The Perfect Duke (20 page)

Defiance crossed her delicate features. “I honor my agreements.”

“See that you do.” There was nothing left to say. He should never have allowed himself this last moment with her. If he were honest with himself, he’d hoped she’d throw herself into his arms and beg him not to go. Obviously, he’d miscalculated. He turned on his heel.

She took his arm. Her voice fell to a hushed whisper. “Garret, Your Grace . . . I’m sorry.” The longing and pain he heard in her voice echoed the same chord in him.

He shook his arm from her grasp. “So am I.”

He strode down the path toward the waiting carriage and Timmons. He took a letter from his pocket. “See that this is sent to Lord Bradford upon my departure.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.”

“After the affair in London I will be traveling to my estate in Kent. If I receive any correspondence of import, it is to be sent to me there.”

Sadness tinged the old man’s eyes. “Are you sure . . .?”

Garret gave him the disdainful look he’d spent years perfecting. At one time the expression had almost felt natural, but now he struggled to maintain it.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Timmons’ mouth turned grim and his voice became impersonal. “I didn’t mean to interfere.” He inclined his head, but not far enough to allow his wig to tip forward.

Garret exhaled slowly. He hadn’t intended to hurt the old man’s feelings. Before Cara, he wouldn’t even have noticed Timmons’ reaction, let alone felt this compulsion to apologize to the man.

Before he disgraced himself, he swung around to Belcraven, where Mallory and Rachel stood on a second story balcony. His sister raised her hand in farewell, in spite of the fact that she’d fought him on this course of action. With a curt nod, he climbed into the carriage.

He leaned back against the velvet cushions and closed his eyes, refusing to give in to the temptation to glance out the window to see if Cara watched his departure.

Weariness settled over him. He’d gone through with his plans. Without Cara, nothing he did from this moment on held any allure. The thought of all those empty years stretching before him made him wish he were once again pummeling an opponent in the ring. Anything to keep him from feeling this terrible hopelessness.

He trusted Bradford to see to the situation in London. Russell would be dealt with. Once his friend had found the culprit, he’d bring Cara home and give her the letter. Garret shifted, trying to find some relief for the unrelenting ache in his body and soul. He had laid it all out for her. Her true identity, his deceit—everything.

She would have her papa
and
the Pembertons. A family. At a crack of the whip, the carriage lunged forward. Despair burned in him, raging through his blood. It was done.

He’d never again gaze into Cara’s eyes and see love shining there.

She had been deceived. How could someone who looked so fair, be so black-hearted?

Snow White

Cara watched the carriage until it rounded a bend and vanished from sight.
She’d never see Garret again.
The thought came, without reason, but with such strength she almost started running down the dusty road.

It took all her will to turn around and catch up with Timmons as he was about to enter the mansion. “May I speak with you?”

“Yes, Miss McClure.” He wouldn’t meet her eye.

“His Grace neglected to mention when he would return. I need to know, in case some word comes about Papa.”

“His plans were undetermined.”

Cara caught the valet’s arm, forcing him to meet her gaze. “He’s not coming back. Is he? At least not as long as I’m here.”

“No.” The simple word hung in the air. Lines appeared between his brows and the creases deepened along his mouth. “We tried to deter him, but he refused to relent.”

She let go of Timmons and wrapped her arms around her body. The bone stays of her bodice chaffed, but offered a hold for her fingertips. She closed her eyes. “I sent him away. Now I’ll never see him again.”

The enormity of what she’d done hit her. It was for the best, she knew it was, but deep sorrow and guilt wracked her.

When she finally opened her eyes, Timmons stared at her, his mouth wide as if he wanted to say something but words eluded him. With a shake of his head, he closed his mouth.

“Excuse me.” Cara couldn’t stand to see the pity in his eyes. She picked up her skirts and ran through Belcraven. The carved birds of prey at the foot of the stairs glared at her with condemnation and she nearly fell as she went up the stairs. At last she reached her room. With a sob, she flung herself onto the bed.

The sun was low on the horizon and tears had soaked her pillow by the time she heard a tap on the door. “Who is it?”

“Mallory.”

Cara nearly groaned. She didn’t want to speak with anyone right now, especially Garret’s sister, but she wiped her eyes and sat up on the bed. She must look dreadful. “Come in.”

Her friend bustled into the room, dressed in a silk-rose encrusted riding coat with matching hat. She studied her for a moment, then her mouth drew into a line. “I’m leaving. If I’m lucky, I’ll prevent my obstinate brother from making the biggest mistake of his life.”

“But—”

“Don’t try to dissuade me. The two of you are perfect for one another and I’m not going to let him do this. He could make everything wonderful if only he had a little more faith in you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to. Just be here when we get back.”

Why was everyone so concerned about her leaving? “But it won’t change anything.”

“If I can convince him to tell you the truth, then perhaps you have a chance.” She pinned her with an expression Cara didn’t quite understand. “I’m counting on your compassion.” With that, she turned on her heel and was gone, shutting the door after her.

