How to Deceive a Duke (3 page)

He’d eat her alive, and spit out the petals.

“D
’you suppose he knows anything? He’s not the gullible fool his brother was,” Augustus Howard said as he boarded Wilton’s coach.

“You seem worried. About what?” Wilton asked, knocking on the roof of the coach, giving the order to drive on. “He’s as big a fool as his brother.” He regarded his companion’s nervous expression coldly. “Don’t you find the irony satisfying? Temberlay is about to marry the daughter of the man who helped kill his own brother. I doubt he even knows.”

Augustus frowned. The afternoon sun streaming into the coach emphasized his wrinkles, the paunch under his waistcoat.

“You got a pretty little wife out of it, didn’t you?” Wilton asked. “How is sweet little Claire? Still pining for her true love every time you touch her?”

“I love my wife. You didn’t love yours,” Augustus shot back.

“We both got what we wanted. Revenge is sweet, don’t you think? Perhaps we can yet destroy Nicholas Hartley for his sins. He’s home now.”

“His brother paid the debt!” Augustus hissed.

Wilton shot him a cold look. “It’s not enough. David was merely a substitute, since Nicholas wasn’t here. He is now.”

Augustus swallowed, and Wilton smiled coldly. “Go home to sweet little Claire, old man. Take her to bed, and be glad it wasn’t your wife he ruined.”

“When will this end?” Augustus moaned.

Wilton turned to look out the window. “When I say it’s over.”

Chapter 3

“W
here’s your sister, Meg?” Amy asked, opening the bed curtains with a swish. Meg squinted at the housekeeper and shut her eyes again. She had nightmares about her father’s death. When her dreams were at their worst, Rose often slept in the dressing room for a little peace. The nightmares were a secret they shared. If Mama found out, she might ask what they were about, and if she knew, it might well send her back into her shadow world of grief and pain.

“She’s probably in the dressing room.” She stretched, and recoiled as her foot touched the icy sheets on Rose’s side of the bed. She pulled the coverlet closer and curled into a warm ball.

Amy went to check and returned to poke her again. “No she isn’t! Lord Bryant is downstairs with his coach, and your mother is waiting on you and Rose in the breakfast room. She sent me up here to fetch you.”

Meg sat up, and stared at her sister’s empty pillow. The valise she’d carefully packed for her sister the night before was gone. Meg looked around the room, instantly awake.

She pulled on her robe. “Did you check the library? The kitchen?”

Amy set her hands on her hips. “I just came from the kitchen!”

Flora burst in. “Marguerite, you’re still in bed! It’s past eight, and we must leave immediately. The roads are—” She bustled into the dressing room, and came right back out again. “Where’s Rose?”

In the doorway, John, their manservant, waited to carry the luggage downstairs.

Meg felt a moment’s panic, and squelched it.

“She isn’t here, my lady,” Amy informed her. The countess’s eyes widened.

“She’s probably downstairs somewhere,” Meg soothed. It was too soon to worry yet. “Did you look in the conservatory and the ballroom?” she asked, directing the question to John. “She always liked to play there.”

Flora put her fingers to her temples and shut her eyes. “Those rooms have been locked for months, and she’s not a child anymore. She’s almost a married woman, and this is no time for games!”

“John, Amy, go and see if you can find her,” Meg directed the servants. When they’d gone, she put her arm around her mother and led her to a chair. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. Rose is probably flitting from room to room, looking at herself in every mirror, trying to decide which one makes her look fairest. She’ll be back momentarily, demanding John take down her favorites and ship them to Temberlay Castle.”

Footsteps thundered up the hallway, pounded in Meg’s chest, and she gripped her mother’s shoulder and stared at the door, waiting for bad news.

The countess let go of the breath she was holding as her two youngest daughters raced into the room in their nightgowns. They climbed on the bed and began jumping. Meg swallowed a sigh of relief.

“Girls, get down—” she said, trying to catch them.

“Has Rose gone already?” ten-year-old Lily asked. “I wanted to ask her to bring me a present from London.”

“I want a hair ribbon and a doll,” seven-year-old Minnie added.

“Do stop jumping,” Flora snapped. “Can’t you see there’s a crisis?”

“What’s a crisis?” Minnie asked. “Is it a sweet? I want sweets from London too, like the sugared almonds Papa used to bring.”

“I’m surprised you remember that.” Meg took a moment to smile reassuringly at her little sisters as she lifted them off the bed and set them on the floor. She kissed them on the tops of their blond heads. “Go down to the kitchen for breakfast. You’re giving Mama a headache.” She hurried into the dressing room and pulled on the first gown—the only gown—she could find. Their best dress, the one Rose was to wear this morning, was gone. Meg’s fingers trembled as she fastened the buttons. Her sister never got out of bed before being called at least twice. Meg fixed her expression into a placid smile for Flora’s sake.

John returned as she was tying her hair back with a ribbon. “No sign of her, my lady,” he reported to Flora, and sent Meg a worried glance. Meg felt her smile slip a little.

