A Debt of Dishonor

by Marek, Lillian

  She looked around and realized they were in a barn, the abandoned one not far from Kelswick on the London road. “I would rather kick the creature who arranged this.”

  Bancroft gestured to the middle of the room. “You may have to wait your turn.”

  Ashleigh was driving his fist into the gut of a man with a bloody nose who was flapping his arms in what might be a gesture of surrender. He crumpled into a heap and lay there shivering. Ashleigh was about to haul him up to be hit again when Merton put a restraining hand on his arm. “Now, now, Peter, a bit of forbearance if you please.” Ashleigh glared at his laughing friend.

  Lady Talmadge watched with interest. “Is that Lord Newell?” When Bancroft nodded, she said, “I believe it is my turn now.” She walked over in no apparent hurry and kicked the fallen creature in the ribs. She smiled, satisfied, at his grunt.

  Merton grinned at her, then he and Bancroft hauled the man to his feet.

  “Lord Newell, I believe,” said Ashleigh.

  The fellow nodded, breathing roughly, looking resentful. “Did Farnsworth send you? I told him I’d bring her to him. You didn’t have to do this.” Then he saw Lady Talmadge and frowned, confused. “A woman? What’s a woman doing here? Who are you?”

  She smiled. “Your doom, I believe.”

  “Indeed,” said Ashleigh. “This lady, whom you paid these, ah, creatures, to kidnap, is Lady Talmadge, widow of the late Earl of Talmadge and sister of the Duke of Ashleigh. I am Ashleigh.” He inclined his head slightly.

  Now Newell was looking frightened, shaking his head, wide-eyed. “No, no, must be some mistake, all a mistake. Never kidnapped anyone.”

  “Definitely a mistake,” said Ashleigh. “Kidnapping is, after all, a hanging offense, even for a peer.”

  “No, never kidnapped anyone. Word of honor.” What color there had been in Newell’s face was fading rapidly. “Just meant to get my sister. That’s all. Not kidnapping. Farnsworth said it wasn’t kidnapping. Couldn’t be kidnapping. Not when she’s my sister.”

  “Unfortunately for you, it is most definitely kidnapping when the lady abducted is my sister.” Ashleigh looked at him with contempt, then turned to the grooms. “Tie this one up as well. We will send a cart to transport them back to the house. Lock them in one of the cellars for the night.”

  “No,” protested Newell loudly as the grooms tightened the ropes. “You can’t do that. Just wanted my sister. Wouldn’t kidnap anyone. Word of honor as a gentleman.”

  But no one was listening.

  *

  Jeremiah Jorrey, attorney at law, had, of course, made all speed to travel to Kelswick the moment the duke requested his presence. One does not delay when a duke calls, especially when that duke is wealthy, powerful, and one’s most important client.

  Although the duke had been most gracious, addressing him courteously and ordering his comfort seen to, Jorrey could not feel at ease. He had been apprised of the situation, which was indeed shocking. Quite shocking. Then there were the documents the duke had requested him to draw up. To say they were unusual was the least of it.

  And he had always thought the duke such a pattern of propriety. A bit high in the instep, but he was a duke.

  Perhaps that was the explanation. The Duke of Ashleigh would not be the first duke to consider himself above other mortals and so not bound by the rules that restricted others. After all, what the duke appeared to be planning was not dishonorable. No, no. One might even call it generous. Still, it was, well, unusual. Jorrey did not like the unusual.

  He sighed and returned to the document he was drafting. It was not particularly complicated, which was just as well. There were a few law books here in His Grace’s office—more probably this was His Grace’s steward’s office—but Jorrey had not needed to consult them. The matter may have been odd but it was really quite straight-forward. All three matters were. Jorrey did not see why there had been any urgency about it, but when a duke wanted something done immediately, it was done immediately.

  At the smaller desk in the office, Jorrey’s clerk was industriously making two fair copies of each document. Jorrey looked at him with approval. The lad had been recommended by Lord Merton and he was working out quite well. They should be finished with the documents quite quickly.

