The Fortune Hunter

By Bonnie Dee

A man with nothing finds everything.
Abandoned at birth, WWI veteran Hal Stanton faces bleak employment prospects in post-war London. Desperation spurs him to reinvent himself to hook a wealthy wife, one he will be devoted to even if he feels no real passion. But when he meets his fiance’s cousin, Julian Needham, it’s all he can do to keep his heart in check and his eye on the prize.

From the moment he’s introduced to the charming stranger Margaret plans to marry, Julian suspects the man’s motives yet fights a relentless attraction. He’s determined to reveal Hal as a fraud but must handle the matter delicately to protect his sweet cousin’s feelings. A weekend at the family estate should allow time and opportunity for him to expose Halstead Wiley.

Even as the men match wits in a battle of attempted unmasking, powerful sexual attraction threatens to overcome them both and win the day. Can a true love connection possibly grow between these adversaries without destroying lives and loved ones?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bonnie Dee
• Release date: Jan 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370599196

Bonnie Dee

Whether you're a fan of contemporary, paranormal, or historical romance, you'll find something to enjoy among my books. I'm interested in flawed, often damaged, people who find the fulfillment they seek in one another. To stay informed about new releases, please SIGN UP FOR MY NEWSLETTER. Help an author out by leaving a review and spreading the word about this book among your friends. You can join my street team at FB. Learn more about my backlist at http://bonniedee.com or find me on FB and Twitter @Bonnie_Dee.

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The Fortune Hunter

Bonnie Dee

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Copyright © 2018 by Bonnie Dee

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Chapter One

London, October 1920

From the moment Julian’s cousin Margaret Gresham introduced her new fiancé to Julian, he distrusted the charming man. Halstead Wiley was glib, overly friendly, too ingratiating, and far too attractive with his dark auburn hair and striking green eyes. His smooth voice and sparkling smile made the hairs on Julian’s neck rise and an inner voice warn Liar.

But Julian managed a smile as he firmly clasped the man’s hand in the foyer of Julian’s town house. The brush of flesh started a flush of warmth in his groin to match the rising of his hackles. Unexpected, unwelcome attraction warred with distrust in an unsettling stew.

Julian didn’t display either emotion in front of Margaret, who beamed. I’m so glad to finally introduce the two men dearest to me.

How do you do, Mr. Wiley? Julian said.

If Wiley was a liar, he didn’t betray it by any shiftiness of expression. His gaze locked on Julian’s as they shook, the smile never leaving his handsome mouth.

Enticing? Julian banished the inappropriate thought.

Pleased to meet you at last, Mr. Needham. Margaret has told me so much about you. The baritone, smooth as fine whiskey, made Julian want to savor the sound.

Funny she didn’t mention you at all until today. No doubt Margaret had feared Julian would question her out-of-the-blue engagement to a stranger.

Julian moved near Margaret and slipped an arm around her tall, thin body. Margaret and I have always been very close. She’s been like a sister to me ever since she and Aunt Gladys came to live with us.

And what I would’ve done without Julian after Mother passed, I can’t imagine. He was my rock. The love shining in Mags’s hazel eyes quite melted Julian’s shoe-leather heart. There was no guile in his generous, good-natured cousin. Damned if he’d let some upstart take advantage of her trusting nature to win her wealth.

Julian returned his attention to the interloper. Welcome to my home, Mr. Wiley.

Hal, please. I insist on the informality. We shall be practically brothers soon, and I want us to be the best of friends.

Julian led the way to the sitting room. His ex-butler would be horrified to know Julian now answered his own door, but at thirty, Julian had decided to live life exactly as he pleased. That included having a minimum number of servants to look after his house, none of them live-in. His nights were his own. He could invite whomever he wished to stay for as long as he wished with no curious eyes watching. It was once considered eccentric to live without a staff, but this was an age of change. The strict traditions of the upper class were becoming obsolete.

Julian cast a glance at the stranger clasping Margaret’s arm. The sight of that possessive hand sent a flare of annoyance through him. It hurt that Mags hadn’t written him to tell about her new love. When had they become so distant she would fail to inform him the moment she became infatuated? Julian knew the answer but didn’t choose to think about it. He ushered his guests into the parlor and offered brandy all around.

