Duke by Day, Rogue by Night (25 page)

“You're not welcome here, Simon.” Throckmorton's voice leached through the cracked library door.

“I've found a solution to our problems, Byron,” he overheard Simon say. “You do not have to wed Constance to Burton. There is another willing to offer for her hand.”

“Impossible! Only one man has made an offer to me. It's too late for anyone else to stake a claim upon her now.”

“You are wrong, Your Grace.” Percy's words cracked the bitter tension already splintering the room as he opened the door and then closed it soundlessly behind him.

“Stanton?” Byron questioned. “What is the meaning of this?” The Duke leered at Simon, confused, irritated. “Are you suggesting that I would give my daughter to
him
?” he said, pointing his finger. “He's a popinjay!”

“I am,” Simon suggested.

“Why would I agree to such a farce?”

Right. “Because I am the father of her child,” Percy said.

Throckmorton jerked to his feet. His chair crashed backwards onto the floor. “I've challenged other men for less,” he vowed.

“Stanton is telling the truth, Byron. He's one of my men. And were it not for him, Constance would be dead.”

“One of your men?” he spat. “
You
are Captain Sexton?” He turned to Simon. “The man is Blendingham's firstborn. Impossible!”

“The particulars are well-guarded. All you need to know is Stanton's gone to great lengths to serve England and bring honor to his family. We cannot endanger his name or discredit him. Nor can we deny him his child.”

The duke turned to face him, his eyes laced with suspicion. “You want to marry Constance?”

Percy straightened his shoulders. “She is a good woman, Your Grace, and would never bring disgrace upon you willingly. You should also know she was on board the
Octavia
on your behalf. If I hadn't been aboard Frink's ship when she was captured, I hesitate to think where she'd be now.”

Throckmorton fisted his hands. That he wanted to box him was obvious. He stepped forward, but then hesitated. Apparently, he had more control than a man ought to have. Seeing the duke pale, Simon urged his brother to sit down.

“Percy saved her life, Byron. He put his life and the lives of his men in jeopardy to do so, scrapping his mission. If anyone deserves Constance, it's the man who gave up everything for her.”

Throckmorton frowned. “That may be as you say, but that doesn't change the fact that Stanton defiled my daughter. If I did what my instincts urged me to do,” he said, face distorting, “Constance's child would not have a father.”

Simon waved his hands. “Hold, brother. I make no excuses for Stanton's conduct aboard the Striker, but that does not change the fact that Constance needs a husband and you need a prosperous donor for your creditors.”

Throckmorton slammed his fist on his desk. “Even if what you say is true,” he groaned unpleasantly, “it's too late. I have given my word to another and no matter how much it pains me, my word is my bond.”

“You still plan to wed her to Burton? I was present when Constance told you what that man is capable of,” Simon explained.

Byron leaned back in his chair, shook his head, and tented his hands. “There will be repercussions if I break my word. Burton will not let go of this willingly. I know the man. There is no telling what he might do or say to avenge such a slight.”

“Let me handle Burton,” Percy argued.

“My family's reputation rides upon what is decided about Constance, Stanton. And upon the unscrupulous pact I've made with the man. Do not think that doesn't wear on me.”

“If I may, Your Grace,” Percy interrupted. “I've done some investigating, which might ease your decision. Burton offers you thirty thousand pounds in exchange for Constance's betrothal. Am I correct?”

“Yes,” Throckmorton solemnly agreed. “But I'm at a loss as to how you've attained that information.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but Constance's future is paramount. I will do whatever it takes to ensure her safety.”

Throckmorton exchanged a glance with Simon. “Listen to what he has to say, Byron.”

“Continue,” the duke acquiesced.

“Isn't that the exact amount you and Simon lost in recent financial dealings?” Both Simon and the duke nodded affirmatively. “Then I humbly suggest that Burton has been the one secretly draining your funds in order to obtain control of Constance and rights to her estate. For whatever reason, it's clear she will not have him otherwise.”

“You're certain of this?”

Percy paced from one bookcase to the next, his fingers interlocked behind his back. No. But Baroness Chauncey could get him the facts.

