Obsession Wears Opals (30 page)

Chapter

27

White’s wasn’t the sort of club to allow anyone to just stroll in to bother one of its members. But Darius wrote out a short note and waited in the entranceway, confident that he’d get just such an invitation. He’d spent the day after meeting the real Mrs. Netherton in a strange marathon of activities and fallen asleep on Michael’s sofa well after midnight. But all his preparations were made and it was midafternoon when he arrived at the gentleman’s club to wait one last time.

I wonder what portion of my life I’ve spent on the edges of these clubs? Good enough to run some rich man’s errands or research some academic society’s projects but never good enough to take my place inside.

After only a few minutes, the butler returned to show him up to a small private room off the main club’s first floor.

Netherton’s face was so red he was nearly purple as he came through the doors. “What game is this? Let’s have it, stable boy, for I’m moments away from calling for the authorities and demanding your arrest. I knew that bit about the book was a ruse but I was too distracted to squelch you like I should have. So what is this now? Is this—a new hoax?”

“Is it? I have a certified statement from the bishop at St. Bride’s, Lord Netherton. It seems many of your friends missed the occasion and I thought you’d want to show off your lovely wife. I thought you’d be pleased. Didn’t you say you’d lost a bride? But I’ve found her for you. Shall we order a toast?”

“You son of a bitch! I’ll see you dead before you—”

“Really? That’s your counter? As if I uncovered it alone or didn’t think to make sure that enough of my friends are aware of the situation? You’ll just kill me and it will all magically go away?”

“What do you want?”

“What I want and what I’m going to ask of you are two different things. What I want is for you to suffer every torment imaginable in a slow, icy dark that guarantees that you’ll never harm another human being again. But what I’m going to ask is that you annul your marriage to Isabel Penleigh. It is, of course, technically not a legal match, but things are so much simpler if you are the one that petitions for her release and we avoid making your true marriage to Jane Chambers known to the papers. It would be quite the splash, don’t you agree?”

“
Annul
my marriage to Isabel?”

“Here.” Darius held out a set of folded legal documents. “I’ve drafted everything with the help of an experienced attorney and I have a carriage waiting to take you to see the archbishop.”

“On what grounds am I
supposedly
annulling this marriage?”

“On the grounds that you were impotent and unable to consummate the marriage.”

“Screw you!”

Darius slowly smiled. “I wonder what your peers will make of the
first
Lady Netherton. She seems like such a delightful creature. And I’m sure they’ll be ever so forgiving about your fraudulent scheme to take a second wife for her fortune and, what was the phrase? ‘Use her up fast and bury her’?”

The look on Richard’s face was terrifying as it calmed into an unreadable quiet rage. “She is hardly a reliable witness.”

“She doesn’t need to be. We have your signature and the word of a bishop. And there are other witnesses. You’d have to murder every whore you’ve ever touched at this point, your lordship, and I’m not sure you have the stamina or the time.”

“I
can’t
annul the marriage. There are . . . reasons.”

“Ah, the money.” Darius’s tone betrayed his disgust. “Keep it. In exchange for your agreement, the contract states that there will be no retribution or effort made to sue you for repayment of her fortunes. Off the record, nor will we expose your true wife to the public eye. So you see, you get what you wanted all along and I’m the one who must live with the disappointment of thinking you’re still somewhere rich and happy.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to have a reason not to let her go. Because even with prison and scandal hanging over your head, you might just be vindictive enough to make the wrong choice. Because as much as I hate you, I love her more.”

“You? You
love
her? You think the daughter of a marquis is going to—what?
Marry
you? Is that what this is about? Did she come to you and beg you to save her?” Netherton laughed. “You’re a fool! Her parents will cut her off without a penny for this no matter what that paper says—involving herself with some mutt of a bookworm after fleeing the match that they endorsed and promoted? You gain nothing! Not a farthing!”

“Then you agree to let her go.”

“Cheerfully! You’ve saved me the trouble of snapping her neck and kicking her body down a flight of stairs! I have everything I wanted from the exchange and my freedom back to boot! But Isabel will have nothing but ruin! By all means, tell her I said that I wish her every happiness in her newfound poverty and exile. Annulment or divorce, the consequences are the same. No one will take her cards and every door in London will be shut against her.”

