The bride agreement a contract for love

Chapter one

London April, 1835

Tristan took a deep breath of English air and tried not to gag on the aromas of sewage and rotting fish that rose from the Thames. Early morning light broke through the cloud cover to highlight the brick buildings along the waterfront, making them look almost pretty despite the grime and soot that covered them. Tristan pushed his short, dark brown bangs back from his forehead as he looked about, watching as the sailors hurried to complete tying off the ship to the dock. At a bit over six feet two, he towered over the sailors moving about the deck. He watched as the gangplank was secured with several arm thick ropes, the sailors on deck then began heaving bundles over the ship rail. Waiting lumpers caught the bundles, then carried them to waiting carts, before hurrying to return for another bundle, the frantic activity of the men reminding Tristan of ants. Even though it was just eight in the morning, the dock was already bustling with life as ships were being loaded and unloaded.

Tristan turned to look behind him when he heard the familiar heavy tread of his friend Marcus. Marcus was several inches taller, and several inches wider than Tristan.He was a formidable looking man, but Tristan knew he was really just a kind man at heart.

“Bloody hell, I thought the ship smelled bad,” Marcus cursed behind him as he set down his worn bags.

Tristan could only nod in agreement as two sailors set down his trunk with a dull thunk on the deck beside him. Tristan nodded his thanks and then handed the men a few coins each, earning a nod of thanks before they hurried away.

Marcus had suffered from horrible seasickness the entire trip from Malta, and Tristan had been forced to care for his former batman and sergeant, but Tristan hadn’t minded. If not for Marcus, he would have died more than once in the past years and would have lost his left arm. Marcus had been his regimental sergeant before being shot in the left leg, leaving him with a painful limp and making him unsuitable to lead men into battle again. Tristan had valued his courage, wisdom, and friendship and offered him the position as his batman. Marcus, who had no prospects back in England, had readily agreed to the position. While Tristan was dark-haired with hazel eyes and a tall but muscular build, Marcus was blonde, blue-eyed, and built like a Viking of old. Marcus had earned extra coin by fighting his way up the ranks to be the regimental boxing and wrestling champions, leaving him with biceps like ham hocks and hands as big as dinner plates. Few people were foolish enough to challenge Marcus to a fight, which made him perfect for the role of bodyguard.

Marcus set Tristan’s duffel bag and his own on top of Tristan’s trunk while he adjusted his knapsack more comfortably on his back. “So there is to be a carriage waiting for us?” Marcus prompted.

“Aye, that is what the letter from the solicitor said, I mailed him which ship we were to take,” Tristan replied, bending to grab his duffle bag and swing it over his right shoulder.

“Well, then we had best go look for it, after you, Captain,” Marcus said, reaching for the handle of the leather trunk with his right hand as Tristan grabbed the other with his left.

Tristan nodded in response and cautiously began down the steep and rickety gangplank, not wanting to fall into the foul water below. After over twelve years in the army and surviving being wounded twice, he didn’t fancy dying from falling into the putrid water of the Thames. Tristan gratefully took a step onto the rough cobblestone of the pier and almost sighed out loud. He kept moving forward till he and Marcus were a good thirty feet away from the ship and closer to the street. Tristan looked about for a clean spot to set down his beloved trunk and saw none; the ground was beyond filthy.

“Don’t set the trunk down, Captain, it will be ruined,” Marcus commented, nodding at the filth on the ground.

“My thoughts exactly, come, I see several carriages and hacks nearby we will begin asking if any of them are for us.” Tristan nodded towards several carriages lined along the road. Luckily, it only took three tries to find the carriage sent by the solicitor’s office. The carriage driver and a footman, both wearing matching black jackets, loaded Tristan’s trunk into the boot as well as their duffel bags, but Marcus refused to be parted from his knapsack and threw it into the carriage ahead of Tristan.

