The Lady and the Earl (Seabrook Family Saga) (13 page)

“Stay here in the shadows. I will be right back,” William assured her.

William escorted Sebastian out into the gardens and over to Amelia. He
whispered to Sebastian and left, leaving Sebastian to take control. Amelia’s
mind whirled, making decisions impossible. Her brother hurried her through the
large stately manor, never pausing for a moment until they reached the valet
and received their coats. Down the steps and into their carriage they went.

“Bloody hell.” Sebastian hugged her close, his body trembling along
with hers. “He sure had us fooled. The duke seemed affable and a good a catch.
If I wasn’t ready to kill the young man myself, I’d be afraid for him when
Wentworth finds out what transpired tonight.”

“Do we have to tell him?” Did that weak, pathetic voice come from her?
Of course they had to tell him. Otherwise, her hope of being released from her
betrothal to the duke and being allowed to see William would certainly never
happen.

“Yes,” her brother confirmed.

“You tell him. I can’t face anyone right now. In fact, I want to go
back to Stony Cross Manor. I want to stay there forever and just be a mother to
Olivia. Nobody will miss me here in London. All the old gossiping biddies will
be pleased I’m gone.” Sobs vibrated in her chest, and she fought to keep them
there. “I can’t attend another social function. I can’t face the duke again.”

“There, there, Sister.” Sebastian patted her back. “I can promise you
that you won’t have to.”

Her head popped up, and she used the back of her hands to wipe her
tears away. “You do not know that. Wentworth might insist. I believe he will
not give up his quest to find me a husband. I just know he will persist.”

***

William regrettably walked away from Amelia leaving her in the capable,
loving hands of Sebastian. As he did though, his knees threatened to buckle and
tightness in his chest made him want to claw it open so he could soothe his
heart. His mind wanted to erase the scene he had witnessed. “Oh dear, God,” he
mumbled as he hurried through the ballroom, down the stairs, ignoring the valet
handing him his cloak and hat, then he burst through the front door gasping for
air. William, unaware tears were silently sliding down his checks, could not
understand why his vision was blurred. All he knew was he had to get far away
from Yarmouth or he might find himself committing murder.

***

Later that evening while Amelia tossed and turned in bed, reliving the
terror of the attack in the garden over and over again, Bella knocked on her
door and let herself in.

“Sebastian told Emma and me what happened,” she confided in a sober
tone. “We all decided Mother need not know. I’m confident Wentworth will come
up with a plausible reason why the betrothal is being broken.”

Amelia felt the bed dip as Bella laid down beside her.

“Sebastian is telling Wentworth right now,” Bella confided. “I would
not want to be Yarmouth tomorrow when our brother confronts him.”

Moving closer to her sister, Amelia soaked in the comfort Bella
offered. “He deserves whatever our brother has in mind. He’s an awful, awful
man. He had us all fooled.”

“Oh, Amelia, I’m so sorry for what happened,” Bella said as she stroked
Amelia’s hair.

“In a way, I’m not sorry. Can you imagine if I married him, then found
out a sadistic nature lurked beneath his well-mannered persona?” Cold tremors
once again took over her body, and she hunkered down under the covers. “I would
never have survived. And I can’t ever picture him letting me take Olivia into
his home. No, as bad as it was, it happened for a good reason.” Amelia rolled
over so she faced her sister. “I’m relieved. Now with any luck Wentworth will
let me go back to my daughter. And with even more luck he’ll let me be with
William.”

“If I know our brother––and I do––he’ll never stop hunting for husbands
for both of us. And I still do not believe he will consider Bridgeton even
after he saved you tonight. Anyway, you might be interested to know that I’ve
given up on Myles.”

“If you have given up on Myles, is it because Mr. Spencer has caught
your interest?” Amelia asked.

Bella hesitated to answer, which puzzled Amelia. Could her sister
actually have feelings for Spencer? And how did Amelia feel about that? Would
it not be wonderful if they both could marry into the same family? Would their
brother ever allow Bella to marry an untitled gentlemen, no matter how well
connected his family was or how rich? Would he ever allow Amelia to marry
William?