To the happy couple. May you have many long and fruitful years together.

Hear, hear. Mr. Call me Hal, we’re practically brothers Wiley drained his glass too quickly. Perhaps he was more nervous than he let on.

Margaret fixed Julian with her clear gaze that always could see right through to his heart. This is a bit of a shock, isn’t it? I should’ve written, but it all happened so quickly.

Julian searched for something positive to say about that. It happens that way. Love takes one by surprise sometimes. Never to me, but to some people, or so they claim.

"I first laid eyes on my dearest Mags at a bookstore where she gave me her opinion on The Return of the Soldier, Wiley said. I knew immediately she was a woman of substance and intellect. Very different from the flighty Bright Young Things that are all the rage these days."

At least he didn’t swear he’d been seized by her beauty, for then Julian would know he was lying. There was no way around it. Margaret was plain-faced. Julian’s estimation of Wiley rose a little at his admiration of Margaret’s keen mind.

What did she have to say about the book? Julian asked.

That it was a vivid representation of three very different types of women, and the male protagonist became rather a shade in comparison. His character changed depending on how he related to each of the ladies in his life.

Margaret sipped her drink and looked fondly at her fiancé. I was privileged to hear the author, Rebecca West, speak once. She is an extremely forward-thinking woman in all regards. I wish I had her talent for writing.

The conversation flowed from topic to topic, comfortable and natural as it always was with Margaret. Julian started to relax and think perhaps his instant harsh judgment of Wiley was due to jealousy over losing a portion of Margaret’s heart. If she had truly found love in this ridiculous world, who was he to challenge it?

Then Wiley said something that turned those warm feelings to ice. When we move to New York, you must come and visit us.

Julian clutched his glass tightly. You’re considering moving to the States?

Margaret laughed. Calm yourself. It’s hardly the moon. The passage now takes less than a week. We shall see each other again, perhaps more than we have these past few years while living in the same city.

The reminder that he’d avoided her invitations and seldom made room for her in his schedule was upsetting. If she got snatched up by a stranger who planned to whisk her away to a foreign country, Julian had no one to blame but himself for not paying better attention. Perhaps there was a good reason for the proposed move, some career opportunity Wiley pursued, but until Julian knew more about the man, he wouldn’t feel comfortable about the abruptness of this plan to leave London. Fortune hunters seemed to be on the rise since the Great War, and a woman of independent means such as Margaret was a desirable target.

Have you written to Mother and Father? Julian asked. They will be so pleased to meet Mr. Wiley. We should all go to Barton Park next weekend. Perhaps I’ll contact some of the more distant relatives, and we’ll make a family gathering of it. Julian offered Wiley a challenging stare. Do say you can make room in your schedule.

*

That sounds like a capital idea. I can’t wait to meet the family, Hal proclaimed with a frozen smile. He’d known he’d eventually have to meet the Needhams. There was no avoiding it. But an entire weekend with the lot of them?

I’ll wire Mother and Father and arrange it. They refuse to enter the twentieth century and install a telephone. Julian Needham continued to weigh Hal with his gaze. What about your side? Aren’t there some family members I should invite? No time like the present to introduce all parties.

Hal’s smile faded, and he bowed his head. Sad to say, I’ve no one with whom to celebrate the happy news. I’m an only child, and my parents are dead. Which could be true as far as he knew.

It would take very little for Needham to snip away at the fragile threads of his web of lies until it collapsed. A question or two to the right people, and Halstead Wiley would be revealed as plain old Hal Stanton, an orphanage-raised lad with nothing to recommend him.

Margaret’s hand covered his. Hal turned his palm up to entwine his fingers with hers. She truly was a dear. The fact that he liked her would mean nothing to Needham if the man learned Hal was marrying the twenty-eight-year-old spinster in order to feather his nest. If Margaret hoped their married life would contain passion, she’d be disappointed. Hal could put on a good show and occasionally fornicate for the sake of making the children they both desired, but he would never be attracted to her the way she might wish. The least he could do would be to keep his wedding vow to cherish her and cleave only unto her, which meant no more sex of the sort he craved. His natural inclination attracted Hal to men like his potential brother-in-law with the soulful smoke-gray eyes and full, kissable lips.

