After The Storm (29 page)

“You little hypocrite.” He shook his head at her pathetic attempt to turn the situation back to him. He hadn’t expected her to react any differently. Sally was uncomplicated, far too simple to do anything other than attempt to deflect the blame back to him. “Tell me, was it you who made the offer, or will you try to convince me the little mama’s boy pounced upon you?”

She held his gaze easily and her blush receded into porcelain paleness. If she felt even a whit of shame, she hid it well. “What is good for the mighty duke…”

He wanted to throttle the smugness from her voice, but he only smiled and shook his head. “Ah, but there you are mistaken, my dear lady. As you made certain your tryst would be discovered, I can assure you I now have ample reason to end this, and that is exactly what I intend to do.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she snarled.

“Wouldn’t I?”

“You have no proof, save for the words of your drunken friends. I’ll deny it. And unless you can prove your hateful accusations, there is naught you might do.”

“And I might demand the same of you, Sally. Have you any proof I did anything the least bit inappropriate with Miss MacDonough? That we did anything other than build a fire and go to sleep?” At her stunned silence, he grinned. “I did not think so. And now, the game is over. I am finished here, and finished with you.”

“You know as well as I do, your mother will never allow such a thing. It was your father’s dying wish and now you will
break
that promise you made? You will
dishonor
him? For shame, Hugh. You, who was always so
noble
. Bah, we both know you do not have it in you to betray his memory in such a manner.” With a triumphant lift of her chin, she declared, “I
will
be the Duchess of Thorpeton and there is not a damn thing you might do about it.”

Fury burned through every fiber of his body. “You little
bitch
. How
dare
you—Does becoming a bloody duchess mean
that
much to you? Is that the
only
thing you bloody well care about?” He took a step closer. “Nothing else matters, does it, Sally? Nothing but raising yourself up in the eyes of those silly crows who feel it best to judge a person by what title she snared, no matter how she snared it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, but her response wasn’t convincing.

His arms fell to his sides, his cane thudded against the floor, and the hand tightened into a fist about the handle. “There will be no wedding, Sally. I care naught how you announce it, but this farce of a courtship ends here, this morn. Blame me, if that is your wont. I am quite through with you and this nonsense. But hear me and hear me well, my fine harlot, you
will
make it known that you will
not
be the next Duchess of Thorpeton, or I will take great delight in letting your assignation become well known and ripe fodder. And then I shall sit back and laugh as doors all over London slam shut in your face. And it will be
you
the
ton
whispers about behind your back. Not me, Sally.
You
.”

A flicker of fear darted across her face, but she held his angry glare. “I don’t believe you.”

“I think you do.” He sighed. Truth be told, he wasn’t angry about Sally and Roderick. He didn’t care overmuch. It no longer mattered. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “This is over, Sally. Over. There will be no wedding. You don’t love me. You love my title.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. “I was angry at first, but now I no longer care. You will see it yourself one day. You and I would have made each other miserable in time.”

“This change of heart, it’s because of
her
, isn’t it?” Her voice was flat, void of emotion.

“Perhaps.” There was no reason to lie. “But had things been as they should between you and I it never would have happened. I meant not to hurt you. That was never my intention, Sally. Never.”

“Of course not. The fine,
honorable
Duke of Thorpeton would never be such a cad. And yet, you were exactly that.”

He stared down at her, fighting the urge to grin. “As I said, where is your proof? I have mine. Can you say the same?”

Her cheeks burned fiery red as a fresh blush streaked its way toward her hairline. Her mouth opened and closed several times, but no words rose up. He rapped his cane against the floor. “I will take that as agreement. I’ve no doubt that, come this evening, you will paint me as the greatest cad in all of London. Enjoy yourself. Make me out to be as wicked as you like, for I care not what your friends think of me.”

Without waiting for her response, he turned and walked out. As he reached the walkway, he glanced back at the gray stone townhouse. He felt nothing but emptiness. With Miranda gone, an odd sort of numbness sank in, dragging behind it the need to put London and the
ton
as far behind him as possible.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Thorpeton Hall was quiet once again and it was a refuge Hugh desperately sought. He was finished with London for now. He’d tidy up his business in Nottingham and then travel north to Inverness and Castle Wyndham, which held the peace he craved. Everything else could wait. He needed solitude and a chance to sort out his troubled, jumbled, mucked-up thoughts before he went mad.

Elyse made Inverness even more enticing, as he returned to Thorpeton Hall to find himself the target of her not-so-subtle prodding and pushing where Miranda was concerned. Instead of being scandalized by what happened, Elyse seized it as the perfect reason for him to go after Miranda.

“I don’t understand why you aren’t still in London, trying to put things right between you,” she urged for perhaps the hundredth time. “Don’t you realize what a gift your compromising her truly is?”

