Heiress in Love (42 page)

“What I said was I don’t fence.”

“No, and you shall not do so today!” Lady Arden rounded on Montford. “How can you be such a … such a
man,
Montford? I expected better of you!”

With grim humor, Montford said, “And how am I supposed to take that?”

“You may take it that I thought at least you would show some sense! If news of a fight between you gets out it will pile scandal upon scandal. We came here to contain the damage, not provide more fodder for gossip!”

Some part of Montford’s brain knew she was right, but his bloodlust, that ancient, primal part of him that had been passed down through generations of Westruther warriors, beat strongly within him.

He wanted to carve Constantine up and throw him to the dogs for daring to expose Jane to the world’s scorn. “We’ll do it here, now, without seconds. No one will find out.”

“Julian! Julian, this will not help her!” She took his face in her hands, gazing steadily into his eyes until they focused on her. “I know you love Jane like a daughter, but you must use your head now. Think, or you will lose her forever.”

The words penetrated the red mist in his brain. He had already lost Jane once. She believed she loved this blackguard, or she would not have forced him to beg off the betrothal.

That gave Montford pause. The smallest reflection showed him Lady Arden was right. It was not something he enjoyed admitting.

With a disgusted snort, he turned his back on Constantine and stared out the window.

Behind him, Lady Arden took up her pacing. “The betrothal has already been announced, or we could pretend it had never taken place. Constantine, you have not made your decision public?”

“No.”

There was a strained pause that caught Montford’s attention. He turned to see Constantine’s mouth twist. “I’ve had other things to think of.”

Lady Arden set her hands on Constantine’s shoulders. “Is there no possibility of a reconciliation? Constantine, consider carefully before you do this. If not for your own sake and Jane’s but for the sake of your people!”

At her urging, Constantine turned white. If ever Montford had seen a man ready to crack, it was Roxdale.

Montford’s anger lost some of its heat. Whatever reasons Constantine had for breaking that betrothal, he was suffering for it. Perhaps more than Jane herself. At least Jane had hope, reckless and foolish though that hope might be.

“Ma’am.” Constantine removed her hands from his shoulders and held them between his own. “My lady, believe me, I—” He broke off, his voice suspended by an emotion that seemed to cause him physical pain. He dropped her hands. “I must ask you both to leave this house. I am not fit for company.”

Lady Arden’s face took on an aspect of grim determination. “This is not finished, Constantine. We have only just announced your betrothal. I refuse to announce its end!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Do what you wish, ma’am. Announce it, or don’t. You won’t change the facts.”

“I’d thought better of you, Lord Roxdale,” said Lady Arden, her voice aching with sadness. “It seems I was wrong.” With a last, despairing look back at Montford, she left.

Montford stood his ground. “Lady Arden’s right. We won’t announce this for the moment. You may yet come to your senses.”

“I
have
come to my senses, believe me.”

The duke sighed. “This is why I prefer dealing with young people whose affections aren’t engaged in the process. It makes things so much simpler.” He looked about him. “Shall we sit down?”

“No. I believe you were just leaving.”

“Ah, but I have something to say to you about your finances that you will wish to hear.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Constantine returned the duke’s gaze steadily. Nothing the duke said could possibly change his mind. Nothing. But if it was a questions of finances, he ought to listen to what Montford had to say.

He indicated a chair with a wave of his hand and they both took their seats.

The duke settled back, crossing one leg over the other in a relaxed pose. “I saw Frederick, oh, about a month or so before he died. He knew the end was near, had been expecting it for some time.”

That caught Constantine’s interest. He said nothing, however, but waited for Montford to continue.

“Frederick was agitated, knowing the estate would go to you.”

“If he was so concerned, why didn’t he secure the succession?” Constantine ground out. “I never expected to inherit.”

“Whatever the case, there was no child of the marriage.” If the duke suspected the reason for that, he gave no sign.

“It was my notion to carve up the estate,” Montford continued.

Shock slammed into Constantine like a fist.
“What?”
He could barely catch his breath. “You did this?”

Montford spread his hands. “Jane is an intelligent woman with great force of character. Frederick agreed with me that if anyone could ensure you didn’t lay waste to Lazenby, she could. Our design was, of course, that the two of you would wed.”

“My God,” whispered Constantine. “This beggars belief!”

The duke continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “However, in case you did not agree to marry, Frederick appointed me to see how you fared in your new role. If I judged you deserving, I was instructed to release the funds held in trust to you. If, after six months in the role, you did not prove yourself worthy, you would forfeit the entire fortune to Lady Roxdale.”

Constantine couldn’t get past the first part of the duke’s disclosure. “But you forbade me to even think of marrying her!”

Montford inclined his head. “You are such a headstrong young firebrand, Roxdale, I would have been stupid to do otherwise. And at the time, I meant what I said. As you appeared to me then, I couldn’t possibly countenance your marriage to Jane. Now…”

He shrugged. “I saw you in action during that flood, you will remember. I spoke with your steward and with your tenants. Despite your recent behavior toward Lady Roxdale, I thought—and still think—Frederick misjudged your integrity and your ability to run the estate. That being the case, I’m prepared to recommend to the trustees that they release the funds and the property to you. Lady Roxdale will have her jointure and she will be satisfied with that.”

Constantine knew he ought to feel triumphant. The estate was saved. He’d be able to repay the loan and secure the mill property.

He was free.

Yet, it didn’t feel like freedom. It felt more like a life sentence.

He eyed the duke. “You didn’t do all this out of altruism.”

