Innocence Lost (8 page)

"What makes you think you have any rights where my sister is concerned?” Julian demanded.

"Because I'm going to marry her,” Nicholas bellowed.

She gasped and Julian lunged forward, his eyes glittering with murder. “You bloody bastard!” He swung his fist.

Nicholas ducked, but before he could retaliate, she wedged between them. She spread her trembling arms to keep them separated. “Stop it. Both of you,” she ordered, looking from one menacing face to the other. She turned to Nicholas. “Julian and I must form a stratagem to locate our parents. I think you should leave now."

"You heard her, Claremont. Get out.” Her brother placed protective hands on her shoulders. The gesture made it clear just who was in charge of her.

Nicholas shifted his eyes down to her. She held her breath, watching the fury drain from his expression. “I'll leave,” he said, “but the investigators I have hired to locate your parents—"

"I do not require your help, Claremont. You've done enough,” her brother sneered. “Besides, I am quite capable of locating my parents."

Nicholas clenched his jaw, but his eyes didn't lift from hers. “My investigators shall keep searching,” he vowed softly. Then he left.

Once they were alone, Julian turned her to face him with a hard stare. “Start from the very beginning, dear sister, and don't you dare omit a thing,” he said, leading her to the Queen Anne sofa.

She omitted quite a lot, except that Nicholas had been her guardian. He'd learn of it from any one of the servants, anyway.

The explosion occurred just as the words tumbled from her lips. “I bloody well don't believe it!"

She clamped her hands onto his rock-solid arm and repeated what the dowager duchess had explained about her guardianship. She added that the dowager had promised to arrive as soon as her brother, Lord Stenwick, was well enough to travel. She summarized what had been gleaned of their parents’ disappearance, hoping his thoughts would center on them and not on Nicholas.

He shot to his feet. “I must leave for a short time,” he said.

"Where are you going?"

"To begin the search for Mother and Father,” he answered as he pulled the door open and walked through.

Nicholas paced his study. Be damned, why couldn't he have seen that Megan wasn't some commoner at the stream? She had refined speech and aristocratic features.

A jolt of awareness shot through him, and he came to an abrupt stop. The beautiful little nymph would be his wife. The way she reacted to him earlier left little doubt that he just needed a bit more time to convince her of it.

He chuckled. For many years, he'd fought hard against being ensnared into marriage, much to his mother's consternation. And now he wished for nothing above marriage to Megan. After pouring himself a whisky and settling into the comfortable leather chair behind his desk, he raised the glass into the air to celebrate his good fortune. But just as he brought the drink to his lips, a disquieting thought nettled its way into his mind, something—rather
someone
who would ruin his chances with Megan. He lowered the crystal tumbler onto the polished wood with a bang, sloshing a goodly portion of the amber liquid over his hand. Megan's brother. According to the guardianship papers he had found within his father's repository in the study, Julian was named above the Duke of Claremont as Megan's custodian in the event that both of her parents were unable to care for her. As long as Julian remained her guardian, Nicholas knew that he would never be allowed to marry her.

Damn him. He would not permit the man to take another love from him.

Then he realized that Julian was but Megan's temporary guardian. Her father would certainly return. Joseph Westland's strength and cunning were as vast as his wealth. And upon hearing the truth, he was bound to agree to the marriage.

That was, Nicholas thought, if Megan's father didn't kill him first.

Megan watched Julian take a deep sigh. His guarded expression sent chills through her.

"Moppet, I feel that I must inform you of something."

She gripped his hands. Tears glazed her eyes and stung her nose. “Oh, Julian, Mother and Father..."

He shook his head. “No, no, I have hired many investigators to locate them. Our parents will soon be found."

She slumped with relief.

"I wish to speak to you regarding Claremont,” Julian continued. “Take heed, Megan. I know why he seems enamored of you and has proposed marriage."

Heat bloomed in her cheeks. “Julian, please.” She made a careful study of the row of pearl buttons at the end of her gown's long sleeves.

"I am a man, dear heart, and understand the workings of men rather well."