“Enough, Elyse. I am not having this discussion with you.” He bent over his desk, determined to ignore her into leaving the office.

Unfortunately, it was something easier said than done. “Why not? I’m not a child, need I remind you. I
know
what most likely happened between the two of you and—”

“For the last time, Elyse,” he broke in, lifting his head to glare at her. “I’ll not discuss what happened or did not happen that night. I’ve told all anyone need know. I’ll not do so again.”

But she refused to relent. Rather, she flounced to the sofa and flung herself down in a flutter of pale green muslin, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared balefully at he turned back to the heavy, leather-bound ledger book, but when it felt as if the top of his head was burning, he looked up. “What?”

“You do not think I believe one word of that drivel, do you? You whiled away a night alone with Randi, and yet I’m to believe nothing happened? Then explain to me, please, why Sally stormed out of here in such a snit?
She
didn’t believe you, either, did she?”

He tossed down his pen and laced his fingers together as he brought both hands to rest atop the desk. He’d hoped to tidy things up before journeying to Scotland, but her persistence rendered it impossible. “And what, exactly, am I supposed to tell you? What is it you wish to hear, Elyse? Bloody hell, you are as bad as the lot of birds back in London, fairly salivating over any nasty little morsel. I thought you had no use for such silliness?”

Her cheeks flared pink, but she didn’t look away. “Don’t insult me by throwing me in with the likes of them, Hugh Montgomery. I know what I saw. And I’ll kindly ask you not to swear at me again. I
saw
the way Randi watched you. And I saw
the way
you
looked at her. I’ll wager Sally saw it as well. It’s no wonder she wanted to help so badly.”

“Help?” It was the most ludicrous thing he’d heard yet. “Do you mean to tell me, Sally was trying to help? By introducing Miss MacDonough to
Saintsbury
of all people? And Mahoney? A laugh, that. She was best left to her own devices. She didn’t need Sally’s notion of assistance.”

“Oh, but we both understand her motivation, Hugh. You.” She tucked her legs beneath her. “She’d have done anything, have paired her with anyone, to keep Randi away from you. But you couldn’t let well enough alone, could you? And what about Gerry?”

Hugh lifted his pen and dipped the nib ever so casually into the inkwell. “What of him?”

“He fancied Randi, you know. Thought the world of her. And I think given time she may have returned the sentiment.”

Recalling his conversation with Miranda about Gerard as they made their way back left him shaking his head. His pen scratched across the page as he made a notation. “I think you’re reaching, little sister.”

“Bah! They were quite well suited for one another.”

“And I ruined that?”

“Yes!”

He looked up at the vehemence in that one word, pen going still. “Elyse, allow me to explain one thing to you, won’t you?
Nothing
untoward happened that night. Do you hear me?
Nothing
.” Without waiting for her response, he bent over the ledger once more.

“I heard Sally confronted Randi.”

“Yes. I heard that as well.”

“Did you hear that Sally punched her?”

“What?” He lifted his head again, the ledger forgotten. “Hit her, you say?”

Elyse nodded. “A sucker punch, I believe. I didn’t see it, but I do know that Lady Marchand tossed her out of the room by the ear.”

“That little bitch.”

He meant it to be no louder than a whisper, but Elyse snickered. “Now, is that a nice way to speak of your future wife, Hugh? You
are
still going to ask for her hand, aren’t you? To quiet all those buzzing tongues, I mean.”

“I’m too busy for this nonsense.” Hugh scowled and bent back over the book. He’d say nothing about his confrontation with Sally. She’d hear the gossip soon enough. “That is none of your concern.”

“Because, if you did, you’d be making a terrible mistake.”

“I’ll remind you, it’s—” He tossed down the pen and lifted a narrow-eyed stare at Elyse. “What?”

She was all innocence now, green eyes wide and voice airy. “I said, I think you’d be making a terrible mistake. We both know Sally is interested in becoming a duchess. Preferably
your
duchess, but I’ve a feeling any old duke would do. The question then is, do you wish her to be
your
duchess, or do you find another lady be more to your satisfaction? Another lady such as, say, Miranda Macdonough?”

Elyse was determined to continue this conversation, and he had no hope of escape. “Elyse, I believe I’ve made myself quite clear—”

“We both know Papa was wild over the thought of you and the daughter of his dearest friend marrying one day,” Elyse rolled over his words without hesitation, “But in his ideals, it was a love match. On both sides. That isn’t the case here, is it?”

“Elyse…”

“Don’t trouble to answer, I already know the truth.” She waved away his warning, her eyes gleaming as she unfolded herself and rose from the sofa. “And so do you. If you’d be completely honest with yourself.”

“It matters not, really.”

