Ladies of Deception 03 - Betraying the Highwayman (22 page)

Friday, July 1, 1814

Devon felt exhausted as he arrived at the duke's townhouse. He had come to call on Elenore, but he wanted to speak to Pierce in private before he saw her. The butler led him to Pierce's study where he was waiting for him.

“It's about time you came to call on your betrothed,” Pierce said upon his entering the room.

“It's only been two days since I've seen her last,” Devon pointed out.

“Well you don't have any time to waste, if you want it to appear like you're earnestly courting the girl.”

Shrugging Devon said, “I couldn't care less about keeping up pretenses. It's too exhausting.”

“Truthfully, neither can I. But for Miss Ogglesby's sake, it needs to be done.” Devon wasn't heartless. He did care about the girl, more than he rightfully should. He was just hurt that she hadn't cared enough about him to be truthful with him.

“If I can be honest with you for a moment, I have to say this whole ordeal has left me feeling rather foolish.”

“Why is that?” Pierce asked.

“Because it seems that every woman in my life has deceived me, and I've been too blind to realize it.”

“Every woman?” Pierce asked skeptically.

“Well maybe not every single one, but first there were my own sisters and now Miss Ogglesby. I sincerely believed she was a nun.”

“It's not your fault that you are believing. I apologize that you got entangled in this mess, but as her guardian, you must see why I have to make sure the proper thing is done. If her brother ever learned that she had been staying at your house unchaperoned, he'd be furious and demand the same thing as I am.”

“I know, and I don't fault you. I fault myself for being so blind.”

The men sat in silence for a moment before Pierce finally asked, “Why are you letting her betrayal bother you so badly? She kept up a pretense in hopes of being able to do as she wished, to keep her new-found freedom from being taken away. It wasn't a personal assault on your character.”

Devon sat back and propped one leg over his other thigh. “Don't you remember how it felt when you found out that Hope had lied to you?”

Pierce smiled. “Yes, I suppose I do, but once I learned the truth I could understand why she did it.”

“Well, I know the truth, and I don't understand.” Anger laced his voice and Pierce reeled back, shocked by his emotional outburst.

“Is there a reason you feel so emotional about all of this?”

Devon wasn't accustomed to talking with anyone about his innermost feelings, but found he couldn't keep it in any longer. “Yes,” he leaned forward. “Because I began to care for her deeply during the time we spent together, and all the while I hated myself because I knew I was wrong for allowing myself to feel that way about a nun. I was constantly consumed with guilt, and she could have wiped away my self loathing by telling me the truth.”

“Do you still care for her?” Pierce asked pointedly.

Devon thought a moment before exhaling slowly and nodding. “Yes, but she doesn't care for me. I tried to convince her to leave her life as a nun behind but she always refused.”

“Don't you see? She couldn't have agreed to give up her charade no matter how tempted she was. She had to have known, if she told you the truth, that you would have done the right thing and demanded she return to her guardian, and you would be in the same situation as you are in now. I suggest...”

Before Pierce could finish his thought, Simon gently pushed the door open and stuck in his head. “Excuse me, your grace, but your company is requested by your wife. She wanted me to relay the message that your daughters miss their father, and she insists you come rectify the problem at once.”

Pierce chuckled, “It would be my pleasure.” When Simon had left, Pierce turned once more to Devon. “Don't waste your time being miserable. If you truly care about Miss Ogglesby, find a way to make it work. If you spend your life striving to make her happy, you're life will be happy in return.”

Devon watched Pierce leave, letting his advice sink into his soul. He found it ironic that he felt so miserable, when a few weeks ago, he would have given anything to be in the position he was in now, to be marrying the woman he had grown to love. But it would have been different then, he rationalized. If she had chosen to marry him of her own free will instead of being forced into the arrangement, he would have been happy. The root of his unhappiness was not so much that she had lied to him, but that she did not return his feelings. The last thing he had wanted was to be stuck in a marriage without any love.

He had many things to think about, but in the meantime, he needed to call on Miss Ogglesby, Elenore as he had recently learned was her real name. He returned to the main hall and asked the butler to inform her of his presence. He was shown into the drawing room where he stood by the hearth and glanced out the window, counting five passing carriages before he heard the door open and turned to see Elenore.

