The Perfect Duke (23 page)

“Don’t fret, dear. I’m going to return you to the family tomb.”

Sometimes you have to risk all if you are going to win your “Happily Ever After.”

Prince Charming/ Sleeping Beauty

Garret strode through the ballroom.
Damn, where had Mallory gotten off to now?
The press of the crowd brought him almost to a standstill. If he didn’t keep an eye on his sister, no telling what she might contrive.

The crystal chandeliers glittered in the flickering candlelight, allowing him a clear view of the guests gathered at the foot of the stairs. Lord Stanton must have spent a fortune in candles, but Garret suspected the earl wouldn’t care as long as it was for ‘his Regina.’ A knot developed in his stomach. After their wedding she would be ‘his Regina.’

“Your grandfather would be proud of you.”

Garret stiffened as Lord Ellington’s comment reached him over the drone of voices in the great ballroom. The lord raised a brow at him expectantly from a few feet away, his elaborate snuffbox open on his palm. Garret grimaced. The oversized box matched Ellington’s opinion of himself.

It had been several months since he’d come across his grandfather’s ‘old friend.’ With a sigh, he closed the distance between them.

Ellington always put him in mind of a fox, with his deep-set beady eyes and narrow, pointed nose. Those too-bright eyes fixed on Garret as he languidly inhaled a pinch of powder from the container, then offered it to him.

“No, thank you.” Garret studied the milling crowd. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Did you think I’d miss the engagement of the decade? Your grandsire would have thought me bereft of curiosity.” He smiled. “Lady Regina”—he nodded toward the end of the room where she stood surrounded by a group of admiring young men and women—“has the right family. I wonder if she would have been your brother Edward’s choice?”

Garret stilled. “I guess we will never know.” Now he remembered why his grandfather had always referred to Ellington as ‘merely an earl.’ The man had an annoying habit of coming right to the point.

Ellington gave a slight shrug. “True. But your brother was a hellion in spite of the image he portrayed to your grandfather. I suspect
he
would have balked at marrying the very proper Lady Regina.”

Verbal sparring had always been a game between Ellington and his grandfather. The earl, refusing to defer to the duke. Well, he wasn’t going to play. “The relationship between Lady Regina and myself is private. And as for my brother—”

“Ah, yes, your brother.” Ellington slipped his snuffbox into his pocket, then grasped the lapels on his jacket and straightened his coat. When he’d finished, he caught Garret’s gaze, his scraggly eyebrows raised. “Edward never had any qualms about bending the rules as long as he maintained his veneer of respectability.” He held up a hand as Garret stepped forward. “Don’t be offended. I’m an old man and I wouldn’t last a round with you in a ring—if the rumors are true.” He chuckled. “Besides, I applauded your brother’s abilities. I’d rather hoped you were more like him. He would have made an admirable duke.”

“If you’ll excuse me.” Garret turned on his heel and strode away with all the dignity he could muster. He dragged his hand over the raised scar on his chin. Memories he didn’t want to deal with right now battered him, dredging up truths that didn’t fit in his orderly world.

Edward
had
flaunted grandfather’s rules. Night rides filled with gambling and women had been a regular occurrence. His brother had laughed when Garret worried they’d be caught. Somehow, his sibling had always managed to dupe their grandfather.

Ellington spoke the truth. Edward had never been “perfect.” Once again his brother’s abilities were being thrown in his face. Ironic that Edward’s imperfections were what had garnered the respect of the old duke’s adversary.

Garret’s fingers curled into fists. Ever since the accident, he’d striven to become an exemplary duke. He’d allowed his grandfather to use his pain and guilt—had fostered it. He’d deserved the constant reminders. But at what point had he allowed his grandfather to win?

He’d become what he used to hate.

Emptiness filled his soul. Ellington was right. Regina would never have been his choice, but she was the
proper
choice. Even in this, his grandfather was controlling him, like a puppet from the grave.

A disturbance caught his eye. It wasn’t so much that people were moving out of someone’s way, only that they seemed to shrink away from some newcomers to the party.

Bradford didn’t appear to notice the crowd’s discomfort at his arrival. His gaze scanned the guests, then locked on Garret. Morgan, however, appeared very aware of the stir they were making. Mischief livened his eyes as he nodded to some of the lords in the crowd who, without Bradford by his side, would have welcomed his company. They puffed out their chests and turned away before observing Morgan smile, then wink at some of the ladies nearby.

