Silver Splendor (44 page)

“Oh, yes, all those ragged orphans and starving artists.” Drew uttered a self deprecating laugh. “I’m sure they’re far more worthy recipients than I could ever hope to be.”

“Don’t belittle yourself,” she said gently. “It wasn’t fair of my father to leave you without even the funds to repair this place.”

“What’s done is done.” He stared at her from beneath lowered lashes. “I’ve been thinking… I can’t afford to commission your services, but perhaps you’d erect a monument on the grounds in his memory.” As if embarrassed at showing sentiment, he shifted his feet and mumbled, ‘Tradition, you know.”

The suggestion warmed her heart. Had she been wrong about Drew’s character? “I’d be happy to,” she said. “I’m waiting to hear on another commission, but I can certainly start on the design.”

“Hullo, there!” Waving, Cicely scurried through the doorway. “I’ve been waiting in the saloon
forever,”
she said, fluttering her lashes at Drew. “What took you so long?”

‘Congratulate me,” he said, kissing her hand. “I am now officially the Duke of Destitute.”

Cicely tilted her head in confusion. “The Duke of — ? You mean your uncle didn’t leave you any — ?” Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “I don’t mean to pry, Drew.”

Her hand remained clasped in his. “You could never pry, my dear lady,” he said, smiling into her adoring eyes. “Had I the funds, I’d sweep you away to the ends of the earth.”

Troubled, Elizabeth watched the couple. This past week she had been so caught up in the funeral arrangements that she’d paid little heed to Cicely. Clearly the girl still fancied herself in love with Drew.

“Would you care to take a walk in the gardens?” Drew asked.

Cicely’s eyes shone a deep blue. “Oh, yes —”

“Oh, no,” Nicholas said, stepping between the two. “There’s a storm brewing. I wouldn’t want you to get soaked.”

With a squeak of dismay. Cicely yanked her hand back. Drew arched an eyebrow at Nicholas. The men flared at each other. Drew lazily challenging, Nicholas blatantly disapproving.

The storm, Elizabeth decided, threatened to explode inside the house, rather than out. “Perhaps I could chaperone Cicely and Drew. We’ll come back in if it starts to rain.”

Eyes as gray as granite, Nicholas glanced at her. “No,” he said bluntly. “I need to have a word with my sister.”

Cicely’s lips formed a pout. “Can’t it wait, Nick?”

He shook his head. “We’ll talk now. If you’ll excuse us… Your Grace.”

“Far be it from me to cause a family quarrel.” Drew’s churlish expression mellowed as he turned to Cicely. “Until later, my lady.”

“Yes, Drew.”

The worshipful glow in her eyes made Nicholas clench his jaw. Clamping his fingers around his sister’s mauve silk sleeve, he addressed Elizabeth. “Come with us, please.”

She nodded, though by the stiff set of her dainty shoulders, he knew she was annoyed at his highhandedness. At the prospect of soothing her irritation later, his loins tightened and his heart lightened.

Yanking his mind back to Cicely, he drew her out of the library and down a corridor. Elizabeth fell into step beside them, and a thunderclap mingled with the echo of their footfalls.

Cicely tried to break free. “You needn’t manhandle me, Nick. I shan’t run away.”

“Indeed,” he drawled, escorting her into a morning room decorated with the ubiquitous armor and weaponry. “You’ve proven yourself an expert at rash behavior.”

“Oh, pooh.” She sauntered away, hips swaying, as if she were determined to prove herself a woman. “I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of… here.”

Affection and frustration constricted his chest. “You’ve spent the past week flirting with a man who’s known to be a libertine, a gambler, and a fortune hunter.”

“I don’t know why you say such things of Drew.” Sighing dreamily, Cicely leaned against a glass case crowded with knifes. “He’s so very handsome and exciting. And you can’t complain about his social station. He is a duke, after all.”

“With the morals of an alley cat.”

“He acts the perfect gentleman with me.”

Anger boiled inside Nicholas. “Of course. He’s desperate to get his hands on your marriage portion.”

Elizabeth stirred from her stance by a window. “We don’t know that for sure. Perhaps if you were to supervise their meetings —”

His glare cut her short. She stared back coolly.

“Elizabeth is right,” Cicely said, elevating her chin. “Drew cares for me, I know he does. I might not have gotten the looks in the family, but I can still attract a man.”

“Of course you can,” Nicholas said quietly. “That’s not the point.”

