A Most Delicate Pursuit (22 page)

Not wanting to risk Bainbridge's men coming after them, they'd left the smuggler's cove and stopped only to feed and water their horses along the way. A day and a half later, they made their way back to Slyddon.

The trip back to Slyddon had been uneventful, and for once, Beatrice was glad of that. Michael's wound was not as bad as she'd thought at first. She'd tended to his wounds right after the duel and saw that Bainbridge's bullet had gone through the arm and thankfully missed the bone.

“You're getting quite good at that,” Michael had said after she'd torn a piece of cloth from her hem and wrapped his arm. It was early morning and they'd but a few hours left before they arrived at Slyddon. The sun was out, and there was a crisp bite to the air. Bea realized how much she was beginning to enjoy the outdoors.

Fresh air, her husband beside her, and all of the sounds of the forest seemed to be performing a symphony for them. Add in a good breakfast and a few more blankets and it would have been heaven on earth.

“It seems such skills are necessary when a lady is married to you,” she quipped.

He grinned and pulled her into a kiss. “Though I hope to never cause you such strife again, my love, I'm comforted by knowing that you'll always be there to care for me.”

“And be assured, I shall be.”

Hand in hand they made the final hour's walk to the lodge. Michael kissed her on the forehead and pointed to the lodge. “Go and get some rest. I've things to attend to and I'll join you there.”

Her heart sank. “Surely, nothing is so important that you can't find a few hours of sleep?”

“I'm afraid so. The lodge always requires keeping, and I need to write Ash as soon as possible—to let Caroline and him know we're safe at home.”

She smiled at him then. “Safe at home. That sounds so wonderful.” Bea couldn't hold back her yawn. “Very well, get to your chores, man, and then come to bed.”

He nodded. “I will. And, once we've rested and replenished our energies, I plan to spend quite a long time in bed with you, woman…not resting.”

Despite her exhaustion, a thrill went through her at his meaning. “Sounds most promising, my husband. Most promising, indeed.”

In all his life, Michael had never been so glad to see Slyddon Castle. Exhausted and still shaken from their ordeal, Beatrice had gone directly to bed upon their arrival. Michael immediately set about the lodge's business, seeing to the supplies and checking the grounds before heading to bed. Thankfully, his horse, Donel, had been returned the day after they'd arrived home. He went to find him and give him an extra measure of grain for his efforts.

Two hours later, Michael paced his office for the better part of the afternoon. He'd already finished his letters to Ash and to the court, not doubting he'd be in trouble for dueling again. He'd been given fair warning after the last one. If it hadn't been for Ash's intervention that time, he would likely have been prosecuted. Well, that and the fact that his opponent hadn't died.

Not like this time.

But sleep eluded him. A new anxiety stirred within him. It made him pensive and restless and the last thing he wanted to do was disturb Beatrice, so he decided to go to the library and have a glass of brandy—both to settle his nerves and to think about what might lie ahead of him.

Would the courts understand his reasoning behind the duel? The only chance he'd had to rescue Beatrice was to face the man with a pistol. Surely they would see that.

He rubbed his arm, which was now more an irritation than anything. He'd had worse injuries. Far worse. At the moment, though, the soreness from his wound and the throbbing in his head were eclipsed by the ache in his heart.

Try as he might, he couldn't get the nightmare of Bea's abduction out of his head. Since they'd left the coast, every time he closed his eye, he saw her being taken—from their room, from Bennington, and at the duel. In his nightmare, his shot would be off and he would see Beatrice taken away by a laughing Bainbridge. Over and over, he heard her scream for him.

He knew that killing the blackguard had been the only way to free her from his grasp.

There would be those who would say he should have allowed the courts to sort it out. As he was legally married to Beatrice, his rights as her husband should have decided the matter.