“I…well…I like Mr. Spencer very much. He’s kind and witty. Actually, he
is much like Myles with those two attributes.” Bella paused, sighed, and
breathed deeply. “I don’t know. I have waited around too many years for Myles
to declare himself. After Wentworth and Emma got married and Wentworth became
sick with his appendicitis, Myles comforted me and kissed me. I thought finally
he’d ask for my hand. Do you suppose that all along he never intended to marry
me?
Ohh!
He makes me so infuriating sometimes. I just might accept Mr.
Spencer’s offer to ride around in the park with him on Thursday.”

 “If you want, I could talk to Myles.” Amelia offered, not
convinced her sister had actually given up on Myles, no matter what she said.

Her sister leaped out of bed. “No. I would be mortified if you did.”

Amelia patted the bed next to her. “Please stay with me tonight. I
don’t want to be alone.”

Bella slid back under the covers slowly. “Do you think I’m wrong and
Wentworth will consider Bridgeton for you now?”

“If only.” Yes, if only she could believe he would.

“Well, I think he should. This little incident tonight with the duke
should teach our esteemed brother he is not always the best judge of
character.”

“Indeed, he is not.” The tightness in Amelia’s chest relaxed. It did
not hurt to breathe anymore.

Could there still be hope for her and William? Did she dare get her
hopes up?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“He what?”
Wentworth bellowed as Sebastian delivered the news to
him. “No. No!” His hand came up. “Please don’t say it again. I heard every word
you said. I just can’t…bloody hell.” He raked his hands through his hair as he
paced his study. “How did he fool us?”

 “I admit I do not know the duke on a personal level, and I never
visit brothels,” Sebastian replied. “But surely if there were rumors about his
cruelty with whores we would have heard.”

Wentworth could not believe his ears when Sebastian told him what had
transpired earlier that evening. Thank God Bridgeton had been there…But that
raised another question.
Why was he there?
Wentworth had believed
Bridgeton was hidden in the country, licking his wounds because he had not been
allowed to court Amelia. Evidently not, which was a bloody fine thing indeed.

First thing in the morning Wentworth would beg his sister’s forgiveness
for causing her this stress and embarrassment. Also beg forgiveness for
thinking he always knew best.

Secondly, he would have the newspapers print the breaking of the
betrothal between his sister and the duke. For once in his life, he did not
care what the gossips said about his family.

Thirdly, he would visit Yarmouth. Not something he looked forward to.
Was it possible to face the man and not kill him? Wentworth hoped so because he
didn’t relish spending the rest of his days in Newgate.

Lastly, Wentworth would personally visit Bridgeton’s residence and
thank him for saving Amelia. He still wasn’t ready to give his consent to
Bridgeton’s request to court Amelia. But he would think about it. After the
debacle he’d made of having her betrothed to Yarmouth, who was he to toy with
his sister’s life? He had married for love. Didn’t Amelia deserve to marry for
love as well?

***

Wentworth sat in Yarmouth’s study waiting for the man to grace him with
his presence. The sound of the door opening alerted him to his arrival.

“Wentworth,” Yarmouth said as he entered his study and sat down in his
chair across the desk from Wentworth. “What is so important it has you at my
door at this ungodly hour of the morning?”

When Wentworth ventured out this morning he had not cared that the hour
was early. One look at Yarmouth’s disheveled appearance made him inwardly
smile, knowing he’d gotten him out of bed. “Don’t pretend you don’t know why
I’m here.” Wentworth’s hands gripped the arms of his chair. It was that or
Yarmouth’s neck. “Just tell me this. Why did you pursue my sister? Why did you
want to marry her?”

“Wonderful question,” Yarmouth said as he stifled a yawn. “I will not
pretend any longer in your company that I am the respectable duke everyone
believes me to be. I am quite the opposite. But like others in my position, you
included, I need an heir, a legitimate heir, not some by-blow.” Yarmouth rose,
went to his sideboard, and held up a decanter. “Would you care for a drink,
Your Grace?”

“No,” Wentworth replied curtly. “I did not come here to socialize or
share drink with you. You realize if word gets out about this, your reputation
will be tarnished?”