She was dressed in a lavender day dress, her hair coiled at the nape of her neck with ringlets framing her face. She looked every bit a real lady, albeit the sad expression on her face. She looked as miserable as he felt. Neither of them spoke to each other as the maid brought in tea and positioned it on the table before them.

When they were once more alone, Elenore walked towards the tea service. “Would you like me to pour?”

“No thank you. I don't care for any right now.”

She set the teapot down without pouring. “Me either.” After fidgeting with her gloves, Elenore finally looked directly at Devon. “I know you don't believe me, but I really am sorry about everything. I never meant to hurt you by lying to you, and I certainly never meant to trick you into marriage. That's why I am going to talk to the duke and see if he'd be willing to release you from your obligation.”

Devon reeled back. “He'll never allow it. That would cause an even greater scandal for you. You may never recover.”

“It won't matter if I'm not here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I've prepared a letter to send to my brother seeking for him to grant me permission to sail to America where I can start a new life with my aunt.”

Devon groaned in frustration. Walking over to where she was standing, he took her shoulders in his hand and shook her gently. “Is that all you care about, going to America?”

Her eyes widened at the contact. “No, that's not all I care about but it's the only way I can think of to make you happy. If you didn't have to marry me, you could find another woman, someone you actually loved, someone with a large dowry to help set your estate to rights.”

Devon exhaled. Sliding to the ground in front of Elenore, he cupped her face with his hands, forcing her to look at him. She was customarily gnawing on her bottom lip, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I don't need to marry someone because of their large dowry, not anymore. With Lord Grayson and my uncle out of the picture, I trust that my father won't be losing nearly as much money at the gaming tables. Of course, it'll take some time to build up the estate after all he has lost, and I'm sure it'll take a continual effort on my part to keep him from slipping back into his bad habit, but I'm confident it can be done.”

“I'm very pleased for you,” she said sincerely, before the conversation lapped into an awkward silence.

Devon let his hands slip from her face and watched her, wishing she would return to her old, expressive self. The sad look on her lovely face and the uncharacteristic absence of expression saddened him. His heart clenched with agony as he realized that her unhappiness was due to the fact that she was being forced to wed him when she didn't desire to do so. Spending his entire life with a despondent and sad Elenore, living with the constant regrets of what could have been, suddenly seemed more painful than spending a lifetime without her.

Devon shot to his feet at the realization and vowed that something must be done. He couldn't ruin her spirit like that. “I must get going. Can I call on you tomorrow?”

Without raising her face to meet his, she said, “It won't be necessary to keep up pretenses. I plan on speaking with his grace immediately, and with any luck, you'll be released from your obligation soon. Then you can be free to do with your life as you wish.”

“Very well,” he said, as he bowed courteously before her. “Then I shall be on my way.” Elenore blinked several times to keep the tears at bay, as she watched Devon's lean body walk stiffly out of the room. It killed her inside to turn him away, knowing her life would never be complete without him in it but unwilling to make him unhappy in the process.

She sat for a long time on the settee, her throat aching with the emotions she was trying to suppress. She needed to speak with the duke immediately and beg him to consider her wishes, that she be free to go to America and release Devon from their betrothal, and she needed all the courage she could muster to go to him. Retaining some of her acquired habits from her brief time spent disguised as a nun, Elenore bowed her head and silently prayed for the strength to see her through.

Saturday, July 2, 1814

It took Elenore an entire day to muster up the courage to seek out the duke to share her plan with him in hopes of seeking his approval. Though he and the duchess had always treated her with kindness, she found that she was extremely intimidated by his large stature and commanding presence and dreaded the conversation she knew she must have with him.

She purposefully lingered in the breakfast room until he showed up to break his fast. He entered the room and looked at her in surprise, one dark brow raised but remained silent. Elenore pushed the remainder of her eggs around on her plate nervously, as she waited for him to fill his plate up from the selection of food on the sidebar and settle himself in the chair at the head of the table.

Spreading the linen napkin out on his lap, he reached for his fork and began eating his meal. Elenore inhaled a long, calming breath through her nose before speaking. “Is this a good time to speak to you about my future?”

Pierce lowered his fork to his plate, wiping his mouth with the corner of his napkin. “By future, I assume you are implying your upcoming wedding to Lord Bridgerton?”