Was he the very devil for consigning Margaret to a loveless match? Probably. But it seemed homely, opinionated, progressive Margaret Gresham wouldn’t have found a husband anyway. Perhaps she’d even agree that comfortable coexistence with a good friend was better than being alone.

Hal stopped trying to make excuses for his behavior. It was done. He’d offered a secondhand-store ring, and she’d accepted. Now he just had to get her to the altar before his past was uncovered.

He glanced up from under lowered brows to see Julian still watching him. Julian nodded slightly. But it felt less like a sympathetic gesture at Hal’s announcement of being orphaned than a silent challenge.

Game on. We’ll see who flinches first.

Chapter Two

Julian alighted from the trap that had brought him from the train station to his parents’ home. They owned no motorized vehicle, clinging to the technology and conventions of the previous century. Not that they could afford either an automobile or electricity anyway. The days of a large house staff and a full stable at Barton Park had passed. There remained only several horses and the head groom.

Thank you, Carroll. I can get my own bags.

The elderly groom grunted as he hoisted out the luggage. I guess I can still do me own job, sir. Shoulders sagging from the weight of carrying a suitcase in each hand, he plodded stiff-legged toward the house.

Julian gazed at his home for a moment. He hadn’t been here in well over a year. The front door paint was scarred and faded, the walls stained from years of rainwater trickling down, and ivy scrambled up the foundation as if trying to drag the house into the earth. Although the ancient building was exactly the same, it looked different after such a long absence. Then Julian realized, the only difference was in himself.

He’d once loved arriving home on school holidays or after a long stretch of city living. Now he dreaded entering the house, seeing his parents and accepting their embraces. What a wretch he was. The longer he’d stayed away, the harder it became to face them. James haunted the very air around them.

For Margaret, he reminded himself as he mounted the steps beneath the portico and entered the great hall. The entryway to the nearly medieval structure wasn’t as cavernous as it had seemed when he was a child. But it was still quite imposing. Unfortunately, the red Oriental carpet was threadbare, and dust kittens prowled along the walls. The paintings and their gilt frames could both do with a good cleaning, while a large speckled mirror reflected a wavy, distorted version of his face. Still, the familiarity made him heartsick for times gone by. He abruptly missed James with a fierceness that stabbed his heart.

Julian barely had time to compose himself before Grover shuffled in to take his hat and coat. The butler appeared even older than Carroll and impossibly stooped and thin. Julian wanted to clap him into a wheelchair and roll him back to the butler’s pantry to rest.

But Grover’s acid wit had not diluted with age. He peered at Julian with gimlet eyes. Good day, sir. Who may I say has come to call?

Funny, Julian replied as soon as he’d decided Grover’s mind wasn’t clouded and he knew full well Julian was the prodigal son returned at last. Are Mother and Father in the drawing room?

It is nearly four o’clock, Grover replied.

Julian’s parents’ routine hadn’t changed a jot in forty years. They always met in the drawing room at four. When James, Julian, and Margaret were small, they were brought down from the nursery to spend an hour with their parents at that time. Later, when the boys were home from school on holidays, this family hour was still considered sacrosanct. No excuse of having other things to do was allowed.

As Julian followed Grover’s slow path to the drawing room, he reviewed what news from his life he could offer his parents. As a youth, he’d come prepared with all the tales from school suitable for telling. But if he feared getting into trouble for his latest bad behavior, he’d turn the conversation to James, who could be counted on to distract the parents for the duration. They never tired of hearing of his accomplishments. What a brick James had been, the very best brother a fellow could wish for.

With the bittersweet memory in mind, Julian entered the blue-hued room, where Father read a newspaper in his armchair, head tilted to look through his spectacles, bald head shining. Mother sat slumped in the chair across from him. Her eyes were closed, a book resting facedown on her lap.

Julian froze in shock. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen his mother sleeping. She did not catnap in the afternoon, nor was her hair nearly snow white and thin upon her scalp. Surely such a drastic change couldn’t have taken place in such a short time. Guilt devoured him at allowing his parents to slip into old age without him in attendance.

