The Sum of All Kisses (20 page)

Sarah wasn’t sure how to respond. She looked to Daniel for guidance, but he was facing away.

“Freddie is a good man,” Hugh continued, “and he was—”

Sarah turned back to him. His throat was working convulsively, and she did not think she’d ever seen him so undone.

“He was the only reason I survived my childhood.” Hugh blinked, and then he actually smiled wistfully. “Although I imagine he would say the same thing about me.”

Dear God, Sarah thought, what sort of man
was
their father?

“He’s . . . not as I am,” Hugh said with a swallow, “but he is a good man, as honorable and kind as you will ever know.”

“All right,” Sarah said slowly, trying to take this all in. “If you say he is good, and that I should love him as a brother, I will. But what does this have to do with . . . with anything?”

“It was why my father was so hell-bent on revenge against your cousin,” Hugh replied, motioning with his head toward Daniel. “It is why he still is.”

“But you said—”

“I can hold him in check,” Hugh cut in. “I cannot change his mind.” He shifted his weight, and Sarah thought she saw a spark of pain flash through his eyes. She followed his gaze to his cane, lying on the carpet near the sofa. He took a step toward it, but before he could do anything more, she rushed to retrieve it for him.

The expression on his face when she handed it to him was not one of gratitude. But whatever he wanted to say to her, he swallowed it bitterly down and said instead, to the room at large, “I’m told that the day of the duel, it was not known whether I would survive.”

Sarah looked at Daniel. He gave a grim nod.

“My father is of the belief, and . . .” Hugh stopped speaking, and he let out a weary, resigned breath. “And he may be right,” he finally continued, as if he was only just accepting it himself, “that Freddie will never marry. I’d always thought he might, even though . . .” Again, his words trailed off.

“Hugh?” Sarah said softly, after nearly a minute had passed.

He turned and looked at her, then his expression hardened. “It doesn’t matter what I thought,” he said dismissively. “All that matters is what my father thought, and that he is convinced that I must be the one to provide an heir for the next generation. When Winstead nearly killed me . . .” He shrugged, letting Sarah and Daniel come to their own conclusions.

“But he didn’t kill you,” Sarah said. “So you can still . . .”

No one spoke.

“Er, you can, can’t you?” she finally asked. This was no time to be missish and demure.

He chuckled grimly. “I have no reason to suppose otherwise, although I will confess to not having assured my father to that fact.”

“Well, don’t you think you should have done?” she demanded. “He would have let Daniel alone, and—”

“My father,” Hugh cut in sharply, “does not easily let go of vengeance.”

“Indeed,” Daniel said.

“I still don’t understand,” Sarah said. What did any of this have to do with how Hugh brought Daniel back from Italy?

“If you want to marry him,” Daniel said to her, “I will not stand in your way. I like Hugh. I have always liked Hugh, even when we met on that damned dueling field. But I will not permit you to marry him without knowing the truth.”

“What truth?” Sarah demanded. She was so bloody sick of them talking around the issue when she didn’t even know what the issue
was
.

Daniel stared at her for a long moment, then turned his attention to Hugh. “Tell her how you convinced your father,” he said in a clipped voice.

She looked at Hugh. He was staring at some point over her shoulder. It was like she wasn’t even there.

“Tell her
.”

“My father loves nothing so much as the Ramsgate title,” Hugh said in a strange monotone. “I am nothing but a means to an end, but he believes I am his only means, and thus I am invaluable.”

“What does that
mean
?” she asked.

He turned back to her, blinking as if he was bringing her into focus. “Don’t you understand?” he said softly. “When it comes to my father, the only thing with which I have to bargain is myself.”

Sarah’s uneasiness began to grow.

“I drew up a contract,” Hugh said to her, “explaining exactly what would happen if your cousin met with any harm.”

Sarah’s gaze slid to Daniel, then back to Hugh. “What?” she said, the dread in her voice threatening to drag the very breath from her body. “What will happen?”

Hugh shrugged. “I kill myself.”

Chapter Seventeen

“N
o, really,” Sarah said. Her voice was forced; her eyes were wary. “What did you say would happen?”

Hugh fought the urge to dig his thumbs into his temples. His head had begun to pound, and he was fairly certain the only remedy would be the cheerful strangulation of Daniel Smythe-Smith. For once, everything in Hugh’s life was looking up—looking bloody
perfect
—and Daniel had to butt his head in where it was not wanted. Where it was not
needed
.

This was not how Hugh had meant to have this conversation.

Or maybe he hadn’t meant to have it at all,
a small voice within tried to say. He hadn’t so much as thought about it. He’d been so infatuated with Lady Sarah, so utterly entranced by the bliss of falling in love that he hadn’t given a thought to his “agreement” with his father.

But surely—surely she could see that he’d had no other option.

“Is this a joke?” Sarah demanded. “Because if it is, it’s not funny. What did you really say would happen?”

“He’s not lying,” Daniel said.

“No.” Sarah shook her head, aghast. “That can’t be true. It’s preposterous. It’s mad, it’s—”

“The only thing that could ever convince my father to leave him alone,” Hugh said sharply.

