Lady Iona's Rebellion (11 page)

“Mama—” Iona started to say.

“I know,” her mother said at the same time. “I know you wish to make a love match. But your father is convinced this marriage will make you happy and I stand by him in his decision.”

“Papa is wrong,” Iona insisted. “Byron is like my brother, I simply cannot picture him being my husband. I do not love him. And honestly, I’m not ready to marry anyone.”

“You and Byron are friends though?” the Duchess asked.

“We have always rubbed together well enough. But I do not love—”

“Love will come later. Remember this always—the strongest relationships are built from a foundation of friendship. It was this way with your father and me. And it will be the same for you.”

Iona bit her lip and looked away. “I cannot imagine being happy with Byron, or with any man. Why can you not understand that?”

“You are unable to imagine your happiness only because you have never loved, my dear.”

Iona refused to accept that answer. She knew she could have more than a safe, proper future with a safe, proper gentleman who showed more passion for his business than for her. If only she knew how to fight for what she wanted out of life. A week was not enough time for her to completely change her personality. She needed more time. And more of Nathan’s lessons.

The rustle of skirts alerted her to her mother’s approach. A soft hand brushed her cheek.

“You are still young, Iona, but well past the age when you could honestly argue that you are not quite old enough to marry. Byron is presently looking for a wife and your father dearly wishes you to fill that role,” the Duchess said softly. She stepped in front of Iona and placed her hands on either side of Iona’s face. “Your father should have been firm with you years ago. Alas, he was not. So brood all you want, Daughter. Spend your days crying within your room. I will not harass you about your actions this week as long as you stay away from Lord Nathan Wynter.”

“You misunderstood Lillian, she—”

The Duchess shook her head sharply. “I do not need Lillian to tell me that you have been spending time with him. Mrs. Buckley saw you kiss the bounder in the middle of Sydney Gardens.”

“Lord Nathan is my friend. What Mrs. Buckley saw was a friendly peck on the cheek,” Iona protested even though she felt her cheeks growing hot.

“Stay away from that rogue,” her mother warned. “He is a danger to young ladies.”

“Those are merely ugly rumors. He is above reproach and—”

“No, Iona, I happen to know from his father that the unpleasant whispers circulating in the tearooms about him are true.”

“That cannot be right,” Iona whispered.

“The Marquess has told me himself how, a good number of years ago, Lord Nathan seduced a young lady, a lady who was barely more than a child herself. A few months later, when it was revealed that she was in a delicate condition and unmarried, thanks to him, the unfortunate lady did what any proper girl in her position would do. She killed herself. Please, believe me when I say this, he is not your friend. He is simply a wolf looking for an opportunity.”

“No…” Tears flooded Iona’s eyes. He was not a wolf. None of what her mother was saying could be true. He was honorable. He would never take advantage of an innocent lady. Nor would he do anything that would hurt her.

If only she could have some time alone with him, to talk with him so she would be able to figure out why such wicked rumors existed in the first place. Once she had a little more information, she could defend him.

He truly needed to send for her, and soon.

* * * * *

How could he?

Nathan ground his jaw as he pounded on the front door of the Royal Crescent townhouse. The wooden panels shuddered in their frames. He had been working so damned hard to repair his reputation and regain his father’s respect.

How could his brother be so careless?

Of course Nathan already knew the answer to that question. He didn’t need to come to his father’s home to ask for it. He knew only too well how his brother could do something so utterly thoughtless, so vividly stupid.

Edward was a bounder. A cad. A blackguard.

And selfish…

“The Marquess is presently resting,” Rogers, the family butler, drawled. His long nose wrinkled like an overstuffed sausage as he gave a hearty sniff. “You may as well take yourself off. He will likely remain within his chamber until evening.”

In no mood to be dissuaded, Nathan took hold of Rogers’ shoulders and lifted his father’s snob of a butler, moving him from where he stood blocking the entrance and setting him down in the foyer. He then very carefully straightened the man’s rumpled lapels.

“I am on the hunt for my dolt of an older brother, not my father. And do not give me one of your vacant stares, Rogers. I plan to toss open every damned door in sight until I find him so you might as well tell me where he is hiding.”

“The drawing room would be a prudent place to begin your search, lad,” Rogers grumbled as Nathan started up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. “I do ask that you strive to keep your voice down. The Marquess is indeed fatigued this afternoon. And having to hear you fight with your brother would stress him fiercely.”

“You won’t hear a word from me,” Nathan vowed. What was a little restraint after the lengths he’d already gone through to protect his father and the cursed Portfry name from his brother’s reckless deeds?

A blinding anger bled into his strangled tone. “Not a blessed word.”

He grabbed the crystal doorknob to the drawing room, the first room at the top of the stairs, and with a crushing grip tossed open the door.

