One Night Scandal (23 page)
“And how can you be so certain?” he asked. After reading the note about her leaving balls, he wasn’t sure she was still innocent.
“Her father informed me,” the duke answered.
“Then it must be true,” Nicholas said in a sarcastic tone. “I really don’t care if the king declared her innocent. Until I know for sure that she is not carrying, I will not marry her.”
His father narrowed his blue eyes on his son. “This is about that medium woman, isn’t it?”
“This has nothing to do with Miss Reynard.”
“Of course it does.” His father took a long sip of brandy before continuing, “Not that it matters. She is just like every other whore.”
Nicholas shot to his feet and clenched his fists. “She is not a whore.”
The old duke laughed scathingly and he stood to leave. “Of course she is. In fact, she never said a word when I gave her ten thousand pounds to leave London.”
Nicholas said nothing as his father ambled toward the door. She never would have taken the duke’s money. She had her father to pay her expenses. Besides, her friends would have known if she left the country. They would have informed him.
Unless they did not know either.
He refused to believe his lying father. Although, Nicholas knew his father would do anything to keep him from marrying Sophie. Including giving her a fortune to leave.
His world spun around him. There was only one way to straighten this mess out—see Sophie himself. He yelled out to his butler to ready his carriage. Then he paced the room while he waited.
“Excuse me, my lord,” Lane said from the doorway. “A letter was just delivered to you.”
Nicholas grabbed the letter from Lane’s outstretched hand. “Thank you.” Seeing Sophie’s familiar handwriting, he relaxed his tense muscles. She never would have left without saying good-bye to him and her friends.
He broke open the seal, scanned the letter and then crunched it into a tight ball and threw it across the room. She’d left him. Not only did she leave, but she took his father’s money. Pain exploded behind his head and shattered his heart.
She had left him. Without a word of good-bye. How could she have done this to him? He would have done anything for her. He reached for the brandy, decanted it and poured himself another glass of brandy.
He would get drunk until he couldn’t feel the pain any longer. Until all thoughts of Sophie were gone from his head. Maybe if he drank enough he would forget how much he loved her, or how beautiful she was, or how she satisfied his every need.
He laughed as he drank a third glass. He didn’t have enough brandy in the house for that. He wasn’t sure London had enough brandy to help him forget her.
“I am sorry, Lady Blackburn,” Nicholas’s butler said, “his lordship is indisposed.”
“Drunk?” Jennette asked softly. After receiving the letter from Sophie this afternoon, Jennette knew how Nicholas would react. She had arrived as quickly as she could manage.
He leaned in closer. “He’s locked himself in his study. He hasn’t left his study in three hours except to call for another bottle of brandy. I fear it may have something to do with a letter that Lane left for him earlier.”
Jennette was afraid of that. Once she’d received her letter, she knew she must speak with him. “I will talk with him.”
“Yes, my lady.”
She inhaled deeply and walked toward his study. She pounded on the door, waiting for a reply. When he didn’t answer, she knocked even harder. “Nicholas, please let me in.”
“Go away, Jennette. I am not accepting calls.”
“This isn’t a call.”
He laughed hoarsely from the other side of the door. “Then what is it?”
“We need to talk about what happened.”
“Nothing happened. Sophie left, that is all.”
“Nicholas, let me in,” she insisted.
“Just go away.”
“Maybe she had a reason for leaving.” Jennette listened as the room seemed to go strangely quiet. She stepped backward when she heard his footsteps clomping closer.
The door swung open and he stood there in just his trousers and white linen shirt. Looking behind him, she noticed the rest of his clothes strewn across the room. She looked up at him and wanted to cry. The pain in his brown eyes made her remember all the pain she had gone through with her own husband.
“What exactly do you know about her leaving?” he demanded.
“May I come in?” Even as she asked the question, her stomach roiled from the stench of brandy. While she could out drink many men, the smell of alcohol nauseated her terribly when with child.
