She Tempts the Duke (4 page)

Glancing around, he saw expressions of horror, confusion, disbelief. And the pity again—when his gaze fell on Mary. The pity made him feel like a vile beast, because he was no longer certain that it was his marred features she took pity on. He feared it was his actions, his words. He’d hardly behaved as a gentleman. He should have called his uncle out, he supposed, no matter how it might have been frowned upon. Although judging by the reaction of the guests, his attempt at retribution was being met with equal disfavor. Not that he gave a bloody damn.

His uncle deserved to rot in the nearest cesspool.

Sebastian did little more than give a brisk nod toward Mary before marching up the steps. He strode from the residence hoping he had made it perfectly clear that the Duke of Keswick was at long last home.

Unfortunately the harder task still lay before him: convincing himself.

Chapter 3

W
hat followed was total and complete madness.

As soon as the brothers disappeared through the doorway a crescendo of objections, protestations, speculations, and assurances rose to a deafening knell. It was all a person could do to think, much less converse.

Mary stood clutching the banister, because it was the only way to prevent herself from barreling up the stairs after them. What a disaster that would be. Her reputation would no doubt be questioned, possibly destroyed. A lady didn’t go gallivanting after a retreating gentleman, especially one who had behaved as anything but a gentleman, and yet she had so many questions. Where had they been all these years? What had delayed their return until now? What had happened to them while they were away?

They had grown to manhood, obviously, but it had not been a pleasant journey. With wintry eyes that had sent a chill through her bones, they had each looked so harsh, unforgiving. Not that she blamed them. They’d suffered the worst sort of betrayal. Their own blood had wished them harm, had sought to murder them.

“I thought they were dead,” Lord David was blubbering now as one of the lords questioned him regarding how all this could have happened. “I’ve not had a word from them in all these years. I’ve served as steward to the duke’s holdings, because my brother would have wanted it. Their distrust and accusations are uncalled for.”

No, they’re not,
she had an urge to shout.
You locked them in the tower. Why do that if your purpose was not to kill them?

Lord David was sweating profusely, fighting for breath, the whites of his eyes clearly visible as he searched frantically around him at those who had once expected him to rise in their ranks.

“I’m telling you,” he ranted on as though questions had been asked when in truth people were only staring at him. “I’d have not petitioned to gain the title if I’d known they were alive. I did all in my power to find them. They did not wish to be found. Even you all thought they were dead. You’ve heard the rumors. Wolves, disease, murder. How was I to know the truth? Did you know? Did any of you know?”

Then his wild gaze fell on Mary, and she saw hatred there, directed at her as though he suspected, as though he knew what she’d done. A shiver of dread coursed through her, but she angled her chin defiantly and met his gaze with a challenging one of her own.

Then he was shoving people aside as though they were all beneath him and did not warrant his regard. “The revelry is over! Go home! Leave me be!”

He broke through the crowd and barreled down the hallway, his wife of a few months traipsing after him, wringing her gloved hands, squeaking like a cornered dormouse. She stopped, turned to her guests, moved her lips, flapped her arms, and released a distressing moan before turning to chase after her husband once again. Mary’s heart went out to her. She’d certainly not warranted this upheaval to her life.

She was startled when someone gripped her arm. “What is he to you?” Fitzwilliam asked.

“Pardon?”

“The man claiming to be the Duke of Keswick. You looked . . . enthralled.”

“Joyous,” she admitted, clutching his hand. “They’re alive. Until this moment, I feared they were truly dead. And it is more than a claim. It is the truth. They are who they say they are. We all grew up together, until they disappeared, but I would recognize them anywhere.”

At least when they were together. She wasn’t quite certain that she could make the same claim if she saw them separately. They possessed little refinement. There was nothing genteel about them. Their character exuded a roughness, their presence spoke of hardships endured, possibly not all conquered. She had long dreamed of seeing them again, but what she had imagined was not what appeared before her.

People were shoving past them, making their way up the stairs as the drama seemed to have ended. For now, anyway. She ignored the whisperings and murmurings, giving her attention to the man before her even though she dearly wanted to know what people were saying, what they were thinking. “You do believe them, don’t you?”

He suddenly appeared uncomfortable. “It matters little what I believe. My title is simply a courtesy. It carries no weight.”

“Among your friends it does.” And she knew that some of his friends held their true titles. They could be powerful allies, should the brothers need them.