“My men have followed him on several occasions. I have it on good authority he is not well-liked among the ton. From your expression, it's obvious, Your Grace, you disdain him as well.”

“Be that as it may, I would be a fool to enrage the man. I would be putting Constance's life at risk and, I might add, the life of my grandchild.”

Percy halted in front of Throckmorton's desk. “Constance will only be safe with me. To believe otherwise would most certainly invite disaster.”

“Is this some ploy to milk my family for your own gain? Blendingham was a good man, but I'd be a fool to trust you, Stanton, after what you've admitted.”

“Would you have me act a popinjay, embarrass myself and my family for personal gain? There is only one reason I live the way I do, and that is to keep my activities secret so that I may come and go whenever Simon needs me. Are these the actions of an untrustworthy man? Would I reveal myself to you, if I were not willing to do everything in my power to keep Constance safe? And are you comfortable marrying Constance to a man who would abuse her, rather than a man who would put his own life, and the lives of others, on the line to ensure her safety? I implore you to do what is best for your daughter, Your Grace.”

“I am not convinced.” Throckmorton's eyes took on a bitter gleam.

Simon peered from Percy to the duke. “Marriage to Percy includes a dukedom, a vast inheritance, financial security, and the promise of happiness for Constance and her children. For what it's worth, Percy offered his own money to fund our missions, but I talked him out of it.”

“Perhaps you should have listened to him, brother.”

“I regret nothing,” Simon admitted. “I've done no wrong.”

“So, what would you have me do?” Throckmorton asked. “I stand to lose more than I can bear. I will not allow Constance to suffer on my account.”

Percy understood. “In order to preempt any agreement you've made with Burton, I suggest an announcement be made posthaste.”

Percy strode to the door. Throckmorton had not agreed, yet he knew what the man would do. Love had a terrible way of tilting the scales. And at this particular moment, he was thankful for the theatrics he'd adapted as second nature. His hand hesitated on the knob when Simon's words stopped him in his tracks.

“Only you can make things right, Stanton.”

“That has always been my goal,” he replied. He was not worthy of Throckmorton or Simon's trust or, least of all, Constance's affections. But he was reliable.

“Make it so,” Throckmorton demanded.

Percy nodded, hesitating only a moment before slipping out into the hallway as quietly as he'd entered the room.

Dancers laughed gaily beneath gilded candelabras as they circumnavigated the polished floor, stomping a staccato beat to the lilting strains of the four-man orchestra. Constance tapped her silk-slippered pointed toe, eager to join in the merriment. Flanked by Winifred and Eleanor, who giggled behind wafting fans, she listened half-heartedly as they discussed the merits of eligible men present. In the forefront of her mind, one thought held sway: staying far away from the man who could potentially ruin her life. Lord Burton.

“Billings is quite extraordinary, is he not?”

“Honestly, Winifred. The man is twice your age. Surely you would be better suited to Todd. He's young, pleasant in demeanor, and most of all, he gazes longingly at you when you are not aware,” Eleanor boasted.

“Mr. Todd has not made his intentions known. Billings, however, has been quite amiable. Perhaps Mr. Todd could learn a thing or two from him.”

Constance settled her gaze upon Billings. Small, with a rodent's posture, he was a most disagreeable choice. She frowned. Her friend could do better.

“You should give Todd your attention, Winifred,” Constance said. Her friend fanned herself rapidly as the man in question spun a beautiful brunette across the dance floor. “Todd would be most agreeable to a woman who can choose her own destiny.”

“How so?” Winnie asked.

“For one thing, dearest,” Constance said, locking gazes with Winifred, “he only has eyes for you.”

“You could have fooled me,” her friend spat, examining the twirling dancers. “I don't believe the man's spoken two words to me.”

“Have you given him reason to believe you'd receive him?” Eleanor prodded.

Winifred snapped her fan. “Heavens no!”

“You must hint at your affections, Winnie. Else you'll lose Todd to Justine Ludd,” Constance said. “Watch the way she bats her eyes at him. It's shameful.”