“Tell me what you know.”
“You’re trying my patience.” She shoved past him and kicked at his waistcoat on the floor. “Lovely,” she muttered.
“Jennette, if you don’t start talking you might as well leave me to my brandy.”
She picked up his cravat from a chair and dropped it to the floor. “Lane is not going to be happy when he sees this room.”
“I don’t give a bloody damn about what Lane thinks. What do you know of Sophie?”
With deliberate slowness, she sat down and straightened her skirts. “Well, Nicholas, I received a letter today from Sophie stating she felt she had to leave the country because she could not stand to watch you marry Miss Littlebury.”
“That is basically the same thing she wrote me.” He hurled the crystal brandy snifter at the fireplace. Shards of glass splintered against the firebox.
“Destroying your house won’t get her back,” Jennette whispered.
He stalked across the room. His anger and frustration emanated from every pore. “I don’t even know where she is!”
Jennette smiled as he passed her chair. “You have no idea where she might have gone. Indeed? I should think it was perfectly obvious.”
He stopped his pacing and stared at her. “You know? She told you?”
She laughed softly. “No, she did not tell me. And I doubt she told anyone. Nonetheless, I know where I would go.”
Nicholas rubbed his face with his hands, trying to clear some of the muddled feelings from his brain. “Jennette,” he said, attempting to control his impatience with her, “I have no idea where she went.”
“Now you see, that is what too much brandy will do to you.” She rubbed her belly and smiled. “Among other things.”
He glared at her.
“Oh, all right,” she said. “Sophie is a very romantic person. She loves you dearly.”
“I’m not so certain of that,” he interrupted.
“I am. She loves you, Nicholas. So much, in fact, that she preferred to leave you than ruin your reputation by marrying you. Being a romantic, she would travel where she can remember the first time she met you.”
“Venice,” he said with a long sigh. “I should have thought of that. Her mother is there.”
“Exactly. She will need to be near family now.”
And with the rest of her family here, she would go to her mother. It made perfect sense. Only he’d been too foxed for any logic to sink into his alcohol soaked mind. “I need to go to her.”
“And how are you going to convince her to return? What argument will you use that you haven’t already employed?”
Nicholas finally sat down in the chair next to Jennette and thought about her words. What would convince her to return? He’d offered to break his engagement. He had offered to marry her. He’d even told her that he loved her. What more was there?
“I honestly don’t know,” he admitted.
“When I decided to leave England I was running away from everyone. I was terrified that I had ruined Blackburn and my family. I didn’t want anyone to discover where I had gone.” Jennette bit down on her lip.
“What does this have to do with Sophie?”
“She is running as I did but only because she wants to protect your reputation. And possibly the reputation of her brother and sister.”
Nicholas knew far too well that her family’s reputation was important. It was the only reason he hadn’t confronted her father. But in retrospect, that might have been a bad decision. Perhaps he should have gone to Lord Westbury and asked permission to marry Sophie.
He leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. The brandy made his head spin and he needed it to stop so he could think properly. “I don’t give a damn about my reputation. I’ve told her that numerous times.”
“She loves you. She doesn’t want to see you hurt because of her.”
“I know,” he muttered. But he still didn’t know how to get her back. He’d tried everything he could think of. “I don’t know what to do, Jennette.”
“I believe the first thing you should do is break your engagement.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Of course it is,” she replied.
“My father has threatened to harm Emma’s reputation if I do anything to break off the betrothal.” He knew Sophie would be furious if he ruined his daughter’s future because of her.
“What can he do?” she asked quietly.
“Emma might be my daughter”—he paused for a breath—“or she might be my sister. I have no way of knowing. But he will make that public knowledge if I break it off with Miss Littlebury.”
Jennette stood and crossed the room to the window. Drawing back the curtain, she stared outside for a long moment. “You do realize that your father is dying and in eight years when Emma makes her bow, no one will remember what he said. If you continue to tell everyone that she is your daughter, no one will believe him. Most will simply believe he is going mad with his death imminent.”
