Chapter 5

The following day, Mac stood in the small printing office cluttered with pamphlets, papers, and boxes. A pile of correspondence from various contacts around the world, including his brother, Gilbert, were piled high behind him. His old Stanhope press sat in the corner of the room, barely held together. He was in dire need of a new printing press, but he could neither afford one nor find it in himself to part with the old girl.

Needing to fill a large order for an upcoming abolitionist, Mac tried to focus, but the only thing he could do was think about kissing the most captivating woman he’d ever beheld.

Letty.

He had originally agreed to Cedemoor’s invitation to attend Pinerose’s hunting party out of pure desperation. The request was simple, until it wasn’t.

Sighing out, Mac picked up the parchment paper that sat on the cluttered worktable. He read the words for what seemed like the millionth time that day.

Eviction

“Fuck,” he cursed.

He’d asked Molly, the sweet, motherly wife of his landlord, to convince her greedy husband to give Mac more time.

Running his hand through his hair, he tried to ignore the sinking feeling spreading through him. He had worked for years to build the print shop up to something he could be proud of, something that would matter and make a difference. And now he could lose everything.

His dwindling funds, along with the increase of rent, was the reason he had accepted Cedemoor’s offer. The heir to an Earldom, along with his other friends, were powerful allies. Or so he thought.

This could all go away—if he went along with Cedemoor’s plan. All he had to do was ruin Letty Crane.

An ache pierced his chest at the thought, a dark abyss beckoning him. She was the one person that he’d felt a connection with, ever.

“Damn it,” Mac shouted before balling up the paper and hurling it across the small shop.

He had until the end of the month to pay his rent or he would be evicted, not only from his print shop but from his home. The small apartment upstairs had become his sanctuary. It was easier to live directly over his place of business so he could meet his ever-present deadlines. There was no way Mac would find the funds to pay what he owed Hutchinson without making a deal with the devil.

As if his thoughts conjured him, Cedemoor entered the cramped space before bending down and picking up the crumpled sheet of paper.

“What are you doing here?” Mac asked the other man, not in the mood for his antics.

Cedemoor was older than Mac by ten years, yet the man behaved more like a boy still at Eton or Shrewsbury.

“I was impressed with your little performance last night,” Cedemoor said, removing his hat from his balding head. “I was really thinking you had feelings for the brat.” He chuckled darkly.

Mac clenched his jaw, his hand balled into a fist. He couldn’t just stand there and allow that pompous ass to insult Letty.

“I do have feelings for her, and I won’t be a part of your sick plan?—”

“Don’t try to be noble now.” He walked closer to Mac. “We both know you need the funds, and I will provide them once my sister is ruined.”

Bile rose in Mac’s throat at the venom in Cedemoor’s words. He thought he could do it. There was part of him that wanted nothing more than to save his business, but he couldn’t sacrifice Letty. Not after Norfolk, and surely not after the previous evening.

Everything he’d told her was true; he wanted to be with her and no other.

Mac shook his head. He had thought that if he avoided his financial troubles that something would miraculously come and save him, but that would not be his fate. There was only one option left for him. “I do,” he admitted, his tongue heavy, sweat forming at the nape of his neck. “But not this way.”

“We had a deal, Meriweather!” Cedemoor shouted, his putrid breath slamming into Mac’s face.

“I won’t fucking ruin her!” Mac raised his own voice.

His mistake was agreeing to the Cedemoor’s plan of ruination in the first place. At first, he agreed blindly before he met Letty, and then everything changed.

It was no secret that the earl was not leaving his heir and only son his fortune. Cedemoor would only take possession of all that was entailed while everything that was not entailed to the title would belong to Letty.

“If you don’t have the bollocks to do it, I’ll find someone else.”

Mac took him by the lapels, pulling the smaller man into him. “Stay away from her. I won’t warn you again.” Never in Mac’s life had he ever wanted to cause harm to another person, but the thought of another man ruining Letty made him feel murderous.

The door opened, officially taking both of their attention away from the other. Mac released Cedemoor, causing the other man to stumble slightly.

Turning to face the newcomer, Mac greeted the Duke of Richmore as he entered the small shop with his gaze bouncing between Cedemoor and Mac. His large frame was intimidating, the look on his face questioning.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, concern laced in his deep voice.

Shaking his head, Mac took a step back. “No. Cedemoor here was just leaving.

He tried to control his temper, but it was impossible. Mac couldn’t believe he had ever considered helping Cedemoor in ruining Letty. How utterly daft was he?

What type of man would he be if he ruined the woman he’d fallen in love with?

Placing his hat on his head, Cedemoor glowered at Mac. “Remember what I said.”

Letting out a ragged breath, Mac’s gaze never left Cedemoor’s retreating form as he left his printing shop.

He’d been a fool to even consider his proposition. If he lost the print shop, then so be it. He’d start all over again, give it all up. For her.

She deserved better.

Ignoring Richmore, Mac walked over to the large box filled with pamphlets, picking it up. The weight was welcoming, something to distract him from his reckless decisions.

“Here you are,” Mac said handing his friend, who was still glaring at him, the large box. “I shall have the next set by Saturday.”

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, Meriweather?” Richmore’s voice was angry and full of accusation. “I didn’t take you for a fortune hunter. Yesterday evening it appeared as if you actually cared for Lady Leticia?—”

“I do care for her!” Mac shouted, his body shaking.

He cared more than he ever thought possible. After their first meeting, she was all he could think of. All he wanted in his dead life which was filled with work and obligation.