“Come along,” Fitzwilliam said. “It would be best if we left as quickly as possible. I don’t trust the ruffians not to return and inflict chaos. I’d heard of bloodlust, but dear Lord until tonight, I’d never seen it.”

“They’re not ruffians and they have a right to be angry. Lord David wished them harm. He was the reason they ran away.” She squeezed his hand, wondering how to make him understand, only she glanced around and saw that people were slowing their step, lingering to hear their conversation. She’d not have the recently returned lords serve as fodder for gossip. Although that ship had sailed, she’d not add to its cargo. So instead she said, “I came with Alicia and Aunt Sophie.”

“You shall all travel in my carriage.”

“We have our own.”

“I don’t like the way that man looked at you. He could be lurking about. Considering tonight’s turn of events, it would be unconscionable for me to allow three ladies to travel without a male escort to see after them.”

They had the driver and footman but she supposed he didn’t consider servants protection enough. Nor could she deny that she rather enjoyed his concern. “We shall need to find my cousin and aunt,” she told him.

“I shall see to it posthaste,” he assured her. “Do not leave this spot.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She watched with fondness as he marched off to find them. He would excel as a husband, always seeing after her needs and wants. Caring for her, protecting her. She could not ask for a more attentive man in her life.

She pressed herself up against the banister to allow more room for others to leave. There was such a din, everyone talking at once. The ladies’ eyes were bright, and while they tried not to show it, it was apparent they were all tantalized by the delicious events that had interrupted the dancing. And she suspected, by the three brothers who had made their appearance tonight.

Slowing her step as she passed by, Lady Hermione touched Mary’s arm briefly. “Do you know if they have wives?”

Mary knew precisely to whom she referred. The question bothered her when she knew it shouldn’t. She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“But you do know them.”

She wasn’t sure. She knew the boys they’d been, but the men who had been here tonight—

“I know they are who they say they were: the lords of Pembrook.”

Lady Hermione’s eyes sparkled. “Handsome devils. Well, except for the duke, of course. What do you suppose happened there?”

Mary shook her head. “I really—”

“Hermione!” her father called out. “Come along.”

Lady Hermione gave Mary’s arm a quick squeeze. “We shall have tea tomorrow. We simply must talk. The remainder of the Season has the potential to be most interesting.”

Before Mary could respond, the lady was dashing up the stairs. They’d never had tea together before. Based upon the way other ladies were scowling at her, she wondered if she was suddenly seen as notorious, wondered what people were speculating. She refrained from explaining that they’d been neighbors, that she’d helped them escape.

“He locked them in the tower!”
she wanted to shout.

Instead, she simply endured the pointed glances and nodded politely as two more invitations to tea were surreptitiously given to her. Suddenly, thank the Lord, her cousin was grabbing her arm and propelling her up the stairs, her aunt and Fitzwilliam following.

“We have so much to talk about,” Lady Alicia said.

“I know no more than you at this point,” Mary said as they reached the top of the stairs.

With the crush of bodies, they didn’t get another chance to speak until they were all safely housed within Fitzwilliam’s carriage.

“Well, I daresay,” her aunt Sophie began, “that was a rather interesting turn of events. Although I’m not certain I approve of the handling of the matter. Such a public display of family feuding is ill-mannered. The situation warranted discretion and much more decorum.”

“Come, Mama,” Alicia said. “You can’t deny that it was fascinating to watch and quite dramatic. The lords have such presence. They will be the talk of the town tomorrow.”

“They’re the talk of it tonight,” Aunt Sophie muttered.

“They had a purpose in their method, Lady Sophie,” Fitzwilliam said. “To humiliate Lord David—”

“He deserved humiliation, my lord,” Mary blurted before she could stop herself. “And I suspect they handled the matter as they did so they would have many witnesses to their claim. I daresay he’s fortunate that they didn’t involve Scotland Yard.”

“He is ruined,” her aunt lamented. “As is his poor wife. After only three months of marriage.”

“Yes, I do feel for her,” Mary said. “How horrible it must be to discover the man you married is not the man you thought he was.”

“And in his disgrace, he has disgraced her. Not certain I would forgive him for that,” her aunt continued.

“He shouldn’t be forgiven at all by anyone,” Mary assured her.

Her aunt gasped. “I’ve never known you to be so unkind.”

“He sought to have them killed.”

