The Ruin Of A Rogue (28 page)

“Mama, you shouldn’t be here.” Castleton stepped forward but his mother ignored him.

“Lewis.” The single word was matched by an unmistakable agony in her faded blue eyes.

“Oh, Margaret,” Lewis said in the simple, heartfelt tones that had gulled hundreds of women. “You’re as lovely as ever. I always intended to return to you. You were my one true love. I’m here now.”

“You stole the diamonds.”

“When your husband discovered our trysts, I had to take a souvenir of the loveliest lady I ever met.” He smiled. “I never knew I’d left you one in exchange. Two rather. What beautiful girls we made together, Margaret. You must be proud of them.”

Marcus held his breath and he sensed the other spectators of the scene doing the same. From the corner of his eye he saw Caro and Anne, hand in hand, standing by the fire. Castleton appeared paralyzed as he watched his mother and her seducer.

“I’d like to meet our daughters, Margaret. Will you bring them in?” Lewis held out his hand.

“I sent them home. Stay away from them.” A collective sigh, a ripple of air around the room, followed the duchess’s words, spoken barely above a whisper.

“If that’s the way you want it, Margaret,” Lewis said gently, “I’m sorry. Advise your son to give me the diamonds and you’ll never hear nor see me again.”

She stared at him with wild eyes through an endless silence disturbed only by the crackle of the fire in the huge hearth. Then her right hand, hidden by her skirts, moved.

“Margaret, no!” Caro was the first to speak. Castleton’s dismayed voice joined hers as the duchess raised her arm to reveal a pistol, pointed straight at Lewis’s black heart.

“Now, Margaret,” Lewis said, without betraying an ounce of concern. “You don’t mean that. Put down the gun and let us talk like people who once loved each other.”

The duchess swayed like a poplar. The small pistol seemed to weigh down her trembling hand and she raised the other to steady it. At any moment a flying bullet might hit anything or anybody in the room. Marcus edged back, ready to knock Anne and Caro to the ground if necessary.

“You never loved me,” the duchess said, “and you will never hurt my children. I will not allow it.”

Lewis fell as the pistol shot rang out. Marcus ran to him, sank to his knees, and heard his death rattle. Blood soaked his waistcoat. Straight through the heart. The duchess’s aim was true.

He was half aware of events unfolding around him: the duchess collapsed in her son’s arms and borne to a sofa; Caro comforting her mother-in-law; the duke sending worried servants away from the door with nonsense about a gun going off by accident.

Marcus knelt beside his father and looked at that handsome face for the last time. All he could think of was that he was glad he didn’t resemble his sire in looks, had taken after his mother. He was glad that this time he could see the body, be certain that Lewis would never rise again. He was glad that his father was dead. He was also glad he hadn’t had to kill him himself.

He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. Anne knelt beside him, put her arms around him. He buried his head in her shoulder.

Chapter 29

A
nne had sustained shock after shock: the discovery of Bentley’s identity, his aspersions on his son’s motives regarding the diamonds, and lastly Lithgow’s amazing revelation about the dowager duchess. She’d thought herself numbed until the terrifying eruption of violence made her stomach churn. Only the grip of Caro’s hand kept her from fainting.

Every conflicting thought aroused since the appearance of Lewis Lithgow paled beside Marcus’s grief. She held him tightly and buried her face in his hair, feeling his chest heave and tears moisten her neck. His arms were iron bands about her waist and she welcomed the pain. When finally he raised his head she barely had time to see his glistening green eyes before he took her mouth in a desperate, searing kiss. Without thought for the future, or the living and dead in the room, she poured her love into the deepest kiss they’d ever shared. Knee to knee, bodies pressed close, arms fighting to draw each other closer, they devoured each other. There was no arousal in their embrace, only a profound desire for connection.

Neither had spoken since Lewis Lithgow had fallen dead. There was no need.

A touch drew her from their passionate communion.

“Anne.” Caro’s voice, Caro’s hand on her shoulder.

They stood up, holding hands. She’d never seen Marcus’s face so undefended, so unknowing. Then the dazed look faded, replaced by wariness. He would have withdrawn his hand but she didn’t let him.