Tristan climbed in after him, settling himself back onto the comfortable black leather seat as Marcus settled in next to him. A moment later, the carriage moved forward with a jerk, and Tristan let out a sigh of relief.

“It is good to be back in England, I suppose, but I was just starting to get used to Malta,” Tristan commented, earning a soft chuckle from Marcus. Tristan hadn’t planned to return to England, at least not for a few more years. He had found a home in the army, a place where he belonged and was wanted. His father and his family had never wanted him, well that wasn’t true his uncle and aunt had always welcomed him with warm and loving arms.

“As was I captain, or I suppose I’m to call you my lord now, seeing as you are an Earl now?” Marcus replied with a grin before turning to look out the window at the passing city.

“You do that and I’ll call you Spuder again,” Tristan replied. Marcus had a great love for potatoes and had earned the nickname Spuder when he was still a corporal. Marcus chuckled and nodded.

“Fair enough Captain, so to your house then after the solicitor’s,” Marcus asked, looking over at Tristan.

“Aye, while I have been hoarding most of my pay these past years, I don’t know where we would go, and it is my house now.” Tristan looked from the window to Marcus. “I’m glad you are coming with me, I’d not like to face my sister and mother alone. Did you write your parents that you were returning to England?”

“I did, my parents will be surprised to see me though, I left home when I was sixteen and have been in the army these last thirteen years. Been sending half my pay home since, with four older brothers and three older sisters the vicarage was pretty crowded.” Marcus stated. He was the youngest son of a rural vicar who had married the daughter of an impoverished Baron. Marcus had joined the army to seek a future and help his impoverished family.

Tristan had found out three weeks ago that he was the new Earl of Banbury, after receiving a letter from his uncle’s solicitor telling him that his beloved uncle had died some weeks earlier and that he had to return to claim his land and titles by royal decree. The monarchy didn’t like noble families being wiped out, and more importantly, he needed to take his seat in parliament.

Tristan had received letters from his mother and uncle Howard, telling him that his two older brothers and father had all died, leaving him the title and the lands. But he’d no wish for any of it and had written to his uncle telling him the title could go to him. The last letter he’d received had been from his uncle’s solicitor, saying Uncle Howard had passed and he was now the Earl. Tristan had shown the last letter from the solicitor to his commanding officer and then had to pay to be released from service. The solicitor’s letter had told him that while he had inherited the title, there was a problem, as his father and brothers had left behind a considerable amount of debt. Hence, the necessity of his visit to the solicitor’s office before stopping at his parents’ London home. He had to find out the state of the family’s affairs before confronting his mother and sister Penelope. His older sister, Penelope, was living in the family home with their mother after leaving her husband who had moved his mistress into their home. Penelope had been forced to marry at seventeen to a much older man, as it was considered a good match for both families and according to their mother would bring them even better connections. Tristan had voiced his displeasure at his sister being sold off to a lecher and had been soundly cuffed by his father for daring to speak out.

Tristan had joined the army at seventeen to escape a forced marriage as well. His father had ordered him to marry a twenty-year-old girl whose lover had left her in an interesting condition. The father of the unlucky girl had been a duke and had promised Tristan’s father a considerable amount of money for Tristan’s compliance. But Tristan wanted none of it, and neither had the girl, Tristan had run to his uncle Howard for help. Uncle Howard, his father’s younger brother, had listened to him sympathetically and then offered him several solutions, one being to join the army. Tristan’s dreams of becoming a barrister being dashed had agreed and his uncle had purchased him a commission as an ensign in the infantry.

The carriage rolled quickly through the streets as it was still too early for the fashionable members of the ton to be awake yet. Though the windows of the carriage were closed, the scents of London still made their way into the carriage, and Tristan wrinkled his nose in displeasure. He missed the clean sea air of the past week.

“It stinks. How does anyone live with the stench? The privy at our last encampment smelled better.” Marcus remarked, wrinkling his nose in obvious disgust.