“I’ll meet you at the archbishop’s within the hour. There must be witnesses to the signing and no question of the legalities,” Darius said as evenly as he could, holding out the address to the church.

“Fuck you.” Richard snatched the card from his hand and threw it on the ground. “I know where it is!”

Darius pointedly ignored him, blinking as if he were listening to a horse bray. But before Netherton stormed off, he caught his sleeve. “One more thing.”

Netherton’s look of rage and astonishment was unparalleled. “Besides the insanity you’ve already enforced?”

Darius nodded calmly. “The horse. Samson. How much?”

Netherton’s expression changed to something akin to a cobra’s before a strike. “I’ll see him shot and ground to paste before I sell him to you, Thorne. But if you’d like, I can send him to her in a box with my compliments.”

“Pardon the interruption.” Galen Hawke’s voice was level but there was no mistaking the look of contempt on his face. “I didn’t realize this room was occupied.”

“I apologize, Lord Winters.” Darius turned away from Netherton in surprise.

“It’s a private conversation,” Netherton growled at the unexpected intrusion. “But one that has come to an end.”

“Has it?” Galen asked with a cold smile. “Did I hear you refuse to sell a horse?”

“Yes. As I said, a private conversation to—”

“Sell it to me,” Galen said softly.

“What?” Netherton’s confusion was complete. “You don’t even know if it’s a pony or a sorrel, sir. Why would you make such a ridiculous offer?”

“If it galls Thorne, I’d pay any price.” Galen cast a single look of brutal loathing in Darius’s direction and Darius immediately knew the game and played along.

“Winters, you bastard! Keep out of this!” Darius protested.

Netherton’s eyes lit with pleasure. “I see you’ve made a habit of angering your betters, Thorne.” Richard gave Galen his complete attention, dismissing Darius. “It’s a fine horse, a stallion, and I’ll give him to you for a mere twenty pounds.”

Galen arched one eyebrow. “Twenty pounds?”

Netherton laughed. “To make it all the sweeter knowing the bookworm could probably have afforded it and will still be denied the beast! There’ll be no parting gift to his ladylove and I’ll have the satisfaction of the last blow.”

Darius started to protest but Galen asked, “Where is this creature?”

“In my stables here in London. Send a man and you can take possession of him today.”

Darius shuddered, thinking of just how close Samson had come to destruction.

Galen shrugged and immediately pulled out his wallet and the two men stepped over to a side table to draw up a quick bill of sale for the stallion as Galen secured a card with an address where the horse was being boarded. “I am happy to oblige and put a little salt in the wound if I can.”

Richard signed it with a flourish and pocketed the twenty-pound note. “Tell me, Winters, what did Thorne ever do to you to make an enemy?”

Galen’s emerald eyes darkened dangerously and he stiffened his back. “I will never tell a living soul.”

Netherton smirked and looked over at Darius standing by the windows. “I leave here a wealthy man, unencumbered and untouched, Thorne. Oh, and one twenty-pound note in my pocket that guarantees the whore
never
forgives you for not securing her darling’s keeping. I’ll see you shortly at the church, Thorne, and insist that you smile while I make the better bargain. Good day, gentlemen!”

Netherton walked out with the jaunty walk of a man who had won the day, and only when the door closed behind him did Galen speak again.

“Tell me why I can’t strangle that man, Darius.”

“There’s an inconvenient law forbidding murder . . . but don’t ask me to quote it because at the moment I’m struggling to remember it myself.” Darius knelt down, his hands shaking, to begin to gather the papers.

Galen immediately knelt next to him to help. “And I bought a horse. . . .” Galen shook his head in disbelief. “I’ll send a special courier for him right away since I have the feeling that Lord Netherton might decide he’ll enjoy carrying out his grisly threats more than that ridiculous bit of money.”

“You overheard that? However did you manage to be here? I mean—I’m so grateful I’m having trouble speaking, Hawke.”

“Rutherford. He sent a runner as soon as you’d arrived. Said you might need a bit of titled help inside White’s and I was the man for it.” Galen held out the sheets he’d collected. “Here.”

“Thank you, Galen.” Darius took the papers and let out a long, slow sigh of relief. “And may I say, you are quite intimidating when you set your mind to it.”

“And when I don’t try, if my wife is to be believed,” Galen agreed with a smile that softened the saturnine cast of his features. “Haley seems to find it charming when I try to growl her out of things.”