“It’s only a matter of time until Drew offers for me.”

The thought of his naive sister being taken in by a rogue like Drew Sterling made Nicholas’s blood run cold. “He has nothing to offer you. And he won’t have the chance to court you anymore. You’re returning to London tomorrow.”

Her eyes rounded in alarm. “No, Nick… I can’t! Charles will –” Cheeks reddening, she clamped her lips shut.

“I trust Charles to give you precisely what you deserve.”

“You don’t understand.” She swept toward Elizabeth, seizing her hands. “You can convince Nick, can’t you, please?”

Elizabeth smiled in sympathy. “If London isn’t to your liking, perhaps he’ll let you go to Sussex, instead?”

Her voice rose into a question as she focused her lavender eyes on him. The entreaty on her fine boned face dulled the edge of his anger, and he suppressed an unexpected grin. Perhaps she was right; Cicely truly feared Charles’s displeasure.

“All right, then,” he told his sister, “you may go to Sussex.”

Hastening to him, she grasped his sleeve. “Oh, but Nick, what I
really
want is to stay here —”

“This is not a matter for discussion, Cicely. Go on and pack your things. You’ll catch the first train in the morning.”

She snatched her hand back and glared accusingly. “You never listen to me. I’m going to marry a man who lets me do as I please!” Wheeling, she stomped out of the morning room.

Thunder rumbled into the silence. Staring at the empty doorway, Nicholas wondered bleakly where he had gone wrong with his sister. Why couldn’t she see he meant only what was best for her?

Elizabeth’s arms looped around him from behind; he felt the gentle pressure of her cheek against his back. “Don’t torment yourself, Nicholas. She’ll soon get over her anger.”

He turned, gathering her close, taking comfort in her familiar scent. “Why is she so blind to Drew’s faults?”

“Because she’s fascinated with what’s denied to her. She spurns whatever comes too easily.” Elizabeth lifted a wry smile to him. “Just as you’d predicted, even her interest in art has dwindled since you approved my teaching her.”

He found no satisfaction in being right. “She’s so damned headstrong. I can never make her listen.”

Elizabeth reached up to touch his jaw. “Perhaps, my lord, you could try softening your manner. You do have a way of commanding rather than asking.”

Nicholas stared down at her gypsy beauty. Guilt squeezed his chest as he remembered how he’d governed the direction of her life by refusing Buckstone. He should admit the truth, should give her back the honesty she always gave him.

And risk losing her?

He walked to a window. Lightning zigzagged against the charcoal sky, chased by the snarl of thunder. “I can’t allow Cicely to stay here,” he said, vanquishing his uneasy thoughts. “She’s heading for trouble with Drew.”

Elizabeth’s sigh floated to him. “I know. It’s a dilemma — you must do what’s right for her, yet your disapproval only makes her want him all the more.”

“Thank God she’ll be away from his influence by tomorrow. I’ve enough to worry about with protecting you.”

A gust of raindrops spattered the glass panes. “No attempts have been made on my life this past week,” she said. “Do you suppose it’s because of the duke’s death? I mean, if the culprit were Philippa or Drew, they’d no longer benefit from killing me since it’s too late to change the will.”

“I’ve considered that, yes.” He turned to face her. Against the stark black mourning gown, her skin was milky smooth, her eyes a vibrant violet. “There is another possibility,” he murmured, hating the need to bring up the matter. “The culprit may have been Hugh Sterling himself.”

The color seeped from her cheeks. Her head moved from side to side in denial. “I can’t let myself believe that, Nicholas. I just can’t.”

He took her hands in his. Her fingers were slender and soft, yet he admired their strength as well, a strength born equally of inner conviction and honest labor.

“Circumstantial evidence is all we have to go on, love. And we must consider the old duke.”

“But why would he want to murder me?” she whispered. “He said he loved me. You believed him, didn’t you?”

Nicholas hesitated. “Perhaps there was a side to him we didn’t know.”

Her eyes clouded; a flash of lightning lit her distressed features. “I spoke to Doctor Marsh after the reading of the will,” she said, her voice bleached of emotion. “I had the impression he was hiding something. Could he have known of a streak of madness in the duke?” She swallowed visibly. “Could my own father have wanted me dead because I was the reason Lucy left him?”