Montford raised his brows. “Of course not. Why would I? Frederick’s family was happy enough to accept Jane’s inheritance when it suited them; the least they could do was uphold their end of the bargain and offer a substitute when Frederick died. Frederick himself was not under any illusion that I acted out of pure motives. But he was in a bind. He believed strongly that you were entitled to the estate, but he wanted some sort of assurance you’d take your responsibilities seriously. The solution I proposed suited him, too.”

“You were manipulating me—us—the entire time!”

“Set you to dancing like marionettes, yes,” murmured the duke with a cynical twist to his mouth. “I goaded you into running after Lady Roxdale and then left you to it, knowing Lady Arden would soon be there to move matters along.” He raised his brows. “Clever of me, was it not? But you’ve had the last laugh, haven’t you, Roxdale? I never bargained for Jane falling in love with you.”

The tightness in Constantine’s chest threatened to crush his lungs. Harshly, he said, “She hasn’t.”

“That’s not what she says. And it’s not what I’ve observed, either.” Montford rose to his feet. “I tell you now, I do not want this for her, all this upheaval, this confusion. She was ever an anxious child. She needs peace and stability and she won’t get that from you with your wild passions and your overweening pride. I will convince her to release you from your betrothal and we will say nothing more about your attempt to jilt her.”

His Grace spread his hands. “So. I give you your precious freedom. You don’t need Jane anymore.”

The glaring, painful untruth of that statement screamed in Constantine’s brain, squeezed his heart and turned his guts into a roiling mess. He put his head in his hands, so full of conflicting emotions, he was near crazed.

The duke’s voice sounded far away. “I’ll make the arrangements. You may leave everything to me. You’re an exceedingly wealthy man, Roxdale. I wish you joy of it.”

“Joy.”
His voice cracked. He wanted to laugh like a maniac at the mere notion, but he couldn’t seem to make another sound.

“In the meantime,” said Montford, “I have two requests. You have a card for the ball at Montford House tomorrow night. Use it. And … find a lady friend for the evening.”

Oh, God, no! There could only be one reason for this suggestion. Constantine looked up. “She’s here? In London? She’s going to the ball?”

Montford nodded. “You will not speak to her. You will not look at her. You will make it clear to her and to everyone else that you have no intention of resuming that unfortunate betrothal. And then you will leave and you will never see her again.”

The duke paused. “From my observation, these wounds heal much faster when there’s a clean break. Give her a reason to hate you and she’ll get over you soon enough.”

He ought to be in full agreement with Montford about this, yet everything inside him rebelled against it. He’d be damned if he’d attend that ball, torture himself, use some woman to make Jane jealous … and all to make the break easier for her.

He
wanted
her to suffer, didn’t he? Too soon, she would forget him and marry some other prime candidate, some protégé of Montford’s. Someone suitable.

He struggled against it, but the words slipped out anyway. “I suppose you’ll marry her off to Trent in the end.”

“No, I won’t do that,” said Montford. “I like Trent even less than I like you.”

Constantine gave a humorless laugh. “And the second request?”

“Give up custody of the boy to me.”

“No.” Out of the question. Luke needed him, depended on him. God knew what the duke would do to the lad.

The duke’s brows climbed. “Oh, come now, Roxdale. You cannot possibly wish to be saddled with a six-year-old child.”

“No, I said! I told Lady Roxdale he will visit her often, but Luke belongs at Lazenby Hall. He belongs with me.”

“If you think to use him as some sort of bargaining chip—”

“Do not judge me by your standards, Your Grace,” said Constantine harshly. “We can agree on a schedule of visits here and now, if you like. I won’t need to communicate with Jane at all.”

Another twist of the knife in his chest. He’d thought himself scarred forever by Amanda’s betrayal. The weak inclination he’d felt for her had been as a candle to the sun when compared with his love for Jane.

Love.

Oh, God. It was as if admitting it in his head opened the floodgates to agony greater than any he’d known.

The duke was saying something. He forced himself to listen.

“Did you ever discover who Luke’s father was?”

“No, but I have my suspicions.” He shifted a little. “I suppose, being your omniscient self, you must have heard the rumors that he was mine.”

“I did hear something of that nature, yes. It seemed to explain why your uncle took the boy in.”

“Well, he’s not my son. Though you’re probably right about my uncle. I realize now that he thought Luke was mine and that’s why he provided for him as he did.” The impotent fury threatened to overtake him again. His uncle had gone to his grave believing the worst. There was nothing he could do to change that.

The duke leaned forward. “Ah. Well, now, that is interesting. One wonders whose he is, then?”

Montford accepted his word, just like that? Constantine fought to check a sharp rush of emotion, intense and double-edged. He did not wish to harbor any gratitude toward this man.

He licked his lips. He couldn’t voice the suspicion in his mind. In the end, he had no proof, and he’d achieve nothing by voicing his fears. “I’ve no idea.” He shrugged. “It could easily have been Trent. He was nearby, had ample opportunity, and—”

“He is exactly the sort of fellow who would take advantage of a maid in a gentleman’s house,” added Montford, his up-cut nostrils flaring in disgust.

A novel experience, to have someone take his part over the seemingly angelic Adam Trent.

“I’ve no proof and he would never admit it, so let’s leave it at that.”

“Yes, I think that’s best.” The duke paused, regarding Constantine with a kinder eye than he’d shown him yet. “I see you feel strongly about the boy. But I’m afraid this point is not negotiable. Lady Roxdale wants him. And I think he needs her, too. It would be selfish of you to part them.”

Constantine ran a hand through his hair. Jane would care for Luke, had loved him for years. He himself was a newcomer who might more easily pass from Luke’s life. Montford was right, it would be less wrenching for the lad if he stayed with Jane. But Luke must know he was wanted. That Constantine had not abandoned him, that he had not broken his promise.