Too Wicked to Love (17 page)

As her anger faltered, she forced herself to think of the matter at hand. “Surely you are not just going to accept this. I respect your loyalty to the title, but if it is going to cost you your life—”

“It is not just about me, Genny. The Duke had two daughters, just children, and my cousin does not care what happens to them, only about how his connection to them can make him richer. He wants to arrange their marriages to men who will make their lives a nightmare. I cannot allow him to do that.”

“So you are coming forward for these children.”

“Correct.”

“Not for the title or the power it holds.”

“I was perfectly happy as a coachman. I do not need power.”

“But you will take it to avert disaster for His Grace’s daughters.”

“Yes.”

“This sounds like something from one of Sir Harry’s plays,” Genny said.

John laughed. “You are correct.” His expression softened, and he trailed his fingers along her cheek. “If things were different . . .” He stopped, dropped his hand.

She sighed, glancing down. The rosebud she had discarded lay bruised and beautiful on the stone path. “But things are not different. You have this duty to fulfill. The lives of children hanging in the balance. And even if you did not have those things . . .” She fell silent.

He waited, but she did not continue. “Genny? Even if I did not have those things . . . what?”

When she looked at him, she wished she could say the things he probably wanted to hear. But truth deserved truth. “It comes down to this. You were not honest with me about your true identity, nor last night about your feelings for me.”

“Genny, surely—”

She held up a hand, and he fell silent. “Please listen. I believe that you did what you did last night because you were trying to protect me from the unpleasantness that may await you. I understand that. But I would have appreciated being given a choice. I have already suffered the punishment for one man’s lies. I thought you at least would respect me enough to allow me to choose for myself.”

“Damn it, Genny, you would have stuck by me no matter what the cost. I could not let you do that. Not when everything points to Raventhorpe being Elizabeth’s killer.”

“Raventhorpe!”

“We were rivals. They were having an affair. The short version is, I am in no position to be anyone’s husband.”

“Well, you do not have to worry about any more marriage proposals from me, John,” she said, cold fury driving her words. “Because you have destroyed any trust we had between us by not telling me the truth when it mattered.”

He clenched his jaw, gave a short nod. “I understand. I wish things could be different. But with Raventhorpe involved and the uncertainty of the future—”

“We go our separate ways.”

Slowly, he nodded. “Perhaps it is better that way.”

“This is how it must be,” she whispered.

“This is how it must be,” he agreed.

They sat in silence for long moments, as if neither wanted to be the first to leave. Genny glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but he stared at the ground, his hands clasped loosely between his knees. He would not be returning to America now. No grand adventure awaited them. Only the unknown future.

A future apart.

“There you are!” Genny’s mother appeared on the garden path outside the clearing. She glanced from one to the other with a hint of concern, but her tone gave nothing away. “Genny, dear, your sister’s carriage is coming down the drive. Dolly wants us to meet the newlyweds in the foyer.”

“Of course.” Genny nodded. John got to his feet as she did.

“You should come too, Mr. Ready.” Her mother pursed her lips and gave John a hard look. “I am certain Samuel will want to speak with you.”

John nodded and gestured for Genny to precede him. “I would be honored to escort you both back to the house.”

“That would be lovely.” Helen waited until they reached the path, then, with a smooth move, her mother hooked one arm through John’s and the other through her daughter’s, inserting herself neatly between them. “How lovely to be a family again. I am very excited to see my daughter, Mr. Ready. My children are everything to me. You are aware of that, are you not?”

The implication was clear, but John met her mother’s gaze without flinching. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I am glad we understand each other. Come, my dears. I am anxious to see my Cilla again.”

The confrontation with John had left Genny on edge. She hoped that someday her feelings for him would lessen, perhaps become little more than a nostalgic memory. But she did not think so. She did not believe she would ever be able to relegate him to the attic of her mind, though common sense dictated she should try and forget about him.

But she knew she would not. A woman did not forget a man with whom she had been intimate, much less the man to whom she had proposed marriage. Especially when her heart throbbed in time with his every breath.

As she, her mother and John joined the other guests in the foyer, she caught sight of Cilla. Her heart squeezed as she noticed the way the new bride’s face glowed with happiness. Perhaps now was the ideal time to set things to rights with her sister. The strain in their relationship had gone on too long.

And it would be nice to have someone to talk to again.