A teacup emblazoned with the Portfry crest, a dragon entwined around a long-stemmed lily, nearly slipped from his sister-in-law’s fingers. A dollop of tea splashed onto her tangerine-colored frock. She swiped at the stain with a crisp handkerchief while serving a killing glare in Nathan’s direction. No warm feelings had ever existed between him and Maryanne. He wasn’t surprised to see that nothing had changed within the past few days.

“Edward,” she said, her voice growing as sharp as a pin, “do something…at least say something.”

The esteemed heir to the Portfry title was standing next to a tray of treats that had been laid out on a side table in the corner of the room. Apparently he’d just stuffed a whole crumpet into his mouth. His cheeks looked as plump as a greedy dormouse’s. With a nod to his wife, Edward cleared his throat and began to chew faster.

Nathan’s mother, the stately Lady Portfry, appeared the least affected by Nathan’s dramatic entrance. She rose from where she’d been sitting next to the front windows on a sky blue settee. A frigid wind sailed straight from her stony gaze into Nathan’s heart.

“Lord Nathan,” she said using a chilled tone generally reserved for unruly servants and shopkeepers, “what manner of idiocy compels you to rush into my drawing room as if you lacked any sort of breeding?”

“Mother.” Nathan gave her a deep bow. “You are looking well today. Please, do not bother to send for a fresh pot of tea or an extra cup,” he said. He knew she would do neither. “I won’t stay long enough to socialize. Edward and I need to have a discussion. In private.”

The hem of Lady Portfry’s bright lemon walking dress snapped to attention as she marched toward her youngest son.

“You will not make trouble in my home or do anything to upset the Marquess,” she said. “Take whatever quarrel you have with
my son
outside.”

“Of course, Mother,” Nathan said and held onto the lazy smile plastered upon his lips as if his life depended on it. His mother hadn’t allowed him to be her son for many years and yet each time she denied him Nathan still grieved the loss of her love like it had happened yesterday. “If it would not be too much trouble, Edward, I wish to have a civil word with you…outside, if you do not mind.”

“My husband does not wish to speak with you. Go on, tell him, Edward,” Maryanne said before her husband could react. “Tell him how you will not give him any more money. Tell him how he will bankrupt this estate if he continues to run up such extravagant bills, expecting his long-suffering brother to pay them.”

“Indeed?” Nathan raised a brow at that. “Edward, is that what you wish to tell me?”

Edward wiped the crumbs from his chin and stepped forward. “Please, Maryanne, do not be unkind. I always have time for my brother,” he said, grabbing Nathan’s arm with a crushing grip and pulling him toward the door. “We can talk in the back garden, or if you’d wish, I could accompany you to your apartment.”

Nathan held his ground. “Perhaps I should stay and hear more about this money you have spent while nobly trying to protect me from the duns.”

“No—” Edward began and then flashed an angry glance in his wife’s direction. “Maryanne, do not interfere. I have no wish to upset Father.” He gave Nathan’s arm another vicious tug and waved away his mother’s sudden look of concern. “Let us have this discussion elsewhere.”

Since Nathan had only wanted to knock some sense into his brother’s head—not create an ugly scene while doing it—he let Edward lead the way to the gardens at the back of the townhouse.

Stately willow trees shaded the walled space between the townhouse and the brick and timber stables. Nathan chose a spot some distance from the back door and propped his boot on the edge of a stone bench.

“Miss Darly has been in town for several days now,” he said and flicked a piece of lint from his doeskin pantaloons.

“I know,” Edward replied blandly. “I arranged for her to be offered the part of Euphrasia in
The Grecian Daughter
.”

Nathan knew he shouldn’t be surprised. Still, hearing that his brother
had
actually sent for the actress baffled him.

“You’re taking her as a mistress again?” Nathan asked, his foot slid off the bench. He started to pace. “
She
agreed to have you again even after you left her a year and a half ago without so much as a stipend even though you knew she had a child growing in her belly?
Your
child?”

Edward scowled. “You know I cannot abide continuing relations with a woman who is increasing. The thought of even touching such a woman turns my stomach.”

Nathan felt like he’d just been punched in the gut.

“Good God, are you telling me Maryanne is breeding again?”

Edward had taken up with Miss Rose Darly during Maryanne’s first pregnancy a little over two years ago. Vowing he was in love with the actress, Edward had paid court to her in a very public manner at theatre performances and by squiring her to a variety of soirées while Maryanne rusticated in the country awaiting the birth of their first child.

His success with winning the actress’s regard had won the envy of most of the gentlemen of the
ton
. Miss Darly was as delicate and lovely as the flower after which she’d been named. Her talents on the stage were also unparalleled. She excelled in the tragic roles, winning the love and admiration of her audiences and stirring men’s chivalrous natures until there wasn’t a gentleman in London who wouldn’t gladly take up the sword for her.

