Chapter One
The dusty clock on the chimneypiece ticked inexorably as Madeleine Kirkby swallowed hard, gloved fingers tightened on her reticule. âThe court wonât rule in my favor? You are quite, quite sure, sir?â If Mr. Blakiston was correct, then a little mental arithmetic would allow her to calculate the exact seconds left for the clock to count down before she lost her home.
The old lawyer, in his dusty black, sighed. âI am afraid not, Miss Maddy. You see, it is not considered wise to leave property, an estate, in the control of an unmarried woman. In your case, a young woman.â
âBut I have been running the estate for years!â she said. âEven before my brother died.â Fury lashed her. Stephen had left her to manage his inheritance while he disported himself in London. Yet she was considered unfit to own Haydon.
Mr. Blakistonâs mouth was grim, but he reached over the desk and touched her hand gently. âI know, my dear, and I put all those arguments, but your grandfatherâs will was hard to argue against, and your cousinâwell.â
It didnât need to be said. Edward, fifth Earl of Montfort, not content with his own much larger holdings, was determined to wrest Haydon from her hands. He and his father before him had bitterly resented that the third earl had dowered his daughter, Maddyâs mother, with the old manor house and its estate.
âI suppose heâd have the judges in his pocket,â she said bitterly.
Mr. Blakiston, his ears a little pink, said carefully, âThere was some talk that you are taking in women of, er, dubious reputation, and that, in short, there was some question as to your own, er, behavior.â By the end of this Mr. Blakistonâs ears were glowing.
Outrage bubbled up. âI took in a dairymaid that my cousin had ruined. Raped, in fact. She is fifteen! A child! And what of Edwardâs refusal to permit my marriage?â
As her nearest male relative, the moment Stephen had died, Edward had petitioned the courts to name him her natural protector. He had no power over HaydonâMr. Blakiston was her trusteeâbut he had the power to block any marriage until she turned twenty-one.
The lawyer cleared his throat. âAs to that, apparently his lordship has made you an offer of marriage himself?â
Maddy clenched her fists at the hopeful note in her lawyerâs voice. âYou think I should marry the sort of man who rapes the dairymaids? Yes, he did offer. I refused and he made it clear he would not consent to any other marriage for me! That if I did manage to get married without his consent he would have the marriage set aside. In fact, he has made it utterly impossible for me to fulfill the requirements of our grandfatherâs will.â And not just by refusing his consent. He had smirched her reputation at every turn, making her a social outcast here in Newcastle. She doubted there was a gentleman the length and breadth of Britain who would have her to wife now. Certainly not one anywhere between the Tweed and the Tees. Not that she particularly wanted a husband, unless it helped her to save Haydon.
âIâm sorry, Miss Maddy,â said the lawyer quietly. âBut unless you mounted a challenge in Chancery there is nothing you can do. His lordship takes possession of Haydon on the seventh of January.â
She didnât have the money to mount a case in Chancery and her twenty-first birthday was not until Christmas Eve. Hardly sufficient time to find a husband before Epiphany in the best of circumstances. And now, with Christmas coming, she would have to tell her people that she had failed them. That she had lost.