Twice the Temptation (41 page)

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Authors: Beverley Kendall

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical romance, #Victorian

BOOK: Twice the Temptation
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Patrick’s expression made it clear that
that
wasn’t palatable. 

“Are you quite certain there’s no hope where she’s concerned?” Lucas asked after a pause, his voice softer. Regardless of the trouble his brother got himself into, he loved him. And he owed him this much. 

Patrick ran his hand through his hair. “Most definitely. She stated very clearly that she never wants to see me again.” 

“And you refuse to tell me what caused the split?” 

His brother shook his head, dropped back down onto the edge of the bed, and bowed his head. 

Lucas knew it would do him no good to push. “Did you want to end things?” he asked instead. 

“No,” Patrick muttered. “No I did not,” he said more forcefully, lifting his head to look at him. 

God, he remembered the last time he’d seen his brother this broken over a woman. 

Lucas knew what he must do to rectify matters. 

 

“H
is brother?”

Catherine let out an audible gasp and dropped down onto the settee behind her for her legs could no longer support her. To add to her malady, she couldn’t breathe but that may be due to the fact that her heart had ceased beating. 

The three women were ensconced in the morning room at Laurel Place, her friends having arrived precisely at ten o’clock that morning. Their evening had been understandably cut short. After the incident, Miss Shipley had quickly found her chaperone and exited the ballroom minutes later. 

The last Catherine had glimpsed of Mr. Templeton, he’d been in what appeared to be a deep discussion with Lord Landry and had looked rather agitated. She, Olivia and Meghan had quit the scene soon after. 

“That is what I discovered in my inquiries this morning,” Olivia replied, after calmly dropping the bomb from whose effects Catherine still suffered. The reverberations prickled her skin and caused her to tremble in mortification and dread. 

“It’s what I feared,” she said hoarsely, looking across the center table at Olivia, who sat beside Meghan on the sofa. This simply could not be happening again. Fate couldn’t be this cruel or so singularly focused. 

It is what you deserve.
 

For this to happen with both Lucas’s sister and brother could not be considered a coincidence, this was punishment. And Catherine couldn’t simply dismiss the internal voice that was her conscience intent on not letting her forget. She knew it spoke the truth. Her sister and Alex may have forgiven her for what she did to them but she hadn’t deserved their ready forgiveness. What was happening to her now, attested to that fact. 

“Rhys indicated he does indeed have a brother named Patrick Templeton,” Olivia stated. 

“I mean, he did mention a half-brother, but he never mentioned his surname. And I assumed the gentleman you were testing was British.” Which is why one should never assume a thing. Lord, it pained her to think just what kind of trouble she’d gotten herself into. “My instincts told me that we should not take on this one,” Catherine said, again bemoaning that she hadn’t followed those obviously superior instincts. 

“But he has no idea we conspired with Miss Shipley. No one does. Mr. Beaumont will not hold you responsible if that is your fear,” Meghan assured her. 

“I shall know,” she said more sharply than she intended. Her current predicament wasn’t her friends’ fault. 

Well, perhaps a little,
a tiny voice argued. 

No
, another voice countered. She should not have allowed her friends to override her protests and concerns. She must take complete responsibility for her role in this. 

Emitting a heavy sigh, Meghan rose to her feet, rounded the table, and planted herself beside Catherine on the settee. 

“You did nothing wrong,” her friend said, stilling Catherine’s restless hands, pressing them into her lap. 

“If I did nothing wrong, why do I feel as I do?” she whispered, lifting her eyes to Meghan’s. 

“My dear, Catherine, you are bound to be unhappy with the outcome. Only someone lacking a heart and basic human emotions would not. But things will be fine when all is said and done. Miss Shipley will find a gentleman who is worthy of her.” 

For the first time since they started on their path to righteously mislead gentlemen, Meghan’s reassurance failed to do just that. “I am to see Lucas in two hours, what am I to do?” 

“You shall act normal. Do not give him cause to suspect a thing.” 

“I feel I should tell him.” Catherine remembered their most recent conversation. He’d requested honesty between them. She would be failing in her commitment to him if she did not tell him. 

Meghan looked surprised and appalled. “Feel like you should tell? Confess our activities to him?” she asked, sucking in an aggrieved breath. “I sincerely think not. The things that we’ve done are the sorts of things that one takes with them to their graves. My word, should word get out, it would be scandalous. We should surely be shunned.” 

“You don’t understand. This is the man I am going to marry.”
God willing.
That is if no man
or
particular event—like that of a broken betrothal—should tear them asunder before they are able to take their vows. “After what happened over Easter, I promised to be honest with him.” 

