Bought, the Penniless Lady - By Deborah Hale Page 0,1

to continue.

He did not keep her in suspense. “I have made Mrs. Bullworth an offer of marriage, which I hope she will accept.”

“Mrs. Bullworth?” Artemis could not keep her tone from betraying surprise and distaste.

She had heard plenty of gossip about Harriet Bullworth over the years. The former actress had been kept by a succession of gentlemen before marrying a wealthy banker three times her age. After his death left her a rich widow, Mrs. Bullworth had made no secret of her intention to buy her way into the highest peerage possible.

The prospect of such a brazen adventuress usurping the place that had belonged to a succession of the most refined ladies in the kingdom horrified Artemis.

“You heard correctly.” Uncle Henry’s iron-gray brows contracted in a severe frown that brooked no argument. “The lady is a most suitable choice for many reasons, not least of which is her comparative youth. The duty of propagating the Dearing line has fallen to me and I will not shirk it. A man of my years looking for a younger bride is in no position to pick and choose. Particularly when the size of his fortune does not match the luster of his pedigree.”

Duly chastened, Artemis lowered her gaze. “I understand, Uncle. Of course I want the Dearing line to continue.”

Her show of deference seemed to appease her uncle. “I knew I could count on your support, my dear. You have always been a paragon of loyalty and duty. If only your unfortunate brother and sister had followed your example, we might not have found ourselves at this pass.”

Any gratitude her uncle stirred by praising her loyalty, he forfeited by criticizing her brother and sister. “Perhaps if you had not forbidden Daphne to see Julian Northmore—”

Uncle Henry gave a dismissive flick of his fingers. “That is all water under the bridge.”

Some long-suppressed spirit of rebellion made Artemis itch to seize a pair of heavy bookends and hurl them at her uncle. Prudence restrained her. Now that Uncle Henry was head of the family, she could not afford to antagonize him—for her nephew’s sake as well as her own.

“You have been a model of familial duty,” Uncle Henry repeated. “Caring for your sister and her unfortunate child. I am certain the family can depend upon you to act for its greater good.”

Artemis sensed a lurking threat in her uncle’s praise. “What greater good might that be?”

“The one of which we just spoke, of course, and you endorsed.” Uncle Henry sounded impatient. “My finding a wife and begetting an heir.”

At the risk of annoying him further, Artemis asked, “What do your plans have to do with me?”

“You must appreciate Mrs. Bullworth’s position, my dear—the impropriety of her living at Bramberley under the same roof as an illegitimate child.”

Uncle Edward gave a fastidious shudder. “Not to mention the harm you have done your own reputation, keeping the child with you for so long.”

“I have always been perfectly scrupulous about my reputation, Uncle. I fail to see how caring for my dead sister’s child should damage it. As for Mrs. Bullworth’s propriety—” Artemis bit her tongue to keep from saying something that might make Uncle Henry lose his temper. “I sympathize, of course, but you cannot turn Daphne’s child out of Bramberley. He is barely a year old. He has nowhere else to go, any more than I do.”

“You will always have a home at Bramberley,” said Uncle Henry. “But the child must go. I should have insisted upon it sooner, but I feared being parted from her infant might be the death of your sister. Now that she is gone and the boy is weaned, surely some place can be found for him.”

The fear that had stalked Artemis since her sister’s death now pounced, threatening to rip her wounded heart to pieces. “Please, there must be some other way. Bramberley is such a vast place and so much of it unoccupied. Could I not move with Lee to a room in the north range? No one would ever have to know we were here.”

“I would know.” Uncle Henry looked thoroughly shocked at her suggestion. “I mean to give Mrs. Bullworth my word of honor that the child will not be living under her roof, and I refuse to be foresworn. You know as well as anyone, the word of a Dearing is sacred.”

“Surely our responsibility to an innocent child of our own blood is sacred, too? If he cannot stay at Bramberley, find us a little cottage