“In the fashionable areas, the smell is not so bad, and once the wind shifts, the shall we say aromas clear, but you are right, it does smell worse than the privy.” Tristan gave his friend a grin. “But this kind of conversation will be frowned upon in polite circles.”

“So no saying the truth unless alone, then,” Marcus gave him a wink.

Tristan loved his friend’s wit and cutting comments, as well as his constant loyalty. It was one of the many reasons that Tristan insisted Marcus would stay in his life from now on, his good fortune would be Marcus as well.

“Aye, at some point we shall both have to go out in polite society, whether we like it or not, we shall both need wives and we can’t go scaring off any women with course talk,” Tristan replied as the carriage rounded a corner and then came to a stop before a brick building with black shutters. Hanging off the front of the building was a dark blue and gold sign that said Solomon and Corbett, Solicitors.

“Who says I want a wife?” Marcus replied.

“You will be thirty in a month; it is time for us to both grow up and do our duty. Besides a woman will take care of you,” Tristan commented as the coachman appeared to let down the steps. “It seems we have arrived.”

Marcus gave him a strange look before nodding, and then opening the carriage door without waiting for the coachman to open it. Tristan followed him down the steps and onto the sidewalk as a distant church bell rang eight.

Tristan turned to the coachman as he stepped towards the ladder for the driver’s seat.

“Excuse me, my good man, would you be willing to wait for us?” Tristan asked, hoping the coachman said yes.

“Aye, sir, that was what Mr. Solomon told me to do. Pick you up and bring you here, and then wait till you was done to take you home. Gave me your address already.” The older man replied as he grabbed the ladder that led to the driver’s seat.

Tristan felt an instant wave of relief that he didn’t have to worry about their belongings or securing a hack to take him home. “Thank you, we shall try to be quick.”

The coachman shrugged, “Makes no never mind, sir, I’m paid whether I sit here or drive.” The coachman touched the rim of his hat and then climbed into the driver’s seat.

Tristan turned to Marcus and then jerked his head towards the three brick steps that led to the dark blue door of the solicitor’s office. Tristan took a deep breath, feeling oddly as nervous as if he was about to go into battle, and strode quickly up the steps with Marcus just behind him. Tristan opened the door, as he pushed it inwards, a bell rang above his head, and he stepped into a surprisingly large and well-lit foyer with two doors on his right, a door straight ahead, and a staircase to his left. A man about Tristan’s age looked up from where he was writing in a ledger.

“Can I help you?”He asked, his tone indicating that Tristan and Marcus had bothered him.

“Yes, I’m Captain Tristan Sizemore, the new Earl of Banbury and Rawlings; I received a letter from Mr. Solomon,” Tristan replied. And the man’s face changed from one of annoyance to shock and obsequiousness. The clerk stood up so quickly his chair slid loudly across the wooden floor.

“I’m sorry, my lord, we receive all sorts just walking in. If you will follow me, Mr. Solomon is waiting for you.” The clerk gave Marcus a contemptuous look that instantly made Tristan bristle in annoyance.

“My friend and assistant go where I do,” Tristan stated evenly.

“Of course, this way gentlemen,” The clerk turned to walk quickly down the corridor to the last door. He knocked quickly on the door and opened it as a deep male voice could be heard saying Come in.

The clerk opened the door and stepped inside, holding it open for Tristan and Marcus.

“Lord Tristan Sizemore, the Earl of Banbury, sir, you were waiting for him.” The clerk said as the solicitor rose to his feet.

“Yes, welcome, my lord, perhaps Jennings can entertain your friend while we discuss the matter.” Mr. Solomon said, giving Marcus a dismissive look.

“Mr. Berkley is my friend, advisor, and assistant, and goes everywhere with me. There is nothing you can say to me that can’t be said before him.” Tristan commented, with annoyance. In the army no one had ever commented that Marcus was by his side.

