The Wallflower Wager - Tessa Dare Page 0,80
those relationships. But know this: You did not ruin me. You could never ruin me.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew a tightly rolled sheaf of papers. “I’m the one who is going to ruin you.”
“I can’t imagine what you mean.”
“Can’t you? This might spark your memory.” She unrolled the papers. “Perhaps you remember borrowing a large sum of money from my Aunt Caroline to pay off gambling debts? And perhaps you remember accumulating more gambling debts without repaying that loan. My aunt wasn’t the only one you bilked, either. You’ve quite a trail of unpaid debts, Mr. Lambert. They amount to tens of thousands of pounds. And as of this morning, you have only one creditor. Me.”
Gabriel took the papers from her hands and sifted through them. “Penny, how on earth did you accomplish this?”
“I learned from the best. And I had help.” She nodded toward the edge of the park, where a dark coach and team were just visible through the fog. “My aunt and I spent all night tracking down people who’d loaned him money. She bought up all the debts, and she sold the entire bundle of paper to me. For a shilling.”
“You are a wonder.”
“Is it all in order?” she asked. “Will it hold in court?”
Gabriel nodded. “As far as I can see.”
“Good.” She said to Lambert, “This will be easier for us both if you’ll surrender your assets willingly. If you won’t, I’ll go through Chancery and ruthlessly take from you whatever I can claim. I could burn your life to the ground. But if you agree to my terms, you’ll keep your house and a modest income.”
“Like hell he will,” Gabriel interjected. “Leave him with nothing.”
Penny never took her eyes from Lambert. “He needs his house and the income to keep it. Because he must agree to never leave that home again.”
“What?”
“Allow me to tell you what’s happened this morning, here in this park. You’ve been injured, most grievously, in this duel. As a result, you’re going home to the country to recover. Except that you won’t recover. Ever.”
“Ever?”
“As far as the remainder of the world is concerned, you will remain a homebound invalid for the rest of your life. You may have the bare minimum of servants—old, unpleasant, male ones. No callers.”
“No callers?”
“None.”
“Not even my grandchildren?”
“Especially not your grandchildren. If you care anything for them, you will do precisely as I say. If I find you’ve broken this agreement, I will expose not only your perversion but your insolvency. Your children and grandchildren will be tainted by association. And Mr. Duke will have my full support to do what he will with you.”
“Insupportable,” Lambert snarled. “I won’t be subordinate to a guttersnipe.”
“Mr. Duke is worth hundreds of you. Thousands.”
“Only because he stole that money from decent families.”
“I’m not talking about his fortune. I’m speaking of his worth as a man. As for decency . . . ? You have no grounds to speak on that matter.”
He fished about for another argument. “Bradford, surely you won’t permit her to do this.”
“My brother has no choice in the matter. Even if he offers you mercy, I will not.”
Lambert’s chin quavered. The reality of his situation seemed to finally be sinking in. “Surely we can come to some other agreement. Think of your parents, my friendship with your father. We can find a way to settle this misunderstanding, poppet.”
“Don’t you ever—ever—call me that again. Or I swear, I will shoot you dead myself.” Penny stared directly into his repulsive, cowardly eyes. “I’m not your ‘poppet’ any longer. I own you. And in the future, if you address me at all, it will be as Lady Penelope Duke.” A more fitting idea struck her, and a cold smile touched her lips. “Better yet, you may call me the Duchess of Ruin.”
Aunt Caroline joined them. “Time for you to be on your way, Lambert. There’s a carriage waiting. These gentlemen will see you to it.”
Two giants emerged from the fog to take Lambert by either arm and drag him away.
The older woman smiled. “Now, that was satisfying. I never knew until this moment how much I wanted to have henchmen.” With a pat to Penny’s shoulder and a swish of skirts, she turned to follow.
Only Bradford lingered. “Penny . . .” He pushed a hand through his hair. “Deuced if I know what to make of all this.”
“There are two alternatives. You believe me, or you don’t.” She drew a steadying breath. “You should know this.