“Yes, and you honestly had nothing to do with his brother making improper advances toward me,” Meghan argued. “Mr. Templeton is a man. He is old enough to go off to war and do all other sorts of things. Well surely that makes him old enough to accept the consequences of his actions.” 

All true statements, Catherine conceded. And another time, in fact just a sennight ago, she would have heartily agreed with her. In fact, a sennight ago they would not be having this discussion. One reaped what they sowed and all that. She herself was a prime example of that. Was she not a twenty-five-year old single lady, partially on the shelf? Had she not been so selfish, she might be a wife and mother by now. 

But then, you would never have met Lucas.
 

Argh!
The conscience could be a very inconvenient thing but it served its purpose admirably. 

“I must do what I feel is right and I cannot risk what I have with Lucas by keeping this from him,” Catherine said, resolved that in the end she’d chosen the right path this time. 

Silence met her pronouncement and lingered long after. Finally, Meghan said softly, “My dear, you must do what you must.” 

 

“T
hank you for seeing me,” Lucas said, holding his hat on his knee.

“Mr. Beaumont, if you’ve come on your brother’s behalf, I’m sad to say that you’re wasting your time,” Miss Shipley said, her tone apologetic but firm. Only the faint circles under her eyes hinted at any distress she may have recently suffered. 

They were seated in the parlor of the townhouse where she resided with her parents. Her father had reluctantly permitted the meeting, his feelings toward Patrick the opposite of what they once were. Apparently, her parents were privy to what had taken place and whatever occurred had painted his brother in a very unfavorable light. 

“I’m trying to understand what went wrong,” Lucas replied honestly. 

“Your brother did not tell you?” she asked as if surprised by that. Then her lips firmed. “I guess I should not be surprised.” 

“I was hoping to get the truth from you.” 

“Your brother turned out not to be the man I thought he was. I heard him making improper advances toward a lady at the ball. She refused him but that is not what’s important, is it?” 

Lucas could honestly say the news stunned him. He knew his brother was capable of many things but not this. Not given how much he loved and adored Miss Shipley. 

“I’m having a hard time believing my brother would do something like that. He loves you.” 

Tears filled her eyes and her calm façade seemed to crumble before his eyes. “I thought the same thing too but it’s obvious I was mistaken.” 

“Did my brother say anything about a wager?” Lucas knew somehow there was a connection between that and the split. 

Miss Shipley responded by cutting her eyes in a dismissive manner. “Your brother tried to convince me that the whole thing was part of a wager. He swore he would never have gone through with it had the lady accepted.” 

“I take it you didn’t believe him.” 

Her response was pursed lips and a barely discernible shake of her head. 

Lucas, on the other hand, did believe him. It was just the sort of thing his brother would do. He possessed a recklessness and bravado that came with youth, but Lucas had never known him to be dishonest. 

“May I ask the name of the lady to whom my brother made these improper advances?” He sensed something extremely amiss here. Could it be a simple matter of coincidence that had his brother making improper advances on a woman and subsequently losing fifty pounds that was tied to the woman’s response? Lucas didn’t believe in coincidences like that. 

Miss Shipley’s chin went up and her gaze sharpened as if the question itself was an affront. “The identity of the lady isn’t of consequence here, Mr. Beaumont. Your brother’s reprehensible behavior is,” she stated with a coolness of tone that took him by surprise. She’d always been so agreeable. He hadn’t thought she had it in her to conduct herself any other way even in anger and despondency. 

But he would not attempt to browbeat the woman’s name from her. It would do him little good in any case. Her mind appeared to be firmly set on this. But now more than ever, he was determined to get to the bottom of this whole affair. Anything he could do he would to set things right between his brother and Miss Shipley. 

Nodding, he took his hat in hand and came to his feet. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you again, Miss Shipley, for speaking with me. I can only offer my sincerest apologies for any injuries you have suffered because of my brother.” He bowed and took his leave.  

 

 

 

 

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
N
INE
 

 

H
e should be there in a moment.

Just the thought started Catherine’s heart thundering. Moments later, the doorbell sounded. 

To say she was nervous would be like saying it was sometimes gray and rainy in London. She hurried into the drawing room, scooped her silk fan up from the side table, and fluttered it madly in a futile attempt to cool the fiery heat of her face. She was being a ninny. She had nothing to fear. 

But the truth.
 

She cursed that deuced voice. 

When the butler entered the room, Catherine looked past him but the only sight that greeted her was that of an empty doorway. Smith advanced toward her with an envelope in his hand. Catherine swiftly set down her fan and met him halfway, a combination of nerves and anticipation leading her. 

Smith possessed stoicism enough to make the Royal Guards blush. Today he regarded her blankly while managing to do so with all due deference. “This message was just delivered for you.” 

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