These thoughts passed through his mind in the time it took for Father to look up from his paper and Mother to startle awake with a most unladylike snort. Her gaze remained unfocused for a moment, then a smile curved her lips. Julian, my darling, you’ve arrived at last.

The time was precisely what he’d informed them it would be in his telegram, but he returned her smile and went to help her from her chair into his arms. Her body felt light as thistledown, but she smelled of lily of the valley as always, sweet and familiar.

Julian then shook hands with Father. The scent of pipe tobacco was also exactly the same. Good to see you, sir.

Is it? One wouldn’t know from the rarity of your visits. But then you always did do just as you liked.

Julian refrained from mentioning the train ran both ways, which would only serve to remind Father the distance could be traveled in a couple of hours. Julian truly had no good excuse for his long absence.

He sat and accepted a glass of sherry Grover poured for him. How have you both been? In good health, I hope.

The next half hour was occupied by a litany of aches and pains followed by news of neighbors and the distant relatives, none of whom had been able to come on short notice, which was just as well—if things ended between Margaret and her fiancé, Julian didn’t want her embarrassed any more than need be.

When his parents’ store of gossip ran out, the inevitable questioning began.

"Have you been in good health, dear? Mother asked. Tell us your news."

I’ve been occupied, he answered vaguely. The economic climate has required a shift in investment strategies.

Mother shook her head. It’s beyond me how you understand the intricacies of the financial world. I never doubted you had a head for it, but somehow I believed you’d use it here to help with running the estate.

A fresh stab of guilt lanced through him. As the oldest son, James had been slated to take over after Father passed. Julian should have stepped up to fill his shoes, but he’d remained away while Father had been forced to sell parcels of land, keeping only the house and a little acreage.

Have you made time for a social life amidst all this work? Mother continued. Met any young ladies you could envision as your wife?

I’m afraid I plan to remain a bachelor. Don’t count on any grandchildren from me. You’ll have to look to Margaret for that, Julian answered firmly. Speaking of which, I have doubts about this fiancé who’s sprung from nowhere. My solicitor is looking into his background.

The permanent lines in Father’s forehead deepened. You believe him to be a fortune hunter.

I couldn’t say, which is why I’ve suggested Margaret bring him home. It’s past time she introduce him to you, but also I hope to ferret out who the devil he is.

Glad to see you looking out for your cousin’s well-being and showing some responsibility to your family at last. Naturally Father could only offer a backhanded compliment.

Mother clicked her tongue. Stop it! Couldn’t you imagine a man might actually have fallen in love with Margaret? She has many lovely qualities that would attract the right sort of person, a man of quality.

I adore the girl, peculiar as she may be with all her suffragette nonsense, Father said. But it is our duty to make quite certain her fiancé is worthy of her.

I’ll be circumspect, Julian added. He will never know he’s being examined, and with any luck, my fears will prove unfounded.

But he highly doubted that would be the case. When he’d shaken Wiley’s hand and looked into his eyes, he’d sensed a certain flicker, that instant flare of attraction he was all too familiar with. It was a subtle signal that passed between men of a certain kind that allowed them to take a chance on revealing their true desires to each another. Under other circumstances, such a moment might lead to a lusty encounter in some secluded place. Feeling that rush of interest come from his cousin’s fiancé was not a good sign. If Wiley preferred men, he was not a good match for Margaret.

Julian guessed before the weekend visit was over, he and Halstead Wiley would cross metaphorical swords. He prayed he could get rid of the man in a way that wouldn’t injure Margaret’s tender heart too badly.

Chapter Three

Drawing up in front of the Needham house on the curved driveway, Hal felt as if he ought to be arriving in a carriage and four rather than Margaret’s Daimler motorcar. The sprawling limestone house was a convoluted collection of roof peaks, turrets, and wings added on over the years. It looked like a castle, proclaiming nobility dwelt within and an outsider like him would never belong.

Hal didn’t resent the upper class their wealth, power, and prestige. He merely wanted to become one of them. Was that so awful? A friend had once come to Hal’s flat begging a sanctuary to spend a night or two. The stay had turned into something more like two months. But Hal certainly understood that desire to lay down the burden of constant struggle to survive and find a quiet, comfortable resting spot.

Margaret would be his safe place,