But he knew to his marrow that as long as Bainbridge lived, he would oppose the legality of it, claiming he'd had a prior promise to marry Beatrice. He had deep pockets and many powerful men on his side, and Michael had a bankrupted estate and, because of his roguish behavior, several disgruntled husbands and fathers who would be most happy to see Michael in prison or even hanging at the end of a noose.

Of course, Ash would pay for his council and defend Michael to the last. But Michael already owed him a debt that he would never be able to pay, even if he'd been given a king's wealth. Besides, the last thing Michael wanted was to drag his friend's reputation down as well. He had a wife and children to protect.

And what if the court had forced Beatrice to go back to her cousin and Bainbridge's care while the courts sorted everything out? Who knew what condition she would have been in, if left alive at all, by the time Michael had proved his case?

No. This was better and he had to depend on the fates that the courts would see it that way.

For now, however, the main problem he had facing him was twofold. First, Lady Merriweather had been gone long enough to cause a stir. She'd already spread the word of Beatrice's ruination. It would only be a matter of time before she would do her best to convince the ton that he'd murdered Bainbridge in cold blood.

On his way to the library, he met Winston in the hall.

“My lord, His Grace has arrived.”

“Just the duke? Not the duchess or his aunt?”

“No, Your Grace.”

“Very well. See to his comfort and inform him I'll be in the library as soon as he's ready for me.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Once he entered the library, he walked to the liquor cabinet. He poured himself a drink and downed the first glass in a single shot. It was while he was pouring a second that he heard the door open behind him.

“It's never good form to drink alone, you know.”

Michael turned to see Ash in the doorway, leaning against the frame, wearing a curious expression.

“You know as well as any, I've never been one to worry about form,” Michael said, reaching for another glass. “But I'm always glad to share the bottle.”

“Ah, my favorite beverage,” Ash said, taking it from Michael as soon as it was poured.

“I thought it might be, since it's your liquor cabinet.”

A moment passed while the two men downed their drinks, then pointing to the mahogany desk, Ash took his seat. Michael sat across from him, crossing his legs and feigning a comfort that he was far from feeling.

“How are you doing?” Ash said, pointing to Michael's arm.

Michael shrugged. “Well enough, thank you. Though, I must say, I'm surprised to see you here. I'd thought that we were meeting in London, going before the judges there.”

“The truth is Caro and Amelia were about to drive me off the ledge. Both of them nattering on, frantic with worry for you and Beatrice. One would think that you were incapable of taking care of yourselves.”

Michael grunted. “Perhaps they're right. I did rather make a mess of it all.”

“That's the very best part of being married, well, one of the best things, anyway. Women have an immeasurable capacity to forgive.” He downed the remainder of his drink. “Now about your plans to leave for America…”

Michael leaned forward. “Of course, I won't go until I've settled the Bainbridge affair. I'm sure there will be charges…”

Ash put his hands on the table between them. “I'm afraid it's a bit more complicated than that. It's no longer a question of a simple duel. I wish it were so.”

“What do you mean?” Michael sensed that a disaster was about to descend. Whenever he'd experienced it in the past, it had been dead-on.

“You're being accused of murder.”

“How is that possible?”

“Bainbridge had supporters, in both government and the trades. My guess is that by killing him, you've essentially bankrupted the lot of them. It's all a travesty, if you ask me. The good news is that you'll be tried by a jury of peers. Let's hope they're sympathetic to your case.”

“I must leave for London at once,” Michael said, setting his glass on the desk.

“There's no need. A special detachment of soldiers is on its way here to arrest you.”

“How long before they get here?”

Ash shrugged. “They were about four hours behind me. My guess would be either this evening or early tomorrow morning.”

“In some corners of London, I imagine that I've been found guilty already.”

“You're going to fight them, aren't you? Certainly, you don't mean to let these accusations go unchallenged?”

“I'll do what I can. But you must get away from me, Ash. Take Beatrice and go back to London. Any alliance with me may put suspicion on you.”

“Nonsense. I've money and status enough to protect myself.”

