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Heiress?” James said, as Rufus turned him about and bundled him back toward the coach. “Well, of course you do. That is the Heiress, isn’t it? You said her name was Lady Averil Martindale and even I’ve heard about her.”
    Rufus, aware of Eustace’s interested expression, said, “Uncle James, this has nothing to do with you.”
    His uncle was clutching at his sleeve.
    “But Rufus, don’t you see? This could be the answer to all your troubles. The woman is rich, or will be. Incredibly rich. Southbrook and the London house and . . . well, you can save everything! All you have to do is marry her.”

 
C HAPTER F OUR
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    M arry her.
    Rufus opened his mouth and then promptly closed it again. He waited until his son had climbed into the coach, cuddling up in Averil’s blanket and closing his eyes, and then drew his uncle aside.
    “No,” he said in a low, angry voice. “Even if a respectable woman would have me, I have some pride. I refuse to marry any woman simply to steal her fortune.”
    “Why not?” James said dryly. “Your father did, and his before him. You might say it’s a family tradition, dear boy.”
    “I am not my father,” he said coldly.
    James made a snorting sound but didn’t argue.
    Back in the coach, they sat in silence as the vehicle eventually made its way into Mayfair. The Southbrook residence was old and needed repairs, but it was still impressive. Rufus tried not to notice the buckets in the foyer, to catch drips from the leaking ceiling, as he handed Eustace over to Gregson, and then took his uncle’s arm and hurried him up the stairs to the second floor.
    “I say,” James complained, and then when he saw the locked room and realized he was to be a prisoner, he dug his heels in, panic in his eyes. “Rufus, please don’t send me back to Southbrook. You know how I loathe the place. And if you and the boy aren’t there, I’m on my own.”
    “You make it sound as if I’m sending you to Bedlam,” Rufus said mildly. “Southbrook is our home, James. The Blaineys have lived there for centuries.”
    “That’s just it. Ghosts at every turn.”
    Rufus looked at him with a frown. “If you hate the place so much, why didn’t you leave long ago? Make your own life?”
    “What, and leave my favorite nephew all alone?” James said with a smile. “We had some good times, didn’t we, Rufus? It’s a shame one of us had to grow up.”
    Rufus could feel himself wavering. That was the trouble with James, he was a master at turning a situation to his advantage. And yet what he said was true because without his uncle, Rufus’s childhood would have been bleak indeed.
    “If Eustace could come back with me . . .?” James murmured, with a hopeful glance that reminded Rufus of his son.
    “Eustace has to stay here. You know why. That monstrous woman. The boy needs to feel safe right now. He still has nightmares about her.”
    James shook his head. “The wretched Mrs. Slater. I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier, dear boy. But Eustace is such a plucky fellow, never said a word. Not until I saw the bruises on his arms.”
    Rufus tried not to shudder at the memory.
    James sighed and slumped down onto a chair by the fireplace. “You know I’m right, Rufus. We’re in a mess. But the Blaineys have been in messes before and gotten out of them. You need to follow in their footsteps and marry money. Marry the Heiress. She is a little beauty, isn’t she? If I were twenty years younger . . . Oh well,” he added hastily as Rufus’s gaze fell on him.
    “Good night, Uncle James!”
    Rufus closed the door.
    As if it were that simple!
    Downstairs in the library, among the moldering rows of books, he poured himself a brandy and sat in his favorite chair and stared moodily at his boots.
    Surely it would be better to lose everything, to walk away with his pride intact, than to inveigle a young woman into marrying him for her money? And make a fool of himself in the bargain! Rufus had no