His Secret Heroine (25 page)

A
fierce urge rose to her throat to leap at him and claw his face. "Where are they? What have you done with them?"

Finally
a muscle in his face moved, twitching once beside his mouth. "Interesting, is it not, Miss Englefield? What was impossible for you, I have accomplished with little more than a wave of my hand. Cottingham has handed them over to me, and I have left them in the care of a fine governess of impeccable character."

"Why?" Chloe cried. "What are they to you?"

His mouth drew up at the corners, but it was not by any means even a semblance of a smile, for his gleaming eyes bore the signs of angry triumph. "It is what they are to you that is the point. I must give you credit for that. You are not quite the adventuress I thought you to be, since your interest was not in your own aggrandizement. But that is what you want from me, is it not? And you sought to achieve it through marriage to my son. You would not have gained it, pursuing from that direction. But I can give it to you now, in exchange for what I want."

Chloe thought her blood ran cold. Her skin felt clammy and chilled. She bit her lip, waiting, as if an executioner held an axe poised above her neck.

"There is a cottage which I will give over to you for their care. And you shall have the five thousand pounds, in addition to the fixed sums distributed quarterly from your sisters' trusts. Both Madeline and Allison will remain in your care. You will make the majority of decisions on their behalf, but I shall retain their guardianship. In exchange, you will have no further contact with my son. You will not write to him, nor in any way let him know your direction, through any person you know, or in any other manner. You will prevent your prickly aunt from doing the same. If you fail me in this regard, I will remove your sisters from your care, and you will find yourself in Marshalsea until the very last debt is paid. On the day my son marries his cousin, I will return your vowels to you, along with the title to the cottage."

But Reggie had sworn he would never marry his cousin. Chloe swallowed down rising bile. "And my sisters?"

"If you choose to marry, providing the man is acceptable to me, I will transfer their guardianships to him. Otherwise I shall retain them."

Chloe gripped her hands tightly together, trying to still their shaking.
He was lying. He was not Chancery Court. He could not have obtained guardianship so quickly, nor would he be the final arbiter of that. But he was everything Reggie had said. Determined to control everyone. Obsessed with controlling. She could see why his heir hated him, and chose to fight a war rather than remain under his father's poisonous domination.

He had her completely trapped. Any move she could make could endanger her sisters. But she was abandoning Reggie and the promise she had made to him. How could she do that? He would hate her, believing she was deceitful.

No. Reggie didn't hate anyone, not even the father who so maliciously exploited him and manipulated his life. Reggie had asked her to trust him to find a way through their dilemma, and if anyone could do it, it would be Reggie.

But she would have no choice but to do as the duke demanded. "What will make a husband acceptable to you?"

"I speak only in terms of acceptability as a guardian. Beyond that, Miss Englefield, I care not. But you will find that I take the matter of guardianship as a trust to be fulfilled, unlike the guardians both you and your sisters have endured."

Oh, certainly
. She believed that as much as she believed the Prince Regent would soon become her beau. Yes, no doubt any day now the Prince would be bringing his beloved father, the mad King, along to sit at her very sumptuous table, right here in Pauncefoot's elegant facility. But what did it matter if she believed this malicious scoundrel? She was in no position to do anything about it.

Except negotiate. Interestingly, the duke himself had taught her that.
Cut your losses.

"What is this cottage?"

The change in his face was no more than a flicker, but it was one of a fisherman sensing a nibble on the line. "The smallest of my properties, Miss Englefield, but adequate for a modest living, furnished, and self-sufficient. Considering that you prize your independence, you may find it will keep you satisfactorily, even after your sisters are grown."

Her mind formed a picture, a cottage with crumbling walls and thatch black with decay. He no doubt delighted in exiling her to a ruin. But while her ability to eke out a living would undoubtedly disgust him, her survival was something of a matter of secret pride for her.

"You will have four household servants at your disposal, their salaries paid," he said. "The land is in corn and pasture, with coppiced wood and orchard. Many a squire would be content with such a property."

She pictured bent servants in rags, a beetle-infested field,
and pasture for one ancient cow. "It had best be as described."

"You will find it acceptable."

"I cannot help but wonder why you go to such expense to accomplish so little, particularly as both Reggie and Miss Nightengale hold each other in such dislike."

The duke's nostrils flared. "My son has lacks that place him at risk
in society. Reginald needs a proper lady to help contain his wayward impulses, else he shall find himself alienated from his kind."

"And you consider Miss
Nightengale the answer?"

"Miss
Nightengale is a perfectly proper lady."

Chloe laughed. "Good heavens! How long has it been since you have seen Miss
Nightengale? If she is a perfect lady, then I have been misled entirely as to a lady's proper deportment."

Shock flickered over his face but was instantly disguised. "You are mistaken, Miss
Englefield, and I’ll not allow you to impugn my niece."

Chloe shrugged, remembering how she had watched with amusement as Miss Portia
Nightengale would suddenly simper so prettily every time Lord Castlebury appeared on the scene. Perhaps she had donned the same facade for the duke. "As you wish. My humble advice to you is that you pay her a visit and determine it for yourself. Be that as it may, I shall not make any promises regarding Reggie's behavior. He will make his own choices, and I have nothing to say about them. Nor shall I make promises for Miss Nightengale."

And she was pretty certain both Reggie and Miss
Nightengale had a few hidden surprises for the Duke of Marmount.

"You will, however, make no contact with either of them until they are wed."