Nicholas thought about her statement. Would her suggestion really work? There would be talk, but in eight years would anyone of importance remember the scandal? He knew it wasn’t his decision to make.
“You have to convince her that no matter what, you are not giving up on her. Blackburn would have moved to America with me if that was the only way I would have agreed to marry him. You must prove to her that no matter what the issue is, you will be her husband.”
His lips lifted for the first time in several hours. “Are you certain she went to Venice?”
Jennette shrugged. “I can’t be positive. Victoria said Somerton would be gone for a couple of days. If I had to guess, he might know exactly where she went.”
Of course! He should have known Somerton wasn’t off working for the government again. He’d promised Victoria he would quit. Somerton would have insisted on taking Sophie to Portsmouth.
“Very well. I will wait for Somerton.”
Chapter 23
Anthony returned to London with only one thing on his mind. He strode up the steps to the house he despised and then waited for the butler to open the door.
“Good evening, my lord.”
“Is he in?”
“Yes, in his study.”
Without waiting for an announcement, he stomped down the hall toward his father’s study. He walked into the room without even a knock. His father looked up from his book with a grimace.
“Good evening, Anthony. What brings you around at this hour?”
“I just arrived back from Portsmouth.” He walked to the whisky and poured a large glass. “Don’t you want to know why I was in Portsmouth?”
“I have no idea,” his father drawled.
Anthony gulped down his whisky and poured another glass before finally taking a seat. “I was taking my sister there so she could travel to Venice.”
“Your sister is upstairs.”
Anthony tightened his grip on his glass. He hated how his father would not acknowledge Sophie even to him. “My sister is on her way to Venice with no help from her father. Well, Father”—he stopped to sip his drink—“I think you should know that tomorrow I shall announce the fact that Sophie is my sister.”
His father laughed coarsely. “Why would you do that? She is gone. Making that announcement now will do nothing but cause the entire family embarrassment.”
“Ah, but you see, I am quite certain a well connected marquess is about to travel to Venice, too. Since I doubt his intention is to live in Venice, I can only assume he proposes to bring her home.”
“What have you done, Anthony?” his father demanded.
“Nothing yet. If Ancroft doesn’t already know Sophie is on her way to Venice, by tomorrow he will. I am done with the lies you have forced me to keep. If you think to stop me, just remember the one secret I still carry with me. At this point, I would have no issue letting all of Christendom know that my mother is still alive and running the most renowned brothel in Mayfair.”
“You would never do such a thing. It would ruin you and Genna.” His father rose and walked to the brandy decanter. After pouring a glass, he turned around with one dark brow arched. “Do it, Anthony. No one will believe you, and your mother shall hate you for it.”
“Claim her as your daughter. For once do the right thing.” Anthony sipped down the rest of his drink. “Do it for your daughters, not for me.”
His father shook his head. “I cannot, Anthony. I have spent my life telling others how to live their lives properly. If I now stand up and say I have a bastard daughter and my dead wife is actually Lady Whitely, people will despise me.”
Anthony rose and stared at his father. “The only opinion you should care about is what your family thinks of you. Not strangers. Good evening,” he said with disgust.
Nicholas rode to Lord Witham’s home eager to be done with this mess. While his head still ached from far too much brandy yesterday, at least his mind was finally clear. Armed with the report of Justine’s actions, he knew what had to be done.
As the carriage slowed to a stop, he readied himself for the confrontation. Witham would be furious, but Nicholas knew it was the right thing to do. He could never make Justine happy when he loved Sophie.
Slowly, he climbed down from his carriage and made his way to the door. The butler opened it before Nicholas had put his foot on the first step.
“Good afternoon, my lord.”
“I must speak with Lord Witham. It is urgent.”
