Page 67 of The Detective and the Baroness

“Get this through your head,” Jeffery snarled, clearly losing his patience. “This is not legal. You will have to pay the money to the new baron. Where is the rest of it? The seven thousand? And do not lie. For once in your egocentric life.”

“I have it. I spent close to a thousand.” Her father crossed his arms defiantly.

“Here is what is going to happen. First, you will leave Corrine alone. She has dealt with your reckless ways long enough. Second, you will marry Mrs. Robson and move her and your son into the town house. Did you buy that house on Old Street as you told Mrs. Robson?” Jeffery demanded.

“No, of course not!” her father snapped. “I bought the furnishings and fixings.”

“Then you will sell all of it and give me the proceeds. You see, Father, from this moment forward, I will be in charge of the finances for the viscountcy. I have found you a position.”

The horrified look on her father’s face looked like a man condemned to death. “Work? Me? The peerage does not work!”

“You will. You are now on the board of directors for The Provincial Strand Bank. They are rather keen to have a viscount on the board as it will raise their profile. Since I work there, I will take your place when the time comes. It works out for everyone. You will attend weekly meetings and avail yourself when needed for any promotional needs, all for a yearly stipend of one hundred and forty pounds.”

Her father was shocked. “I cannot live on that!”

“Many people live on that very well. And many, many more would kill to have that yearly income,” Jeffery replied firmly. “There will be no further allowance from Corrine, so get used to making your own way. You will be placed on a budget and will have to start living within your means.”

“You are making me part of the burgeoning and insufferable middle class!” her father whined.

“Upper-middle-class. Come, Father. We are going home.” Jeffery shoved their father none-too-gently toward the door. “Corrine, send me the information on the funeral, and I will be there. We will talk more then.”

Corrine ran to Jeffery and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for this.”

Jeffery nodded to Drew and Mitchell as he pushed his father through the door. There was a muffled conversation in the hallway, and then Corrine heard the front door slam.

Mitchell came to her side. “Are you well?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “More than I have been for quite some time.”

No more worrying and fretting over her family. Corrine took Mitchell’s hand. And this glorious man would be with her every step of the way.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Mitchell waited for Corrine to return from the funeral. Usually, it rained on the day of a funeral; at least, that had been Mitchell’s experience. Today, it was overcast, with the sun occasionally poking through the gray clouds. He sat in the main sitting room, nursing a scotch. He loathed not being able to be there for Corrine, but at least her brother was by her side. Mitchell had to admit he was impressed by how the young Edgeworth had stepped up and taken control of the wayward Viscount Rothley. Corrine had carried the burden long enough.

The doorbell clanged. He did not rise to attend to the door, as Mrs. Evans was here today—at least for the next half hour. Moments later, she entered the room and announced, “Mr. Edgeworth, to see you, Detective. I’ll leave as soon as I’m done the washing up.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Evans.”

She nodded, wiped her hands on a tea towel, and returned to the kitchen.

Edgeworth removed his hat. “Corrine is upstairs changing.”

Mitchell stood and shook the man’s hand. “How did it go?”

“Mercifully swift. A few pious words, a blessing, and into the ground. There were certainly onlookers aplenty for the procession, but the solicitors arranged that no morbid curiosity seekers could enter the cemetery. Mr. Dobson told us he received a telegram from the new baron. He is coming to London right after Christmas. He should be here on the twenty-seventh, or later, if he decides to stay at an inn before catching the train.”

Mitchell raised an eyebrow. “That quick?”

“Steamer ships and railways. He will be here in less than fourteen hours when, just a decade ago, the journey took over a week. Listen, Simpson. What is going on between you and my sister? I know it is none of my business. Corrine made that clear. All I ask is that you be patient and kind. But Corrine informed me you were all that and more. She invited me here for Christmas dinner. Is that satisfactory to you and the doctor? I do not want to intrude.”

“I have no problem with it, and neither will Drew. What about your father?”

“He will spend the holiday at Old Street with his new family as he should. There will be many adjustments come the new year. Meeting our half-brother will be one of them. But we shall take it as it comes.”

Mitchell nodded. “Wisely spoken. Are you staying for a drink? Tea?”

Edgeworth shook his head. “No, thank you. I will see you all on the twenty-fifth.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Until then.”