Double Deceit (25 page)

“That’s not what—” The contemptuous glance over his shoulder froze her tongue.

“Feels different when you’re on the other end, doesn’t it, Miss Hypocritical Vale? You are just like your father, and no better than any other scheming jade. Despite your demands for respect and equality, you moan and groan when people judge you by the same standards you use on them. Well, I’ve got news for you. What’s sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose. You might think about that the next time you feel like throwing stones. I can’t believe I thought you might be different. I must be the world’s greatest fool.”

“How dare you criticize me! Even hell hasn’t a pit deep enough for you.”

“Close-minded, as well. Enjoy fending off the fortune hunters, Miss Vale. The most desperate will need your dowry badly enough to overlook that sharp tongue. Of course, the winner will lock you in an attic so he needn’t live with you. But what do you care? By admitting his avarice, he will meet your exacting standards.”

“I hope you rot!”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” He flashed a cheeky grin. “I always land on my feet. The only reason I approached you was to save my mother from dying in a hovel. But I shouldn’t have bothered. I’ve known your estimable father for years. The fruit rarely falls far from the tree.”

“Get out,” she ordered through clenched teeth.

“I’ll always thank God that I learned your true character before it was too late, Miss Dishonorable Vale. My mother would prefer that hovel to welcoming you into the family.” Another of those crooked grins lit up his face. “Hold that image close and think on it. Maybe you’ll get lucky, and it will eat a hole big enough that the gods can insert a heart into that barren chest.”

“Get out! Get out! Get out!”

Sweeping her a flamboyant bow, he complied.

His eyes are devastated.

“Hardly.” She stifled the voice. “He enjoyed watching me squirm.” How could she have been so stupid? His dishonesty had been obvious from the beginning. She should have turned him away the moment he’d faked that accident, but curiosity and guilt had weighed her down.

Shock had numbed her since the moment she’d realized his identity, but that immunity was now gone. As the full pain of his deceit sank in, nausea returned in choking, bitter waves. She bolted for her room.

* * * *

Tony retained his control long enough to fling an order to Murch, but pain overwhelmed him long before he reached his room. Damn her! And damn him for falling in love with her. Her words had sliced him to ribbons, flaying him until he doubted it was possible to register more pain. Someone could stab him in the back and he would not notice.

He’d known that revealing the truth would cause trouble. In fact, he’d racked his brains all the way to the house, searching for a way to broach the subject. But never had he pictured this.

He had postponed confessing once too often, he admitted as grief penetrated the shock, lashing his heart in its turn.

He’d been wrong. The pain was already worse.

Someone must have written to her, for she’d been clutching a letter through much of her diatribe. Though how anyone could have known—

The how didn’t matter. Only the result. She was so incensed that she refused to listen, refused to think, refused even to recognize the facts staring her in the face.

Recalling her disbelief sent his temper soaring. It had been wishful thinking to hope she might care. Even a mild
tendre
would have prompted her to listen. But she hadn’t. Miss Holier-than-thou Vale wanted everything her way. She could do whatever she wanted, but everyone else must be a saint.

Damn her to hell! And damn himself for forgetting how scheming and cunning women were. One couldn’t trust them a moment. She might well have conceived this farce so she could wrest control of her dowry while he was reeling from shock. It was the sort of ploy her father often used.

Ringing for Simms, he stuffed clothes into valises, letting the anger build. She was as arbitrary as his father – blind, deaf, unwilling to accept anything that didn’t fit her neat little image of the world. Damn her for acting so confounded superior when her own sins were as bad as his. He should have known that Sir Winton would never have produced an honest daughter.

Idiot!

“Tony—” Jon was pushing the door open.

“Pack. We’re leaving,” he ordered. “I want to be out of here in five minutes.”

“But—”

“Move! If you aren’t ready, you can find your own way home.” He flung one valise toward the door while dumping cravats into the other.

Jon’s gasped.

“Well?”

“Immediately.” He ran for his room.

The coachman was slow, but they pulled away only ten minutes later. Murch’s frown followed them down the drive.