Mr. Solomon gave him an apologetic smile and motioned to the high-backed wooden chairs before his desk. “Please, gentlemen, have a seat. Jennings, could you please bring the gentlemen some tea and whatever you can find to eat”

“Of course sir,” The clerk said before quickly withdrawing from the room.

Tristan motioned for Marcus to take the left hand seat while he settled in the right hand seat.

“I shall come straight to the point Mr. Solomon as my friend and I are rather fatigued. I received your letter saying that there was trouble with the estate and the inheritance and that I needed to see you as soon as possible. We just disembarked from a rather dreadful crossing and we are both tired and hungry. Please tell me what is the problem,” Tristan stated.

Mr. Solomon shuffled papers for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Your father died, in well, he was umm in the bed of a woman that is not your mother. The ladies husband caught them together, and well, it appears that your father might have had a heart attack as he was leaving abruptly.” Mr. Solomon said.

“A very tactful comment sir,” Marcus commented earning a raised eyebrow from the solicitor.

“So my father died while fleeing from an irate husband?” Tristan stated. His father had never been faithful to his mother but this was beyond the pale. “So I’m sure that caused a scandal I shall have to bare, is there more I need to know?”

“Yes, indeed there was a bit of a scandal as the lady was much younger than your father. Unfortunately your father also ran up extensive gambling debts before his death. To pay them off he was forced to selling off almost all the furniture in your country seat of Rawlings. As I understand it from the estate Manager, Mr. Thornton, the only furniture that remains in the house is in his lordships bedchamber and office, everything else was sold. And only a few members of staff remain.” Mr. Solomon stated.

“Wonderful,” Tristan sighed. He had only been at Rawlings the family’s sprawling ancient stone manor house a few times, as his parents preferred London, but he had always loved his time at the country home. “And, what else?”

“After your father’s death your brothers, well they had not always been a bit, umm free spirited, but they ran wild shall we say. Both your brothers ran up substantial debts before their unfortunate untimely ends. Your eldest brother, Lord Allister, sold most of the land attached to Rawlings to cover his gambling debts. Rawlings is now only left with fifty acres of land, according to the estate manager, that will not be enough to net a profit this year and cover maintenance for Rawling’s Hall, the remaining staff’s salaries, much less the taxes.” Mr. Solomon said, then paused to let the news sink in. “He also sold all but one of the family’s carriages.”

Tristan felt his hands fist as he began calculating the amount of debt that he was now facing. “Is there more?”

“Yes, he left many, many unpaid debts about town. From the bills he left unsettled, he enjoyed fine clothing, fine drink, and the ladies. When he died, he had run up twenty thousand pounds in debt.” Mr. Solomon looked up from the paper in his hands as he delivered another blow.

“Good lord, is there more?” Tristan asked in dread.

“Yes, your brother Richard, in the brief nine months he was lord, he ran up an additional ten thousand pounds in gambling debts; those markers were called in at his death, and they wiped out the remaining savings and holdings your family had.” Mr. Solomon set the paper down to look across the table at Tristan.

“I see, perhaps you could tell me exactly how they died, Mr. Solomon? The letters I received from my mother and late uncle were lacking any details; all they said was that they were dead and I should return home.”Tristan asked.

“Oh, yes, well. Your eldest brother, Alistair, died after being thrown from his horse while he was racing drunk across Hyde Park, and your brother Richard died from a broken neck. He was caught in the bed of a married woman by her husband and tried to flee out a window. Unfortunately, he was intoxicated at the time, and he leaped from the window, aiming for a nearby tree limb, he missed and fell to the flagstones below.” Mr. Solomon gave him an apologetic look.

“Like father, like son, eh?” Marcus commented, earning a scowl from Tristan.

“Hell and my father said I brought shame on the family when I joined the army,” Tristan shook his head in disgust.