The sudden quiet seemed a stark contrast to the whirlpool of emotions coursing through her. She didn’t understand what was going on, nor could she make any sense of her visitor’s comments.

But against her will a small grain of hope started to grow. Perhaps Mallory could stop Garret’s betrothal. Cara shouldn’t want that to happen, but she couldn’t ignore the relief she felt. Right now she’d cling to any promise that her nightmare could turn into a fairy tale.

Cara read a page from
Helen of Troy
for the third time. It was beginning to get dark. Garret would be in London by now. Had Mallory arrived in time? Not knowing left her unsettled. She closed the book and stood, stretching her arms over her head to alleviate the stiffness from sitting so long.

It wouldn’t be until tomorrow at the earliest that she’d hear anything. She wandered over to the bookcases and replaced her book as a maid Cara didn’t recognize slipped into the room and lit the lamp, then disappeared.

From the very first day she’d loved the library. The rich paneling and worn leather furniture appeared even more inviting in the firelight. Only the picture of Garret’s grandfather cast a pall on the atmosphere.

She turned to study his painting.
Bitterness.
Somehow the painter had managed to catch that element of his character. Deep lines etched the face so like Garret’s, but the eyes were cold, malevolent. A chill of unease caused her to rub her arms. Loud noises drew her attention to the entrance.

“I’m telling you, madam, you must wait until the duke’s return.” Timmons could barely be heard above the slamming of doors.

Then another voice joined the mix, feminine and commanding. “I’m not leaving until I’ve found Caroline.”

“But Lady Pemberton, there is no one here by that name.”

Something about the woman’s voice felt familiar. Curious, Cara moved toward the entrance at the same time a stunning older woman entered the room.

Cara grabbed at the back of the nearest settee, unable to breathe. Her head began to pound.

It was the woman by the trellis. Older perhaps, her skin no longer held the dewy softness of youth, but everything else about her was just as Cara remembered.

The visitor’s proud features crumpled when their gazes met. “Dear Lord, it’s true.” She held an elegant glove-clad hand out to her, as if afraid that Cara would run. “I hadn’t really believed. After all these years. Adam was right.”

“Lady Pemberton”—Timmons drew himself very erect and addressed her in a tone that had intimidated lesser mortals—“this is Miss McClure and unless you would like me to call the footman, I suggest you leave.”

She turned toward Timmons. “Call whomever you like. I’m not leaving.” Then she returned her attention to Cara, her expression joyous. “And this is not Miss McClure. This is my daughter, Caroline Pemberton.”

Cara felt lightheaded. Her vision blurred until Timmons and Lady Pemberton were simply splotches of color. She tried to hold on to the back of the settee, but her fingers wouldn’t obey and she felt herself slip to the floor.

When she opened her eyes, she was on the settee. Timmons and Lady Pemberton leaned over her, concerned expressions on their faces.

“We need some smelling salts and cold rags.” Lady Pemberton kept patting her hand. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have been so direct.”

“I’ll get them, but I really do think you should leave.”

“No.” Cara removed her hand from the woman’s ministrations. “I’ll be fine. Please, I want to hear what she has to say.”

Cara sat up with their help, the pounding in her head reaching epic proportions. In spite of the pain, she attempted to study Lady Pemberton. If what she said was true, this woman was her mother.

The resemblance
was
striking. Lady Pemberton was taller than Cara, but they shared the same odd hair and eye color, a kind of golden brown made up of several different hues. Even their noses and mouths were similar, though Lady Pemberton’s chin was a little more square.

Timmons didn’t appear happy. “I’ll bring some damp rags, just in case, and I think you should have some tea.” He turned to their guest. “Please let me know immediately if she has a relapse.”

Lady Pemberton tilted her head, raised her eyebrows and stared at Timmons until he left, then she turned her attention back to Cara and settled in a chair nearby. Her long fingers smoothed her taffeta skirt and she gave Cara a tentative smile. “I know you must have questions. What would you like to know?”

“Why would you think I’m your daughter?” It was the most obvious question.

“I wasn’t sure until I saw you.” She smiled. “But you look very like Ann, your older sister.”

Sister? She had a sister. Was it possible? She tamped down her excitement. “Still, resemblance doesn’t prove anything.”

“True, and until a few days ago, I’d assumed you were dead. It was Adam, your father, who had been sure you lived. He never gave up hope. With his dying breath he made me promise to find you.”

“He’s dead?”

“Yes.”

Cara bowed her head, inexplicable sorrow rushing through her. If this woman proved to be her mother, then he would have been her father. She couldn’t even remember him. But his devotion to his children earned her respect and sadness at his passing.

When she raised her head, Lady Pemberton’s expression had clouded, and pain dimmed the light in her eyes. “The doctors did all they could, but something went wrong with his lungs.” Her voice broke and she gave a helpless little shrug. “He wasn’t ill long. There wasn’t anything
I
could do except stay with him.”