* * * *

Alex retched until the pain in her stomach matched that in her heart, then cried until she was dry. Then she repeated the cycle. She finally shoved the sodden pillow aside, disgusted with herself for caring. He wasn’t worth this much upset. He certainly wasn’t worth tears.

How could she have been so stupid? The signs had been there from the beginning. He was a schemer and liar of the first order, who hadn’t had time to get comfortable in his role before arriving – which explained his nervousness when she’d questioned him that first night. At the very least, she should have suspected manipulation when she realized that he knew Bushnell. Torwell supposedly knew no one.

Damn the man! How dare he sneak into her house and steal her heart? How dare he feed her dreams – and even incite new ones – then dash them to pieces, grin, and walk away? That bow had mocked her even more than his scorn.

Deformed freak … meant your character…

The words sliced deep, hurting more than everything her father had said in six-and-twenty years. New tears coursed down her cheeks, sending her back to the chamber pot.

Thought you might be different … scheming jade … hiding behind her skirts … coward … coward … coward…

She moaned, stifling the sound in a pillow. “What have I done?”

No more than you had to.

It was true, she insisted, whipping up her fury. How dare he hide from what all the world knew, then blame her for protecting herself? He could protest until his face turned blue about his innocence, but people did not make up tales. No one woke up one morning with the bright idea of ruining Tony Linden’s life.

He
was the villain.
He
was the schemer. Dear God, why had she been born a woman? It left her vulnerable to wretches like Linden. Even his respect had been a lie. He’d manipulated her from the start so he could get what he wanted. He cared nothing for her, even using her most cherished dreams against her. Life was unfair.

A soft rap penetrated her fuming.

“Who is it?”

“Sarah. I need to talk to you.”

“Not today.”

“Are you ill?”

She exhaled slowly, forcing control over her voice. “I am fine, Sarah. But I do not wish to be disturbed today.”

The door rattled, but the lock held. “Alex! We have to talk.”

“No!” she shouted, desperate to be alone. “Get out.”

“What is wrong, Alex?”

She gave up responding, unwilling to explain. The burst of fury had died, leaving excruciating pain and desolation behind. Clasping pillows over her head to deaden Sarah’s voice, she sank into misery.

Chapter Fourteen

“For the last time, no! I will not return. I will not wed that scheming witch. And I will not listen to another word!” Tony twisted sideways to stare out the window.

“The tiff cannot be that serious,” protested Jon. “I have never seen two people so perfectly suited.”

“Enough, Jon.” Anger faded into weariness. “I am pleased that you are betrothed, and I understand that you want us to share your joy, but neither of us is interested. If you continue harassing me, I will have to ride on the box.”

The carriage fell blessedly silent.

Hard travel had exhausted him, numbing his wounds, though the agonizing pain still lurked, ready to pounce the moment he relaxed. Yesterday, he had stopped only long enough to change horses until Jon’s concern for the coachman had prompted a brief midnight halt at an inn. But despite a sleepless night and long day, he’d found no rest, plagued by nightmares whenever he dozed off, each harsher than the last. Now the sun was again setting, its last rays turning a passing tree red.

The same red as her hair.

No!

Remembering was pointless, he reminded himself. Forgiveness was an alien concept to Miss Lying-Through-Her-Teeth Merideth-Vale. She wanted absolutes in her life – absolute honesty, absolute purity, absolute respect for her talents. Well, she could have her absolutes. He was absolutely gone and he would stay that way.

He recognized the church spire in the distance. They would push on for another three hours before stopping. A dawn start would bring them to Linden Park by three. Speaking with his father was a meeting neither would enjoy, but he could not postpone it. Only days remained before they must be gone.

She would never forgive him. She might have eventually done so if his only crime had been that insane deception. But he’d lost his temper, deliberately hurting her in childish retaliation for his own pain, tossing out words he knew would slice deep into her heart. He’d watched each one hit, taking satisfaction at every cringe, every blink, every tightening of her fists. It had been a stupid revenge. He shouldn’t have done it. Every one of her flinches had scraped a new strip from his soul. And he had stepped outside the bounds of civilized conduct.