But was it too late to seek forgiveness? As she thought back to her behavior in the weeks before Cilla’s wedding, she wanted to cringe. Dear Lord, she had acted like a child, so angry at her older sister for eloping to America with her first husband that she had nursed the resentment like a flourishing poison. But now, as the newlyweds crowded into the foyer, she realized the true cause of her antagonism toward her sister. When Cilla had returned to England, widowed and independent, Genny had tried to tell herself that she was angry with Cilla for breaking tradition, for hurting their parents and causing some scandal. But now she could admit the truth to herself.

She felt as if Cilla had abandoned her.

Genny had been only fourteen, not even out of the schoolroom, when Cilla had eloped. But what if Cilla had never left? What if she had remained in London, married a suitable gentleman, and had been there for Genny when Bradley had arrived on the scene? Genny could never have confided her feelings about Bradley to her mother, but she would have felt comfortable telling Cilla. And maybe Cilla could have stopped the disaster before it happened.

But now she realized that, Cilla or not, things might still have gone the same way. Had
anyone
tried to tell her that Bradley was deceiving her, she never would have believed it. At the time her passion for Bradley had swamped her like an ocean tide, sweeping her along the path she had chosen to take. It was only her own frustration at having ruined her chances at a respectable marriage that prompted her outright rudeness in the presence of her sister. Somehow, it had seemed easier to blame Cilla for everything.

Yet now she accepted her own part in her situation. Now she realized that Cilla had only done what she felt was right by following her heart—in essence, nearly the same thing as Genny—and she could not fault her for it. She was happy to see Cilla. She had missed her sister.

Samuel and Cilla were greeting everyone, shaking hands, kissing cheeks. Cilla hugged their mother, then faced Genny.

“Hello, Genny.”

Genny recognized the wariness—and the hope—in the face so like her own. Her sister. Blood of her blood, heart of her heart. She threw her arms around Cilla, pulled her close as tears stung her eyes. “Welcome home.”

A
fter the celebration of the newlyweds’ return home had finally died down, the ladies retired upstairs, and John managed to get Samuel alone for a private conversation. They met outside in the gardens, though in a different section from where he had sat with Genny. Even with the distance, though, John could not escape the scent of roses.

To his dying day, he would always associate roses with Genny.

“John, why the hasty meeting?” Samuel joined him in the grotto he had selected. “I’ve barely been able to change out of my traveling clothes. Is there news of Raventhorpe?”

“There is, but that is not why I wanted to talk to you.” John paced, searching for the words to explain.

“What news?” Samuel asked.

“He sent a man to kidnap Annabelle, but she escaped him. Again, that is not why I asked you here.”

Samuel frowned. “How did she escape?”

John stopped his pacing and glared at his friend. “I taught her some tricks to defend herself. She got away from him.”

Samuel propped his hands on his hips. “And where were you?”

John winced. “I was not there.”

“Why in hell not?”

“I was working in the stables. She sneaked off with Sir Harry without telling me. But that—”

“—is not why you asked me here. You said that already. But if Raventhorpe is back, I need to know.”

“I have not heard anything to indicate he is back in England,” John said. “Annabelle is fine, and we know the name of the man who tried to take her.”

“Why haven’t you sent the law after him?”

“Because he has gone to ground somewhere. We cannot find him.” John folded his arms. “I am trying to tell you something important, Samuel.”

“Well, have you tried—”

“I am the Duke of Evermayne.”

“—the local taverns and . . . what do you mean, you’re a duke?” Samuel frowned. “That’s what you said, right?”

“Yes.” John took a deep breath. Samuel was as honest a man as the day was long. He was not certain how his friend would handle the facts he was about to unveil. “My name is John St. Giles. Since my uncle the Duke recently died, I am his heir.”

“By God, are you serious?”

“Very.”

“Is that what you’ve been hiding?”

John shook his head. “I only recently found out myself.”

“Ah. I take it there is more, then?”

John let out a long breath. “Yes, there is more.”

“All right.” Samuel folded his arms in an identical stance. “Tell me.”

“Seven years ago, someone murdered my wife and made it look like I did it.”

Samuel’s eyes widened. “And that’s why you left England?”

“Yes, my uncle insisted.” John rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I was just a stripling, barely twenty-three. I was drugged and unconscious in the gardens when my wife was murdered.”

“Surely you told someone.”

“I did not have time. As soon as the news hit, my uncle had me on the first ship out of England. Besides, I had no proof of my innocence.”

“Do you know who did it?”

The simple question immediately relieved the tension that gripped him. Despite their friendship, John had been concerned that Samuel might have doubts. “Can’t you guess?”

“Who . . . Raventhorpe?”

“The same. My wife was having an affair with him.”

“He murdered her and made it look like you were the one who did it? The depraved bastard.” Samuel rubbed his chin. “Of course you realize that your uncle forcing you to flee has made you look even more guilty.”