“Truly?” Lady Alicia said with unwarranted excitement in her voice, as though she had simply arrived at an unexpected twist in a novel.

“How would you know that?” Fitzwilliam asked.

“I overheard him give the order.”

“To whom did he give it?”

“I didn’t see. I was passing the room and overheard the words. I was all of twelve and frightened out of my wits. I dared not tarry. I immediately went in search of Sebastian.”

“Oh my word!” Alicia cried. “You never told me about that. I can’t believe you’d withhold such a delicious secret from me.”

“I promised Sebastian I wouldn’t tell anyone.” She’d broken the promise once. It had cost her dearly.

“You were a child,” Fitzwilliam said. “You must have misunderstood.”

“No, I’m certain, I didn’t.”

“Mary, darling, it’s preposterous to think that Lord David would resort to murder in order to claim a title. He would have to kill three lads.”

Mary tried not to be hurt by his words. He was the man she was going to marry. Surely he of all people should believe her. “Richard III killed two.”

“No one has proof of that. Besides that was four centuries ago. I’d like to think we’re a bit more civilized. And he wanted a kingdom not a dukedom.”

“It is one of the most powerful dukedoms in Great Britain.”

“It was. But since the seventh duke passed away, it’s lost a good deal of its influence. It can only be as powerful as the man at the helm, and there’s been no one there.”

“That will change now. With Sebastian back.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. He seemed rather barbaric to me.”

She couldn’t deny the words, so she simply gazed out the window. All grew unbearably quiet as though everyone needed to absorb the events of the evening.

She welcomed the silence in order to embrace the joy that spiraled through her. They were back. At long last.

S
itting in the library, Mary watched as her father stared into the fire, an empty glass in his hand. He’d downed the whiskey in one long gulp after she’d told him what had transpired at the ball. He’d always been a bit of a hermit, preferring the company of his liquor to that of people. He didn’t attend the social events. Sometimes he went to his clubs. He’d only come to London to keep a close watch over her. He finally looked at her. “You are not to interfere in their business. You are betrothed to a respectable lord, whose family lineage is impeccable. You leave these Pembrook lords and their uncle to sort out their own squabbles now. I want you nowhere near them.”

“But they are our neighbors.”

“Not here in London, they’re not. And not in Cornwall, they won’t be.”

“But if I told the other lords what I heard—”

“You have no proof Lord David would have killed them. Perhaps they’d misbehaved and a few hours in the tower was to be their punishment.”

“As the nunnery was punishment for me?”

He paled, licked his lips, took another swallow of his liquor. “You must do nothing to endanger your betrothal to Fitzwilliam. You have no brother to look after you when I am gone. I cannot rely on my nephew who is to inherit to be generous with you. He will have five sisters to marry off.”

She had only a passing acquaintance with her father’s family. They did not like the northern climes, and preferred to stay in the south. She did hope her cousin would appreciate what he was to inherit. She knew her father was concerned for her future, was providing her with a substantial dowry. She did not want to consider how it might have influenced Fitzwilliam.

“Surely all his sisters will be married by the time you are again with Mama,” Mary said.

“The eldest girl is only nine. My brother started his family late in life.” Then he died of typhoid. Her father gave her a small smile. “Perhaps you’re right. I worry overmuch, but I do not want you to lose this opportunity to marry well. Now off to bed with you.”

Nearly an hour later, Mary sat on the window seat in her bedchamber and looked out on the night. She considered disobeying her father, getting dressed, going out, and trying to find Sebastian and his brothers. She wondered where they were residing. She wondered why he’d not sought her out to let her know that he was safe. She supposed that he wanted to keep his arrival secret so he could make a grand entrance, but he should have told her. He should not have left her worrying about him.

So many times over the years, she’d thought of running away from the convent. But she had no funds at her disposal. And what skills did she have with which to earn a living?

She may have languished there forever if her aunt hadn’t taken it upon herself to come for Mary and give her a Season.

Then another miracle.

During her first ball she’d met Lord Fitzwilliam and shortly thereafter he’d proposed. At the end of the month, she’d be free of her father and his manipulations. When Fitzwilliam looked at her, he saw someone who was strong, and capable. He saw someone who could provide him with a pleasant home life. He was not the most sought-after lord. In truth, she didn’t think he was sought-after at all. Which made them different sides of the same coin, for no one was banging on her father’s door, asking for her hand. Fitzwilliam had become her knight.