The scene beyond their circle of two came into focus: the dowager in a little gold framed chair, her slack mouth contradicting the stiffness of her posture; Caro wide-eyed with concern; her husband running a shaky hand through his hair. And the bloody corpse of Lewis Lithgow sprawled on the ebullient roses of the Wilton carpet.

“Lithgow.” The duke broke a glacial silence. “My mother has killed your father. What do you want me to do?” Castleton would do the right thing, take the moral and legal path, no matter what the cost. His hands fell to his sides and his large figure dominated the room as he tensed, awaiting a blow he had no right to deflect.

Marcus glanced at the killer and then the victim. Slowly he shook his head and faced his old adversary the duke. Anne guessed that neither had yet grasped their new relationship resulting from Lewis’s dramatic revelation. She waited to see what Marcus would do now he had the upper hand.

“My father died in Naples last year,” he said, softly. “I have a certificate of burial from the authorities of the Kingdom of Naples and Sicily. I don’t believe it is possible to murder a dead man.”

Castleton’s shoulders dropped. “We could pass him off as a chance caller and call it an accident.” He glanced at his mother. “I’m not sure she is up to the task of lying and you understand why I don’t wish any version of the truth to get out.”

Marcus nodded slowly. “Lewis Lithgow is dead and David Bentley never existed. We’ll have to do something with the body. If you have a place to hide it, I’ll help.”

Caro drew her husband aside and engaged him in a low-toned discussion, accompanied with a good many gestures on her part and some argument on his.

Anne squeezed her lover’s hand. “I’m sorry.” Her heart bled for his evident unhappiness.

“Why?”

“Because your father is dead.”

“I’m not. He came back to cause trouble and he would never have left this family alone. He would have taken the diamonds and anything else he could get, year after year. My . . . Castleton’s sisters would never have been safe from him. The only thing I care about is your forgiveness.” He held both her hands to his chest and looked deep into her face. “I was on my way to return the diamonds to their owner without condition, I swear it. But if you believe what my father said about me, I understand.”

Castleton interrupted them again. “Shall we go, Lithgow? Caro has a plan to fool the servants into believing ‘Bentley’ has left the house. With a bit of luck no one will ever hear of him again.”

Watching Marcus and Castleton drag the body of Lewis Lithgow through the garden door, she had the urge to call him back. To reassure him she couldn’t live without him.

D
ragging a body through a dark garden was a task that brought men together, even a pair with as much history of enmity as he and Castleton. Lewis had never been a small man and he’d gained weight in later life. They heaved and grunted across the lawn and through the shrubbery, and by the time they were out of earshot of the house and servants, the silent tension between them had palpably lessened.

“Only a couple of hundred yards now,” Castleton said. They were making for the ruins of an old chantry, a remnant of the estate’s monastic past. The place had a crypt that was kept locked because of its unsound roof. A perfect resting place for Lewis Lithgow, who had, Marcus recalled, converted to Rome at one point in pursuit of some long-forgotten chicanery.

By silent mutual agreement they stopped to rest, Castleton stamping his feet while Marcus huddled down into his collar.

“I suppose I should apologize.” A sliver of moon illuminated Castleton’s breath in the frosty air. Marcus could only imagine how he’d swallowed his pride.

“Don’t. My father was a complete villain and the world is better without him.”

“I fear he would never have left my mother and sisters alone. I was thinking about killing him myself.”

“I was too.” He’d never have expected to feel comradeship with Castleton. He hastened to set the duke’s mind at rest on the topic that must be troubling him most. “You needn’t fear that word of his revelation tonight will ever pass my lips. Your mother and sisters are safe.”

“It’s odd, what he said, about us having sisters in common.”

“Did you have any idea?”

“I knew they were not my father’s daughters, but not whose. Caro guessed. She wanted you to know them.”

“Ah. Proposing that ridiculous game of whist.”

“Typical Caro scheme. Even before we knew you’d found the diamonds, she was worried you might guess the truth. She thought if you liked them you wouldn’t take it into your head to try anything that would put them at risk.”

