Desperate and Daring 01 - Desperate and Daring (17 page)

“Why would he make such a claim, Faegan? Why is he coming forward now?”

“My lady, it is not true. I’ve known his grace since the moment he came screaming into this world. I knew his mother since she was a girl. There is ample proof of his graces birth and the marriage of his parents, but ‘tis all in Scotland.”

“Who is this man?”

“I don’t rightly know. The old duke cut all ties with his family. He had a brother, but that’s about all I know.”

“We need this proof just in case he has the gumption to take his claim to the courts.”

Cantour arrived with tea. “The gentleman in question has arrived with a card asking to see his grace. He is waiting outside.

Lady Everly took the card from the tray. “Mr. Bell,” she said with a grimace. “Please inform him the duke is not at home.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“That is all we can do for now. I must check on Heather. She looked quite upset when we left the park.”

“Yes, my lady. I’ll begin preparations for returning to Scotland.”

“But not before his grace addresses Mr. Bell. We’ll want to hear exactly what he has to say.”

“Yes, my lady.”

There was a commotion in the hall. Heather and Violet shared a glance and tiptoed to the doorway of the music room. There were masculine voices arguing, and Cantour ushering everyone to the drawing room. Violet and Heather rushed back to the other door.

“I demand to know the reason for this intrusion before I lay you out,” Fallon growled.

Mr. Bell stammered. “Tis my good fortune you arrived, Mr. Calder, so this matter can be corrected immediately.”

Everyone took offense except Fallon. “What matter?”

Mr. Bell was scrunching his hat in his hands, but he looked irately back at Fallon. “The matter of your devious inheritance. I have it on good authority that the previous Duke of Ablehill’s son died as a boy. My father, the duke’s nephew, told me so.”

Fallon spread his arms wide. “It would appear you are wrong, Mr. Bell. I am alive and well. I did suffer from illness as a boy, but I regained my health.”

“So you say,” Mr. Bell sneered. “I took the liberty of informing your betrothed that marriage to you would be—”

Fallon lunged for Mr. Bell and grabbed him by the lapels of his coat. He lifted him off his feet. “You accosted my soon to be wife with your lies?”

“Yes, he did,” Lady Everly affirmed.

Fallon shook him like a doll and then dropped him. Mr. Bell landed with a thud turning beet red, the thin strand of hair combed over his bald pate flopping. “This is an outrage.” He stood and dusted his derriere. “I will take this to the courts. You are a fraud.”

“Remove this rubbish, Cantour.”

“Yes, your grace.” Cantour snapped and a brawny footman stepped forward, taking Mr. Bell roughly by the arm.

“Wait,” Draven spoke up. “I am Viscount Draven. I can testify that he is who he says he is.”

“And why should I trust you?” Mr. Bell sneered as he struggled against the footman’s hold.

Draven stiffened. “I am a gentleman. My word is my honor. You, sir, are no one. Take your case to the courts, but they will come to nothing but embarrassment against the word of a duke and a viscount.”

“We will see about that,” Mr. Bell exclaimed as he was dragged from the drawing room.

Fallon turned to Lady Everly and took her hands. “I swear on my life I am who I say I am.”

She nodded hesitantly. “It’s Heather who will need to be reassured. She’s taken quite a shock.”

Fallon clenched his jaw and strode from the room. He was about to reach the stairs when Heather ran out of the music room.

“Fallon,” she called to him.

He froze. Turning towards her, he approached her slowly. He reached for her hands and held them against his heart. “I swear to you, I haven’t lied.”

Violet followed her out and paused behind her. A small audience had gathered outside the drawing room as well.

“Miss Violet,” Draven drawled, “is that a new dress? I’d be delighted to see it in the light of the drawing room.”

Violet hesitated, and then acquiesced to his obvious ploy to give her sister and her betrothed some privacy. The others followed them into the drawing room and curious servants departed.

“I believe you, Fallon.” Heather reached up and touched his face.

He brought her against him. “I’m sorry this has happened. Whatever evidence he has won’t stand against my birth certificate and marriage certificate of my parents. Even the doctor that cared for me as a boy is still alive. I won’t let him hurt you.”

“It isn’t me he is trying to hurt, it’s you.”

“But he embarrassed you in public today,” Fallon insisted. “I couldn’t care less what he says about or does to me.”

“I promise I’ll survive.” Heather smiled.

