The butler answered with a cool nod, looking him up and down before asking for his card.
“Is Lord Gates receiving callers?”
“And whom may I say is inquiring?” the butler narrowed his eyes and frowned. Did butlers have some sort of secret society where they looked down upon the less than holy gentry?
Rawlings’ reputation was wearing on him, truly. Marriage would be a welcome change; maybe then butlers would answer their doors with smiles instead of scowls and judgmental gazes.
On second thought, he wasn’t acquainted with any butlers who even knew how to smile. Reluctantly, he pulled out his card and placed it on the silver tray.
Lifting his eyebrow, the butler examined the card then opened the door wider and allowed him inside the entryway. Rawlings cleared his throat and stepped over the threshold. Within minutes Lord Gates appeared.
“Rawlings, my boy, what has you visiting so early? Let us adjourn into the sitting room for some tea. The viscountess is out, which means we’ll be able to add some whiskey to that repulsive stuff.”
“Right.” Phillip exhaled and followed Lord Gates into the room, hoping that the man slipped and poured more alcohol into his tea so he would be foxed enough to accept Phillip into the family.
The men sat opposite one another and waited for the tea to be served before settling into conversation. As promised Lord Gates poured generous amounts of whiskey into each cup and gave a satisfied huff.
“So, my boy, how have things been progressing with Abigail? Have you found her a good match?”
Phillip choked. “Sorry, yes, well it seems, that…” he stopped talking and took a deep breath to begin again. “It seems that Abigail, that is, Miss Gates and I—”
“Blast it all, boy, spit it out.” Lord Gates chuckled. “I say, what has you so uncomfortable? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so put out.”
Even better. “I’ve come to ask for her hand in marriage.” Phillip lifted his tea as if to block the shot of a pistol from hitting his face. Yes, because tea of all things would prevent his death. Idiot.
Silence followed his outburst, and then laughter. “Really, my boy? You aren’t trying to play me for a fool?”
“Course not, my lord, I wouldn’t dream of pulling such a stunt.” Or lying to my future father-in-law before he agrees to my proposal.
“Well then, fancy that.” Lord Gates clapped his hands, making Phillip nearly drop his tea in his lap. “It seems a celebration of sorts is in order. Champagne!” He rang for the servants and then gave instructions for them to bring in a bottle of champagne at once.
“My wife will be pleased. We had so hoped that Abby would make a smart match and it appears she has. An earl no less. And a friend of our family.”
Phillip wanted to inform Lord Gates that although he was an earl, Abby would be subjected to the same type of reputation it seemed Lord Gates wanted her protected from. Then again, it was Gates. He would marry his daughter off to the worst sort of rake if it somehow solidified him into society even more.
“Oh no,” Lord Gates’ low voice jerked Phillip out of his thoughts. “Oh no, this won’t do. Oh Rawlings.”
Was the man dying? “What is it, my lord?”
“Given your reputation I’m sure you can forgive such a thing as this. After all, you are anything but spotless.”
Wonderful of him to point out the obvious. “Agreed,” Phillip answered. “But what has you suddenly so upset?”
“It is Abby. Oh please do not let this reflect on her character. I know my own daughter. I know she can be a bit rash at times.”
A bit?
“But you see Rawlings, it wasn’t her fault!”
Phillip was getting more uncomfortable by the second. “What wasn’t her fault?“ he asked.
The door opened, and champagne was brought in. The minute it closed Gates shot up from his chair and began pacing. “It was my fault for allowing her so much freedom. It seems that I haven’t been honest about her…reputation.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Phillip wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know the answer. Gates paused in front of the fireplace.
“She was quite ruined before her first ball.”
Phillip cursed. “Ruined? However was she ruined? Who was it?” His voice was getting louder by its own accord. If any man touched her, he would rip his hands off. Destroy him until he cried for mercy. He would—
“In the park, a man kissed her in the park.”
Pausing, Phillip kept his face impassive. “A man in the park you say?”
Gates moaned. “Yes, well it seems that this man was dressed as some sort of street urchin.”
Phillip looked down at his own clothes. “You don’t say?”
“Oh but I do! For it came from young Abby not myself. She explained to me in horrid detail how this man accosted her.”
“What else did she say?” Phillip, now calm, was planning his revenge on little Abby as her father spoke. Smiling, Phillip cleared his throat to keep from bursting at the seams with laughter.
Gates seemed to calm down enough to take his seat again. Most likely the alcohol was slowing his system. “That the man was devilishly handsome, but dangerous. She was so worried he would ruin her. This is why we had you protect her for the last few events. To have this get out would be awful. Nobody would want her if they knew she had shared such a private moment with another man.”
“So you kept the truth from me? For all you revealed was that she was alone in the park with a man?”
