Redeeming Jack (17 page)

She refused to drop her gaze, ready to defend her sister as she had never had the courage to do when she lived there.

The duchess was the first to look away. “If you haven’t come to stop me seeing Jack, then why have you come? You don’t need money, do you?”

Carys bristled. It was the second time in a week she’d been accused of soliciting money. Did she look so desperate? Stiffening her resolve, she decided to be blunt. The quicker she escaped the soul-destroying room, the better. “I came to ask you about the letters you agreed to pass on to Jack after I left this house.”

The duchess fiddled with the fringe of her shawl and rearranged her skirts. Two bright spots of color appeared on her cheeks. “What letters?”

Carys sat forward. “I think you know. Did you ever forward those letters on to Jack as you promised?”

“No, I didn’t.” The duchess raised her head, her sunken eyes defiant. “You refused to leave with him. You abandoned my son when you found yourself pregnant with another man’s child.”

Carys struggled to remain calm, astounded by the other woman’s frank admission and unexpected flash of maternal devotion. “That’s not what happened, and you know it. You prevented Jack from hearing the truth by refusing to pass on my letters. You lied to me.”

“Don’t think I don’t know about your wicked ways,” the duchess hissed. “You abandoned my son and now you’ve taken up with a lover.” She smiled triumphantly. “I was right to keep you away from Jack. I need no further proof of your perfidy.”

“If you had allowed Jack to read my letters and ceased from meddling in our lives, we might have been able to sort out this muddle, not leave it to fester for five miserable years!”

Carys got to her feet, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. To her surprise, she was trembling. Her long-suppressed anguish threatened to consume her. Jack hadn’t known about Owen. He didn’t know he had a son.

The duchess gripped the arm of her chair as she struggled to rise. “You are unworthy of my son. Jack was a fool to marry you. When I see him, I will offer to fund any means necessary to facilitate a divorce.”

“Good.” Carys drew on her gloves. “I am looking forward to being rid of this family. Perhaps, as Jack’s mother, you might have used some of your much-vaunted riches to support him over the past five years? From what Gareth says, Jack’s worked like the devil simply to survive.”

She headed for the door, repressing an urge to run. She rarely allowed her temper to surface, but the Llewelyn’s had an amazing ability to provoke her.

“Don’t worry about seeing me out, and be assured I will not be bothering you again.”

“I
have
been supporting Jack. I arranged for a small amount of gold to be transferred into his bank at quarterly intervals.”

Carys’s anger was swallowed by a wash of stark curiosity. “Are you sure he knows about this?”

The duchess lifted her chin. “Of course he does. I asked Robert to arrange it and to inform Jack.”

Had Jack lied to Gareth about his circumstances and his failed relationship with his mother? Carys searched for a suitable reply, unwilling to be dragged back into a discussion about the Llewelyn brothers and their peculiar rivalry. “When you see Jack, be sure to mention it to him.”

“Are you suggesting Robert lied to
me
?”

She turned and held the duchesses gaze. “Why not? You lied to me.”

Carys slipped out of the room, more shaken by the encounter than she’d expected. If she planted a seed of doubt in the duchess’ mind, she had succeeded in her aim. Was it possible Robert had taken the money for himself? To quiet her uneasy conscience, Carys resolved that if the opportunity presented itself, she would discuss the matter with Gareth.

She walked down the wide staircase, deep in thought. The immense house was quiet, as though holding its breath. Jack was the only person able to make it come to life. She’d hated living here, especially when he left on duty. The endless stone walls sapped her energy and enthusiasm for life. She vastly preferred her cottage by the sea.

To her dismay, there was no sign of Williams in the hall. Carys looked in vain for her bonnet and cloak and then headed for the door leading down to the kitchens.

“Ah, Carys.”

The duke’s cold voice stopped Carys like an invisible hand on her shoulder. He stood outlined against his opened study door, his face in shadow.

“Your Grace.” Carys dropped a stiff curtsey as he came toward her. She braced herself for the shock of his appearance. If Jack managed to grow old, his face would mirror the current duke’s.