Flora’s eyes widened for a moment, but she shook her head. Meg watched as she smoothed her fingers over her forehead. It was one of her mother’s rules. Frowning caused wrinkles, and wrinkles were to be avoided at all costs. She settled back into the chair, and arranged her skirts to elegant perfection. “She’s here somewhere, I’m sure of it. I will simply sit right here and wait for her to return.”

Hector appeared in the doorway, his expression grim. Meg felt her heart climb into her throat, knowing it was bad news, hoping her sister wasn’t hurt, or worse. “You’ll have a long wait, Flora. A lad from the village just delivered a note. Rose is gone. Eloped, she says.” Meg’s heart dropped again, hurtling to the floor like a stone. It was worse indeed.

Hector held out the note, but Flora recoiled in horror.

Meg stood in stunned silence for a moment, staring at the letter in her uncle’s hand. The ink was blotched with tears. Or was it only rain? She glanced out the window at the weather.

Sunny. Her stomach knotted.

“It’s not true,” Flora murmured. “It can’t possibly be true!” She looked from Meg to Hector. “What am I to do now?”

Meg took the note and read it. Rose would not, could not, marry a man like Temberlay. She would rather face death and—Meg slid it into her pocket without finishing it, bitterness filling her throat. Now they’d all face death, or poverty. Her sister was the most selfish creature on earth. Still, she glanced at Rose’s side of the bed with a twinge of fear. The future she’d chosen might turn out to be far worse than marriage to a duke with a rogue’s reputation.

She squeezed her mother’s hand, worried herself now, for Rose, for Flora, for her sisters. Hector patted Flora’s shoulder as she began to blink back tears. “We’ll find her before things go beyond redemption,” he said. “She can’t have gotten far.”

Flora looked at Meg, her blue eyes sharp as a needle. “Who would Rose elope with?”

Meg shrugged. “How would I know? She had a dozen young men who—”

“A dozen?” Flora cried. “Oh, Hector, I’m going to faint!”

Hector ignored the threat. “Can you narrow it down?”

Meg shook her head, and Flora’s eyes narrowed. “Come now, you’ve shared everything for over a year, clothes, this room, that bed! Surely you know her secrets!”

Was this her fault? Meg hadn’t wanted to hear Rose gloat over her admirers, spin her romantic dreams. She’d pretended she didn’t care, ignored her sister’s attempts to whisper her secrets in bed at night. Guilt coiled through her like smoke. “Not this one.”

Flora put a hand to her mouth. “Think of the scandal! What will the duchess say?”

Meg read dismay in Hector’s eyes before he turned to soothe Flora. “I’ll go myself, and bring Rose straight to London when I find her. In the meantime, Meg is close to her sister in size. She’ll do to have the wedding gown fitted.” He pressed his handkerchief into Flora’s hand.

Meg felt her knees turn to water. “Me?” she whispered.

“Hector’s quite right. The wedding is a fortnight away, and there’s no time to waste,” Flora said, rising now the decision had been made. She smoothed her curls and set her bonnet on her head like a soldier preparing for battle. “I’m going to wait in the coach. Do hurry.”

“Is there anything else you can think of? Anything at all?” Hector asked Meg.

Meg looked again at the tear-stained note, scanned the last few lines. Rose didn’t name her intended husband. If only she’d listened, hadn’t been jealous. She racked her brain. “The last lad she mentioned was an ensign in the navy. I don’t recall his name. Edwin, possibly. He wrote her several letters, but I didn’t—she wouldn’t let me read them.”

Hector kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry,” he said, and helped her into her cloak. “I’ll find her.” He pulled a card from his pocket. “You’d better take this. It’s the modiste the duchess recommended. At least you’ll have the pleasure of trying on the gowns. I’ll join you in London in a day or two.”

Meg read the worry in her godfather’s eyes as she took the card. There’d been so many problems he hadn’t been able to fix since Papa’s death. Was this one more?

He smiled, tried to reassure her. “Go on, before your mother starts to fret.”

Meg’s heart was pounding as Hector handed her into the coach.

“You’ll find her, won’t you?” Flora asked him.

He gave her a reassuring smile. “Of course.”

Flora lowered the window of the coach and watched him mount his horse and ride away at a gallop. Then she shut her eyes and lay back against the squabs with a sigh, pale and worried. Meg leaned over to shut the window against the cold breeze, and wrapped a rug around her mother’s knees.

Rose’s disappearance on the eve of their salvation was tragic. She might be in danger, and her mother was on the verge of another nervous collapse. Flora had lost her husband, her fortune, and now her eldest daughter. She stood to lose her home too. Meg would have to find a way to protect her from all of it.

Hector would find Rose in time for the wedding.

He must.

Guilt nipped at her as the coach moved through the gates of Wycliffe Park and turned onto the London road. She should be worried, not excited, but she was. She would see the sights of London, visit the fashionable shops, and stay in Lord Bryant’s town house. And she would see the notorious Devil of Temberlay in the flesh. That promised to be an adventure in itself, and perhaps the one she was looking forward to most of all.