Constance observed the seductive curve of Justine's arm, her body angled at Todd in such a way to heighten the effect of her half-lidded, wanton gaze. Intent on figuring out a way to nullify the woman's display, she barely noticed Burton angrily pushing his way into the throng.

“Fans,” Eleanor signaled. “Burton must not pluck our bud from the vine.”

Bud? Why did the comparison remind Constance of Thomas?
Leave the wilted blossom be.
Suddenly she knew. While she had been instructing Winnie on how to encourage Todd's affections and chose her own destiny, secretly she'd longed for the same choices. Now she was eager to be rescued from the ball. What better man to initiate such a feat than Thomas Sexton, the rogue capable of reducing Burton to tears?

Burton drew closer. Trying to hide her alarm, she sighted Guffald staring at her forlornly. Though handsome, worthy of any woman's love and affection, he did not appeal any more than Burton. Part of her ached for the uniformed man and eagerly wished she could accept what he offered. Guilt, unnecessary to be sure, but heartfelt, stabbed her heart anew. What she wouldn't give to be able to choose a husband among the eligible men present like her friends. Instead, hers would not be a love match. She was destined to live in horror with a man she feared.

“There you are.” Stanton's words shocked her out of her doldrums. She pushed aside her friend's fluttering fans and gazed up into the man's hospitable eyes.

“Were you trying to hide from me, my gel?” he prodded. His eyes were sharp, piercingly mocking.

“Lord Stanton,” she breathlessly supplied. “I would never dream of giving you such a slight.”

Winifred and Eleanor curtsied, gave their excuses, and quickly scurried away.

“Odd's fish. What have I done to frighten away your friends?” he asked, his quizzing glass balanced upon his nose as he observed their hasty departure with feigned upset.

Constance grinned. “No, my Lord. You happened upon a private moment between friends, that is all.”

He tucked her gloved hand within the crook of his arm, intent on leading her to the other end of the room. Upon contact, a heated excitement spread throughout Constance's body. Shocked by the betrayal, she retracted her arm.

“Is anything amiss?” he asked. His brow rose quizzically.

“Forgive me,” she said, placing her hand upon her drumming heart. “I fear you've given me quite a shock.”

His eyes locked onto hers. “By taking your arm?” he decreed. “I have done even more outrageous things and have been called to heel by the ton because of them. If I have overstepped, please do not take offense.” The devilish grin on his face suggested he was not apologizing and would do it again if given the chance.

“You give yourself too little or too much credit. I cannot decide which.”

“Were you in the know, you'd condemn me most readily.” He winked, and then bowed low, releasing his scent of sandalwood and spice. Upon rising, his eyes held a passionate twinkle. Earthy and brown, friendly and trusting, his eyes were laudanum for her nerves. Though they had only just met, Stanton's charm, his casual mocking of the ton, his self-loathing, and fashionable wit found her favor. Yet, even as her heart opened to him, there remained only one man in her life. Thomas. The man she wanted but could not have. Stanton's non-threatening, mischievous flamboyancy bewitched, but she could not be parted from Thomas's memory and the feelings she held most dear. Nor could she forget Burton, a loathsome character bent on ensnaring her like a ravenous spider. In both cases, the danger was real to her person and her immortal soul.

“I take it, from your silence, you censure me.”

Lost in her musings, she did not realize a lengthy silence had descended between them. She quickly apologized. “No, my Lord. My silence was not a reflection upon your character.”

Stanton took her hand in his and stroked his white gloved fingers over her nimble digits. “I've never met a woman like you,” he admitted.

“Nor I a man like you,” she affirmed.

Neither had noticed the music had stopped.

He placed his finger on his nose as if deep in thought. “How to reveal this without causing a stir,” he proposed.

“Reveal what? Causing what stir?” she asked, intensely curious.

“There is no other way to explain, except straightforwardly,” he said, taking both her hands in his. “You've captivated me, Lady Constance.”

“How can that be, sir? You do not know me. Perhaps it's just the splendor of the evening, rigorous dancing, great music, and candlelight that transforms your mind.”