His Scandalous Kiss: Secrets at Thorncliff Manor: 6 (16 page)

The hold on her suddenly lessened and, looking up, Mary saw that Rotridge’s eyes had gone wide with surprise. In the next
instant, he was thrust aside, completely removed from her vicinity as a cloaked figure wearing a mask bore down on him. Richard’s
fist flew through the air, landing squarely in Rotridge’s jaw, the impact producing a loud
thwack!

Rotridge yelped, like a puppy that had just been stepped on. But then, as if realizing what had occurred, he straightened
his spine and stood his ground, glaring back at his assailant. “You are very brave, hiding behind that mask of yours. Show
yourself, you coward.”

“I will do so when I am ready,” Richard replied. “At present, I am only interested in discussing your reluctance to stay away
from Lady Mary as you were specifically told to do.”

“And I might have continued doing so had I not discovered an interesting detail about her. Now that I know what she is, you
no longer have the right to make demands. Either she does as I say, or I tell the world about her secret identity.”

With a feral growl, Richard leapt toward Rotridge, delivering another blow to the earl’s nose that resulted in an ugly crunching
sound of cartilage breaking. Blood ran down over his upper lip before dripping onto his chin and from there, staining his
cravat. But rather than accept defeat, Rotridge’s eyes burned with increased fury. Retrieving his handkerchief, he held it
to his nose as he stared defiantly back at Richard. “I will find out who you are as well, and once I do, I shall call you
out. In the meantime, however, you will have to kill me in order to silence me.”

“A tempting prospect,” Richard murmured, his body positioned protectively between Mary and Rotridge.

“But one that you will not follow through with or I daresay you would have attempted it already.” Chuckling, Rotridge executed
a bow. “A pleasure as always, Lady Mary.
Signor Antonio
.” Without lingering for another moment, he turned on his heels and strode away, his mad laughter echoing through the hallway
as he went.

“Are you all right?” Richard asked as he turned to face Mary, concern evident in the depths of his eyes.

“I believe so,” she said. Rotridge was gone, replaced by the man she loved. But despite the relief that she felt, apprehension
wound itself around her so tightly that she feared she might suffocate from it. “Thank you for helping.” The faint sound of
voices approaching drifted toward them. “I should probably return to my bedchamber before someone sees us together.”

With a nod, he stepped back and executed a perfect bow. “You must not fret over Rotridge, Mary. I will protect you from him
by whatever means necessary. You have my word on that.”

Attempting a smile, Mary thanked him again before hurrying toward her bedchamber. She knew that he meant what he said. The
only problem was that if Rotridge did indeed follow through on his threat, Mary doubted that Richard would be able to protect
her from her aunt.

When Mary awoke the following morning, it took an enormous amount of effort for her to get out of bed and dress. In fact,
all she wanted to do was to go back to sleep so she could avoid the nightmare that undoubtedly waited for her downstairs.
To her surprise, however, her aunt appeared to be in a very pleasant mood. There was no indication at all that Rotridge might
have spoken to her or revealed anything to incur her anger.

Eventually, Mary decided that her worries had been completely unfounded and focused on her breakfast instead while her aunt
spoke happily about another conversation she’d had with the great Mr. Young, as she was now prone to calling him. “Oh, I completely
forgot to tell you,” she said after chewing on a bite of toast. “Lord Rotridge left Thorncliff this morning.”

Mary jerked at the mention of the earl’s name, effectively spilling her tea. “Really?”

Lady Foxworth nodded. “I thought that you would like to know since you did voice some concerns about him.”

“Of course,” she said, blinking. This was simply too good to be true. Surely.

“Now, I know that you and I have not spent much time together lately,” Lady Foxworth continued, changing the subject as if
it held no more importance than the weather, “so perhaps you would like to take a ride into the village with me today. We
can have a look at the shops, perhaps visit a teahouse?”

Mary nodded. “I think that sounds like a lovely idea. But what about Mr. Young?”

Lady Foxworth waved her hand in an almost absentminded way. “You are my first priority. Shall we depart immediately after
breakfast?”

Agreeing to do so, Mary returned upstairs only briefly in order to retrieve her bonnet and write a quick message to Richard.
But when she entered her bedchamber, she found Amy waiting with a letter. “This just came for you, my lady,” she said, handing
the missive to Mary.

Recognizing her brother’s penmanship, Mary sank down onto a chair with a sigh and tore open the seal, her hand flying to her
mouth the moment she finished reading what it said. “Dear God, he has lost everything,” she croaked, the words not sounding
like her own. It was almost as if she’d stepped outside of her own body to watch a tragic play unfold.

Amy went completely still, her eyes meeting Mary’s “Surely not.”

“His house, the money I recently gave him . . . it is all gone.”

“How is that even possible?”