She crossed over to brace her hands against the edge of the desk and leaned forward. “I think it does. Papa would not want to see you leg-shackled, as you, Gerry, and Dan so fondly describe it, in a marriage of convenience. If he knew your heart belonged to another, he’d be the first to tell you not to be a ninny. He was furious with Derek, if you remember, but he knew the true feelings we couldn’t admit to ourselves. He never said it, but I always suspected
that
was the reason he insisted Derek marry me.”

“This is an entirely different scenario. You were free to choose whomever you wished and Papa would have wholeheartedly accepted him. I am afraid I do not have that luxury.”

“Nonsense.” She shook her head emphatically. “We aren’t royals, you know. We have no set rules for whom we marry. You’re hung up on this stubborn silliness of honor and if you ask me, I think it’s merely an excuse so you can go on pretending you don’t have a heart. That love comes after duty and honor. Nonsense. Complete and utter drivel.”

“Nonsense? Yes, I guess it does seem nonsensical to you. Then again, you do not have the same responsibilities I have. Come to think of it, you need only consider yourself. I do not have that option.”

“Who
are
you considering, if not yourself? And how does marrying someone you don’t love ease your responsibilities? Men can do just about anything they choose, while women are subject to ruination and scandal. Where’s Randi now? All of her choices are gone, because of you, and you sit here pitying yourself. You are a fool,” she blurted, and a deep furrow appeared between her knit brows. “And an ass, if you ask me.”

Hugh cleared his throat and waved her away with one hand. “Then it is well and good that I didn’t ask. If you will excuse me, I have work to do.”

Elyse pushed up from the desk to step back. “Ah, yes. I forgot. The great and powerful Duke of Thorpeton has his
responsibilities
and his
decisions
to make. Hide behind your books, Hugh. Hide behind that silly stick. Hide inside yourself. It is much safer there, isn’t it?”

“That is quite enough, Elyse.” His belly tightened.

“Oh, do not play dumb with me. You are a coward, Hugh Thorpeton, afraid of what Mother will say, or what Lord Hevingford will say. And so afraid of upsetting your tidy, perfect little world you will trap yourself with a woman you don’t love, while the one you
do
love slips further from you with each passing day.” She sniffed disdainfully. “Some war hero. Faced a shipload of silly Americans, but is afraid of his own mother.”

His hand, white-knuckled as it wrapped about the pen, shook with fury. “Enough!”

“As you wish. I’ve said what I needed to say. I only hope you listened.”

“Out. Now.”

She didn’t reply, but turned heel and slammed the doors behind her with a resounding bang. He fought his anger as he turned back to the ledger before him. Suddenly he slammed the book closed and threw it across the room where it hit the wall and fell to the floor. He tossed the pen onto his desk and fought the urge to fling everything before him to the floor as well.

The woman he loved.

Hugh sank into his sumptuous leather chair and dropped his head into his hands. “Bloody hell.”

“Bit of headache, son?”

He looked up as Sarah Thorpeton stepped into the study, her forehead creased with a deep frown. It was her normal countenance these days. She aged considerably since her husband’s death, and it pained Hugh each time his eyes alit upon her worried brow, or the dark shadows beneath her eyes.

Seeing a letter in her hands he sighed. “I take it you heard?”

She nodded wearily as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do I dare ask why your sister was in such a state? And do you care to explain this?” She waved the missive before him, her eyes glowing as she said, “It’s a rather furious letter from Eleanor Hayworth demanding an answer as to why you are no longer courting Sally.”

He tamped down the frustration rising in his chest. He should have known the countess would demand answers as to why her daughter was no longer on her way to becoming a duchess. “Because our courtship has ended.”

Muslin rustled softly as she crossed to sit in one of the leather chairs opposite him. The haunted look in her dark eyes seemed more so as she replied, “Do you care to explain what you are about? I have been coddling Eleanor for months, assuring her you had every intention of asking for Sally’s hand. And yet, I receive
this
instead. And while tongues are
still
wagging over that debacle concerning Miranda MacDonough!”

He opened his mouth to speak, but fell silent when she raised her hand. “I care not, if you are about to protest. It matters not what happened or what didn’t happen. But you need to right this matter as soon as possible.”

“I know, Mother. And I will.”

“When?” The furrow between her delicate sable brows deepened. “You have been assuring me for months you will wed Sally and yet, still you stall. And now I find out, there will be no betrothal at all? Why have you changed your mind? What has brought all of this about?”

The opening couldn’t have been wider, or easier to slip through. She did not sound as if she challenged him, but rather as if motherly concern overrode her sense of duty.

He picked up his quill, but this time twirled it through his fingers, mindful of the assurance he offered Sally. “It was Sally who changed
her
mind. It was her decision to end our courtship.”