“Yes, indeed. As you know, when your brother, Richard, died, you became Earl, but as you refused to claim the title, your uncle assumed the title temporarily. He managed to settle the outstanding debts your brothers left, and put a good sum of money in an account to cover the household expenses for your London home and your mother’s upkeep.” Mr. Solomon gave him a tentative smile.

“That was kind of him. I know he and my father had a falling out over thirty years ago; apparently, my father and his father didn’t approve of Uncle marrying Aunt Amelia. While she was rich, her mother had been the daughter of a simple Baronet and an heiress whose family had made their money in tin mines.” Tristan remembered his aunt and uncle fondly; they had truly loved each other and his nephews and niece. His parents had been cold, distant, and dictatorial, always reminding him he was a spare and that nothing he did was as good as his older brothers. “I knew uncle was well off, but to cover such huge debts.”

“Yes, but he had a limit to his largesse. After the initial debts were paid, he made it very clear that he would not be responsible for any further debts left by his brother’s family. Some late bills arrived amounting to thirty thousand pounds. I have been putting off the collectors till you returned home, but they must be paid or you risk losing your London house.” Mr. Solomon looked up from the paper again.

“Thirty thousand pounds, I see. Is there any good news?” Tristan asked, hoping for a lifeline to save him from drowning in debt. Thirty thousand pounds was a staggering amount of debt.

“Yes, your uncle, as you may know, married a very wealthy woman. Your aunt Amelia brought to their marriage not only wealth but a great deal of land. With the money she brought to the marriage your uncle bought his current estate, Avondale, which was adjacent to his wife’s land. Since the initial purchase he has substantially improved the holdings and his wealth, it is more than enough to pay off all the debts and save the family estate. As his family all died in an unfortunate accident, everything will come to you, including shares in the tin mine, Avondale, and a small townhouse in Bath, but there is a catch.” Mr. Solomon pulled an envelope out of the folder and held it out to Tristan.

Tristan eyed the envelope with some trepidation, afraid to take the envelope. “And what is that?”

“Your uncle and aunt were close friends with Captain Layden and his wife, Phebe Bentley. Mrs. Layden came from a respectable family; her father was a baronet who married the daughter of a vicar. According to what your uncle told me, his wife and Mrs. Layton met at a girls’ boarding school and formed a lifelong friendship.” Mr. Solomon paused as there was a knock on the door and the clerk entered, pushing a tea trolley.

“Sorry for the delay, sir, but I had one of the boys run to the baker to buy fresh buns for the earl.” The clerk set three white mugs on the desk, one before Mr. Solomon and one before Marcus and Tristan. With an apologetic look, he poured them each a steaming mug of tea and then set a sugar bowl and tongs as well as a creamer on the desk before Tristan, and a basket of buns. From the looks that Mr. Solomon was giving the clerk, it was obvious that people did not usually eat in his boss’s office.

Tristan’s stomach growled loudly at the aroma of the fresh buns, reminding him that neither Marcus nor he had eaten that morning. Tristan gratefully took a bun, placing it on a linen napkin before handing the basket to Marcus. With a polite nod, the clerk exited the office, leaving the tea trolley behind. As the door closed behind him, Mr. Solomon took a sip of tea before turning his gaze back to Tristan.

“Yes, where was I, oh yes. Captain Layden and your uncle were also good friends, having met in the navy as midshipmen.” Mr. Layton took another sip of tea.

“My uncle was in the navy, I never knew,” Tristan stated, taking a quick bite of his muffin.

“Oh yes, it was only for two years though, your uncle suffered from sea sickness as well as scurvy and was injured in a skirmish. Your uncle would joke he was not made to be at sea, nonetheless, he said that he and Captain Layden became very close as midshipmen, when Mr. Layden saved his life he asked your uncle to watch out for his future family. After both men married Mrs. Layden inherited a large two-story cottage, Rose Cottage, near Avondale. Captain Layden returned to the sea, leaving Mrs. Layden alone at Rose Cottage with an infant son. Your aunt and uncle soon had their first child, a son Anthony, another son Noah quickly followed, and then a daughter Leah.” Mr. Solomon paused to take a nibble of a bun and then washed it down with tea. “Mrs. Layden had another son following a shore leave visit from the captain and then two years later after another visit by the Captain a daughter Arabella. Mrs. Layden was not content to be idle and studied with the local midwife and doctor to become a midwife and nurse. In fact, she delivered two of your cousins.” Mr. Solomon stated.