She touched the locket that hung around her neck, brushing the ornate filigree with her fingertips. With a sad smile she lowered her hand and straightened, yet when she met Cara’s gaze only hope shone there. “But that was early last year and he’d be so thrilled that I’ve found you.”

“What changed things a few days ago?” Cara didn’t mean to sound impatient, but she had the feeling her future hinged on this woman’s tale.

“I was staying with Lord and Lady Cherwick in Kent, a short trip in the country before the Season started in London. But while I was there, a cooper insisted he speak with me. He said he had knowledge of my missing daughter. The odd man told me his brother-in-law had been hired to abduct you.”

Lady Pemberton rose, and began to pace. “I wasn’t sure I should believe him.” She turned toward Cara, a pleading expression on her fine features. “You have to understand, we’ve had many people come to us over the years, insisting they knew of your whereabouts. I put off seeing him until yesterday.”

She let out a deep breath and her shoulders seemed to cave in. “When he told me his story, every detail matched from the time of day you’d been taken, to the clothes his brother-in-law had left near the water to make us think you’d drowned.”

“Could he have found out the particulars any other way?” Cara had always known she was adopted, but to discover she’d been abducted left her feeling defiled somehow. At least now the snippets from her memory made sense. All these years, her real parents had been alive. Who would have done such a thing?

“We kept the facts quiet for just that reason.” Lady Pemberton moved a chair closer and sat. She leaned forward and placed her hand on Cara’s arm. Her voice grew softer. “I visited the Vicar McClure. He’s a good man.”

“Papa. How is he?” Her feelings were all mixed-up. Was being happy about having a real mother betraying Papa?

“He’s fine. He told me where to find you.”

A sense of panic took hold of her. “Papa didn’t know about the abduction. Did he?” She couldn’t stand it if he’d been aware that her parents were still alive and kept her anyway.

“No.” Lady Pemberton, her mother, gave her an encouraging smile. “He suspected that something was amiss, but they’d wanted children for so long that he admitted to the sin of not looking very closely at their good fortune.” She patted Cara’s cheek. “I don’t blame him. It was the cooper’s brother-in-law who took you.”

“Now that Papa knows, is he . . . upset?” He must think he’d lost her.

“He’s fine. I told you.” She gave her a sympathetic smile. “You don’t want to betray him. That’s understandable.” She took Cara’s hands and gave them a squeeze. Her smile revealed a pair of dimples. “Don’t worry, I don’t happen to believe that love is finite. I’m hoping that eventually you’ll come to care about your brother, three sisters, four nephews, three nieces, and perhaps even me.”

She had a family. A real family. It was as if a fairy godmother had granted her fondest wish.

“But why? Why was I abducted?”

“I have no idea. Perhaps we’ll never know. Now that I’ve found you, does it really matter so much?”

“I suppose not.” Ever since her adoptive mother had died, she’d longed for an older woman to talk with, but this was better than anything she could ever have imagined.

“The tea is ready.” Timmons entered bearing a cart that he set on the marble-topped table near Cara, then he handed her a stack of damp cloths. “In case you feel faint again.” He turned to her mother. “Lady Pemberton, does the Earl of Pemberton know that you’ve come here?”

“Of course not. I’m well aware of my oldest son’s feelings concerning the Duke of Kendal.”

Timmons gave her a reproving look, then left.

“Why wouldn’t my brother want you to come here?” Calling someone her brother, let alone an earl, felt odd. Cara felt the blood leave her face. Her brother was an earl, that made her . . . a noblewoman.

Garret.

“You’ll have to excuse me, but I have to go to London.” If Mallory hadn’t convinced Garret to return, then this news might. Urgency drove her. What if she wasn’t in time to stop him? She rose and headed for the door.

Her mother clung to her arm, anchoring her to the spot. “Why?”

“I have to stop the Duke of Kendal’s betrothal.”

“No!”

It was the first harsh word she’d heard from her mother. Cara stopped, confused by the vehemence in the older woman’s voice.

Lady Pemberton eased her grip and smiled, but the worry in her eyes overshadowed any comfort she tried to offer. “I spoke with the vicar. He told me of your infatuation with the duke.”

Cara shook her arm free. “It is not an infatuation. I’m in love with him, and I believe he loves me.”

“Does he?” Something in her mother’s tone turned her to stone.

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t he ever tell you who you really were?”

“He didn’t know.”

“I’m afraid he did. The cooper was sent to one of the duke’s estates in Kent,
after
he’d told him his tale.”

Garret had known who she was? Her legs felt weak, and her head had that funny light feeling again. It couldn’t be true. “I don’t believe you.” Suddenly Mallory’s words made sense. She’d known about Cara’s true identity all along, and that’s why she’d thought they could marry. But only Garret could have told his sister the truth.