An Unexpected Earl (Lords of the Armory #2) - Anna Harrington Page 0,87
with a fortune to accompany the fame. After all, he’d so eagerly given it to Aaron, and he was—
Her head snapped up, her chest squeezing so hard that it forced the air from her lungs. Her heart stopped.
Frederick hadn’t given his permission. Not officially.
Oh, he’d pressed for the courtship and engagement, all right. But when it came time for the actual wedding, he’d vanished to London. The marriage settlement had been left unsigned, there was no public announcement or notification to any of their friends or distant family, no engagement party—they hadn’t even had a reading of the banns because Aaron had secured a special license so that they could wed outside his home parish.
Yet she’d been only twenty and needed her guardian’s consent…the same consent Frederick never publicly gave.
When her heart came back to life, the jarring thud was so violent that she cried out. This time not in pain but hope.
Shoving herself off the bench, she rushed inside the house to find Lady St James and give her apologies for having to leave so suddenly. But with the way she was shaking and fully unable to catch her breath, the countess had no reason to doubt her excuse that she’d suddenly grown ill. Neither did the hackney jarvey whom she ordered to take her home to Hill Street—“Quickly!”
She’d thrown open the carriage door and jumped to the ground before the carriage had come to a complete stop in front of the town house, then rushed inside with orders for a startled Drummond to pay the driver, leaving him in the front hall gaping after her. No explanations. No excuses.
No time.
She ran through the house to Frederick’s study and his desk. Her hands pulled desperately at the drawers—locked.
With determination pulsing through her veins, she snatched up the letter opener.
She paused only a moment to consider what she was doing, breaking into Freddie’s private study like this. Then she promptly dismissed the tiny prick of guilt as she slipped the knife-like tool into the center drawer and gave a hard twist. The lock popped free. She yanked open the drawer and grabbed up the little brass key her brother kept there.
She stalked across the room to the tallboy where Freddie kept all of his most important papers locked away from the servants and any prying guests—away from her. She slid the key into the top drawer lock and opened it with a soft click. Then the next drawer, the next after that…all the way down the front of the Chippendale cabinet, unlocking each faster than the one before. When the bottom drawer unlocked, she tossed the key to the floor and yanked it open.
She’d never dared to look through Freddie’s papers before, not wanting to risk his anger. Nor had she ever had cause. As far as the law was concerned, as her closest male relative, he was still her guardian, and that was his role—to oversee all that concerned her legally, financially…every way.
But he’d been a good guardian. Always, he’d made things so easy for her by making all the decisions himself, taking care of all the paperwork, simply giving her an allowance to run the household and pin money for her own expenses. Never had he wanted to burden her—
That time was over.
Her fingers flew through the papers stored inside the drawer, looking for any that were dated from seven years ago. Nothing. Determined, she pulled open the next drawer.
“Miss!” Drummond hurried into the room, aghast at what she was doing.
“Please leave, Drummond.” She didn’t bother to look up. “I’ll call if I need you.”
Ignoring the butler, she began to pull out the files and stack them on the rug. She couldn’t have cared less what she looked like to the servants, ransacking her own home like this. What mattered was finding her marriage contract. Surely, Frederick had kept it. God knew he kept everything, like a pack rat who—
There. Third drawer from the bottom, halfway through the stack.
She sank to the floor as relief flooded over her. Holding her breath, she scanned the sheet to make certain it was exactly as she remembered, with Aaron’s aristocratic signature scrawled across the bottom, her worthless one beneath…and an empty space where Frederick should have signed.
Oh, thank God!
Her hands shook as she held it. All of her shook! For the first time in seven years, she had hope. Real hope. She could barely breathe beneath the sob that swelled up from the back of her throat.