The men stood and Darius folded the precious documents he’d sacrificed so much to get. The bargain was struck, and if Netherton kept his word and met him at the church . . .

Almost there.

“You look like hell, Thorne.” Galen eyed him cautiously. “When’s the last time you slept?”

“I have to go. I have to take the documents and see this thing through. I’ll sleep later when Isabel is free.”

“Let me come with you,” Galen offered.

“No.” Darius stepped back. “You can’t play the role of my enemy and then show up to demonstrate moral support. Everything hangs by a thread and I can’t risk it. Please just get Samson.”

“Samson?” Galen’s brow furrowed.

“Your twenty-pound purchase.”

“Ah! Forget the courier. I’ll see to it personally and meet you later.”

The men shook hands and Darius left quickly to find Rutherford outside with the carriage, awaiting the final leg of a journey that Darius at once longed for and dreaded. Every step he took was fueled by pure adrenaline and the bright hope that after all the feints and false starts, his endgame strategy was about to pay off.

Check and mate, Netherton.

May you rot in hell!

Chapter

28

Isabel pressed her fingertips against her temples and sighed. Daisy was patiently trying to weave a rose-colored ribbon through her curls, and offering what comfort she could.

“If it’s a headache, I’ll bring up a treatment, madam,” Daisy offered softly. “Mr. Godwin keeps a locked cupboard of remedies he gets from Dr. West. Doesn’t trust an apothecary to any of it! I know for a fact there’s a lovely syrup for headaches since Dr. West suffers them terribly! Poor man.”

“No.” Isabel straightened her back and smiled. “I was just . . . thinking.”

“You worry too much, if you don’t mind me saying. Perhaps a breath of fresh air? It’s a touch of spring today and as blue a sky as a heart could ask for to—”

There was a soft knock on the door and then Caroline slipped in.

Isabel gasped in shock at the sight of her friend roaming about with her swollen belly. “Caroline!”

“Mrs. Blackwell!” Daisy squealed unhappily. “If Godwin hears you out of bed, he’ll skin us all!”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Mr. Godwin is as gentle as a lamb and it’s not him I’m worried about. I just need a moment with my friend alone, please. Daisy, please go and keep watch for—”

Mrs. Clark’s knock was brisk and unmistakable before she came into the room. “Madam! Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Out of bed and risking the stairs in your condition?”

Caroline groaned in frustration. “Mrs. Clark. What a bother! I feel hale enough to skip up and down all the staircases in London if—”

Isabel caught at her sleeve. “Please, Caroline. Indulge your husband’s love of you and your physician’s caution and don’t get me into trouble. Lamb or no, I’d rather not face Mr. Godwin.”

“Very well. I just needed to delivered this note and I’ll tiptoe back like a child caught in the kitchens.” Caroline held out a small ivory square of folded paper. “It was an excuse to escape and the exercise has done me a world of good. I apologize for the broken seal but it was misdirected to me thanks to Mr. Thorne’s horrible handwriting. Apparently
s
and
b
are too wretchedly close for the upstairs footman.”

Isabel took the note from her, smiling. “It takes some practice to discern. Thank you, Caroline.”

Caroline left without any further protest, with Daisy and Mrs. Clark escorting her back to her nest on the second floor. Isabel shook her head as she listened to Mrs. Clark’s gentle chiding echoing down the hall before opening the note to read.

Mrs. S—

Meet me in the back garden.

—D

Isabel pocketed the note and ran down the stairs, anxious to see Darius and discover what such a summons might mean. He’d been gone for nearly two days and it was unlike him. Her fear had been palpable, and despite his assurances that she’d not done irreparable damage by writing her mother, she couldn’t help but worry that some great harm had befallen Darius.

Just as Daisy had described, the day was bright and the sky a limitless blue, but Isabel took almost no notice of any of it as she lifted her skirts to hurry across the garden path to find him against the far wall near the entrance to the stable’s courtyard.

“Darius! Is something wrong?”

He shook his head slowly as she came closer.

“You’re free.” Darius’s chest ached at the words, at the sight of Isabel running toward him, a vision of elusive beauty and incredible survival.

“My God. Is that possible?” Her steps slowed as she reached him at last. “Truly?”

“Truly.” He folded her against his chest, inhaling the soft scent of her hair and skin. “You are no longer his wife.”