“While this is interesting, how does it affect me?” Tristan asked.

“Patience, my lord, I am coming to that. Mrs. Layden’s three children were close friends with your uncle’s and aunt’s children and were taught by the same tutor at your uncle’s expense. In addition, your uncle once told me that he had hoped that Mrs. Layden’s daughter, Arabella, would marry his eldest son, Anthony, though there was several years’ difference in their ages. Anthony and Arabella were very close as children, and both your uncle and Mrs. Layden welcomed such a match.” Mr. Solomon paused to take another bite of a muffin while Tristan pondered what he was being told.

“Do you know how your aunt and cousins died?” Mr. Solomon asked, startling Tristan from his thoughts, and Tristan shook his head.

“No, I was in the army then, it was what, nine-ten years ago? My uncle sent me a terse note saying there had been an accident and his family had been killed, I sent him my condolences but never had the heart to ask for details.” Tristan replied.

“It will be ten years this summer. There was a horrific carriage accident,” Mr. Solomon sighed heavily. “Your uncle and his family were returning from a picnic at a neighbor’s property. Your uncle was riding his horse while the rest of the family rode in the carriage. Your uncle told me that they were nearing Avondale when it began to rain; the coachman urged the horses faster as the storm grew in intensity. Soon it was pouring rain, and winds as strong as a gale. The coach was about to cross a bridge a mere half mile from Avondale, when a bolt of lightning hit a tree near the bridge. The bolt toppled the tree across the road, blocking the way, and then your uncle said chaos reigned. The carriage horses and his mount, panicked by the fallen tree and bombs of thunder went wild. Your uncle was thrown from his mount, landing hard on the road while the carriage horses, somehow snapped their traces. The carriage began rolling out of control and rolled down an embankment into the stream that passed under the bridge. The carriage tipped on its side as the water in the stream began to rise.”

“Bloody hell,” Marcus said, breaking the tense silence.

“Indeed, sir, I agree. The coachman had been rendered unconscious when he was thrown from his seat, and your uncle had landed hard, breaking his left arm, cutting his scalp, and breaking several ribs. Despite his injuries, he made it to his feet and into the stream to try and help his family. Luckily, not far away, Mrs. Layden and Arabella were hurrying home from a walk in the woods. They saw the accident and ran to help. Mrs. Layden, according to your uncle, removed her gown and waded into the water in only her undergarments. She pulled herself atop the toppled coach and then dropped inside to try and aid your fallen family.”Mr. Solomon paused again and Tristan realized he was sitting on the edge of his seat.

“Mrs. Layden was a very brave woman,” Tristan said breaking the silence.

“Indeed, while Mrs. Layden was trying to free those in the carriage, Arabella, who was only eleven at the time, was running down the road in the gale to Avondale. She summoned the servants, telling them of the accident, then on her own, she ran to the village of Henwick, the closest village to Avondale, through the forest. The village was over two miles away, and the storm was raging, but she ran through the storm to the Vicarage and told the Vicar what had happened and asked him to ring the parish bell to summon help, then she ran to the doctor’s home. But he wasn’t in, so she decided to return to the accident to try and help. As she was running down the road, the Vicar stopped to pick her up in his pony cart, and together they made it to the accident.” Mr. Solomon paused to take a sip of tea.

“What an extraordinary girl and woman,” Tristan said, reaching for his now tepid tea.