The butler muttered something about more urgent business under his breath but allowed Nicholas entry into the receiving salon. He sat down but just as quickly rose and started pacing the room. He knew exactly what he would say to Witham. Nevertheless, anxiety built within him.
The quiet house suddenly turned to chaos as shouting erupted from the far end of the house. Nicholas raced out of the room and followed the sound toward Witham’s study.
“My lord,” the butler said behind him. “Lord Witham will see you in just a few moments.”
Nicholas waved him off as he recognized the sound of Justine’s voice, screeching at her father.
“I won’t marry him!”
“You will do as I say, young lady.”
“I will marry Heston even if we have to run to Gretna Green.”
Well, there was no sense in that when he had no plans to marry the girl anyway. Nicholas opened the door to find Witham standing in front of his daughter as Heston stood by the fireplace looking peaked.
“Ancroft, what are you doing here unannounced?” Witham demanded.
“I came to speak with you about the wedding,” Nicholas replied. “I could not help but hear you and your daughter shouting at each other.”
Witham’s face turned crimson as he glared at his daughter. “I apologize, my lord. Justine seems to be mistaken about her duty.”
“Is she?” Nicholas turned to Justine with a gentle smile. “Miss Littlebury, is it your contention that you no longer wish to marry me?”
Justine nodded. “I am truly sorry, my lord. I thought I could be happy as a duchess.” She looked down at the rug. “But then I met Mr. Heston. I am in love with him.”
“Love,” Witham sneered. “Being a duchess is far more important than love.”
Nicholas looked over at Witham. “I would have to disagree. Love is the most important thing. Miss Littlebury, if you would prefer to break the engagement, I would accept your request and harbor no ill will toward you or Mr. Heston.”
“You would?” she replied with awe. “My father told me you would never allow this to happen and that you would call out Heston.”
“Our parents decided we should marry and forced this situation upon us both. I am not in love with you and nor will I ever be. You deserve a man like Heston who will love you.”
“Thank you, my lord. You are more than kind,” she said with a little sob.
“This is not up to you both to decide,” Witham tried again.
“Yes, it is,” Nicholas declared. “Besides, Lord Witham, if you remember, I asked you to keep a chaperone with your daughter at all times. That was not done and I have it on good authority that your daughter and Mr. Heston were seen alone on the terrace of two balls.”
Witham glared at his daughter. “Is this true?”
“Yes,” she answered defiantly.
“Mr. Heston, do you plan to marry Miss Littlebury?” Nicholas asked before Witham could regain his voice.
Mr. Heston cleared his throat and finally stepped forward. “I should like that very much, my lord.”
“Very well, it is settled.” Nicholas turned to Witham. “Your daughter will marry Mr. Heston. With your blessing, Witham. I believe if you offer him the same contract as you did me, he will agree to marry your daughter.”
“I will not have him for my son-in-law. My daughter will marry a peer.”
“My lord,” Mr. Heston said, “I believe it is in your best interest to allow me to marry her. At this moment she might be carrying your grandchild.”
Witham grabbed a chair for support. “You and he,” he sputtered.
“Yes,” Justine said with a defiant grin.
Witham went to his desk and pulled out the betrothal contract. He handed it to Nicholas. “Destroy it.”
“I shall do just that,” Nicholas said. He pocketed the contract and left the three to their business. Now he only had his own father to deal with.
After a short drive to Grosvenor Square, he was ready to face the duke. He walked into the house and the butler escorted him to his father’s bedchamber. The duke’s face was more pallid than Nicholas had ever seen.
“You don’t need to look at me that way,” his father complained. “I’m not dying yet. Just tired today.”
He bit back a stinging retort. “I only came to give you some bad news, Your Grace.”
“Oh?”
Nicholas pulled out the betrothal contract from his pocket and showed it to him. Then he ripped the document down the middle. “I will not be marrying Miss Littlebury.”