Bradford strode toward Garret, his black and silver walking cane clutched in one hand. “We need to speak with you in private.”

“This way.” Garret led them to a small parlor off the library, closed the double doors, then turned to face them. “Has something happened to Miss McClure?” She was safe at Belcraven. She had to be.

“Nothing’s happened. Yet. At least as far as we know.” Bradford laid his cane against a chair and removed his gloves. “We’ve managed to discover the identity of your governess’ ‘benefactor’. The lady in question is her grandmother.”

“But why would—?” Garret shook his head.

“Why indeed?” Bradford inclined his head toward Morgan. “My inquisitive companion has a theory.”

Morgan shrugged. “To my way of thinking, it was to keep her granddaughter from you.”

“Me?”

“You’d not be knowing then, that at one time Cara’s grandmother and your grandfather were engaged.”

“Are you sure?” Had he ever known anything about this family?

“Yes. Your grandsire left her to marry a woman of greater position. As the old duke had already ruined her, her family married her off to Pemberton as a punishment. She never forgave the Duke of Kendal. I’d be guessing she had the girl taken, and my gut tells me Russell was involved.”

Anger at how easily he’d been duped gnawed at him. His grandfather had always attributed the Pemberton’s animosity to jealousy. He’d stated the bad blood arose from the Kendals greater favor with the King. Another lie. Another excuse for his cruel treatment of people.

Even so, how could a grandmother do that to her own grandchild? Better yet, how had she succeeded? “You said Russell’s involved. In what way?”

“I’m not quite clear.” Morgan sighed and threw himself onto one of the armless chairs that creaked under his weight. “All I know is he’s met with the grandmother a time or two in some unsavory locations and in the last couple of days, he’s disappeared. He may have heard that I’d been asking about him. I’m suspecting he’s no longer in London.”

This wasn’t good. Cara was probably safe at his estate, but he didn’t want to take the chance. He tried to ignore the taunting voice in his head that told him Russell’s disappearance was an excuse to see her again. “Then I should return to Belcraven.”

“But what of the engagement?”

“Engagement?”

Morgan raised his eyebrows. “Last I knew, you were wanting to marry Lady Regina. Most of the Ton is in attendance at the party outside these doors.”

“I’ll find some excuse.” Though he doubted Lord Stanton would be pleased with any explanation he could give him. It didn’t matter. Cara’s safety must come first.

Bradford stepped forward and caught Garret’s arm as he turned to leave. “Morgan will remain in London, on the off chance Russell shows himself. I believe I’ll pay a visit to the Pemberton Estate and Miss McClure’s
benefactor
. As you’ll be returning to Belcraven, we’ll meet up with you there.” He picked up his cane. “Right. We’d best see to it.”

Garret darted from the room, vaguely aware that people no longer paid them any attention. Everyone appeared to be enthralled by the raised voices of two women at the entrance to the ballroom.

When he managed a clear view of them Garret nearly groaned. He should have known. His petite sister, looking for all the world like a wrathful fairy, had accosted one of the guests.

“I will not be treated in this manner. I demand to see the Duke of Kendal.” The visitor stepped around Mallory.

Garret’s stomach clenched when he recognized the unwelcome guest. Ignoring Mallory, Lady Pemberton appeared to be searching for someone in the crowd. The woman so resembled Cara that there could be no doubt this was her mother.

Mallory spun around, her face flushed. With her hands on her hips and anger narrowing her eyes, Garret knew she was moments away from finding the nearest instrument of destruction to physically persuade the unwanted guest to leave. He began to make his way toward them, before Mallory could do something she’d regret.

“I’ve told you, my brother has no desire to see you.” Mallory hiked her skirts, came to a stop next to the woman, and crossed her arms.

The woman set her chin at a stubborn angle, so like Cara when she was determined. “The Duke’s desires don’t interest me. I demand to know what he’s done with my daughter.”

“He’s done nothing
with
her. She’s safe and sound at Belcraven. Now if you’ll please leave.”

Dear God, what was Lady Pemberton doing here
? His steps faltered.

Instead of retreating, the unwanted guest advanced on Mallory. “No, she is not. I came to collect her at Belcraven this morning, but she’d gone.”

