The Unscrupulous Uncle by Allison Lane

wrote you, so I suppose I slipped into shock. By the time I recovered, the funerals were over, and Uncle Henry had taken care of everything else. I should have known that you would not have forgot us, but having no memory of that time, I assumed that there was nothing to know.”
    “Did you really write me?” he asked suddenly.
    “Of course. The evening of the accident. You must have got it!”
    He shook his head. “Not a word. It hurt.”
    They stared at each other for over a minute.
    “This is very odd,” she said.
    “Not really.” He shrugged. “The vagaries of war. We lost some ships in the early days. I suppose our mail was on them.”
    “How cruel can life get?” she murmured rhetorically. “Not one word from you since Peter’s death.”
    “But surely your uncle reported meeting me in London!”
    She raised her brows. “When was this?”
    “Early November. I came back to deal with all the legal business engendered by my parents’ deaths. I was planning to come down to see you, but frankly I was dreading having to face the ghosts here, so when I met your uncle in town, I turned coward and rejoined my regiment. He assured me that you were well. But I sent you a message.”
    “Saying what?”
    “Repeating my condolences and congratulating you on your betrothal.” But even as he spoke, cold settled into his stomach.
    “What betrothal?” Shock widened her eyes.
    “Lord Braxton said that you had accepted the hand of Roderick Graham just before the accident.”
    “I have never heard of such a man. I have certainly never been betrothed. I was not even planning to come out until the following Season. You know I was barely seventeen that summer.”
    “What is going on?” he demanded sharply.
    “I have no idea. Why would Uncle claim that I was betrothed? Unless he expected to arrange something. There was no money for a Season. But why would he even try? No man wants a girl without a dowry.”
    “Nonsense! Your dowry was settled when you were a child.”
    “You have been away a long time, Damon. Papa could be quite the charmer, as I am sure you recall. He was also quite good at obscuring truth. When my uncle inherited, he discovered that there was no money. Even my dowry had disappeared. He would have done what he could to arrange my future – not out of goodness, of course, but to save himself the expense of keeping me. Whatever gentleman he hoped to convince must have refused.”
    “Perhaps,” he agreed, though not believing it for a moment. The dowry had been there, set aside in a trust. And nothing would convince him that Peter’s father had been hiding indebtedness. He knew the man too well.
    “You think I’m exaggerating, don’t you?” she observed sadly. “But you did not know everything. Even Peter didn’t. How could you when you were both gone most of the time? I do not know if it was gaming or bad investments, though I suspect the latter. And Papa was not the sort to flaunt poverty. He would have continued as before, wearing a prosperous face and hoping that he could turn things around before the truth emerged. But he did not have time.”
    Her words pulled Damon up short. Was it possible that he was less knowing than he thought? But either way, he must take care of Cat.
    She continued, showing no sign of noticing his preoccupation. “But Uncle Henry is not the sort for pretense. He decreed that the only hope of recouping Papa’s losses was to tighten our belts. And it has worked, though it is unlikely that my cousins will enjoy London Seasons any time soon. Hopefully they will not have to wait until they are on the shelf like me, for they find adjusting to penury difficult. We have fewer servants than they would like and smaller wardrobes. I help where I can, but there is no point pretending that all is well.”
    “Why do you not go out more?” he asked.
    She shrugged. “There is no point in embarrassing my family. Poor relations are not accepted as equals. I do not wish to