Laughter filled the room. “Do I care? I’m a duke; doors will always be
open to me. As for my reputation, unlike you, it is not the most important
thing to me. I’m a rich duke of the realm. I can do whatever I please.”
Yarmouth downed a second drink. “What I want to know is, am I still marrying
your lovely sister? And as to what transpired between your sister and me last
night, perhaps some of the blame lies on you, Your Grace. If you had kept
Amelia’s secret about her bastard child to yourself, I would not have tried to
force myself on her. Because, really, it didn’t matter, Amelia is no virgin.
There was no need to wait until the wedding night.”

Wentworth’s blood boiled. He rose from his chair, as if he had no care
in the world, leaned across the desk, and punched the younger duke in the nose.
The sound of bone cracking gave him immense satisfaction. More came when
Yarmouth’s blood splattered across the top of the desk.

Wentworth casually strolled out of Yarmouth’s study as if it were his
own. He removed his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood off his
hands. A weight had suddenly been lifted off his chest.

Next stop, Bridgeton’s.

***

As Wentworth stood inside the nicely decorated drawing room at
Bridgeton’s home, he contemplated how to go about saying what he’d come to say.
He did not have long, as Bridgeton came into the room almost immediately after
the butler let him in. And with Bridgeton came Spencer. Were the two men joined
at the hip?

“Pardon me, Bridgeton,” Wentworth began, “but may I have a word in
private?”

“Spencer,” the earl said, turning to his cousin, “would you mind
leaving us?”

Spencer bowed, “Not at all.” Bridgeton’s cousin left with a smile and
wink at Bridgeton.

Damn the man.
If Bella thought he would give Spencer consent to
court her, she was sorely mistaken. Wentworth knew Spencer favored Bella. With
Myles on his sister’s bad side he knew Bella planned to favor Spencer.
Wentworth rubbed his temples to ease the ache. He did not need another sister
trying his patience.

“Your Grace, has my cousin done something to displease you?” Bridgeton
asked as he indicated for Wentworth to sit with a wave of his hand.

Was he that transparent? Wentworth would have to work on keeping his
emotions private. “Yes…no. My mind replayed last night’s events. Which brings
me to why I’m here. I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude for saving my
sister, Amelia, from the dishonorable clutches of Yarmouth.”

“It was the least I could do.” Bridgeton looked Wentworth straight in
the eye. “I had a suspicion he was hiding something. I would never accuse you
of not taking care of Amelia properly, but I hired a runner to look into
Yarmouth’s life.”

“You what?” Wentworth bellowed, not in anger, but in frustration. Why
had he not thought of that himself? Because he’d been happy to marry Amelia off
to a duke. Too thankful to care whether he had any redeeming qualities. No,
that did not ring true. Yarmouth had been polite and forthcoming with any
information Wentworth asked him. Wentworth had seen no reason to think Yarmouth
hid any dark secrets.

“Have you seen Yarmouth yet?” Bridgeton asked.

“Yes, and it is none of your concern what transpired. Just know he will
never come near my family ever again.”

Bridgeton pointed to his white cravat, which was dotted with blood.
“May I inquire as to whose blood that is?”

“No, you may not,” Wentworth answered.

“As you know,” Bridgeton said, “I am taken with your sister. And if I
thought you would let her marry me, I would ask for her hand here and now.” The
earl’s hand came up. “Please let me finish. I won’t ask, at least not at this
time. But I hope you will not hastily betroth her to another, without
considering our feelings for one another.”

“Feelings?” Wentworth could not believe this conversation.

“Yes. Surely you are not blind to how we feel toward each other. I did
not kill my brother or his pregnant widow. Yes, I am twice Amelia’s age, and
despite the scandal, I would provide for her and stay true to her for the rest
of my life. And most importantly, I would allow her daughter to live with us. I
will adopt her as my own.”

Wentworth did not know what to say.
How did the earl know about
Olivia?
Had Amelia told him?
“I don’t know what to say. Does Amelia
know you know about her daughter?”

“No. In Dover several days ago I met a lovely little baby girl with her
nanny. Actually, I went looking for any truth to the gossip surrounding Amelia
and a child. And before you blame the nanny, I could see with my own eyes the
resemblance between mother and child. You just confirmed it for me.”

“Why would you adopt my sister’s daughter?” Wentworth still could not
believe this conversation.

