conduct are taken strictly—”
“And English law,” she interjected beneath her breath.
He shot her a quelling look. “Nothing the others haven’t done,” he repeated forcefully. “But enough to remove me from the House.” Then a long, ragged sigh tore from him, and he turned away from her to stare out the dark window. He said almost to himself, “And wouldn’t some of those pompous old bastards just love to get their hands on my seat? Minehead’s a jewel, the best of the pocket boroughs. Lots of men all over England are simply drooling to put their hands on it…”
His voice faded off. But the drawn and haggard expression marring his face showed exactly how serious his situation was, how much was at stake.
“There’s no reason to think the blackmailer will expose you,” she reminded, attempting to calm him, “since you’ve done everything he’s asked.”
“So far.”
The two small words chilled her to her bones. “What do you mean?”
He faced her. “I mean that he’s asking for three more appointments, but I’ve already used up every one at my disposal. The session’s ending in a few days, and there aren’t any other positions coming open that require Parliamentary approval.” His obvious desperation took her breath away. “Except for a turnpike trust. There’s still time to propose one and for Parliament to enact it.”
“No,” she whispered, finding the resolve to speak out over the dread seeping through her. She was grateful to Freddie for all he’d done for her, wanted to help him however she could, but… “Not that.”
He slammed his palm onto the desk. She jumped with a small gasp, her hand going to her throat, her fingers grazing her locket.
“Damnation, Amelia! It’s the only way out of this mess, don’t you see that? To do what he’s asking, one last time—to save everything—” As if realizing he was showing a lack of control, he cut himself off, inhaled deeply, and then blew out a hard, cognac-scented breath. “A trust of this size needs five trustees to oversee it. The most important landowners take two, with three slots left for any named trustees we want. Three slots for those last three men I have to place. If I find positions for them, then the blackmail stops.”
“Turnpike trustees?” she repeated incredulously. He was beyond drunk and into lunacy. “You said you were being forced to find government appointments.”
“I am finding them! That’s what these are.” He raked his shaking hand through his hair in frustration. “Don’t you see? It’s filling the positions that matters, not the position itself. A trust will do that, and we’ll be free from this mess.”
His mess. She ached for him, but the rest of her wanted to shake him hard for allowing this to happen.
And now he wanted to free himself by taking all that was left of her inheritance. That small piece of land was the only part of her fortune that Aaron hadn’t absconded with the morning after their wedding. A turnpike would cut right through it, with the trust claiming the greater part of it under their rights of access. There would be no useful portion left for her to control.
“Parliament and Prinny want turnpikes and improved roads across England because they understand the importance of development,” he explained, as if she were a child. But it was difficult to sound authoritative, she supposed, when slurring one’s words. “And our property is right in the middle of a grand route between Birmingham and the Severn. Don’t you see? Not only would the last men be placed and the threats against me stopped, but we’d also be set up financially. Turnpikes are gold mines! We’d be fools not to take advantage of that.”
He’d be a fool, he meant. She doubted that he planned on sharing the profits, not that she wanted any. She’d much rather keep control of her land.
“Parliament’s doubled the number of turnpike trusts just in this session alone,” he told her. “They’ll agree to mine.”
“Trusts take control,” she reminded him. They’d fought this battle before. “They take it away from the private owners and keep it for themselves.”
“Trusts collect the tolls and maintain the roads. They do all the work but ensure all the profits for landowners who are smart enough to capitalize on improving their property.” He snatched up the letters that Drummond had left on his desk on a silver salver, as if needing to keep his hands busy, and tossed an unwanted one away with a flick of his wrist. “But