“How?” She pushed away gently, eager to understand. “I know it’s been weeks but this seems sudden. Did you uncover scandal enough to convince him? How did you make him to relent?”

Darius nodded. “I wish I could say it was through sheer brilliance, but I stumbled onto a solution to surprise us all. He’d secretly married his mistress years ago, and his alliance with you was some kind of twisted greedy game to refill his coffers. He married you for the dowry and intended to . . . get you out of the way before long.”

Instead of growing even paler as he’d expected, her cheeks flushed with roses at her fury. “He is the worst villain of all men!”

“He is.” Darius sighed.

“So he’s agreed to divorce me.” She squared her shoulders as if preparing to take on a great weight. “There will still be a scandal but I don’t care.”

“No, no divorce. The marriage is to be annulled. The archbishop agreed and Netherton swore before witnesses just an hour ago that the marriage was invalid and that he never touched you.”

“N-never . . .”

“I forced him to say he was impotent and incapable of fulfilling his duties.”

Isabel’s eyes widened in shock. “It’s—miraculous! I cannot believe he would readily agree to say such a thing, even if you had a knife to his throat!”

“He didn’t cheerfully surrender. Even with the threat of exposing his bigamy, he didn’t go down without exacting a price.”

“A price?” she asked softly.

“He’s to keep your dowry, Isabel.” He squeezed her hands in his, doing his best to anchor her against the blows. “If I didn’t concede, he could have dragged it out endlessly and you’d have been the one to suffer from the worst of public scrutiny and exposure. I couldn’t allow it. I couldn’t imagine allowing you to be—violated and wounded like that. You are not a woman to be pitied, and I knew you didn’t want to ever be seen like that.”

“You cannot protect me from . . .” Isabel’s eyes lowered to look at her hands in his. “People will think whatever they want but I’m beyond Richard’s grasp. Even penniless, I am better off.”

“You aren’t penniless.” Darius pulled out one more folded document and pressed it into her hands. “Here is an estimate from Mr. Cavendish on a set of stones I left in his trust. The money is yours.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

His brow furrowed. “If it isn’t enough, you are welcome to all I have to—”

“I cannot simply take your money! Are you . . . paying me to step aside?”

“God, no! I just . . .” Darius took a deep steadying breath. “I want you to have the means to have whatever life you choose. Independent of anyone, even me.”

“If I take your money, I hardly see how that makes me independent!” Isabel crossed her arms. “You’ve somehow gotten Richard to agree to an annulment and now you wish to provide for my financial future?”

“I wanted . . . you to have as many choices as possible for your future.”

“Choices.” Isabel reached out to touch his face. “Why do I have the feeling that you are stepping back?”

He captured her hand, pressing her fingers against his cheek to savor the contact of her flesh to his. “I’ve never loved you more.”

“But? Why do I hear hesitation in your voice?”

“Because I can see the whole board. Because I can see all the pieces in motion.” Darius kissed the palm of her hand, his lips lingering against the warm well of her skin. “I love you so much it makes my bones ache. But my life . . . the quiet of libraries and the smell of books. Where is the music? You’re so young. I’m afraid you’ll miss the dancing, Isabel. Perhaps not right away, but in time, when the dullness of a scholar’s existence cements like walls around you, and you’ll remember all those glittering balls and sweeping social engagements and regret that you settled for a humble man who is terrified of even simple country dances.”

“I’ve already walked away from all of that!”

He smiled. “For a time. But you could recover that world, if you wanted to. Even without your parents’ blessing, you are a celebrated beauty, and with a little bit of strategy, you could have the Ton at your feet.” He let out a long, slow exhale. “You didn’t think you would have that chance, Isabel. I don’t want you to throw it away before you’ve genuinely considered all your options.”

She pulled her hand from his, her eyes snapping with fury. “Stop counseling me like this is some game!”

He shook his head. “You are the queen on the board, Isabel. You must look before you move. I don’t think I could survive it if later you thought you’d run blindly from one situation to another and forfeited your future. I want you to be sure that you haven’t mistaken gratitude for something more.”

“Gr-gratitude? You think that gratitude is the basis of all that has passed between us?”

He shook his head slowly. “No. God, no. But everything I’ve said about respecting your will, about embracing your independence—I can’t ignore all of it when it suits me. You’re free. Free to do whatever you want, not just to do what I want you to do.”