Maybe she was right. His character was fatally flawed. He might protest that he was innocent, but his reputation was a product of his own behavior. New anger had prompted a tirade consistent with that reputation, despite being alien to Torwell’s usual conduct and his own self-image. The hole he’d dug himself into was now six feet deep, and the coffin lid was sealed. He was the last person on earth she would consider forgiving.

So he must move on. Once he confessed this latest failure and made what peace he could with his father, he would look to the future. Yesterday’s plans were even sounder without the added expense of a wife and family. He could not allow his mother to suffer. Sharing a roof with his father would be a well-deserved punishment for throwing his reputation to the dogs.

* * * *

When Tony entered the study, Linden ignored him. He’d drawn his favorite wing chair close to the fire, but not a muscle moved as he stared at the flames. In the weeks since their last meeting, he had aged at least ten years.

“Father?” Though nervous, he sat in the other chair. This was a time for confession and compromise, not confrontation. Pacing or looming above Linden’s head would create the wrong impression.

“I am surprised that you returned.” His voice lacked its usual harshness. “There is little point. Sir Winton’s trustee will take charge in two days.”

This was not the reception he had expected. He scrambled to revise his planned opening as his father continued.

“But at least this gives me an opportunity to beg your forgiveness.”

“It is done. Nothing can be changed. As you pointed out at our last meeting, the estate was yours to dispose of as you pleased.”

“That is not what I meant.” Linden shifted, revealing the tension his pose had hidden, a tension growing from pain rather than the anger and arrogance he usually radiated. “The estate was a family treasure, to be guarded and nourished by each custodian until it passed to the next generation. When we last spoke, I was still trying to deflect responsibility for my poor stewardship.”

“I understand. We all find ways to excuse ourselves, but it is done.” He was more uncomfortable than if the man had ranted in his usual way. At least he knew how to deal with that.

“Yes, it is done, but I must apologize. Losing everything is my well-deserved punishment for a lifetime of poor decisions and inexcusable arrogance. I can live with that. What I find hard to accept is that others must also pay for my crimes – you, your mother, the servants, the tenants…

“This is not necessary, Father.” Had the man been drinking again? Never before had he been maudlin. But a quick glance found no sign of wine.

Linden bit his lip. “I do not expect forgiveness, but at least hear me out.”

Tony nodded. Listening hurt, but he’d been on the other end of that request only three days ago. Refusing made him no better than Miss Vale. If he ever hoped to build rapport with his father, he must let him explain.

“I have ruined your life, for you would never have followed this course had I not railed so loudly against it.”

“Perhaps, though I have made plenty of mistakes on my own.”

“I wanted to protect you from repeating my errors.” He seemed not to have heard the interruption. “You were such a bright child, Tony. Happy and healthy, with charm to spare. I prayed that you would always remain happy, but I feared what would happen when you grew older. You were so like my brother Daniel – and me.”

Tony stared, unable to recognize this blue-deviled man as the disapproving autocrat he usually faced. Something was happening that he couldn’t explain. Had Linden spent the entire month in maudlin contemplation? “What do you mean?”

“I was wild as a youth,” Linden admitted, briefly raising his eyes before returning his gaze to the fire. “As was Daniel, though he quieted once he married. Thank God Jonathan inherited that calm while avoiding Daniel’s instability.”

“What tale is this?”

Linden shrugged. “I should have told you years ago. Daniel ran berserk one day, killing his wife and then himself. Explosive tempers are the family curse.”

“My God.” He’d always thought Jon’s parents had died in a carriage accident. Did Jon know the truth?

“In my case, temper combined with the arrogance of knowing I was heir to a title. My father’s discourses on the exalted deeds of our ancestors made that arrogance worse. I never allowed anyone to question my actions – which cost me dearly enough. If someone challenged my courage or my expertise, I had to prove them wrong. Winton Vale took advantage of that failing. I lost a good portion of my allowance to him nearly every quarter. Though I knew I was a terrible card player, I would invariably respond to his taunts and dares by accepting a game. He always won.”