He studied her from head to toe, his expression giving nothing away. It was as if at Jack’s birth, some evil fairy had drained his father’s spirit and given it all to his son, leaving his father empty of emotion. “You have saved me a journey to see you. I would appreciate a moment of your time.”

Carys glanced helplessly around for Williams, even as she realized no orders would be given for the retrieval of her gig until the duke had finished with her. Anticipating her reluctant obedience, he turned back to his study.

Like the duchess’ apartments, nothing appeared to have changed in the shaded room. Portraits of long-dead ancestors jostled with savage hunting scenes on the faded brown silk-covered walls. Leather-bound books climbed to the ceiling in regimented rows, making her feel caged. A long-handled hunting whip propped in the corner gave mute testament to the duke’s favorite method of punishing his dogs and his sons.

Remembering her resolve not to be intimidated became difficult as Carys remembered the last time she’d entered the duke’s study. She’d been forced to witness the duke disinheriting Jack and Jack’s furious reaction to her refusal to leave with him. He hadn’t given her a chance to explain her decision, storming out without a backward glance. The duke’s triumphant smile remained etched in her mind, along with Jack’s disgust.

Carys shook off the painful memories, took a seat and looked calmly at the duke.

“You look well, Carys. Poverty obviously agrees with you.”

Carys said nothing. It was a favorite tactic of the duke’s to attempt to unsettle his opponents with a caustic opening line. His eldest son, Edward, used the same tactics with far less effect.

The duke sat down and folded his hands on the desk. “I understand you are seeking a divorce from Jack.”

“That is so, my lord.”

The duke’s eyebrows rose. “You admit it?”

Carys shrugged. “Why should I not? It appears to be common knowledge that Lord Oliver Rice wishes to marry me.” She had no intention of revealing she’d decided not to marry Oliver until she found out what the duke wanted.

“I forbid it.”

Carys felt a little of her confidence returning. “I am no longer in your power, Your Grace. If Jack agrees to divorce me, and I marry Lord Rice, I won’t need the pitiful pension you pay me, either. As you have always considered me an unsuitable wife for Jack, I imagined you would be glad to be rid of me.”

The duke met her challenging gaze. “You might think so, but I am concerned with the continuation of my line.”

A trickle of fear coalesced in Carys’s stomach. “I don’t understand.”

The duke put on his spectacles and retrieved a piece of parchment from his desk. “I’m not sure if you are being deliberately obtuse, my dear, but it can scarce have escaped your notice that your son—” he glanced at the note, “—Owen, is my only living grandson.”

Carys laced her fingers together. “You have refused to acknowledge him. For all intents and purposes, you consider him illegitimate.”

“I’ve never stated that publicly. If Edward ever manages to find himself a wife and Robert doesn’t drink himself to death at an early age, I might not even need him. As it is, as Jack’s legitimate offspring, Owen remains my only direct heir.” He took off his spectacles. “I really cannot allow you to divorce Jack and remarry. The scandal would affect Owen. His father’s notorious behavior and your lack of social class are already handicap enough.”

Carys rose to her feet. “Owen is a child. Not some kind of insurance policy for a family who refuses to acknowledge him. I will not let you have him.”

The duke remained seated. “I suggest you rethink your attitude. I would hate to have to apply to the courts to remove Owen from your care.”

“I am his mother. What court would deny that?”

“Any court that I bribe.” The duke’s smile was deliberately insulting. “You have no power. I have the wealth and connections to prevail in any arena you choose to fight me in. Think on what I’ve said and decide which is more important to you. You can have Rice as a lover and keep Owen in trust for the Llewelyn family. But if you attempt to defy me and marry Rice, I swear I’ll take Owen and ruin you.”

RICHARD MANSELL ROSE to his feet, his expression purposeful. “Your journey to the church was wasted. We hold the records for Oxwich village here at the manor house. As you probably noticed, the church is far too dilapidated to risk leaving anything valuable out there.”

Jack retrieved his coat and followed Richard out into the courtyard. “I’d like to see if there is any mention of a Mrs. Rose Edwards. My associates in London believe the escaped prisoner might have found shelter with this woman.”

Richard traversed the now quiet stable yard and disappeared through a stone arch leading to the side of the house. “That name does sound familiar. My mother would probably know.” He smiled wickedly back at Jack. “Not that you are anxious to meet with her, I presume?”