“Easy to realize now, but at that time I was young and gullible. My uncle ruled the family, and no one ever disobeyed him.”

Samuel rocked back on his heels. “I suppose you rule the family now, since you are the new duke.”

“I suppose I do. I only found out about all of this a couple of days ago, so I have not yet had a chance to absorb it.”

“What next?”

“I have not told anyone else,” John said. “Well, except for Genny.”

Samuel raised his brows. “Genny, is it?”

He would not betray Genny’s secret. Samuel did not need to know how far their relationship had progressed. “Yes, we have spent some time in each other’s company, but no, nothing can come of it. My life is in shambles right now.”

“Understood.”

John glanced away from the compassion in his friend’s eyes. There were times he wished Samuel were not quite so observant. “Tomorrow, the Baileys are throwing a picnic in honor of your homecoming, and I do not want to disrupt the festivities with this news. I intend to tell Genny’s parents and the Baileys after the picnic is over.”

“You know if there is anything you need, you have only to say the word.”

“I know.” John clasped Samuel on the shoulder. “I have a hornet’s nest waiting for me, Samuel, and I would rather no one else got stung. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I’m pretty good with hornets,” Samuel said with a grin. “Amazing what some kerosene and a match will do.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

“You do that.” The humor faded from Samuel’s face. “You came back to get me, John, when everyone else assumed I was dead. I will never forget that. If you need any assistance from me for anything at all, you have only to say the word.”

John swallowed past the lump that had formed in his throat. “Thank you.”

“Come along now.” Samuel swatted John in the chest with the back of his hand. “We should go back inside, rejoin the others.”

John fell into step as his friend started down the path. “I think you just want to get back to your wife. How are those leg shackles fitting you?”

“Like a glove.”

“You sound awfully happy about your captivity.”

Samuel flashed him a grin. “Jealous, are you?”

John laughed, but a pang of regret pieced his heart.
Ah, Samuel, if you only knew.

Genny hesitated outside Cilla’s bedchamber. She had seen Samuel go outside with John and knew her mother had met Dolly in the drawing room to discuss costumes and props needed for the play. She was supposed to join them, as was Cilla, once her sister changed out of her traveling clothes.

She blew out a quick breath and knocked before her courage deserted her. The door opened a moment later to reveal Lucy, Cilla’s maid.

“I need to speak to my sister,” Genny said.

Lucy nodded. “One moment.” She closed the door, then opened it again a few minutes later. “Please come in.”

Genny entered the room. As Lucy closed the door behind her, Cilla came out from behind the screen, clad in her bloomers, chemise, and corset. “Genny, what is it? Has something happened?”

“No.” Genny bit her lip and twisted her fingers together. “Might I speak to you alone? Please?”

“Certainly.” Cilla nodded at Lucy, who nodded back and quietly left the room. “Forgive me for entertaining in my undergarments, but you caught me in the middle of changing out of my traveling dress.” She wrinkled her nose. “After so many hours on the train, I could not wait to get that thing off.”

Genny chuckled. “I understand.”

“So tell me, what’s wrong?” Cilla came to her and took her by the hands. Her sister topped her in height only by an inch or two, but otherwise they looked enough alike that people sometimes mistook them for twins.

“Why does anything have to be wrong?” Genny shrugged.

“Because you were a beast to me before the wedding, and now suddenly you are hugging me and asking to speak privately.” Cilla arched her brows. “Something has happened, despite what you say.”

Genny pulled her hands from Cilla’s. “I came to welcome you home.”

“You did that downstairs.”

“And to apologize for my treatment of you since you have returned. I was angry, and I blamed you.”

“Come, let us sit while we talk.” Cilla indicated two chairs by the window of the spacious room. “Why did you blame me? What did I do?”

“You left.”

Cilla sighed and nodded as the two of them sat down. “When I ran off with Edward. You were so young—”

“Fourteen.”

“Only fourteen. You could not understand. I was in love with Edward. Charmed by him. Completely bedazzled—enough that I stood up to Papa and ran off with Edward anyway.”

“And left all of us behind.”

“Well, Papa disowned me.” Cilla gave her a crooked smile. “He was trying to make me come to my senses. He never expected me to call his bluff.”

Genny laughed. “Has it escaped his notice that we are his daughters? Certainly we must have inherited something from him.”

“I do not know which is worse, his bullheadedness or Mama’s sweet, calm stubbornness. How they stayed married all these years without fighting like cats and dogs is a miracle.”

“No, it is not,” Genny said. “Mama always wins.”