“Gone where?” Garret realized that he’d used a voice louder than either of the two women.
He couldn’t possibly have shouted.
A duke never shouted.
He lowered his voice and hurried to stand next to the pair. “Are you sure?”

Cara’s mother glared at him. “Yes. I believe you call my daughter Miss McClure, though we both know that to be a falsehood, do we not, Your Grace?”

Warmth flushed his face. “So she knows?”

“Yes.” Her lips and eyes narrowed.

“Perhaps she went back to her father.” As he spoke, he could imagine Cara’s anguish at discovering he had betrayed her. His gut clenched. She’d left Belcraven. Run away when she’d discovered what he’d done.

“Her father’s dead.” Pain filled the woman’s eyes. “I’d made arrangements to pick her up this morning. I’ll not lose her again. I demand to know what you’ve done with her.”

Lord Stanton burst through the crowd, his face contorted into a mask of outrage. “Here, here, Madam, I won’t have you speaking in that manner to my future son-in-law. Footmen, remove her from my house.”

Garret laid a hand on Stanton’s arm. “No. I’ll be leaving with her.” For the first time in fourteen years he knew what he had to do.

“But, but, the ball, Regina—”

“Will never be my wife.” Relief washed over him with that simple sentence. Garret turned toward the guests, most of whom wore stunned expressions. “You came expecting an engagement, but I’m unworthy of Lady Regina. She deserves someone who loves her and I . . . I’m in love with my governess.” An audible gasp rippled through the room as what he’d said was repeated to those outside the immediate circle.

“Garret, stop.” Mallory gave him the reproving expression she’d inherited from their mother. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do.” He turned back to the crowd. “My governess’ real name is Caroline Pemberton, the Earl of Pemberton’s sister. I knew this, but for my own selfish reasons I kept it from her.” Outrage appeared on several faces and a few of the matrons nearby fanned themselves vigorously and shook their heads. He gave them a curt bow. “I regret that decision more than you can know. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must try to find her.”

He hurried from the room, leaving behind an excited buzzing of voices.

The sound of scandal.

All at once a thundering wail echoed off the walls. Regina must have learned she wouldn’t be redecorating Belcraven. He shook his head. They would have made a poor match. She’d marry someone more suitable. Maybe even find love.

Hope glimmered in his soul for the first time in years. Cara had given him love and so much more.

With any luck she’d returned to her Papa. He’d check there first.

When he found her, he’d do anything to convince her to forgive him. It would be the ultimate in ironies to lose the one person who could appreciate what the scene in the ballroom had cost him.

Cold
. She was so very cold. Cara hugged her body and burrowed her fingertips into the pleated material on her bodice.

She opened her eyes, yet everything remained black. Where was she?

Her head pounded and there was a funny taste in her mouth. She’d been in a carriage with her benefact—grandmother—and Mr. Russell. What was it her grandmother had said? Something about a . . . tomb. That was the word.

With a trembling hand, she reached into the blackness. Her palm came to rest against what felt like rough, damp stone maybe a foot above her. Horror congealed into a tight lump in the back of her throat as she realized what her grandmother meant. A whimper escaped from her.

“No.”

She raised her other hand and used them both to pat every inch of her prison, as far as she could reach, praying for a seam, a handle, anything she could use to escape. But the damp stone revealed nothing and left her fingertips raw and stiff.

Wiggling down about a half a foot, she managed to touch the base of her enclosure. With all her might, she kicked the stone, hoping there might be a weakness in the construction. Of course, there was the chance the cover of her tomb could crush her if the sides collapsed, but better that than a slow death.

Exhausted, she stopped to get her breath. How would she die? Suffocation, cold, thirst? The thought made her mouth go dry. The walls were closing in around her.

She hated the dark. Monsters always appeared out of the dark in her stories. She closed her eyes, trying to pretend she was sleeping.

It didn’t work. Her breathing came in large gasps. She had to get out.
Dear God, she couldn’t die here
. With her fists, she began to pound on the stone above, yelling, screaming.

Pictures flashed through her head. She was six, and the men wouldn’t let her out. They were talking. Laughing at her pitiful efforts to escape. It had gone on forever, but finally they’d let her out into the light. She’d found Papa.