Mary shook her head as fierce anger stirred to life inside her. “According to this,” she said, crumpling the paper and tossing
it aside, “he was taken advantage of. In fact, he claims he has no memory of how it happened but that there are witnesses
who say he lost it all in a wager while he was too deep in his cups to think straight.”

“Then he should be able to argue momentary irrationality or something of that nature, should he not?”

“Not when he has already signed away the deed to Carthright House,” Mary gritted out. Honestly, she could murder her brother
right now. How could he have allowed this to happen when he’d assured her that the money would be wisely invested? He’d been
so enthusiastic about his ideas!

Staring at the letter, Mary tried to calm herself. As angry as she was with her brother right now, it did not compare with
the livid fury that she felt for the people who’d swindled him. “As soon as I get back to London, I am going to find out who
did this, even if it means hiring every Bow Street runner there is!” For now, however, there was little she could do other
than help her brother in the only way she knew how. Heavy-hearted, she penned another letter to her bank before writing the
note that was meant for Richard.

“If what you say is true,” Lady Foxworth said as she and Mary trundled along in the carriage a short while later, “then there
is even more incentive for you to marry quickly.”

After telling her aunt about the letter she’d just received, it had taken a moment for the older lady to gather her wits in
the wake of her initial shock. “My husband would not be obligated to help Andrew,” Mary said. “And I would never expect him
to.”

“I should hope not!” Lady Foxworth’s mouth pinched around the edges while her eyes bored into Mary. “That brother of yours
may have won the King’s favor by proving himself a hero during the war, but he clearly lacks common sense. In fact, I daresay
it is a miracle that he even knew how to tell the front of a musket from the back of one and did not get himself killed instead.
How he managed to save as many lives as he did, is absolutely baffling.”

Mary couldn’t help but frown. “I think that is a bit harsh.”

Lady Foxworth responded with a snort. And then, “He has been of no help to you whatsoever, Mary. In truth, he ought to have
played a greater role in your coming out. As a baron, he has connections now. King George himself loves Andrew, for heaven’s
sake. If he had cared, he would have introduced you to a slew of eligible young gentlemen. He would have danced with you at
the balls you attended in order to draw attention to you. Why, even your dowry could have been larger if he had put the money
that the king awarded him to good use.”

Although Mary knew that her aunt had a point, she loved her brother and could not help but defend him. “Clearly the cost of
running Carthright House was greater than Andrew anticipated, not to mention the money that has been spent on repairs and
the new furnishings that were required. These were all necessary expenses, Aunt. The trouble is that he has had some bad luck
recently.”

“I do wish that you would stop making excuses for him, Mary.
You
may not be aware of how much it costs to run an estate the size of Carthright House, but
I
am.” She gave a pert look. “And I can assure you that the £50,000 that he was awarded would have kept Carthright House in
good order for at least ten years. In other words, he is either overpaying the staff or has spent the remainder of his money
on something else.”

“I cannot believe that,” Mary said.

“What I cannot believe is that you fail to see him for the fool he truly is. He gambled away his entire estate, Mary!”

“True,” Mary said, mourning her own losses. “But only because he was taken advantage of.”

Lady Foxworth shook her head with a sigh. “Either way, it is clear to me that you cannot count on him for financial support.
And since your parents are not as well off as one might have hoped that an earl and countess would be, your options are limited.
You could of course consider becoming a governess or a companion, but if I am to be completely honest with you, Mary, I think
it would be a pity for you to throw away your life like that.”

Biting her lip, Mary had to agree. Especially now that she’d met Richard. Oh Lord, how on earth was she ever going to get
herself out of the muddle she was presently in? Her brother was bleeding her dry, she was in love with a man whom everyone
thought to be dead, and the villain who threatened her happiness had mysteriously vanished without explanation.

In addition to this, there was her future with the opera to consider. Richard had made no promises that he would allow her
to continue singing in public if they eventually decided to get married. In fact, marriage had not even been properly discussed.
She knew that she was probably to blame for that—that he was biding his time until she gave him some indication of being prepared
to accept an eventual proposal.

“You are right,” she found herself saying. “I promise you that as soon as we return to Thorncliff I will set my mind to planning
my future.”

“And since the Duke of Lamont will probably have arrived by then, I suggest you start by seeking him out.” Lady Foxworth beamed.
“Can you imagine? I can think of nothing better than telling your parents that you are going to be a duchess.”

Mary could think of at least one, but refrained from mentioning him. Instead she said, “I believe we might be getting ahead
of ourselves, Aunt. As it is, I have spoken to the duke on only a few occasions, and sparingly at that. Chances are that he
will not even remember me.”

“Then it is time for us to make him more aware of your fine attributes. You would make an excellent wife, Mary, there is no
doubt about that.”

Holding back a sigh, Mary leaned against the side of the carriage and looked out. She would speak with the duke if it would
placate her aunt, perhaps even go for a stroll with him if he felt inclined to invite her. Later, however, while Thorncliff
slept, she would seek out Richard, determined as she was to discover whether or not her future might include him, as she was
increasingly inclined to believe that it would.