“We were so worried about the events of the house party causing scandal, and now this,” he continued. “I will never forgive myself if a word of slander is said against you.”

“Hush, Fallon. We will weather whatever storm comes our way.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “I will protect you no matter what.”

She kissed him lightly. “I trust you.”

He pulled away with a groan. “I should speak to Faegan about what’s to be done.”

Heather followed him to the drawing room and they all sat and took tea. She was surprised by Draven’s presence, but couldn’t find her usual contempt for him after he had defended Fallon. She thanked Draven for his help and her mother invited him to stay for dinner.

“I will leave for Scotland immediately. By boat, I can reach the castle in under a week and will seek Dr. Logan. He’s getting on in age, but his son has taken over, and he will know where all the appropriate records are kept. The marriage certificate is another matter. The old steward may have it somewhere other than the castle,” Faegan said.

“My parent’s marriage isn’t in doubt. He thinks I died as a boy—as my father wished,” Fallon added bitterly.

Heather slipped her hand in his. They now sat beside each other on the sofa. She hated the pain she saw in his eyes. Surely, an emotional wound was being re-opened all over again.

“We will consider this a minor inconvenience and continue as we mean to go on. We’ve still a wedding to prepare for,” Heather’s mother declared with a firm nod.

If her mother wasn’t worried about Mr. Bell’s claims, then Heather wasn’t either, but it was the way Fallon looked, like a lost little boy, that worried her. She wanted to hold him, comfort him in any way he’d let her, but she couldn’t just now. She will take a cue from her mother and act equally as confident that all would be well instead.

The following morning at breakfast, her mother reported that Faegan had departed before dawn. Heather wished she found the news reassuring, but didn’t. Fallon had been distant the rest of the evening before, during, and after dinner. It troubled her that he was pulling away when they should be closer than ever. He did not come to breakfast, which wasn’t unusual, but she wished to see him, to feel assured that he was as confident as they were, or at least to show him that she had every faith in him.

Her mother tried to distract her with gossip, but Heather could feel the tension in the air, the strain of yet another hurdle in their future. She needed Fallon. He always made her feel stronger, better. She excused herself after a few bites of her eggs and wandered the halls.

She found herself in the music room, blinking at the bright sunlight shining through the windows and remembering the events of yesterday. She pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to push the thoughts away. Spying the harp, she pulled a chair from the wall and sat. She strummed aimlessly at first, but soon found herself playing the chords that resonated in her heart. She should tell him she is in love with him. Perhaps that would prove her faith in him. If he had her love, would that heal the wounds his father had left as well? She was scared to say it, unsure of his response. She knew he cared for her. He was very caring in his words and touches. But, did that equate to love? Her heart hurt just thinking of it. What if she told him, and he said nothing in return? It would be humiliating.

She closed her eyes, her fingers unfaltering, and the movements now as easy as breathing. She felt the swelling urge to cry, and she did not stop it. She was alone. She could let a little of herself go. It felt necessary, a release of the awful tension that had been sitting inside her. Her tears fell in hot rivulets down the curve of her cheeks. She let them have their way, leaving salty stains on her bodice, sleeves, and lap. They eased on their own, and she felt better, stronger even. The weight was lessened. She was still hurt and confused, but she could breathe easier now, and her thoughts were clearer. She felt lighter as she finished the song, determined even.

She left the music room and returned to her room. She wasn’t going to spend the day moping. She needed to speak with him, to tell him how she felt, but she also wanted to give him time. He was obviously hurting too, and she didn’t need to add to his burdens. She was sure she would see him at some point today, if not at lunch or for tea, then it would be tonight for dinner and a play. They had been invited to join Anabelle and Hazel’s family in their box. There wouldn’t be time to talk then, but surely, she could convince him to come inside for just a moment. It would be late, and they would be alone.

*

Heather’s plan did not come to fruition. She wanted to pout petulantly when Fallon sent his excuses, but refrained. She would be joining Anabelle’s family alone. She took care with her appearance anyway, her clothing like armor against any looks that might be cast her way.

She squeezed in beside Hazel when their carriage arrived and pasted a smile to her face. Nothing fueled rumors more than a melancholy expression. She wasn’t sure there were rumors, but given Mr. Bells behavior in view of all of Hyde Park, she wanted to be on the offensive.