He led Jack down a winding narrow passageway, which soon dipped below ground level. As they plunged into the darkness, Jack’s boots crunched on a carpet of broken shells. He trailed his fingers along the rough stone wall, that retained the damp, salty scent of the sea. A strong draught and the distant sound of crashing waves scurried and pushed at Jack’s back, lifting the hairs on his neck.

Richard’s quick grin flashed as he struck a flint and lit a candle. “One of the joys of living in an old house is that you can always find an alternative route to your destination.”

Jack gestured back down the passage “I take it this particular route also allows access to the beach?”

Richard opened a door and stepped into the library. “As a God-fearing, respectable Member of Parliament who frowns on the practice of smuggling, I wouldn’t know what goes on at the beach, now would I?”

“Of course not,” agreed Jack as he helped Richard draw the curtains and light the fire. “Just as I’m certain you pay duty on this excellent French brandy.”

Richard poured them drinks and clinked his glass against Jack’s. He turned to study the crowded bookshelves. “Now, where would those church records be?” he murmured. “They are probably with the estate papers. Excuse me a moment.” He disappeared between the gloomy shelves at the far end of the library.

Jack sat down by the fire, content to nurse his brandy glass and warm the soles of his still soaking boots. He swung around when the door opened behind him.

“Richard, why on earth is Gareth Davies here? Your mother wants to know…”

Jack stared into Lord Oliver Rice’s stunned face and rose slowly to his feet.

“Llewelyn, what in God’s name are you doing here?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “I might ask the same of you.”

Rice shut the door behind him. “My mother and I have been invited to stay the night.” His gaze took in the apparently empty room. “How did you get in here?”

“I invited him, Oliver.” Richard stepped out of the shadows, a large leather-bound book in his hands. He glanced at Jack, his face rueful. “Damnation. I forgot you and the Rice family are at odds.”

“At
odds
? The Rices claim I deliberately led their other son to his death in Spain. And this particular bastard wants to marry my wife.”

“Actually, Llewelyn, Carys
begged
me to release her from her ties to you.” Rice smiled, as if remembering something pleasant. Jack’s gut twisted. “Begged rather charmingly, in fact, and promised her eternal gratitude if I helped her.”

Jack took a hasty step forward and found his way blocked by Richard. “Jack is here on business and at my invitation. He’ll be away in the morning. I guarantee he will remain out of your sight until then. There’s no need to bother the ladies with this, is there?”

Rice kept his attention on Jack. “As you wish. I would hate to cause my mother undue distress. She insisted on traveling back to Wales, despite my express instructions not to.”

Jack ignored Richard’s attempt to divert the conversation, saying to Rice, “Do you truly wish to marry Carys?”

“Of course I do.” Something shifted behind his dark features. “I owe her some happiness in this life.”

Damn the man, he sounded sincere. Jack took a deep breath. “Are you saying I made her unhappy?”

Rice bowed and headed for the door. “You can hardly expect me to answer that.” He paused and nodded to Richard. “I’ll tell your mother you’ll be along shortly.”

Richard whistled softly as the door closed behind Oliver. “I didn’t realize he was after Carys, although come to think of it, I noticed him dancing attendance on her at the occasional local event.”

Jack retrieved his brandy glass. “And how did my wife look on these occasions?”

Richard grinned. “In truth, she seemed perfectly happy. But I’ve never considered myself an expert on women, hence my unmarried state.”

Jack downed his brandy. “May I suggest you stay that way? Marriage is a damned complicated business.” His anger evaporated. Whatever Rice believed, he didn’t begrudge Carys a second of happiness. If Jack had his way, he’d make sure she was never unhappy again.

He turned his thoughts to the book in front of him. The sooner he settled his business with Mrs. Forester, the sooner he would be able to restore his honor and straighten out his affairs. Jack carefully opened the book and studied the last page, filled with script.

He ran his finger down the neat copperplate handwriting, stopping whenever he saw the name Edwards, which was quite often. Richard moved a candelabrum onto the table next to him, illuminating the text. After turning a few pages, Jack felt a surge of excitement.