“Why?” William asked. “Are you really going to make me say it? I’m
what, eight years your senior? And you’re treating me like a young pup still in
university. But I’ll say it anyway. I care deeply for Amelia. I want to make
her happy any way I can. If adopting her daughter will make her happy, then how
could I refuse?”

Words escaped Wentworth and shock settled in his bones. After misjudging
Yarmouth so much, was he ready to give his consent to Bridgeton? Not just yet.
He might have been negligent with Yarmouth, as Bridgeton politely pointed out,
but he would learn from that mistake.

He would hire investigators to look into the earl’s past. One would be
daft to allow his sister to marry someone rumored to have killed—not once, but
twice—without a thorough investigation.

Wentworth rose. “I will think upon what we have discussed today. I do
owe you my gratitude, but I will not put Amelia in harm’s way again without
seeing to some matters pertaining to your past.”

Bridgeton bowed. “I would think less of you, Your Grace, if you did.”

***

“So?” Spencer joined William in the drawing room once Wentworth had
left.

“So nothing.” Bloody hell. Though it was before noon, William needed a
drink. After he downed the contents of the crystal glass he was ready to share
what had transpired.

After William told what went on between them, Spencer helped himself to
a brandy. “I’ll drink to you, Cousin.” Spencer held up his glass and drained
it. “You might not have to kidnap the girl after all.”

“If I told you once, I’ve told you twice. I never planned to kidnap
her. I would just take her across the border to Gretna Green and marry her,”
William said, his patience suddenly worn thin.

Spencer grinned. “Depending on who you talk to, taking someone across
the border to marry them is akin to kidnapping.”

Spencer’s humorous attitude annoyed him. William stomped from the room
without a word. Damn if his cousin wasn’t right. Hopefully it would not come to
that. Perhaps Wentworth would come to his senses and allow his sister to marry
him.

In fact, it was time for another face to face with Smythe to see how
the investigation was going. There was no doubt in William’s mind that Trenton
had committed the murders. Proving it was what he needed, though, to put the
gossip and lies to rest.

***

“What do you mean, you cannot prove Trenton committed the murders of my
brother and his wife? What about the carriage accident involving Trenton’s
parents?” William was beside himself. This was not the news he had hoped for.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but I was unable to unearth any evidence against
him. I have interviewed every servant and tenant on your Dover estate. Nobody
remembers seeing Trenton there while your brother was married to his sister. I
wish I had better news. But I don’t.”

William was too shocked to move, and Spencer knew it as he rose first.
“Thank you, Mr. Smythe, for your time. Consider your business with Bridgeton
concluded. One more thing, as for investigating the Duke of Yarmouth, he no
longer need your services for that either.”

“Good day, Lord Bridgeton. Mr. Spencer,” Mr. Smythe said with a shrug.

Once in the privacy of his carriage, William swore and rubbed his sore
chest. “I can’t believe this. It eats me alive to know Trenton got away with
the murders. Never in all my life did I care what people thought about me. I
didn’t bloody hell care if they believed I killed my brother and Katherine. I
knew
I
didn’t
do it. My servants and tenants
knew
I
didn’t
do
it. But because of Amelia, I want the
ton
to know I didn’t commit those
heinous acts.”

***

“What brings you to see me, Your Grace?” Smythe said as Wentworth
entered the Bow Street Runner’s office.

“I have a job for you.” Wentworth sat down in a vacant seat and looked
around the dark, windowless room. Still the same as when he’d been here last
year to hire him to find the man who had kidnapped Emma. Wentworth thanked God
every day for the safe return of his beloved wife. “I want you to look into the
Earl of Bridgeton’s past. I want to know if he committed the crimes he is
rumored to have done.”

“Your Grace, It would be dishonest of me to take your money,” Smythe
protested.

“I do not understand,” Wentworth said, puzzled.

“I cannot reveal any confidences, but let us say I have investigated
who might have committed the crimes and have come up empty.” Smythe shuffled
papers around his desk in a nervous gesture. “I did not find the guilty party,
and I truly believe the earl is not the guilty party. In fact, I would stake my
career on it.”

Wentworth left
the Runner’s office more frustrated than before. If he believed Smythe, should
he allow Bridgeton to court and marry Amelia?