“I'm sure you think so. But we don't know the full extent of it yet. I implore you. Take Beatrice and go now. The sooner you get her out of harm's way, the better.”

“She won't leave you. Not now, especially after all that's happened.”

Michael shook his head. “If she'd any sense about her, she'd leave me and never look back. Staying with me will be far more heartache than she deserves.”

“I'm sure she won't agree. More than that, I have a feeling she'll be your best ally in all this. It's what women do, you know. Heaven knows, they are far stronger than we are.”

“You're ever the hopeful one, Ash.” Michael sighed. “Caro has been good for you, no doubt about it. You were always such a cynic, but now you've grown a heart. I'm happy for you. But I'm not the man you are, my friend. Far from it.”

Ash put his hand on Michael's arm. “I knew you before they ruined you, you know. Your parents, the women…”

“It's long past the time when I should allow others to dictate my fate. They may have created the vessel, but they didn't fill it with bitters, now, did they?” Michael sighed. “You've been a good friend to me, Ash. Now that Bainbridge is dead and Beatrice is safe, that's all that matters. I need to know you'll make sure that she's taken care of.”

“Caroline and I will always care for the both of you. I'm sure that once it's discovered what a threat Bainbridge was to you both and you are found innocent of these ridiculous charges, there will be no question of leniency in regards to the dueling.”

Michael smiled. “You are an optimist, my friend. I think that's what I like most about you.”

“Me? An optimist?” He leaned back. “Perhaps we should have Jeremy take a look at your skull. You must have sustained a blow to your head to say such things about me.”

“Call me sentimental.” He laughed.

Ash looked at him a moment. “Beatrice will always have a place with Caroline and me. Why would you ask such a thing?”

Michael shrugged. “You well know what happens to convicted murderers.”

“I do. But I doubt that will happen to you.”

“But it is in the realm of possibility, isn't it?”

Ash was quiet a moment. “Anything is possible, but it damn well doesn't mean it's probable. You're a good man, whatever your detractors might have said in the past. You were an exemplary soldier and a staunch defender of honor. Surely the courts will keep that in mind.”

“Just in case they don't, you must promise me that if Bea chooses to remarry, you'll make sure he's the right sort.”

“And if she chooses to remain alone?”

Michael swallowed. “She must be allowed the freedom of her choices, no matter what. I owe her that much.”

Ash let out a breath. “Then it'll be as you wish, but I've no doubt you'll be found innocent and the two of you will spend many long years together.”

“That is my hope.”

Michael smiled. He was glad to have such good friends. No matter what, Ash would do his best to help him. Unfortunately, he knew well that there were some miracles that even a wealthy duke couldn't manage.

Walking back to his dressing room, Michael looked up to see Bea waiting for him in the hall. She looked as pure as an angel, standing there, wearing an expression of hope. Her hair was piled high on her head, small curls escaping her pins, floating around her neck. She wore a pale blue gown, and a dainty cameo affixed to a white ribbon adorned her lovely throat. He wanted so much to take her in his arms, to kiss that lovely neck, nibble at her ears, kiss her beautiful mouth…

“Hello, my love,” she said. “I thought we might spend the remainder of the day in bed, and then tomorrow we could go for a long walk on the grounds, perhaps pack a lunch…”

Michael pulled her into his arms. “The only thing I want to do at this moment is to kiss you.”

He kissed her one last time, taking his time, tasting her, inhaling her, loving her.

Bea laughed when they broke apart. “Silly man, of course there will be kissing involved. And, other things…”

Michael took her hands in his. “I'm sorry, but there won't be time for that now. Ash has come to take you back to London.”

She stepped back. “Back to London? Whatever for? I thought you and I were headed to Portsmouth…”

“I know. But it seems the courts have not looked too kindly on my duel with Bainbridge. I'm being brought up on charges.”

He felt her distress as keenly as his own. “That can't be. Don't they know what sort of man he was? How he hit me and how I was so terribly mistreated at the hands of those terrible people he hired to abduct me?”