  *

  It was early afternoon by the time a footman brought the message that Jorrey had completed his tasks. The entire party had been gathered on the terrace, trying to pretend they were actually interested in their books, needlework, or sketch pads, and they heaved a collective sigh of relief that the waiting was over.

  They made an impressive parade as they walked to the library. Ashleigh and Bancroft looked perfectly polished, their coats and breeches fitting with nary a wrinkle, their boots sporting a mirror finish, and their linen so fine and bright it could have been taken for silk. Even Merton had managed to get through this much of the day without destroying his cravat or tossing aside his coat.

  Kate may have been the smallest of the ladies, but she was not the least elegant. Her dress of peach muslin had a scalloped hem decorated with embroidered scrolls just short enough to allow a glimpse of matching slippers. Her hair had been carefully arranged by Lady Talmadge’s maid into an elaborate bun, threaded with ribbons to match her gown, and small ringlets framed her face. As she walked beside Ashleigh, her hand on his arm, she felt like a queen. When he looked down at her and smiled, she felt like an empress.

  Lady Talmadge, walking with Bancroft, was almost giddy with pride in her performance the night before. She kept telling herself that she was a sedate matron, a widow with a fifteen-year-old daughter. But when she saw the admiration in Bancroft’s eyes, when she felt the warmth of his hand when he pressed it over hers, she knew herself to be the heroine of her own romantic adventure. And he was her hero.

  Lord and Lady Merton, being less affected by the situation, were nonetheless eager spectators, looking forward to the next act in this drama. As expected, Miranda had refused to be left behind. The baby was not due for another five months, she pointed out, and frustration would do her no good at all. Anyone who expected her to miss out on the next act in this drama clearly did not know her very well. Few people knew her as well as her husband did, and Tom had asked only that she remain in the house with Kate while they rounded up the kidnappers.

  Bringing up the rear was Franny Darling, perhaps the most subdued member of the party. As polished in appearance as the others, in a deep purple gown and matching turban, she was less certain of ultimate success in this matter. Then also, she was about to have her first glimpse of her nephew. She could remember Mary’s sorrow when her son was removed from her care, the long letters she had written, the misery of them only relieved after Kate’s birth gave her a new reason for existence. Could anything make up for the misery that had been inflicted on her sister, first by their father and then by Mary’s husband? Perhaps it was well that Mary had not lived to see the perfidy of that son whose departure she had once mourned.

  They arranged themselves in the library. Ashleigh was seated behind the broad mahogany desk, on which the only items were an inkwell, quill, and blotter. The others were seated in a row on either side of him, creating the effect of a judgment tribunal. Ashleigh nodded to a footman who left the room and, moments later, Newell was brought in.

  He was no longer bound, but the footman at his side had more to do holding him up than trying to prevent his escape. Filthy and disheveled, Newell stumbled along until he finally stood before the duke. He looked from side to side, as if unable to comprehend what was happening. He could find no sympathy in any of the faces.

  Franny’s eyes widened in shock and she grasped Kate’s hand. “This, this creature is your brother?” At her niece’s short nod she opened her mouth but closed it, unable to think of anything to say.

  Newell had finally recognized his sister. “Katherine? Katherine, you have to come with me. You must.”

  Kate looked at him coldly and said nothing.


  “Katherine, you don’t understand. You don’t know what Farnsworth will do to me.” He tried to step closer but the footman prevented him.

  “I believe you are the one who does not understand, Newell,” said Ashleigh. “Miss Russell is betrothed to me. Judging from the letter you sent her, I believe you saw the announcement.”

  “But she can’t marry you.” Sweat was making muddy tracks on his face. “Farnsworth… she is promised to Farnsworth.” His voice squeaked with desperation.

  “Really?” Ashleigh regarded him impassively. “There was talk of marriage, was there? Did Miss Russell receive a proposal? Did she accept one?”

  Newell turned an unbecoming red, licked his lips and darted his eyes around the room. “My permission. She needs my permission to marry.”