“That's just it. I'm not sure that I can...”

Just then, Simon walked in interrupting what she was about to say. “A missive just came for Miss Ogglesby.”

“And it could not have waited?” Pierce asked, a tinge of irritability lacing his voice.

“I'm afraid not. The man who delivered it said it's of utmost importance.”

“Very well, then give her the note.” Simon obediently did as he said, walking over to place the folded missive in Elenore's hands.

Elenore turned the note over in her hands hoping to garner some information as to who it could be from.

“Just open it and find out what it says,” Pierce ordered impatiently.

Elenore obeyed his command, breaking the seal on the note and unfolding it to read the contents. The letter was brief but direct, the contents of the missive causing her heart to stop, before falling to the bottom of her stomach. Despair washed over her, threatening to consume her completely.

Pierce watched as Miss Ogglesby's face paled, her hands shaking as she lowered the now-read missive slowly to the table. She lifted her face to his, her brown eyes haunted. “What's the matter? What did the letter say?” He asked, worry creasing his brow.

In a small voice barely above a whisper she answered him. “Paul is dead.”

“No!” he exhaled in one breath. His hands went up to rake through his hair, the knowledge of his friend's death momentarily rendering him speechless. Finally, he found his voice. “What happened?”

Elenore sat eerily still, her voice flat and emotionless. “Apparently right after he left London he was sent under the direction of Sir Thomas Graham to Holland to capture the fortress of Bergen op Zoom. The mission failed and there were many casualties, Paul being one of them.”

“But that was nearly four months ago!”

“Evidently they tried to send word of his...” she paused to gulp as if the words were too much for her to speak out loud, opting to not voice the reality of what had happened. “They sent word to our house in Bristol, but nobody was there to receive it. It took some time for them to find where I was.”

Pierce nodded his understanding, unsure of what to do or say to comfort her. Before he had a chance to string together a sympathetic sentiment, Elenore had risen from her seat, leaving the missive abandoned next to her half eaten food. “I need some time to myself,” she explained as she slipped from the room, a hallow shell of the girl she once was.

Elenore headed down the hall, pulling the hem of her dress up to her ankles as her pace quickened. An overwhelming sadness consumed her once the numbness had worn off causing her to increase her pace from a brisk walk to an unladylike run. The only thought that filled her was the thought of escape, she had to get out of the house, far away from the horror she had encountered inside.

Simon eyed her curiously as she advanced down the hall, but Elenore ignored him. He stumbled to pull the door open, but she had beat him to it, swinging it wide open and stepping into the morning sunshine, though the warmth of the sun failed to penetrate her cold heart.

She blindly stumbled down the walk, as the tears she had held back in front of the duke came pouring out in rivers. The warmth of the tears stung her skin, as they fell down her cheeks and rolled down the silky column of her neck, disappearing into the top of her gown. She didn't even bother reaching up to wipe them away, she just let them flow freely, obliterating her vision.

She stopped as she felt herself plow into something solid and felt strong arms reach out to brace her from falling. A strangled sob broke from her throat as she tried to break free from the stranger.

“What's the matter?” Devon's familiar voice washed over her, but instead of causing her comfort, it only caused her heart to constrict painfully within her chest, reminding her that she had lost everyone that she loved.

When she didn't respond, shaking wildly from the sobs racking her body, Devon encircled his arms about her, reaching his hand up to guide her head to his chest. She didn't fight him but allowed him to hold her, too weak to fight. It seemed as if her tears would never end, her heart would never be repaired. She desperately clung to Devon's shirtfront, it being the only thing keeping her from falling to the ground in a crumpled mess.

When her tears had abated somewhat, he gently guided her to his carriage, anxious to be alone with her so they could talk, so he could find out the reason behind her heartache, but also anxious to remove her from the prying eyes of the public.

Elenore blindly followed him inside his carriage, sitting dejectedly on the seat next to him. Once more, he pulled her tightly to his chest, his long fingers stroking her face then neck in a soothing manner.

“Can you tell me what is wrong?” he gently pried, anxious to know what was causing her such grief and sincerely hoping it wasn't him. He felt her jaw clench and unclench against his chest, as she struggled to keep her emotions at bay. He was patient, waiting for her to speak when she felt like she was ready.