“Indeed, sir, indeed. By the time help arrived from Avondale, the carriage was filling with water, and somehow Mrs. Layden had lifted two of your cousins, Leah and Noah, up and out the door of the carriage. She was struggling to free her friend, your aunt through the door.” Mr. Solomon shook his head. “It was only when a stable hand slipped into the carriage that she allowed herself to be pulled out, and then she waded to the road where the injured had been laid to render them aid. Your uncle told me he lost consciousness and woke to find himself in his bed, with his head bandaged and his leg splinted. That Mrs. Layden and the retired midwife, a Mrs.…hold on, let me check my notes.” Mr. Solomon checked the paper in his hands, “Ah, yes, a Mrs. Gatwick, the former village midwife, tending him and his family. Your uncle was told that his daughter, Leah, had not survived the accident, that his wife was not likely to live through the night, and that both his sons were very ill. The doctor had never come; he was in a neighboring town when the storm hit and could not make it back as the roads were flooded or blocked by fallen trees.”

“I never knew what happened. Never knew how he lost them, it must have been devastating,” Tristan said, remembering how much his uncle had loved his aunt.

“Indeed, your aunt lingered two days before succumbing to her injuries,” Mr. Solomon said, setting the paper down. “Mrs. Layden, and Arabella were tending your uncle and his family, Mrs. Layden though had suffered a nasty injury while trying to save the family, injuries that she did not take care of. A week after your aunt’s death Mrs. Layden lost consciousness, and died a few days later, your uncle told me that she died from a combination of blood poisoning from an infected gash to her leg and lung fever.”

“I see, that is why my uncle left her funds in the will,” Tristan commented.

“Only in part, your cousin Noah never fully recovered from the accident and succumbed a few months later, while Anthony lived another two years before lung fever took him.” Mr. Solomon looked up from the paper again. “Miss Layden was also alone when your uncle tried to contact the navy to get word to his friend Captain Layden that his wife had passed, He was told that the Captain had died in battle, and Miss Layden’s two older brothers were both at sea and refused to return.”

“So they both were alone, I can see why the late earl took the girl in,” Marcus commented as he reached for another bun.

“Only in part, the earl had also promised his friend to watch out for his family, and Mrs. Layden had lost her life trying to save his family. While the earl was recovering, he had me travel to Avondale to change his will, and I met Miss Layden then, and I have had the pleasure of meeting her several times since then. She is a charming, intelligent, and kind young woman.” Mr. Solomon took another sip of tea. “Over the years, Miss Layden began to help your uncle with not only the running of the manor house, but also to help him keep the estate accounts. As your uncle’s health worsened, Miss Layden began working as your uncle’s unpaid secretary and would meet with the estate manager when he was too ill. Your uncle came to see me the last time, a week after your brother’s death, at which time he again told me the story I have relayed to you, as well as updating his will. He made it very clear that if not for Miss Layden’s help and company, he might have lost his estate because he had plunged into despair. That she had been a rock for him, despite her losses. He further said that she loved Avondale and the people there as much as he did. This envelope contains a copy of the will for you to read, a letter to you from your uncle, as well as a letter to Miss Layden. There are also newspaper clippings detailing the events I have relayed to you as well as death notices for your family members.” He slid a large tan envelope across the desk to Tristan, who reluctantly took it.

“Is there anything else I should know?” Tristan asked.

“Yes, if Miss Layden does not wed you, she will inherit five hundred pounds a year; if she does wed you, she shall inherit two thousand pounds a year. This money shall be deposited into a special account that your uncle had me set up that can only be accessed by Miss Layden. He wanted her to have a certain amount of independence, and not be dependent on you.” Mr. Solomon added, “The money shall be drawn from a special account that cannot be touched as it is a trust.”

“If I do not marry her, do I still inherit Avondale, and will I be able to pay off the debts?” Tristan asked as he was still trying to comprehend how much debt his family had left him.