Remembering Hugh Sterling’s devotion to Lucy, his treasuring of her letter over so many years, the way he’d mistaken Elizabeth for her mother when she’d first walked into his bedroom, Nicholas knew the chance could not be ignored. Not wishing to alarm her any further, he kept those thoughts to himself.

“I’ll see what I can find out,” he said, tenderly brushing back a stray wisp of hair from her temple. “I’ll question Marsh myself.”

Her face bleak, she nodded. “The headache powder,” she said suddenly. “If Marsh gave me a poison, that would prove the duke’s innocence.”

He disliked dousing the hopeful light in her eyes. “I’m sorry, love. The medicine was a bromide, exactly as it was supposed to be.”

“You received the test result from Thistlewood? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“The report came by mail two days ago. You were busy preparing for the funeral.”

Rain lashed the window as she took a step backward, her face taut with annoyance. “It wasn’t fair of you to withhold the information.”

“I meant only to spare you —”

“Spare me! Nicholas, we’re speaking of my life. I’ve a right to know every detail, however small.”

Her words cut into his heart. “I apologize, then. If I’ve been less than frank, it’s because I love you and want to protect you.”

The resentment fled her eyes. Coming to him, she rubbed her cheek against his chest. “Oh, Nicholas, you should know by now that keeping things from me is no way to protect me. It’s because there are so many secrets in this house that I want none between us. The honesty of our love has given me the strength to get through this ordeal.”

Honesty.
The word festered inside Nicholas as his mind veered back to Buckstone. Trust shone in Elizabeth’s eyes. Clasping her tight, unable to bear his haunting guilt, he pressed his mouth to her fragrant hair. She considered Hugh Sterling a manipulator, but she had no notion of the deceit her own husband had practiced.

His duplicity must end. Now.

Resolutely he leaned back to look at her. “I’ve not been entirely honest with you, Elizabeth.”

Her brow puckered. “You’ve learned something else?”

“This has nothing to do with anyone here.” Praying she’d understand, he took a deep breath. “It’s about the commission.”

“To design the memorial for Lord Buckstone?”

Nicholas nodded slowly. “Buckstone came to see you the day we were married.” Seeing her eyes widen, he paused, then forced the words past dry lips. “He meant to award you the project, but I… turned him down.”

Shock paralyzed Elizabeth. Only her heart continued to move, slamming in great, painful strokes against her ribs. She searched Nicholas’s features for a grin, a telltale signal that he spoke a monstrous jest. Only sincerity and regret gleamed in his eyes.

Rain whipped the windows as mercilessly as the pain that scourged her soul. Strength poured into her limbs, and she pressed backward to escape his embrace. She retreated until the hard edge of a weaponry case met her spine.

“All this time I’ve been waiting,
hoping
to hear from Peter and it’s been for nothing. You’ve known for nearly two weeks now.
Two weeks.
You knew even as we were speaking our wedding vows —” Her voice broke, her throat closing around his deceit until she could scarcely draw a breath. “You vowed to honor me, yet your words were a sham.”

Hands outstretched, he took a step toward her. “Please, love, try to understand. I was afraid of losing you, afraid you’d go off to Ireland without marrying me.”

His beseeching words burned in the kiln of her anger. “You might have trusted me. But you never ask, do you, Nicholas? If something doesn’t suit you, you simply take matters into your own hands.”

“I apologize. It was wrong of me, but I acted only out of love for you, I swear it.”

“I know you had good intentions — That’s your problem.” She shook her head despairingly. “How many more times will you manipulate me for your own purposes?”

Remorse darkened his handsome face. “I’m sorry, love. I never meant to hurt you. It won’t happen again.”

“I wish I could believe that.” Tears stung her eyes; she fiercely blinked them back. “I thought we were equals, Nicholas. But I’ve been a fool, a fool to think you would ever stop dictating my life.”

Elizabeth ran from the room. Tears scalded her cheeks, half blinding her as she stumbled up the stairs. Thankfully she met no one; even her bedroom was empty. Sprawling across the embroidered coverlet, she buried her face in the pillow and sobbed out her rage and grief. The tempest of pain bruised her with all the fierceness of the storm battering the house.

Someone tapped on the door. She ignored the knock, yet the knob rattled and heavy footsteps approached. The mattress sagged. She tensed, bracing herself for Nicholas’s touch a touch she craved as much as she scorned.

But it was Owen’s broad hand that caressed her back. “The earl asked me to check on you, Libby.”