“My brother was killed in the war,” she finally spurted out. It hurt just as bad to say it as it had to read it, and she wondered if the pain would ever cease.

His grip on her tightened, “Oh El, I'm so sorry.”

“He was the only person left who loved me,” she sobbed.

Devon's heart clenched inside his chest. He wished he could take her pain upon himself, to suffer on her behalf so she wouldn't have to. Instead he chose to be truthful with her, with himself. “That's not true—I love you.”

Elenore's head snapped up, her watery brown eyes wide in surprise. “But I lied to you. I hurt you...how could you?”

“That's true, you did,” he answered honestly. “Why did you do it? Why did you lie to me? Why didn't you tell me the truth about who you were when you found out I was Black Lightening?”

Elenore didn't feel as if she had the emotional stamina to endure such a conversation, but she knew it wouldn't be fair to Devon to leave his questions unanswered. “I thought about it Devon, honestly I did, but the consequences of you finding out were too much to bear. You would have forced me to come back to London, and I wouldn't have been able to go to my aunt. You don't understand because this is where you belong, this is where your family is, but it's not home to me, and I'm lonely here.” Her voice cracked and his heart broke. “I thought that maybe if I could get to my aunt I would feel as if I belonged. I had hoped it would ease my loneliness to be around somebody who loved me and wanted me, to share my life with family.”

The sadness in her voice tugged at Devon's heartstrings. He had no idea she felt the way she did. He wondered how it would be if he had no family, and he could begin to understand some of her sadness. His heart began to thaw towards her. Pulling her into his arms he couldn't help but ask, “Do you really think you'd be happier in America?”

“I don't know, but I do know that staying here and having you hate me forever would kill me.”

“Oh sweet, Elenore, I don't hate you. I never hated you. What I hate is how I spent so much time consumed by guilt, feeling as if I had done something wrong, and you never once were honest with me when you knew you could have alleviated that burden.”

“For what it's worth, I had decided I was going to tell you the night of Lord Grayson's dinner party, when I realized how much I had come to care for you. But you were so disappointed when we couldn't find your father's money. You had finally agreed that you would need to marry for money, and I knew then that I couldn't tell you. My dowry is so small. It would never have helped your financial position and I knew then that you couldn't be with me.”

He was beginning to understand more fully the dilemma she had struggled with. “If you had told me that you returned my feelings I wouldn't have hesitated to marry you, large dowry or no. I've never wanted an arranged marriage. I just felt like it was my last resort.”

Elenore looked at him sadly, her wet eyelashes kissing her cheeks as she blinked rapidly in an attempt to fight back another onslaught of tears. “And now you have one.”

“Don't you see.” He grabbed her forcefully, pulling her face close to his face. “I wanted you. I still want you, but I don't want you like this. I don't want you to be forced to be my wife, to regret our union for the rest of your days. I wanted you to come willingly, because you love me.”

Could it be true? She searched his face, his creamy brown eyes intently searching her own. “Oh Devon,” she sighed. “I do love you. I love you so much that I didn't want you to be married to me out of obligation. I wanted you to be happy.”

His heart soared at her declaration. “You love me?” he asked, needing to hear the words from her lips once more to reassure him that it was true.

“I do, for quite some time now. I'm sorry I was too scared to tell you the truth.”

He bent his head, needing to feel her lips on his own. The kiss was tender and bespoke of emotions long suppressed but just freshly voiced. He nuzzled into her neck, kissing a trail of whisper-soft kisses along the trail of tears that had run down her throat. It felt so good to kiss her with only the deep emotion of love consuming him, the warring guilt that had previously been present during their romantic encounters noticeably absent.

She reached forward, placing her hands along his jaw and pulling his face up to hers. She planted sweet, searing kisses along his jaw before returning to taste his chiseled lips, perfectly formed and pressing madly against hers. It amazed her that she could feel such extreme emotions at the same time—an all consuming grief and an even more overpowering sense of love and belonging.

Pulling back from his addicting lips, she kept her face close as she whispered a confession that was troubling her, “It feels so odd to be alone, to have no one to call family.”

“You're my family now. You'll never be alone.”

“Do you mean that?” She asked hopefully, searching his eyes for the truth.

“With all my heart,” he confessed huskily as he took her lips captive once more, showing her just how serious he was.