“Only because Papa lets her. At any rate, I left to marry Edward and go live with him in America, and in all the drama around my elopement, I did not take the time to explain to you. To say good-bye.”

“I was angry at you for a long time,” Genny said. “I kept waiting for you to come home, but you never did.”

Cilla leaned forward and grasped her sister’s hand. “I am sorry if I hurt you, Genny. I would have written, but I did not think Papa would let you read my letters. Then after Edward died and left me in such dire straits . . . well, I vowed to come back to England only when I could support myself. To show Papa that I had
not
ruined my life.”

“I understand that now. Truly, I do, Cilla. And I am sorry for being such a horrible wretch to you when you did finally come home.”

“I understand—”

“No, you do not. I did not even comprehend it myself until I saw you again just today.” She lowered her gaze, pulled her hand out of Cilla’s. “Things have happened to me since you left England, Cilla. Things I longed to talk to you about. I needed my sister, but you were not here, and that made me even angrier. And then when I made the wrong decisions, I blamed you as well. Because maybe you could have stopped me.”

Cilla gave a disbelieving laugh. “As if anyone could stop you once you have set your mind to something. You are definitely the admiral’s daughter.”

“But you would have tried. You would have talked to me, maybe made me see things differently.”

“Heavens, sweetie, what happened?” She lowered her voice. “Was it a man?”

Genny rolled her eyes. “When is it
not
a man that makes a woman act like a fool?”

“Oh, dear. Tell me.”

“A year ago. Bradley Overton. He was a naval officer and wanted to marry me. Papa was ecstatic.”

Cilla frowned. “What happened?”

“I overheard him talking to his cronies, bragging about landing the admiral’s daughter.”

“Oh, Genny, no! What did Papa do?”

“He did not know. I broke it off myself.”

“Oh, I am so sorry. The man was a fool.”

“No more than I was. It had nothing to do with you, but I blamed you anyway. It was easier.” She bit her lip. “I was just so ashamed.”

Cilla leaned forward. “Genny, did you . . . were you intimate with him?”

Genny nodded.

“You . . . and then you
jilted
him?”

“He lied to me, Cilla. Swore he loved me when it was Papa’s connections that he loved. I would not have a man like that, no matter what happened between us.”

“I understand. But sweetie, how was it the scandal did not get all over London?”

“I advised him that if he told anyone, I would make sure Papa stopped his naval career in its tracks.”

“Huh. Clever.”

“It worked.”

“Apparently so.” Cilla sat back in her chair and regarded her sister. “But now you have a problem.”

“I know.” Genny buried her face in her hands, then looked up again, hoping for some wisdom from her older sister. “I thought I had found a solution, but everything is complicated now.”

“You might as well tell me all of it.”

Genny hesitated. “I expected you to rail at me for what happened with Bradley.”

“Oh, I think you have been punishing yourself enough for both of us. And as long as you learned your lesson—”

Guilty, Genny glanced away.

Cilla caught the expression. “Oh, no. Tell me you did not—”

“I have fallen in love with someone else,” Genny said. “I proposed marriage to him.”

“You
proposed marriage to
him
? What did he say?”

“I assumed he accepted because he . . . we . . . that is . . .” She gave Cilla a look that pleaded for understanding. “I thought it would be all right. That we would be together forever.”

“Oh, no. When was this?”

“Just last night.”

“What!” Cilla sat straight up in her chair. “This man is
here
? And this happened right under the nose of our parents?”

Miserable, Genny nodded.

“Who?” Cilla demanded. “That Sir Harry fellow?”

Genny shook her head. “John.”

“John
Ready
?” Cilla leaped to her feet. “John Ready seduced my sister and will not marry her?”

“Cilla, wait, calm down.” Genny rose, tried to take her sister’s hands, but Cilla jerked away from her to stalk the room.

“I cannot believe this. That my husband’s best friend would act so dishonorably . . . Well, Samuel will need to hear of this. He will make things right.”

“No, please do not interfere.” Genny held out her hands. “John spoke to me today. He has very real reasons for not marrying me.”

“Ha! Every man does, sweetie. They rarely do it of their own volition.”

“No, he truly does have valid reasons.”

“Oh?” Cilla folded her arms. “Is he dying of a dreadful illness? A
contagious
illness?”

“Ah . . . no. But—”

“Is he already married?”

“Not anymore.” When Cilla raised her brows, Genny added, “She died.”

“Is he wanted by the law?”

“Yes.”

“Is he . . . what did you say?”

“I said yes.” Emotion clogged her throat. “Cilla, he has been running away all these years because they think he killed his wife.”