"Maneuver as you will, Your Grace. It is your son and yourself who are most injured. I am sorry for both of you. But I also have faith in him, and it is he who will triumph."

"I am doing what is best for my son, Miss
Englefield. I do not expect that you will appreciate it, nor am I concerned, as long as we have reached agreement."

"Ten thousand," she said. "In trust for my sisters."

"Unnecessary. I have fixed portions upon both of them, beyond what is already in trust."

"Ten thousand,
feme sole
."

A thick muscle worked in his jaw as his eyes narrowed. "Five. And five for you when you marry."

"Eight."

"Seven."

She nodded. But it was far too easy, and she wondered why. Would he truly give anything to get her out of the way? "
Feme sole
," she repeated.

He stared at her with that unfeeling gaze until she thought she would wither. But she set her jaw and stared back.

"Then it shall be seven for each of them and for you. It is very foolish of you, but I shall hope by the time they marry, they will have learned the good sense of giving their husbands the management of their funds. But since you have not had the example of proper management, I do not expect it of you."

Startled, she pulled back.
He had actually given in to her? The man Reggie had said would never cede anything? Yet she clearly had nothing with which to bargain. What an odd man he was!

"Pauncefoot!" shouted the duke.

The door sprung open, indicating the spunger must have been right behind it. Both he and his now properly dressed wife scurried into the parlor.

"Miss
Englefield will wish a bath, as she still retains the odor of your stinkhouse. You will have her and her belongings ready for my arrival promptly at six of the clock in the morning. And if one word of this exchange is ever shared with another person, you will find yourself going about the world utterly devoid of possessions."

The duke pivoted on his heel and strode from the parlor.

Chloe shivered. Only then did she realize the duke had never relinquished his tall hat, for he slapped it against his thigh as if to dislodge accumulated dirt.

She was glad enough for the bath, even if it was not more than tepid, and was delivered with the grumbling of both Pauncefoot and his equally portly wife.
Even when she ordered Pauncefoot from the room for her privacy, he whimpered as he ran out. A portmanteau of her own belongings magically appeared, and surprisingly, everything that should have been in it was actually there. At least she had a change of clothes, and could wash those she had worn. Perhaps someday she might even manage to get the stench out of them.

She slept little, and was already dressed when, even before the cock crowed, she watched the duke step out of his gleaming black coach. She could not help but see Reggie in the shape of his bright blue eyes, in the cheekbones, and the cut of his jaw. What a shame it was that God should make such a beautiful face, but hang it on such an ugly person.

Chloe clutched her reticule and held it to her breast, fingering the little red book inside it through the fabric.
Circe. She would be Circe, the Perfect Heroine. For Reggie, for Madeline and Allison.

As i
f he were taking up a niece who he held in great affection, the duke led her to his coach, and assisted her inside. Despite the morning coolness, she ignored the duke's offering of a brightly colored lap shawl that lay in the corner of the black tufted leather seat.

She sat, and squared her shoulders, holding her head high. If she was going to her symbolic execution, she meant to do it with the utmost dignity. The duke sat across from her, the picture of the perfect gentleman.

"I have taken the liberty of gathering some things you will need, Miss Englefield, since you have retained so little."

As if it were not his doing that she retained so little. "Thank you,
Your Grace, but I have no need of your largesse."

"You have every need of my benefaction, Miss
Englefield, and you know it. That is not the point. When you arrive at your destination, you may do as you please with your funds, but I shall manage things until then."

"Just where would that be,
Your Grace?"

"A small village called Upper Dicker, near Eastbourne."

"But I presume, far enough to keep me out of mischief."

"You will create no problems for me. But to ensure that, you will also have few opportunities to engage with anyone likely to know my son. It is a pleasant little community."

She allowed a wry twist to her mouth to show, and wished she had not, for it would only give him more reason to rejoice in his victory over her. Caressing a finger over the reticule, she sought out the familiar outline of the little red book, her only remnant of her time with Reggie. She opened the strings of the beaded cloth bag and extracted the book, and smiled to herself as the gold-leafed title came into view.

"What is that, Miss
Englefield?"

She covered it with her hands. "Just a book."

"Might I see it?"

She gripped it tightly. "No."

His blue eyes gleamed, as if he sensed prey.

"It was loaned to me by a friend, and I have promised to read it. If you do not mind, I should like to finish it now."

The duke raised his brows, then sat back against the squabs and pulled out a pair of spectacles and a book of his own. Chloe focused her attention on finding the place where she had left off, determined she would see nothing but its pages for the remainder of this trip.

Word by word, as they passed each turnpike gate and hostelry, she lost herself in the pages of
The Adventuress
, enmeshed with Circe's struggle to protect her beloved injured captain and his crew, to keep the ship afloat. Page by page, Circe's love for Nicholas blossomed, as her dilemma grew, until Chloe thought surely she would break. Circe would not break. No, she would not. She would somehow survive.

"I do hate to interrupt your reading, Miss
Englefield, but the incline is too steep for the horses, and we must walk it."

The coach pulled to a stop. Chloe re
-deposited the book in her reticule, drew the strings, and slipped them over her wrist.

"You may safely leave your reticule in the coach, Miss
Englefield."

"I prefer to keep it with me."

Silently, Chloe started up the steep hill, glad that she had always made a habit of walking in the country. The duke started up behind her. She wished he would stay behind her, but she knew there was that odd part about him that insisted on doing the pretty, so she was not surprised when he trudged up to walk beside her. Her lip curled in a sneer.