“Yes, as you are his legal heir, but you will not inherit the mine shares or the small amount of money left in your uncle’s bank account. Paying off your family debts about wiped out your uncle’s savings. When I last checked with the bank, there was only nine thousand pounds left. The mine shares and remaining funds shall be divided among three different charities your uncle supported; you shall receive none of it. In addition, creditors have written to me letting me know that if they do not receive at least good faith payments soon, they shall begin action to seize the property in Bath, your London Townhouse, and Avondale as you are due to inherit it.” Mr. Solomon stated evenly.

“Then I shall only have Rawlings left to live in, and it has no furniture?” Tristan asked and Mr. Solomon nodded.

“Yes, selling all your properties might be enough to cover all your debts, but will leave you nothing to live on. And you will have to break the lease on the house in Bath, which will cause you to incur penalties of several hundred pounds.” Mr. Solomon gave Tristan a sad look. “Now, if you do wed her a week after the wedding, the will states that you shall receive two thousand pounds, then every three weeks after that you shall receive another two thousand pounds till the funds are exhausted. You shall also begin receiving funds from the shares of the mine you will inherit. That is only if you and Miss Layden share a home, your uncle explained to me that he did this to ensure that you and Miss Layden were forced to stay together.”

“I see one last question?” Tristan asked, his uncle had left him little option but to wed this unknown woman. If he didn’t wed her he would lose everything, if he married her he would have to tighten his and his family’s belt for a year or so but they would keep their home.

“Of course, my lord?” Mr. Solomon asked.

“What does this young woman look like? You have spoken of her character but not her form.” Tristan hoped that the young woman was at least passing pretty. Being tied to an ugly woman for the rest of his life was less than palatable, even if she was the paragon she was described as.

“Oh, yes, you must be eager to know. She is a twenty-one, I believe, and only about five feet tall, with a slim but comely figure. She has blue-green eyes, an attractive face, and well, her hair is an unfortunate color, being neither auburn nor red, and is curly. Overall, she is a rather pretty young woman, not a diamond to be sure, but still very pretty.” Mr. Solomon said, and Tristan felt a sense of relief at the description, so not unattractive.

“And where shall I find her? Is she living in Avondale Manor?” Tristan asked as he began to ponder what he had to do next. He had been very good at battle planning and strategy; he would have to plan how he would gain Miss Layden’s hand. If she didn’t marry him, all would be lost.

“Oh, no, Miss Layden lives in Rose Cottage, with a young widow who is her companion. Rose Cottage is a mile from Avondale Manor, Miss Layden only stayed under your uncle’s roof till she was sixteen, then, despite his protests, moved to Rose Cottage.” Mr. Solomon glanced over at the clock on the wall, obviously wanting to be done with the meeting. “Is there anything else?”

“No, not at this time, if I have further questions will you be available?” Tristan asked, before reaching for his mug to finish his now tepid tea.

“Of course my lord, your uncle prepaid for several hours of my services as he knew that you would have questions.” Mr. Solomon rose ending the meeting.

“Thank you, Mr. Solomon, and thank you for picking me up at the port.” Tristan rose, holding tightly to the envelope. Beside him, Marcus rose as well, pausing to grab the last three muffins and wrap them in the white linen handkerchief he’d been using. Tristan scowled at him, but Marcus shrugged.

“What, we didn’t have breakfast,” Marcus replied following Tristan out of the office and down the hall. As they neared the front door, the clerk leapt to his feet and opened the door for them.

Tristan gave him a nod of thanks and then walked quickly down the steps and towards the waiting carriage, where the driver climbed from the driver’s bench to open the door for him.

“What are you going to do, Captain?” Marcus asked as he took the forward-facing seat beside Tristan.

“Find a way to talk this woman into marrying me, I have little choice. If my father and brothers were not already dead, I’d kill them for leaving me this mess to deal with,” Tristan replied in annoyance as the carriage lurched forward.

Marcus chuckled, “Well, at least she sounds attractive.” Tristan nodded in agreement; there was at least that thought to cling to.