Marcus winced. Not long ago he would have accepted the poor expectations for his behavior with a cynical shrug. “I would never harm them.” He hoped Castleton believed him.

“Shall we continue?”

While Castleton fumbled with the key to the chantry, Marcus pondered a past dominated by Lewis Lithgow. There was no ambivalence in his relief that it was over for good. Carrying the body down the narrow stairs to the crypt placed a full stop to the relationship, a culmination that he’d never sensed when he’d arrived in Naples to find his father “dead.” It gave him a new appreciation for the ritual of the funeral. As the door of the tomb slammed shut he muttered a wordless silent prayer, for whom he wasn’t sure, and turned with a lighter heart to face his future.

“I must say, Castleton, that the idea of having family connections appeals to me. I wish I could know your sisters better. Only as a friend.”

“If you wed Anne, not that I approve, mind you, my sisters will be cousins of a kind.”

“I will try to convince you that I am now a different man and I can make her happy, but first I have to convince her. I’m not sure she’ll have me.”

“That’s not the way it looked to me, the way she was kissing you. Most improper.” That was the old conventional Castleton. You’d never guess he’d just disposed of a body in what must surely be a criminal fashion.

“I’m not without hope, but she’s a strong-minded woman, not to be swayed by ordinary considerations.”

“More like Caro than I thought, under that mild exterior.”

“Mild? Clearly you don’t know her at all.”

“Perhaps not,” the duke replied as they strode briskly toward the house. “As I constantly learn from Caro, people are not always the way they appear. Makes life difficult sometimes, but interesting.”

“Since I have a new appreciation for honesty and candor, I’d like to explain about Caro’s Titian. There’s no reason you should believe me, but I didn’t intend to steal it. I followed a hunch about where Caro might have it hidden away, that’s all. Then you and Caro caught me . . .”

“I was beginning to tolerate you, but just thinking about that day makes me want to hit you.” Was that actually a hint of humor?

“I can be quite irritating when I set my mind to it, and on that occasion my mind was set on infuriating you.”

“Let’s not speak of it again. I am willing to pretend we never met before, to erase our past history and start again. I believe we are something like third cousins twice removed, and please don’t ask me to explain how.” To Marcus’s gratified astonishment, Castleton offered his hand.

“It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Duke. I am madly in love with your wife’s cousin and would vastly appreciate a positive word in the ear of Miss Brotherton’s guardian.”

Castleton loomed stern and forbidding. “Starting again is one thing, but you can’t erase a lifetime of misconduct in a moment. If you think I’m going to ask Morrissey to hand over the Camber estates to you, you’re much mistaken. Besides, I doubt I have that much influence.”

“I don’t want the Camber estates. I intend to put my own property in order. All I want is for Anne to be allowed sufficient income to afford a decent life. At the moment I can’t even afford servants.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but be warned. I shall be keeping an eye on you.”

“I’m glad.”

“I’ll only do it for Anne’s sake, mind you.” Castleton gave a brief crack of laughter. “She’d make a terrible housemaid!”

“You’d be surprised. She’s a woman of many parts.”

Chapter 30

A
nne silently inspected the small sitting room, separated from Marcus by splendid furnishings and unanswered doubts. When he and Castleton returned from disposing of the body, all significant barriers to their marriage had been demolished. Yet her hands twisted together behind her back and she stood before the marble fireplace as lacking in confidence as the woman she’d been before she knew him. Darting glances showed a similar state of doubt clouding his beloved face.

“The drawing room at Hinton would fit into this room twice over, at least,” he remarked finally. “Being here makes me realize what I asked you to give up.”

She stopped pretending to be interested in the draping of the brocade curtains. “You know quite well that architectural proportions are not what lie between us.”

He strode over to the hearth and stroked her hair gently, smoothed her frowning forehead with his thumb. She read hesitation and longing in his beautiful green eyes with no trace of reserve or deceit. “I love you, Anne. You’re the only thing in the world I truly want. If I ever become a good man it’s because you taught me how.”

“No,” she said. “You are a good man and you can be one without me. I love you, Marcus, but . . .” Her voice trailed off into a whisper.