She sighed and raised her head. She might as well have this done with. “Very well, why does the duke seem enamored of me?"

His eyes went as dark as thunder clouds. “Revenge."

"What?"

"He still holds me responsible for a transgression I never committed,” Julian explained calmly.

"Are you referring to that incident with Emily Wakefield?"

"How did you—” He halted and shook his head. “Yes. And now Claremont is using you for his revenge."

"Julian, that is absurd. His Grace had no idea I was your sister when we first met,” she said without thought.

He tensed. “How is that possible when you indicated that his mother had sent you to him?"

She cursed her blunder. Knowing she had no alternative, she confessed to the accidental encounter with Nicholas at the stream and his belief that she was a commoner. She didn't dare elaborate, but made the entire affair seem brief and trivial.

Julian chuckled humorlessly. “I daresay, dear sister, he knew who you were."

"How could he have known? I was but a child when he last saw me,” she pointed out.

"How many young ladies with dark hair and violet eyes are there on our estate? Or in all of Europe, for that matter?"

She closed her eyes and allowed her head to fall back against the sofa. Could Julian be right? Had Nicholas only pretended not to know who she was? Oh, dear Christ! If he had known and still taken her virginity...

"Are you all right, Moppet?” Julian asked softly.

Her stomach began to churn with denial. She bit her lip, refusing to believe Nicholas would use her in that way.

"But he couldn't have known I would arrive in London,” she added, desperately wishing to believe that Nicholas hadn't acted out of some sort of sick retribution.

"Your arrival in London, I am certain, was pure coincidence. He would have returned to the country had you not fallen into his lap."

She winced at her brother's words.

"Oh, dearest, I apologize. Pray, forgive me,” he begged, placing an arm around her shoulders. “The time at sea must have addled my brain, as well as impeded my manners."

An hour after his sister had pleaded fatigue, Julian undressed in his room when he recalled a conversation he'd had with his parents last fall. His mother insisted Megan was too lonely and decided that she would debut this spring, much to his father's consternation. He grimaced. He now had the great pleasure of seeing her launched.

Bloody hell! He hadn't the stomach for endless fetes and galas, balls, soirees and those devious little chits out to sink their meat hooks into him. But he must endure it. His parents would expect it of him.

Sleep eluded him, but by morning, he'd arrived at two decisions. First, he would see that Claremont had no further contact with his sister. Second, he would chaperone Megan to the various balls and parties that he deemed necessary. Once she was exposed to the many gentlemen anxious to be near her, she'd forget Claremont's very existence.

He was certain that Megan's inexperience drew her to the first handsome man to profess a few honeyed words. Within a couple of weeks of her coming-out, his sister would be wise enough to realize her naivete. In fact, he'd wager a goodly sum she'd be betrothed to another by mid-season.

The question of his parents’ whereabouts also besieged his mind during the night. He reasoned that they were not being held for ransom since there was no demand for payment. He couldn't imagine why they'd left in such haste, since they had already planned Megan's debut. And where the deuce had the driver, Sims, vanished to?

The next morning, Megan stifled a yawn as she came down to breakfast. She'd thought of pleading a stomachache, but Julian would probably send for the doctor and she would no doubt have to spend a week abed. She shuddered at the very idea.

When she entered the breakfast room, Julian watched her closely, his silver-grey eyes narrowed above the paper he held out before him. She filled her plate and sat, hoping he would go back to his reading.

No such luck.

"You look tired this morning."

Megan picked up her fork. “I'm fine, Julian."

The silence stretched out for several minutes. Megan moved the scrambled eggs around her plate, trying to think of something, anything other than Nicholas.

"I am quite certain it's dead. Feel free to eat it."

"I'm really not hungry."

"Well, I know something that will cheer you."

She looked up sharply. “What?"

"I am taking you to the finest
modiste
in London today,” Julian said as he folded his paper and set it aside.

"For what?"

His brows sprang up. Good Lord, Julian had actually thought she would be pleased with this bit of news? “For your presentation into Society."

She shook her head. “But I'm not going."

"Of course you are."