  “I have the approval of her aunt,” Ashleigh said as he gestured to Mrs. Darling, “a far more respectable guardian than you, you must allow.”

  Torn between horror and disgust, Franny burst out, “You appalling reprobate! I cannot believe my dear sister gave birth to such a one as you.”

  This time, Kate grasped her aunt’s hand to offer comfort.

  Ashleigh ignored the interruption and continued. “However, to make certain there are no unnecessary complications, my attorney has prepared a document, giving your permission for our marriage. You need only sign it.” He nodded a signal to one of the footmen, who promptly withdrew.

  Newell blanched and shook his head violently. “No, no I can’t. You don’t know Farnsworth. You don’t know what he is capable of. You have no idea what he’ll do to me if I don’t give him my sister.”

  The duke smiled coldly. “Your worries about Farnsworth are misplaced. You seem to forget that you attempted to kidnap Lady Talmadge. My only reason for allowing you to escape the hangman’s noose is the wish to spare my future wife the embarrassment of a scandal.”

  Newell’s knees gave out and he collapsed on the floor, a quivering, moaning wreck.

  Merton could not stand it any longer. With a look of revulsion on his face, he said, “For God’s sake, Newell, pull yourself together. At least make an effort to pretend you are a man and stop sniveling.”

  “The fool doesn’t even seem to realize that he is being offered a lifeline,” said Bancroft.

  “Enough!” said Ashleigh. “Now listen to me while I tell you what will happen.” The footman had just ushered Jorrey and his clerk into the room, and the duke waved them to the desk. “You have the documents prepared?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” The lawyer had taken one horrified look at the creature on the floor, stepped cautiously around him, and now kept his eyes carefully on the desk. He laid the papers, separated into three piles, before the duke.

  Ashleigh nodded his approval. “Your clerk and Merton will witness the signatures.” He turned back to Newell. “Now, this is what is going to happen. You are going to sign the document giving your agreement to your sister’s marriage to me and this other one, turning guardianship of your sister over to your aunt, Mrs. Darling. After that, since we are going to be related by marriage, I will undertake to pay off your mortgages and any other nongambling debts.”

  Newell had looked up hopefully at that, but when the word “nongambling” reached his mind, his look of panic returned. “But Farnsworth…” The duke silenced him with a glare.

  “It would be simpler and cheaper to let the creature hang,” Bancroft broke in. He looked coldly implacable, with no hint of his usual kindness.

  Ashleigh permitted himself a slight smile. “You must understand,” he told Newell, “that Lady Talmadge is betrothed to Mr. Bancroft here, and he is not inclined to pardon your treatment of her last night.”

  Newell simply stared helplessly.

  “As I was saying, I will pay your nongambling debts. You will not need to worry about Farnsworth because you and your colleagues from last night will be on your way to the West Indies. I have arranged passage for you on one of my friend Merton’s ships.” Merton smiled.

  Newell seemed about to speak, but Ashleigh ignored him. “I believe you are something of a gambler. Well, when you arrive in Kingston, you will present a letter I have prepared to my agent there. He will give you one hundred pounds, which should enable you to live for a year. I will wager that you don’t survive that year. If you do, on the anniversary of your arrival, you will apply to my agent for another hundred pounds. We will repeat this arrangement every year, and you will, under no circumstances, attempt to return to England.”

  At this, Newell simply looked horrified. “But, but you can’t do that to me.”

  “I assure you that I can. And to make certain that you do not attempt to return, you will sign a confession of your attempt to kidnap Lady Talmadge.”

  “But I didn’t. I never tried to kidnap her. I only wanted my sister.”

  “Do you seriously think I would permit you to humiliate your sister by having you publicly confess what you intended to do to her?”

  “But I’m a viscount,” Newell blustered. “I have property, an estate. What will become of that?”

  “Ah, yes, I was coming to that. You will turn the management of your estate over to your aunt and your sister. After all, you have never actually managed it yourself so that will mean little change. Any income from it shall be theirs to do with as they please.” Ashleigh smiled briefly at the lawyer, who was pursing his lips in disapproval. “Jorrey here shares your disquiet at leaving the management of an estate to two women, but I have assured him that I will be glad to give them my best advice should they need it.”