His father struggled to a sitting position. “You broke the engagement?”
“Actually, no,” Nicholas said with a hoarse laugh. “Miss Littlebury did. Apparently, she could not keep one section of the contact that I insisted upon.”
“What was that?”
“Staying away from other men.” Nicholas pocketed the shredded document and walked toward the door.
“You can still marry her once her monthlies come. Insist her father take her to the country and lock her in the house until they know for certain if she is with child.”
Nicholas could only shake his head. “I don’t believe you understand me, Your Grace. I intend to travel to Venice and marry Miss Reynard.”
The duke slowly climbed out of bed. “Do not think to marry that little slut.”
“I will marry whoever I damn well please.” He should have said that to his father weeks ago. “Good afternoon, Father.”
“If you marry her, I shall disinherit you.”
Nicholas turned back with a smirk. “Please do. I don’t want your damned money. I have enough of my own.”
“Don’t lie to me, Nicholas. You have spent your money on whores and gaming.”
“No, I have invested the majority of my allowance for the past twelve years. I shall do just fine without your money.”
And he would. Once he finally convinced Sophie that they would be all right.
Nicholas had the servants packing his clothing while he waited for Somerton’s arrival. The ticket to Venice had been bought but he would not leave until he spoke with Sophie’s half brother. He tapped his foot impatiently awaiting him.
“Father, might I speak with you?”
He looked over to see Emma standing at the doorway with a look of apprehension on her face. “Emma, you know I will always find time for you. What is the matter?”
“It’s very important that I talk with you.” She stepped forward timidly.
This was very unlike his daughter. “Come here and tell me what is on your mind.”
She sat down on the chair across from him and breathed in deeply. “I overheard the servants say you were traveling to Venice again.”
“Yes, I am. I didn’t want to tell you until I knew for certain when I would be leaving.”
“I also heard why you were going.” She bit down on her lip and frowned.
Nicholas closed his eyes and sighed. He’d never thought to ask Emma what she thought of Sophie. Seeing his daughter’s reaction now, he wondered if Emma might not approve of Sophie for her stepmother.
“I think if you are going to Venice to ask Miss Reynard to marry you that I should accompany you,” she said in a small voice. “After all, she will be my stepmother. She might want me to tell her how much I would love to have her as my mother.”
He opened his eyes and stared at his little girl. She was becoming so grown up. And she might be just the thing to help Sophie make up her mind. He was certain Sophie had a soft spot for his daughter and wanted a family.
“I think that is a fine idea. Go tell Mrs. Griffon that you both will accompany me. That way you can keep up with your studies.”
She threw herself into his arms. “Thank you, Papa!”
She kissed his cheek and skipped out of the room. She stopped at the threshold and curtsied. “Good afternoon, Lord Somerton.”
“Good afternoon, Lady Emma.”
“I’m going to Venice!”
“Excellent,” Somerton said and then walked into the room. “So you already know where she is, then?”
“I hope you’re going to tell me I’m right in my assumption,” Nicholas said, standing to greet his friend.
“You are correct.” Somerton walked to the whisky and poured himself a glass. He held up an empty glass and asked, “Do you want some?”
“God, no.”
Somerton laughed. “I heard from Jennette you were a little foxed the other day.”
“I never want to see brandy again.”
“Why do you think I drink whisky? I had one very bad episode with brandy and can barely stomach the stuff now.”
Nicholas waited for Somerton to sit before prying. “Where exactly did she go?”
Somerton gave him Sophie’s mother’s address in Campo Santa Marina. “Her mother is a mistress to a count therefore Sophie may have found her own place by the time you arrive.”
“You couldn’t stop her?”
Somerton smirked and shook his head. “You couldn’t get her to marry you.” He paused before continuing, “She felt she was doing the right thing. I tried to convince her to at least stay in England but she refused.”
Nicholas sighed. “She could have come to me for advice.”
“No, she felt she had to leave.”
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