"How can I attend those galas knowing that Mother and Father could be stranded somewhere, starving to death?” The tears that sprang to her eyes were mostly real. She gave a sniff for good measure. Truly, she had no desire to be out in Society, around so many people all the time.

Julian rubbed each temple with his first two fingers. “Look, Megan, Mother and Father had already planned your coming-out and would want you to go. You know that upon their return, they will demand every detail of every party you attended. And if they return before the season is out, they will expect you to be ready. Either way, Moppet, we must have you fitted right away."

Megan opened her mouth to argue, but Julian was right, curse him. Mother and Father would expect her not to sit about and mourn their absence. But what had happened with Nicholas made her heart ache. How could she go out and have a good time when she was sure to see him? How could she act like nothing had happened between them?

Her brother rose from his seat and walked around Father's empty chair. He knelt beside her, taking her hands in his. “Don't fret, little one. They will be home soon, I assure you.” He kissed her forehead and brought her to her feet. She squelched a groan when he informed her that they would depart in a quarter of an hour. She would rather clean the privy every day for a year than get fitted for clothes she didn't want in order to attend a Season she didn't want. How would she get through this?

The journey to Madam Devereux's House of Fashion in Berkeley Square took an eternity as carriages, coaches and wagons crowded the street. But Megan didn't mind that half as much as being pinched, poked, and prodded by a dozen French women fitting her for what seemed a hundred gowns of varying styles and fabrics.

Julian paid a blasted fortune to have her dressed to the nines by the start of the season. Indeed, Madame Devereux was already aghast at having to fit another few gowns into her busy schedule when her brother withdrew that exorbitant block of notes from his pocket and insisted on an entire trousseau. Seeing this, though, the French woman plastered a smile across her painted lips and accepted.

As another pin found its mark in her flesh, she grimaced and vowed to get even with her dear brother. If he disliked balls and galas before, he'd certainly loathe them by the end of the Season.

That thought almost made her chuckle.

Finally, after four hours of torture, Julian assisted her back into the carriage. The return to the townhouse would be slower, she noted with a sigh, seeing even more wagons and people in the street than when they'd set out this morning.

She hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep until she roused when the carriage halted. Between the hectic day and lack of sleep the night before, exhaustion found her. The restorative tonic wasn't so restorative either. A footman assisted her from the tall vehicle.

As she reached the front door, she heard her name. Spinning around, she noticed Nicholas leading his horse toward them. “I would like to speak to you,” he stated.

Recalling the conversation with Julian last evening, she tamped back her burst of joy and lifted her chin. “There is nothing you have to say, Your Grace, that I wish to hear."

His eyes widened a fraction. “Meg?"

"Don't you dare call me that,” she said as the impact of his betrayal rushed back into her tattered heart.

He shook his head. “Why are you acting this way? Yesterday—"

"I learned the truth behind your intentions, Your Grace."

"I told you to stay away, Claremont,” Julian said from behind her. “Megan, go into the house."

Nicholas lifted his gaze to her brother. A look of comprehension, then cold disdain slid onto his face. “I have news of your parents,” he said.

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Megan clapped a hand over her mouth. If she learned her parents had died, she would be sick.

Her brother glared murderously at Nicholas. “If this is one of your pathetic attempts—"

"Shut up, Julian, and mark me well,” Nicholas interrupted. “I know where they are, and why they left."

Her brother marched forward, stabbing a finger at Nicholas. “How is it that the infantry I have working on this haven't found a trace of their whereabouts, yet you have solved the entire matter?"

"They probably aren't searching hard enough, or in the right direction. Quit being a stubborn ass, and allow me to explain."

Megan slid her arm through her brother's bent elbow and tugged. “Julian, please,” she implored. “If he does have information about Mother and Father, we must listen."

A muscle leaped in Julian's jaw. “By God, Claremont, if I find this doesn't signify, I'll flog you until the fires of Hades nip at your heels.” Julian spun her around and led her into the house. “Go upstairs, dear sister, and lie down. We've had a busy day, and I know how tired you are."