“There he is now,” Lady Foxworth said when they returned to Thorncliff later in the day. Having just turned onto the Thorncliff
driveway, her aunt’s face was practically pressed up against the windowpane with the same degree of enthusiasm that a child
might exhibit when passing a toy shop.

Following her line of vision, Mary’s gaze fell on a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman wearing a smart navy blue jacket, brown
breeches, and tasseled Hessian boots. Dismounting from one of the largest horses that Mary had ever seen, he handed the reins
to an awaiting groom and stepped aside, his face turning toward Mary and Lady Foxworth as their carriage pulled up in front
of him. The Duke of Lamont looked just as imposing as when Mary had last seen him, his posture bearing the rigidity of a man
in possession of great wealth and power.

“How handsome he looks,” Lady Foxworth murmured. Moving away from the window, she told Mary to do the same so they could be
ready for when the door opened.

It did so almost immediately, pulled aside by a footman while steps were lowered, allowing the ladies to alight. Lamont stepped
forward, extending his hand toward Lady Foxworth. “Allow me,” he said, helping her down. As soon as she had thanked him, he
turned to Mary. “A pleasure seeing you again, my lady.”

She dipped her head, acknowledging his greeting. “Likewise, Your Grace.”

Stiffly, he guided her down to the ground below. “I was not aware that you would be holidaying at Thorncliff. As it happens,
I have just arrived here myself.”

“Have you visited the estate before?” Lady Foxworth asked with interest.

He shook his head. “No. I have meant to, but something always seemed to get in the way. This year I am determined to see what
all the fuss is about.”

“If you are not too tired from your journey, I am sure that Lady Mary would be happy to show you around,” Lady Foxworth suggested
as they started up the front steps. The door, which had been flung wide open, gave way to the towering foyer within.

“I would hate to impose upon His Grace since I am sure that—”

“Oh, it is no imposition at all,” the duke declared as he looked to Mary, the solemnity of his gaze hinting at a man who was
burdened by too much duty. “It is a pleasant day, so if you think you can spare the time, I would be very grateful for your
company, Lady Mary.”

Lady Foxworth beamed, her eyes like the fireworks Mary had once witnessed at Vauxhall Garden in London. Mary forced a smile,
knowing how impossible it would be for her to escape the duke now, not only because it would be unconscionably rude of her
to even attempt such a thing, but because she feared that her aunt might have a fit of the vapors if she did.

So she accepted the arm that the duke offered her, said good-bye to her aunt, and allowed Lamont to lead her forward. “The
Indian Salon is just up ahead,” Mary said in an effort to break the stilted silence that followed. “Would you like to see
it?”

“Certainly,” was his only response, save for the greetings that he offered other guests whom they passed along their way.

“Is it not marvelous?” Mary asked as they stepped inside the room, immediately transported to another world filled with intricately
carved wood furniture, shimmering silk cushions in a vast array of colors, and ornate lanterns set in filigree cases.

Lamont’s eyes widened slightly—the only evidence that he might be just a little bit impressed. “Lady Duncaster has done a
fine job of creating an authentic space for her guests to enjoy.”

“You speak as though from experience,” Mary said as she watched him inspect every detail.

He looked toward her, a slight twitch stirring the edge of his firmly set mouth. “I traveled to India once, years ago, on
business.”

“What a wonderful experience that must have been!” He didn’t elaborate on that point, but moved toward the door where she
was standing and offered her his arm once more. Continuing on their way, Mary said, “My parents are there right now.”

“I am aware.” Slanting a look in her direction, he added, “Your father was appointed Governor General a couple of years ago.
By all accounts he is doing an excellent job.”

Mary’s lips parted in surprise. “You are well informed.” She instantly flinched in response to her foolish comment. Of course
the duke would know who the Governor General of India was. Most people did. They just didn’t seem to have much interest in
her
.

Turning a corner, they approached the interior courtyard, crossing paths with Spencer and Sarah who were heading in the opposite
direction. “Lamont,” Spencer spoke loudly by way of greeting. “I was not aware of your arrival. Good to see you though!”

“Likewise,” Lamont said as he and Mary stopped walking.

“May I present my wife?” Affectionately, Spencer drew Sarah closer to his side.

Lamont inclined his head. “A pleasure, my lady. Felicitations to you both.”

“We were just about to take a tour of the garden, but after that I have plans to meet Chadwick and my new brother-in-law,
the Duke of Stonegate, in the smoking room for a game of cards. You are welcome to join us, if you like.”

“Thank you, Spencer,” Lamont said. “I should like to congratulate the duke on his new title—read all about it in the papers.
But I was not aware that he had also gotten himself married. As I recall, he never seemed to have much interest in finding
a bride.”