  The smile faded as Ashleigh turned back to Newell. A black cap on his head might have been appropriate. “Well, what will it be? The West Indies or the hangman?”

  Newell gnawed at his lower lip. “What about Farnsworth? When he finds out…”

  “You will be well out to sea before Farnsworth knows anything.”

  Newell’s resigned nod was enough. Jorrey held out a quill, and the defeated viscount stepped up to sign.

  *

  Kate watched the others leave the library, chatting triumphantly, until the door closed and she was left alone with Ashleigh. “I can’t quite take it in.” She shook her head slowly. “My brother, Farnsworth… you made it all just disappear. You actually did.” She sketched a wave with her hand and looked at him with something like awe.

  “I told you I could.” His smile was slightly smug, and she had to think the smugness had some justification. But then the smile faded and he came to stand before her, not quite touching. His voice was low, thick with emotion. “You are safe now, you know. You can choose freely, without fear. What will it be, Kate? Will you marry me?” All the ducal arrogance had dropped away.

  She wanted to smile, but could not. She lifted her eyes to his and wanted to believe what she saw there. When she lifted her hand to caress his cheek, he grasped it, and turned to press a kiss in her palm.

  “Is it really true? I will not bring you any harm?”

  “Only if you refuse me. Only then.” He held her hand tightly.

  “Oh, Peter, I want so much to be your wife. I can’t believe it’s really possible.” She was smiling now, and laughter began to bubble up. “I love you so.”

  “Kate!” He pulled her against him and held her so tightly she thought she would have the weave of his coat imprinted on her cheek. “Kate.” He loosened his grip slowly. “Come for a walk with me, Kate.”

  She went along with him and they walked for a long while in silence, a happy, companionable silence, she thought. Then she realized that they were nearing the summer house, and her steps slowed. There was no rain this time, but the surrounding trees kept it in deep shadow.

  “I know,” he said, his mouth twisting, “this place does not hold the happiest of memories for you. But I have something I must tell you, and I think that this is the place for it.”

  She let him lead her in, but her steps were not eager. Nor were his.

  “Merton said to me one day that he and
his wife tell each other things. That is one of the things being married means to them.” He looked at her. “That is the kind of marriage I want. No secrets, no hiding. I want truth and honesty between us.”

  “Do you think I am hiding something? I assure you, Your Grace, you have all my secrets now.”

  He smiled briefly. “Well, I will never have any difficulty in knowing when you are angry with me. You will call me ‘Your Grace’. But that is not what I meant. I have to tell you something, something of which I am bitterly ashamed.”

  “Peter, if you are talking about that day here, we both misunderstood. I am also at fault for thinking things were true because I wanted them to be true. I lied to myself. You did not lie to me.”

  “At least your lies to yourself painted me as a nobler character than I was. My lies to myself were more selfish.”

  She laughed at that. “You, selfish? My brother is selfish. And I think I may be selfish in wanting to marry you. But you?”

  “Yes, me. You don’t know the tales I spun to convince myself that making you my mistress would not be dishonorable, that it would be to your benefit.” He reached out and ran his fingers along her cheek. “I wanted you. I wanted you from the moment I first saw you in your aunt’s house, when you were so annoyed that I mistook you for a servant. And every time I saw you, I wanted you more. Everything about you fascinated me. It didn’t help that I told myself that I couldn’t have you, that you were the Darlings’ niece. I wanted you in a hundred different ways.”

  She smiled at him. “Is that a confession? I felt the same way, longing for you, and knowing that I could not have you. Why is that so dreadful?”

  “It isn’t. Your mistake was thinking me a better man than I am. The problem is the lies I told myself to justify having you, to let me try to make you my mistress.” He watched her face, but could see nothing more than curiosity in it. “Clara let slip that you were Franny’s niece, not Andrew’s, so your name was not really Darling. That, with the things you had said about your father’s lack of care made me think you were illegitimate.”