“But you didn’t mean it,” she said, desperation in her voice. “Because you lied to him, didn’t you? It was just a threat. An empty threat.”

Hugh didn’t answer. He had no idea if he’d meant it. He’d had a problem—no, he’d been
battered
by a problem—and he had finally seen a way to solve it. In all honesty, he’d been
pleased
with himself. He’d thought his plan was brilliant.

His father would never risk losing Hugh before Hugh could see to it that a new generation of Prentice men roamed the land. Although once that happened, Hugh mused, all bets were off. If the marquess had a healthy grandson or two under his power, he likely wouldn’t blink if Hugh went and offed himself.

Well, he might blink once, if only for the sake of appearances. But after that Hugh would be just so much water under the bridge.

Oh, it had been
grand
when he’d presented his father with that contract. Maybe he was a sick son of a bitch, but the sight of his father so poleaxed, so utterly without recourse or retort . . .

It had been magnificent.

There were advantages to being thought such a loose cannon, Hugh had realized. His father had ranted and railed and upset the tea tray, and all the while Hugh had just watched him with that detached, almost clinical, amusement that never failed to infuriate the marquess.

And then, after Lord Ramsgate declared that Hugh would never go through with such an absurd threat, he’d finally looked at his son. He’d really, truly looked at him for the first time in Hugh’s memory. He’d seen the insolent, empty smile, the steely resolve in the set of his chin, and the marquess had gone so white that his eyes seemed to shrivel in their sockets.

He’d signed the contract.

After that, Hugh hadn’t given the matter much thought. He might make the occasional inappropriate joke (he always did have a dark sense of humor), but as far as he was concerned, he and his father were at a stable impasse of mutually assured destruction.

In other words, there was nothing to worry about. And he did not understand why no one else seemed to realize that.

Of course the only ones who knew about the contract were Daniel and Sarah, but they were intelligent people, rarely illogical in their decisions.

“Why aren’t you answering me?” Sarah asked, her voice rising with panic. “Hugh? Tell me you didn’t mean it.”

Hugh stared at her. He’d been thinking, remembering, and it was almost as if a part of him had left the room, found some quiet corner in which to ponder the sad state of his world.

He was going to lose her. She was not going to understand. Hugh could see that now, in her frantic eyes and trembling hands. Why couldn’t she see that he had made a hero’s choice? He was sacrificing himself—or at least threatening to—for the sake of her beloved cousin. Shouldn’t that count for something?

He had brought Daniel back to England, he had ensured his safety; for this he would be punished?

“Say something, Hugh,” Sarah begged. She looked to Daniel, then back to Hugh, her head moving in awkward jerks. “I don’t understand why you won’t say something.”

“He signed a contract,” Daniel said quietly. “I have a copy.”

“You gave him a
copy
?”

Hugh wasn’t sure how that changed anything, but Sarah looked horrified. The color had drained from her skin, and her hands, which she was trying so hard to keep still at her sides, were shaking. “You have to tear it up,” she said to Daniel. “Right this moment. You have to tear it up.”

“It doesn’t—”

“Is it back in London?” she cut in. “Because if it is, I leave right now. I don’t care if I miss your wedding, it’s not a problem. I can just go back, and I’ll get it, and—”

“Sarah!” Daniel practically yelled. When he had her attention, he said, “It wouldn’t make a difference. It’s not the only copy. And if he’s right”—he motioned to Hugh—“it’s the only thing keeping me safe.”

“But it might
kill
him,” she cried.

Daniel crossed his arms. “That is entirely up to Lord Hugh.”

“Actually, my father,” Hugh said. Because really, that was where the chain of madness began.

Sarah’s body went still, but her head was shaking, almost as if she were trying to jog her brain into understanding. “Why would you
do
this?” she asked, even though Hugh felt he had made his reasons perfectly clear. “It’s wrong. I-i-it’s
unnatural
.”

“It’s logical,” Hugh said.

“Logical?
Logical?
Are you insane? It’s the most illogical, irresponsible, selfish—”

“Sarah, stop,” Daniel said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re overset.”

But she just shook him off. “Don’t patronize me,” she snapped. She turned back to Hugh. He wished he knew what to say. He’d thought he had said the right thing. It was what would have convinced him had their positions been reversed.

“Were you thinking of anyone but yourself?” she demanded.

“I was thinking of your cousin,” Hugh said quietly.

“But it is different now,” she cried out. “When you made that threat, it was just you. But now it’s—”

Hugh waited, but she did not finish the sentence. She did not say,
It’s not.
She didn’t say,
It’s us
.

“Well, you don’t have to do it,” she announced, as if she’d just solved all of their problems. “If something happened to Daniel, you wouldn’t have to actually go through with it. No one would hold you to such a contract, no one. Certainly not your father, and Daniel would be
dead
.”

The room went still until Sarah clapped a horrified hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said, turning frantic eyes to her cousin. “I’m so sorry. Oh, my God, I’m sorry.”

“We’re done,” Daniel bit off, shooting a look of near hatred at Hugh. He put his arm around Sarah and murmured something in her ear. Hugh could not hear what he said, but it did nothing to stem the flow of tears that were now pouring down her face.