Anabelle and Hazel were cheerful. They had her genuinely smiling by the time they arrived at the theatre. Following the stout figure of their father, the three girls linked elbow to elbow to fight their way through the crowds into the theatre. Once in their box, there was room to breathe, and Heather settled into her seat to enjoy herself and not think about Fallon for the duration of the play.

She succeeded for the most part, except when she would spot a gentleman with his shade of hair or similar height. She mentally shrugged. She did her best. Anabelle and Hazel were none the wiser of her pensive mood. At intermission, they stood to stretch their legs. Heather was nosily observing the other patrons when a note arrived for her. She read it in confusion and then excused herself to the hall.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” she said testily, perhaps more so than he deserved.

“I thought to see how you’re fairing given the latest incident,” Draven drawled.

“Oh.” Heather felt guilty now. “I’m fairing…”She shrugged. She didn’t want to admit to being miserable.

“You’ve nothing to worry about, you know. Mr. Bell will be easily disproven.”

“It’s not Mr. Bell I’m worried about.” Heather found it odd that she was about to confide in Draven of all people, but somehow, he had weaseled his way into an odd friendship with Fallon, and that meant her, too. “I’m worried about Fallon.”

“Is something amiss?” Anabelle appeared from behind the curtain leading to the box. She spotted Draven and visibly stiffened. Heather likened it to a cat spotting a dog.

“Lord Draven came to speak with me about Fallon. They’ve become well acquainted of late.” Heather looked back and forth between Draven and Anabelle with growing puzzlement. There was an odd tension between the two. They were simply staring at each other, Anabelle with a mixture of curiosity and hostility, and him with… well, Heather wasn’t exactly sure.

“What could you possibly have in common?” Anabelle questioned.

“Horse breeding for one. I also introduced him to my lawyer today over a personal matter.”

“I beg your pardon?” Heather put her hand on his arm. “What personal matter?”

He looked at Anabelle awkwardly.

“You can speak freely in front of her. I trust her completely.”

He shrugged. “We are going to do our own investigating of this Mr. Bell. For all he claims Ablehill to be a fraud, he could very well be a fraud himself. I’ve heard of it in similar scams.”

Heather put her hands over her mouth. Of course, Mr. Bell could be the one who is the fraud and Fallon just a target. But, why didn’t he tell her this himself? Why was he confiding in Draven and not her? All of a sudden, she was angry all over again. And as she looked at Draven, who was getting increasingly closer to Fallon, she felt a tinge of jealousy. Why he, and not her?

“I’m not following. Is something the matter?” Anabelle looked at her with worry.

“You tell her. You seem to know more than I do anyhow,” Heather muttered bitterly

Draven’s eyebrows shot up. He rattled off the details to Anabelle, who was surprisingly no longer glaring at him.

“Why are you involved?” she asked.

“I was riding with Ablehill when a groom fetched us from the park. I suppose I didn’t need to accompany him, but I was curious. It just so happens I am able to assist the situation. Though I didn’t put it all together when I was initially introduced to him, I had heard of the Duke of Ablehill’s son long before he came to England. We have a mutual interest in horses, and his horse and the breeder he was bought from are very well known.”

She pressed her lips together and looked at Heather. “How strong you’ve been this evening. I never would have suspected a thing.”

“I wasn’t trying to hide it, only not have to deal with it for the evening.”

“I understand. We should return now, or my father will wonder what has become of us.” Anabelle hesitated and sent a glance towards Draven. “Goodnight, Lord Draven.” She disappeared behind the curtain.

“I feel as though I upset you,” he murmured.

“You didn’t upset me. You’ve been very informative. The whole situation is just… upsetting.”

“I think I understand.” He nodded. “Good evening, Miss Everly.” He parted from her, disappearing around the curve of the hall.

Heather was afraid he really did understand. She found that unsettling. Though he portrayed himself as a careless rogue, he was showing a far kinder side.

“It’s troubling, isn’t it?”

Anabelle’s voice spooked her. Heather turned to find Anabelle’s face poking out from behind the curtain. It was almost comical.

“Every time I think I have his measure, he does something unexpected. Is it all an illusion or is he like one of those lizards that can change its color to match its surroundings?”

Heather hid a speculative glance. “You truly wish to know?”

Anabelle avoided the question. “Intermission is almost over, come sit.” She retreated behind the curtain.

Heather decided not to press it just yet and returned to her seat, but her mind had already come to an alarming conclusion.