Chapter 4

L
ady Julia Leighton lifted her heavy veil and got to her feet as Nicholas entered the salon. He noted the dark circles under her eyes, made all the more startling by her pallor.

He crossed and kissed her forehead, and escorted her to a comfortable seat. “Have you been waiting long?” he asked gently.

His brother’s fiancée had been heavily pregnant the last time he’d seen her, just days after his arrival home in London. She’d written to him to explain why she’d betrayed David with another man, and to ask for help. He’d gone to see her, given her money, arranged for a house, a midwife, and a nurse for the child. He could not see her as a fallen woman. Julia had always been like a sister to him, and if things had been different, she would have been David’s wife and Duchess of Temberlay. His mouth twisted. He had always pictured Julia in that role, but now a stranger, his own unknown, unwanted bride, would take her place. He sat across from Julia to stem the sudden rage he felt.

“The child is well?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you,” she smiled. “He’s growing very fast. I’ve come to say good-bye, Nick. I’m leaving London. My father found out where I was staying and insists that I cannot remain in Town. In fact he prefers I leave England.” She looked up at him with a sad smile. “He told everyone I was dead, you see. My ghost walking the streets of Mayfair would be a rather difficult thing to explain.” She rose to her feet, pulling her dark cloak more closely around her, her hands white flowers on the black velvet. “I owe you my thanks for all you’ve done—” She choked back a sob. “You’ve been most kind, Nicholas, in spite of everything.”

He rose as well. He couldn’t let her go this way. He’d known Julia since she was a child. She and David had been betrothed on her eighth birthday. He’d been as shocked as anyone else, but he didn’t only blame her. “Where will you go?”

“Perhaps France, now the war is over,” she said with false brightness. “Maybe Italy. My own grand tour.”

“With a two-month-old child?”

Her smile fled. “I just wanted you to know that I regret what I did, Nicholas, my stupid, foolish behavior. I hurt David, and my parents. But I do not regret Jamie. My son is the love of my life. I thought my father might—accept him, after my brother’s death, but he only wants me dead too.”

He stared at the uncertainty in her face, visible in her eyes, even if she kept her jaw set with fierce determination. She didn’t have a clue where she was going.

He took her hands. Her fingers were ice in his. “Julia, don’t leave Town just yet. Wait a few days. I’ll make some arrangements—”

“You’ve done far too much already,” she said, and tried to pull her hand free, but he refused to give it up.

“My brother loved you.”

There was doubt in her eyes. “Did he? Like a sister, perhaps. It’s my fault he’s dead. He fought that duel for my honor, although I had no honor left to fight for. He’d be alive if I hadn’t—”

“He would have married you anyway if he lived.”

She raised her chin, and curled her fingers in his. He felt the scrape of her nails on his palm. “I would not have let him.”

Despite her downfall from earl’s daughter to ruined woman, she was still the girl he remembered. The blackguard who seduced her had suffered no such fate.

“Tell me his name, Julia,” he asked again. “Who is Jamie’s father? Was he the man David challenged?”

“It doesn’t matter, Nick. I have not seen him since that night—” She shut her eyes, blushed. “What would you do if you knew? Another foolish duel? I could not bear it if you were killed too, for my stupidity.”

The blush added color to her pale face for a moment, made her look like the pretty woman she’d always been.

“Then allow me to speak to your father again.”

“No. I cannot bear to see the disgust in his eyes again.”

Desperation filled him, a need to protect her. “Then marry me, Julia.”

It would fix everything, surely. With Julia by his side, as his duchess, his wife, being Duke of Temberlay might be bearable. She was his friend, his sister.

He realized at once it was a mistake.

She looked up in surprise, her dark eyes wide. Then she smiled sadly. “I hear you’re already betrothed, Nicholas. And your grandmother would never allow you to marry a fallen woman. I thank you for the offer, but no.”

Frustration warred with relief in Nicholas’s breast. He didn’t want to marry anyone. He wanted exactly what he couldn’t have, the past back again.

She set his hand aside and got to her feet, lowering the veil again, moving toward the door. “I hope you find happiness in your marriage.”

“Wait,” he said. “Promise me you’ll wait a few days, Julia. Don’t leave London yet. Let me make some inquiries.”

She lowered her eyes to her hands. “Thank you. I find I must accept your kindness yet again. I really must learn to stand on my own two feet. Three days, then I must be gone.”

When she’d gone, he wondered what might have happened if she had accepted his proposal. It would have been so simple, so tidy, for both of them, a comfortable, companionable union. But Julia was right, his grandmother would never accept her now. Instead, he was tied to a woman he’d never even met. Anger flared again at the senseless mess David’s death had created.

He poured a glass of whisky and stared into the amber depths, and thought of the bride his grandmother had chosen for him, a woman willing to take a husband she’d never met for a fortune and a title. How was that any less terrible than what Julia had done?

He set the drink down untouched. His bride didn’t realize what she was getting along with that fortune. The new duchess had indeed made a deal with the devil.

He’d make her earn every penny.