“I will pack my things,” Hugh said.

No one told him not to do so.

S
arah allowed Daniel to lead her from the room, protesting only when he offered to carry her up the stairs.

“Please, no,” she said in a choked voice. “I don’t want everyone to realize how upset I am.”

Upset. What a pathetic excuse for a word. She wasn’t upset, she was wrecked.

Shattered.

“Let me take you back to your room,” he said.

She nodded, then blurted, “No! Harriet might be there. I don’t want her asking questions, and you know she will.”

In the end, Daniel took her back to his own bedchamber, reasoning that it was one of the only rooms in the house in which she could be guaranteed privacy. He asked her one last time if she wanted her mother, or Honoria, or anyone, but Sarah shook her head and curled up in a ball atop his quilts. Daniel found a blanket and laid it over her, and then, once he was assured that she did indeed wish to be left alone, he exited the room and quietly closed his door behind him.

Ten minutes later Honoria arrived.

“Daniel told me you said you wanted to be alone,” Honoria said before Sarah could do more than look at her with an exhausted expression, “but we think you’re wrong.”

The very definition of family. The people who got to decide when you were wrong. Sarah supposed she was as guilty of this as anyone. Probably more so.

Honoria sat next to her on the bed and gently brushed Sarah’s hair from her face. “How can I help you?”

Sarah did not lift her head from her pillow. Nor did she turn to face her cousin. “You can’t.”

“There must be something we can do,” Honoria said. “I refuse to believe that all is lost.”

Sarah sat up a little and looked at her in disbelief. “Did Daniel tell you
nothing
?”

“He told me some,” Honoria replied, showing no reaction to Sarah’s unkind tone.

“Then how can you say all is not lost? I thought I loved him. I thought he loved me. And now, I find out—” Sarah felt her face contorting with anger that Honoria did not deserve, but she could not control herself. “Don’t tell me all is not lost!”

Honoria caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Perhaps if you talked to him.”

“I did! How do you think I ended up like this?” Sarah waved her arm in front of her as if to say—

As if to say,
I’m angry and I’m hurt and I don’t know what to do
.

As if to say,
There’s nothing I can do except wave my stupid arm
.

As if to say,
Help me because I don’t know how to ask
.

“I’m not entirely certain I got the whole story,” Honoria said in a careful voice. “Daniel was very upset, and he said you were crying, and then I rushed off . . .”

“What did he tell you?” Sarah asked in a monotone.

“He explained that Lord Hugh . . .” Honoria grimaced, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was saying. “Well, he told me how Lord Hugh was able to finally convince his father to leave Daniel alone. It’s . . .” Once again, Honoria’s face found at least three different expressions of incredulity before she was able to continue. “I thought it was rather clever of him, actually, although certainly somewhat . . .”

“Mad?
”

“Well, no,” Honoria said slowly. “It would only be mad if there was no reasoning behind it, and I don’t think Lord Hugh does anything without reasoning it through.”

“He said he would
kill
himself, Honoria. I’m sorry, I cannot— Good God, and people call
me
dramatic!”

Honoria bit back a tiny smile. “It is . . . somewhat . . . ironic.”

Sarah gave her a look.

“Not that I’m saying it’s funny,” Honoria said, very quickly.

“I thought I loved him,” Sarah said in a small voice.

“Thought?”

“I don’t know if I still do.” Sarah turned away, letting her head fall back against the bed. It hurt to look at her cousin. Honoria was so happy, and she
deserved
to be happy, but Sarah would never be pure enough of heart not to hate her just a little bit. Just for this moment.

Honoria held silent for a few seconds, then quietly asked, “Can you fall out of love so quickly?”

“I fell into it quickly.” Sarah swallowed uncomfortably. “Maybe it was never really true. Maybe I just wanted it to be true. All these weddings and you and Marcus and Daniel and Anne and everyone looking so happy, and I just
want
that. Maybe that’s all it was.”

“Do you really think so?”

“How could I be in love with someone who would threaten such a thing?” Sarah asked in a broken voice.

“He did it to ensure the happiness of another person,” Honoria reminded her. “My brother.”

“I know,” Sarah answered, “and I could admire him for that, honestly I could, but when I asked him if it was just an empty threat, he didn’t say that it was.” She swallowed convulsively, trying to calm her breathing. “He did not say to me that if . . . if it were
necessary
”—she choked on the word—“he would not go through with it. I asked him straight to his face, and he did not answer.”

“Sarah,” Honoria began, “you need to—”

“Do you even understand how awful this conversation is?” Sarah cried. “We are discussing something that would only come to pass if your brother was
murdered
. As if . . . as if then . . . whatever Hugh did would be
worse
?”

Honoria laid a gentle hand on Sarah’s shoulder.

“I know,” Sarah choked out, as if Honoria’s gesture had been a question. “You’re going to tell me I need to ask him again. But what if I do and he says that he does mean it, and that if his father changes his mind and does something to Daniel he’s going to take a pistol and put it in his stupid
mouth
?”

There was a terrible moment of silence, then Sarah jammed her hand over her mouth, physically trying to hold in a sob.