“So that’s it. You end my marriage and offer me a fortune. You’d give me your home and pay for my care—and where are you in this? Where is your heart? Now that you are finally free to do so, where are your declarations of love?”

“I love you so much I’m willing to let you go.”

“You don’t want me anymore?”

“I want you! But I want you to use your head. If you choose me, be clearheaded. I’m an unemployed academic with a pedigree the village baker could best! On the heels of this annulment, you could avoid the worst of scandal. Your parents may yet amend their stance and apologize for all the harm they caused you. For their own pride’s sake, they may wish to make quite a show of their acceptance and sympathy. Genuine or not, it would be all the support you needed to rewind the clock and begin anew.”

Isabel’s look wavered between astonishment and anger. “You’re impossible, Darius Thorne! Pushing me around and making foolish pronouncements about your worthiness! You think you’re the only one clever enough to have any perspective? To see beyond the surface of things and to understand what’s at stake?”

He slowly shook his head but was unable to speak.

His silence only fueled her fury.

“You think nothing of my happiness! I may not worry about class and blood, but it’s clear to me now that you are the one trapped by prejudice and preconceptions!”

Darius cleared his throat. “I’m not trapped. I’m just more familiar with the ways of the world, Isabel.”

“I don’t care if your parents were pig farmers, you prat of a man! I don’t care! And I said I loved you! Which apparently is also a fact you’ve dismissed in your survey of the game! Well, I don’t wish to play! I’m not a pawn to be protected or ignored! I’ve learned the lesson, Mr. Thorne. I am the most powerful woman on the board and I don’t need you or any man telling me what is best for me or wh-what . . .”

Her tirade suddenly lost steam, a faint confusion clouding her eyes as the sound of a horse’s whinny interrupted her thoughts. “B-but that’s impossible. . . .”

She turned on her heel and ran toward the stable adjoining the garden only to be confronted with the sight of a very impatient and anxious Samson demonstrating to Ashe’s grooms that he wasn’t about to be pulled or pushed anywhere.

“Samson!” she cried out and, ignoring the fearful warnings of the stablemen, ran forward and threw her arms around his great black neck, sobbing in relief and joy. The stallion’s reaction was equally remarkable as he lowered his head to enjoy every wet kiss she offered him and accept the worship that he considered his due.

Darius watched the scene, pleased to see her happy and miserable at the return of his unreasonable jealousy of his equine rival. He watched them until he couldn’t bear the sight of his beautiful Helen for another second and turned to go.

“Wait.”

Darius froze and Isabel’s hand on his arm pulled him back to face her once again.

“You secured an annulment, negotiated my freedom, took care of all of the legalities, and . . . somehow managed to get Samson in the bargain?” she asked in astonishment. “How?”

“A stroke of luck,” he conceded. “Pure luck.”

“Darius?”

“Yes.”

“It’s the most amazing and thoughtful gesture that anyone has ever made to me. How is it possible that you can solve complex puzzles, master foreign languages, and wield such intellect and then be so blind when it comes to love?”

Darius studied her for a long moment. “I just want you to be happy, Isabel. What if you had everything you ever wanted and it was my selfish desire to be a part of your life that ruined it for you?”

“And what if you’re wrong?” she asked.

“How wrong?”

“
Completely
wrong,” she said with a smile. “How can anyone still think themselves selfish when they’ve sacrificed everything for someone else? My happiness isn’t going to be found at a ball. It isn’t about the balance in my accounts or ribbons and hats and ridiculous parties.”

“Perhaps not but—”

“No. You cannot have it both ways, Darius Thorne. Am I the queen? Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Then stop overriding my wishes. I’m telling you that you are my happiness. I will forfeit anything to have you, Darius, and I will never know a moment of regret.”

“You’re sure?” he asked, a blaze of hope overtaking him.

“I am sure that I tire of living in sin, sir. I am sure that we should marry quickly and here so that my best friend, Mrs. Blackwell, can be in attendance and so that our child can bear the name Thorne with all the pride and pomp it is due.”

“Our child?” he whispered.

“Let’s be clear, Mr. Thorne. I am marrying you because I love you! Not because of . . . circumstances.”

He nodded wordlessly, then finally managed to speak. “But you
are
marrying me.”

Isabel smiled. “Yes.”

“Then that, my dear Helen, is what is known as man’s ultimate victory.”