so, you're very different from your brother."
"Say what you like," Justin said tersely. Yet though he told himself that a rich wife was strictly a practical matter, the possibility of marrying Sunny Vangelder filled him with raw, aching hunger.
If she came to Swindon, there would always be sunshine.
Newport, Rhode Island
Laughing and breathless from the bicycle ride, Sunny waved goodbye to her friends, then skipped up the steps of The Tides, the Vangelder summer home. Like most Newport "cottages," it would have been called a mansion anywhere else. Still, the atmosphere was more informal than in New York, and she always enjoyed the months spent in Newport.