“My apologies, my lord. I had no idea you would offer for her, but I feel honesty really is the best in this situation. Tell me, will you still want her even though she is soiled goods?” Gates’ eyes looked hopeful.
Phillip would gladly punch him for calling his own daughter soiled goods when she did nothing but share a kiss with a man. The same man offering for her. The very same man she had splendidly described as a street urchin. Lovely. She would pay for that later.
“Gates, it seems I shall have to take her off your hands merely to protect her from herself, and to keep her honor intact.” Sarcasm dripped off every delightful word he said.
“Bless you, my boy, bless you.” Gates reached across and patted him on the hand.
Phillip kept his smile in check. Rubbing his knuckles across his jaw, he tried to decide if he should strangle her today or wait until later.
They drank champagne in silence. Lord Gates had more than his fair share and lit a cheroot before asking Phillip about the marriage settlement. He was astonished to find out that being married would release all of Phillip’s money, making him the third richest man in England.
“Brilliant match,” Gates muttered as Phillip took his leave. He still had to speak with his solicitor to make arrangements for the marriage. If things ended well, they would be married by the end of the month, just in time for a month-long honeymoon before hunting season.
Phillip smiled to himself the entire way the offices where his solicitor resided. Within a manner of moments, he was knocking on Theodore Littman’s door.
If all manners were agreed to, he would in essence not only have his money by the end of the month, but Abigail—infuriating little Abigail—as well.
Her kisses—no, her mouth–was helping him get through the stressful day. And he could very well imagine how he would ask for his reward upon their next meeting. In fact, his vivid imagination continued to play images of her body writhing with pleasure under his. Marriage would indeed be a welcome distraction. He had half a mind to lock her in their bed chambers after the lies she had told about him. A street urchin? Hardly.
“Ah, my lord, it’s a surprise to see you here.” Littman rose from his dark oak desk and walked around to give a little bow. “I do hope everything has been set to your satisfaction?”
“Pardon?” Phillip asked somewhat confused. Had he been speaking without his knowledge? Odd. He took a seat, carefully folding his hands in his lap. The office was just as he would have thought it would be, with the stagnant smell of parchment hanging in the air.
“Felicitations are in order, I believe, as well. Your mother was so pleased to hear of it.”
Mother? How in the devil did his mother already hear of his engagement? It hadn’t been finalized until this morning.
“Yes, well, thank you,” Phillip said. “Now onto business. I should like to see what properties are to be released into my care as well as my overall inheritance once the marriage license is signed.”
The man paled and then looked as if he would be sick. Taking off his spectacles, he rubbed his eyes and cursed under his breath. “My lord, forgive me, but I’ve already been through this earlier today with your mother. Regardless of her feelings on your marriage, all properties and monies are in your name and—”
“What in the blazes was my mother doing here?”
Littman sighed. “Every month your mother makes her appearance for the allowance allotted to her by the late Lord Rawlings, bless his soul. And to be frank, Rawlings, I tire of her constantly asking for more. Today she claimed to have your blessing. But law is law, and I am not able to release any of your money into her care regardless of how much she may need it.”
Phillip’s cravat seemed to tighten around his neck. “My apologies for never visiting before now, but can we get along with the contract my father left?”
Littman cleared his throat. “I do not pretend to know what your mother may have said to you, my lord, but there is no contract.”
“My apologies, a will perhaps?”
Rubbing his jaw, Littman suddenly looked as if he might be very ill indeed. “My lord, let us make it easier on one another. What is it that you are actually here for?”
Rawlings, still perplexed, shifted on the wooden chair before letting out an exasperated sigh. “I’m here to see to my inheritance, the inheritance I was told would come to me once I married. Though as you know, my father made it so I needed to be married before my next birthday. I am in fact getting married soon, therefore I would like to release everything into my own name and hurry along with it, if you don’t mind.”
Littman rose from his chair and walked over to the door, pushing it closed. He pulled a cheroot from his pocket and lit it. “My lord, who read your father’s will to you?”
“I received my father’s dying wishes in a letter sent from the country estate. He hadn’t even said goodbye or that parting would be such sorrow for him. Merely that he tired of my rakish ways and was withholding all properties and money until I married. He also said that I was officially cut off until the terms of the contract were met. I wrote back to my stepmother immediately and she confirmed it in truth.”
“Well…” Littman chuckled, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “It seems someone has been trying very hard to deceive you. Allow me to read to you, the terms of the inheritance as per your father’s death.”
“The title of the Earl of Rawlings will officially be relinquished to my son, Phillip Crawford. Upon my death, he shall receive all the money from the lands owned in the Rawlings’ good name, as well as the four separate estates located throughout England. He will be allotted a generous monthly allowance until his thirtieth birthday, upon that day he will receive the sum of all his inheritance in full.”