“I broke your trust when I planned to sell the diamonds.” He leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “Forgive me, Anne. I swear I came here with no other plan than to restore his property to Castleton.”

“I know that.” Love engulfed her and every instinct told her to trust him, to let herself grasp happiness with both hands. Yet deep-seated wells of reserve and caution reared their heads, as did her own shame. “What happened before is what troubles me. Not only that you were prepared to sell the diamonds, but that I lied to myself about it. I knew immediately that you couldn’t be the rightful owner and I went along with it because I wished so badly for you to have the money you needed. Only when I learned that they belonged to someone I knew did I do the right thing.”

His instant withdrawal left her chilled. “I see. You fear association with me will destroy your morals.”

“No.” That sounded horrible and priggish. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I mean.”

Marcus took a few paces in obvious agitation, then returned to his spot in front of her. “The only thing I can do,” he said, “is explain how I have changed. I should have known my association with
you
had affected me when I first saw the diamonds. I suspected they’d been stolen from Castleton because my father and I had just been there when we went to Hinton. A few months ago I would have felt no compunction about keeping them, but you were already penetrating the wall of my infamy. Like you, I ignored my scruples. I bargained with Providence, swearing this would be my last sin.”

“Did you only change your mind because it meant losing me?” She wanted more.

“No, because of something you said. You said I would always know what I had done. Not you, but I. My newly awakened conscience cried out and I realized it would never leave me alone. That I could no longer be happy as a scoundrel.” His voice fell to a hoarse whisper. “I want so badly to be happy. With you.”

A surge of longing seized her brain. “How can I be sure? How can I know what is the right thing to do when all I want to do is believe you?” If he took her in his arms now she would surrender.

And Marcus, bless him, understood her doubt and declined to take advantage of it. “Let me offer the perspective of a gamester when it comes to assessing risk. You look at the known facts and the desired outcome and calculate the odds of achieving the latter with the cards you are dealt.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“With cards it is easy. It comes down to mathematics. The arithmetic of the heart is trickier.”

Anne looked into that organ and couldn’t make anything add up. Love had nothing to do with logic, only with faith. She closed her eyes and leaped off the cliff.

“Will you kiss me, Marcus?”

There was no more to be said. The world shrank to a tiny space occupied by two souls and their sighs and caresses.

M
arcus was not pleased to see Travis. With Anne curled in his lap and the possibility of some seriously indiscreet behavior before they retired to their separate chambers, he was more than unusually irked by the intrusion of his valet.

“Ahem, my lord.”

Anne scrambled off to sit next to him on the sofa, as primly as she could given that her braids had come down and her hair lay over her shoulders like a shining cloak. Maldon, who for some reason had accompanied Travis, looked pained.

“You may felicitate me, Travis. You too, Maldon. Miss Brotherton and I are to be wed.”

“So I supposed. May I take the liberty of wishing you every happiness?”

“You may. We haven’t set a date but we should all be returning to Hinton soon. I even intend to pay you wages.”

Travis coughed and his bushy eyebrows shot up. “As to that, my lord. It is with great regret that I have come to tender my notice.”

“And I too, miss,” the usually silent Maldon piped up.

“Maldon!” Anne cried. “How can I do without you?”

“Miss Maldon and I feel that our talents will go to waste in Wiltshire. We have decided to seek new positions in London with people of fashion.”

Marcus, who had spent many months trying to get rid of the man, was perversely bereft. “I saved your life, Travis! You can’t leave me.”

“I believe my debt has been paid in full and it is time for me to seek other challenges. Now that you are settled my work with you is done.”

The next day Anne proposed a game of piquet.

Marcus picked up his hand. It was the best he’d seen in months. Against even a strong player the odds of losing were minuscule. He made his discards, expecting the worst, and discovered the best. Trouncing Anne’s mediocre skills was child’s play.

“My misfortunes at the tables,” he said as he took the last trick, “began after Travis came into my service. I have occasionally wondered if the two events were connected, but I don’t believe in that kind of superstition.”

“Whatever the cause, your luck has returned,” Anne said cheerfully, totting up her dismal score.

“No,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “If I’d never lost my luck I would never have courted an heiress. That’s what I call luck.”