Which was exactly why his brother’s renewed interest in Miss Darly chilled Nathan’s blood.

After Edward left London—leaving behind a brokenhearted, pregnant actress—it had taken a handsome sum of money from Nathan’s own bank account to keep her from entreating some lovelorn swain to ride out to Callaway Abbey and put a bullet through Edward’s thoughtless heart on her behalf.

Nathan had run himself ragged while trying to keep the news of his brother’s cruel treatment of one of London’s beloved actresses from reaching any of the gentlemen’s clubs or ladies’ tearooms. And he hadn’t been able to accomplish the thorny task without further tarnishing his own name in the process.

In the end, everyone assumed Miss Darly’s child was Nathan’s and that Nathan had wooed the beautiful Miss Darly away from his own brother. Only Edward and Miss Darly knew the truth.

“Leave the poor actress alone,” Nathan warned. He’d tie his brother up and stuff him into a carriage heading back to Callaway Abbey before letting Edward put him through such a harrowing experience again. “Her popularity is greater than ever. A host of young gentlemen, all vying for her attentions, have followed her to Bath from London. Let one of them have her.”

“Why should I?” Edward stomped his foot like a spoiled child. “Are you jealous of my ability to attract the cream of the ladies? Is that why you’re trying to dissuade me? Why shouldn’t I take a mistress? Every bloody gentleman in England has a mistress.” Baring his fists, he advanced on Nathan. “I won’t be the only one doing without!”

“Father ruthlessly hammered into our heads that we should rather die than allow a scandal to stain the immaculate Portfry name.” He smacked his brother on the forehead. “How in blazes did that lesson not take?”

Edward stumbled backward, tripping over a tree root. “What in the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“You and mistresses and scandal seem to go hand in hand, that’s what. I’m tired of tidying up your messes for you…and protecting the Portfry name.”

“Is that what has you acting like a prig of a lady with a bee buzzing in her bonnet?” Edward barked a laugh, a deep-bellied, thick laugh that bent him over and had him grabbing his knees. “Such indignation! It sounds ridiculous coming from your lips. Everyone knows you’re the bad seed, Nat.”

“But you know the truth.”

“The truth?” Edward choked a little as he laughed some more, sounding as if he’d just heard the cleverest joke ever conceived. “And who do you fancy yourself to be? The sanctimonious younger brother or the martyred prodigal son? Or…or perhaps both?”

“Neither. Tell me, Brother, are you going to do the reasonable thing and leave Miss Darly alone?”

Edward started to walk away. “You have no right telling me how to live my life.
I
am the heir to the Portfry title and
I
am free to do as
I
please.”

“Very well,” Nathan had to trot in order to catch up to his brother, “perhaps instead of talking about your recklessness with mistresses you can tell me about this missing money from the accounts that Maryanne believes you have been giving me. What’s the truth behind that lie?”

Edward stopped. “Ever since Father’s illness, I have been doing an exemplary job handling the estate accounts. Oh, you may think yourself so clever, having spent your childhood following the estate manager around and asking all those inane questions as if you were in line to inherit the property. It eats at you, doesn’t it? You will never have an estate to call your own and I will.”

It was true. Nathan did harbor an ache, a longing to manage a working estate. Numbers and measures and the day-to-day lives of the common workers had always fascinated him.

“Is it jealousy that makes you think you could manage the lands better than me?”

“Jealousy has nothing to do with my noticing that for the past two years, the income from the estate’s wheat crops has been half of what it should be and that you’re letting the miller charge twice the price he does our neighbors. And the back fields at Holme Crossing fell fallow even though there were willing hands to till them. You need to be more careful. If you’re having trouble, at least rethink my suggestion that you consult with Father or his man-of-affairs regarding—”

“You have no right to question my decisions!”

Nathan shrugged. “If you are covering your losses by telling others you have been paying debts for me, I would merely like to know—”

Edward circled his brother like a hawk closing in on his prey. “You are ever the pleasant fellow, are you not? Gathering friends with that benign smile of yours.”

“And you are dancing around the issue. What is happening to the estate monies, Edward? Since you’re sullying my name, I have every right to know.”

“You have no rights when it comes to this family. Or have you forgotten, you’re not welcome within our ranks anymore.”

Good God, Edward should be grateful for what Nathan had gone through and the sacrifices he’d made. Instead his brother only appeared willing to spew malice.

“I understand only too well my position and how I came to it,” Nathan said, tamping down an urge to beat some sense into his brother.

“I never asked for your interference in my life.” Edward’s cheeks bloomed bright red. “Never wanted your damned—”

“I was protecting our family’s reputation!”