The horrors he saw and heard had changed him, seeing the effects of slavery firsthand, visiting countries with enslaved people and documenting their plight. He had traveled endlessly the first few years starting out. What Mac had seen and heard made him want to do anything and everything in his power to make a difference. At one time in his life, he was willing to do anything to keep his print shop open, but that ended now.

“I find that difficult to believe from the conversation I overheard between you and Cedemoor.” Richmore placed his hand on the worktable, his gaze intent on Mac. “Everyone knows how he feels about his sister. It is all he speaks of when in his cups at O’Brien’s. Is your situation so dire that you would make a deal with the devil?”

“It is, but I no longer care what happens to the print shop. I care about Letty?—”

She was all he cared about now, and he would make her his priority. He wouldn’t allow her brother to steal her inheritance because of some sick twisted vendetta against her.

“Then you need to make this right. Confess everything to her. That is the only way she may ever forgive you.” Richmore shifted the box in his arms, resting it on his hip. “If you need funds, you have friends, Meriweather. All you have to do is ask.”

“I cannot expect my friends to save me.” He’d been raised to be his own man, to handle his problems without any help from others. Unlike his eldest brother, Rafe, who was handed everything to his heart desired, Mac had to work for a living.

“Sometimes that is the true definition of a friend. You’re an honorable man, Mac, don’t forget who you are.” The use of his first name informed him just how severe their conversation was.

He had forgotten himself for a moment, so desperate was he to save his dying business. His maternal grandfather had raised him to be honorable, the cursed third son that no one wanted to be bothered with.

Mac and his second eldest brother, Gilbert, were both sent away at an early age. There was no time for second and third sons when there was a healthy heir. It was his grandfather who had first introduced him to the power of the written word.

“I thought I could do it. That accepting Cedemoor’s offer would save the paper and provide a more stable life for myself.” He lowered his head, feeling like a complete and utter fool. “Then I spent a fortnight in her presence, and it transformed me. She was the light I did not know I needed,” he whispered the last part, remembering what it felt like to have her in his arms. How soft and plush her lips were against his. The feel of her body as he’d pressed against her the previous night.

Mac wanted that for the rest of his existence, but how could they ever go forward after what he had planned to do?

“Then you have your answer. Trust me, I know what it’s like to be a fool in love, but it is up to us to prove ourselves to the women in our lives.” Richmore placed his free hand on Mac’s shoulder. “Tell her, before it’s too late.”

Bloody hell, he would have to confess everything and pray she would forgive him. He would figure out what to do with the print shop. Perhaps leaving his current building was the correct choice. Old Hutchinson had been increasing the rent on him for years, and it was time to stop that cycle once and for all.

“I will, when I feel the time is right.” Stilling his features, Mac tried not to show the fear that was running rampant inside of him. “It’s under control.”

The truth was, it wasn’t under control, but he didn’t want his friend knowing that his life was truly a disaster.

“I meant what I said. If you’re in need of help, I would be more than happy to assist you,” Richmore said, setting the box down on the worktable. “The movement could not survive without your work. I know Wilberforce, Aberdeen, and Montgomery all feel the same. So please do not hesitate to ask your friends for anything. It would not be a gift, but an investment to a noble cause.”

Mac swallowed a press-sized lump in his throat. He couldn’t dare ask for help, he was raised to be his own man, and asking for help would be a sign of weakness. His father always said that weakness was not tolerated in a Meriweather.

The front door to the shop opened again, and suddenly Mac thought he was dreaming. There in his small print shop was Letty. Somehow, she managed to look even more beautiful than she had the previous evening.

A red pelisse hugged her slight frame, her womanly curves teasing all who dared look at her. A matching bonnet barely contained her wild mane of curls as surprised brown eyes gazed from him to Richmore.

“Oh! I do hope I am not interrupting,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper.

Mac shook his head, hoping that he would have more time before he had to face her and admit his weakness.

“Lady Leticia, what a pleasant surprise. Are you unchaperoned?” Richmore asked, looking from Letty to Mac.

“No, my maid is just outside waiting for me in the carriage.” Letty waved toward the now closed door, her head held high as she stood in front of the formidable duke.

“Surely, Pinerose wouldn’t want you to be in Holywell without any protection but a maid.”

Letty waved a glove hand at Richmore. “Papa trusts me, and Holywell is not that terrible if a duke visits, is that not so?” She challenged him, a slight smirk on those plump, kissable lips of hers. “Besides, my driver is quite capable of defending me.”

Picking up the box of pamphlets, Richmore let out a heavy sigh that Mac knew had nothing to do with the weight of the box. “Meriweather, remember what we discussed. I will be expecting to hear from you soon.”

Mac nodded, unable to speak. All he wanted to do was pull Letty into his arms and forget about the treacherous deal he made with her brother, but he knew that it would forever haunt them.

“Goodbye, Your Grace. Please tell Her Grace it was wonderful to finally meet her.” Letty untied her bonnet, removing it from her head.

“Of course. Meriweather, please see that she returns home safely. In my experience with strong-willed ladies, they never listen to reason.” He reached the door in two long strides. “I should know. I married one.”

Letty let out a giggle, and Mac couldn’t help but step closer to her. “How fortunate for you that your wife has a strong will,” she told Richmore, who was giving Mac a knowing look.

Mac nodded, a silent agreement that he would do the right thing even if it would cost him the one person he’d ever cared for.

“You have my word. I will make it my personal mission to see Lady Leticia is safely returned to her parents.”

Richmore raised an eyebrow at him before leaving without another word.

Mac walked over to the printer, trying to find the courage that he needed. Inhaling several times, he shut his eyes preparing himself to turn around and open his damn mouth. There was nothing left to do than to confess everything.

“I need to speak to you.”