by Joanna Shupe
“Mrs. Lusk saw you both and remarked—quite loudly, I might say—about the intimacy of what she observed. Not to mention you had taken off your engagement ring and given it to Mr. Archer at some point.”
“Oh, speaking of the ring,” the duke said, his tone even. “If you don’t mind, Miss Webster.”
Dropping her head, she removed her glove, slipped the heavy piece off her finger and placed it carefully on her father’s desk. The duke picked up the ring and smoothly dropped it in his coat pocket. If not for the patch of red skin above his collar, she might have thought him unaffected.
You’ve humiliated him. Of course he is affected.
She hated the idea that she’d hurt him in any way. This was not the place to explain or apologize, however. She’d seek him out once they were done.
For now, she had to convince her father this was nothing to worry about. “Daddy, Mrs. Lusk has leapt to conclusions.”
“Perhaps, but she is one of the biggest gossips on the East Coast. I won’t have your name associated with a scandal, and the duke asked to be released from the betrothal if the story proved true. You will marry Mr. Archer and that is final.”
She and Harrison . . . married. Her eyes flew to where he stood, now facing her, the morning sun forming a ring of golden light around him. His expression revealed nothing, his emotions locked up, even in this moment of upheaval. That angered her, considering much of the blame for this lay at his feet. He’d pushed and pushed until he’d broken her engagement.
Lockwood rose and extended a hand toward her father. “Good luck, Webster.”
Daddy stood and shook the duke’s hand. “And you, as well, Your Grace. Thank you for your discretion.”
Then Lockwood gave her a grim smile. “Miss Webster, I wish you the very best.”
The moment was surreal, and she half expected to discover it was all a bad dream. “The best to you, as well, Your Grace.”
“Thank you.” Focusing on Harrison, the duke said, “Under any other circumstances, I’d offer to shake your hand, Archer.”
“And under different circumstances, I might accept,” Harrison returned, his tone colder than the Atlantic in March.
The duke spun on his heel and quit the room, his shoulders straight and proud. The silence that followed was awful, and mortification crawled over her skin like thousands of ants. She didn’t wish to leave things like this with Lockwood, with him believing the worst of her—and she owed him an apology. He must absolutely hate her for embarrassing him like this.
Guilt gnawed at her stomach. She needed to set this right—or as right as she could, considering how badly she’d blundered. Rising, she gestured toward the office door. “I should speak with him.”
“Go on, then.” Her father waved her out. “I need to discuss things with your fiancé, anyway. You and I will talk later.”
Fiancé, meaning Harrison.
This was all happening too fast. “Is there any chance I might change your mind?”
Daddy’s expression hardened, his tone the one he used for discussing business. “Absolutely none. You two will be married as soon as I can drag a reverend here, Madeline.”
Harrison struggled to keep from grinning like a madman as Maddie dashed from her father’s office.
She would soon be his wife.
It was too perfect. Her betrothal broken, she would now be forced to marry him. No, he hadn’t planned on winning her this way, but he couldn’t dredge up an ounce of regret over it.
Things were shaping up nicely. Once they were married, he could return to New York and to the business of ruining his family. At last count, there were fewer than five thousand shares of Archer Industries stock to recover.
Yes, things were shaping up nicely, indeed.
“I suppose you best sit down,” Webster said. “Then I won’t need to crane my neck the entire time.”
Harrison lowered himself into the chair opposite the desk. “I am sorry about all of this.”
Webster cocked his head, his gaze turning thoughtful. “Are you?”
“Not really.”
Maddie’s father rubbed his forehead with the tips of three fingers, slow frustrated sweeps across his wrinkled brow. “I want honesty from you, Archer, and I’ll only ask this once. As a gentleman, have you compromised my daughter under my roof?”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters to your future father-in-law.”
“Perhaps, but still I’ll not answer it. Whatever happened between Maddie and me remains private.”
Webster leaned back in his chair, rocking slightly and causing the wood underneath him to creak. “I should hate you for that response, yet I cannot help but respect it.” He sighed heavily, his chest deflating. “And it leaves me no choice but to force a marriage between you.”
Undoubtedly the Websters would much prefer an aristocratic son-in-law, but that was too damn bad. Harrison was on the verge of having Maddie as his wife . . . and nothing would stop a wedding at this point. “That is your right.”
“It is. Also within my right is to not offer you the same betrothal agreement I gave Lockwood, considering the circumstances.”
“I don’t need your money.” Harrison shrugged. “I made my own money in France.”
“Your inheritance, you mean.”
“No, I was cut off from my trust fund when I left and my mother subsequently spent it.”
That got Webster’s attention. He sat forward in his chair, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Cut off?”
“My father’s doing. It was part of why I went to Paris.”
“I don’t understand. I always assumed you were . . .” The older man cleared his throat. “Well, second son and all.”
“A layabout is probably the term you were searching for. A do-nothing. Ne’er-do-well. Wastrel. I’ve heard them all over the years.” Usually from a member of his family.
“So how did you survive over there?”
“Cards, at first. We wastrels use our skills where we can, you know.” He gave a grim smile. “Then the Paris Stock Exchange, which is just gambling on a larger stage. After that, I started working for Compagnie Générale Transatlantique. I helped them design cruises for upscale American passengers, recommending amenities and food that would appeal to travelers of a certain sensibility. For a cut of the profits, of course. Thus far, the cruises have been wildly successful.”
Webster’s jaw had fallen open midway through Harrison’s speech. He closed his mouth and finally said, “That’s quite clever.”
“Thank you. Though I don’t need money, I could use your help with another matter.” Harrison crossed his legs and smoothed the fine wool of his trousers. “It’s not been made public but my father lost everything in the Panic a few years ago. The Archers are broke.”
Webster blinked a few times. “Broke?”
“Indeed. They’ve been borrowing money from the business, which has suffered under poor leadership the last decade or so. But I plan to change all that when I take over Archer Industries in a few weeks.”
“You plan to take over your family’s company? Why not try and help them save it?”
“The reasons are my own, but they do not deserve my help. No, I plan to take it all away—in a hostile takeover, if necessary. That is where I need your assistance.”
“With?”
“Speaking to members of the board, if it comes to that. Many of them are close in age to you and there’s a good chance you know many of them personally. Additionally, I am hoping, as my father-in-law, that you will also serve on the board once I restructure it.”
Keen understanding shone in the older man’s gaze as he nodded once. “Anything in my daughter’s best interests going forward, you may count on my lending support. I never had much affinity for your father or brother, anyway. Does Madeline know any of this?”
“No, no one does. The stock price will plummet if word gets out and the company will fold before I can acquire it.”
Webster
stroked his jaw, staring across the desk as if trying to figure Harrison out. Maddie’s father was a shrewd businessman, who’d doubled his family’s steel empire after the war, and he did not suffer fools gladly. There was a reason the Websters owned nearly the largest house in both Manhattan and Newport—and it was the intelligence and drive of the man sitting in front of him.
“I always thought you were frivolous and not very ambitious,” Webster finally said. “I can see I was wrong, and I have to say that comes as a goddamn relief. The last thing I want is for my only child to marry an empty-headed bounder who will spend my money on women and booze.”
“You have my word I will not. I love your daughter.”
“See that it stays that way. Does this mean you are staying in New York?”
“It does.”
“Indeed, I am happy to hear it. I was not looking forward to sending her off to another country.” Webster pushed back from the desk and stood. “I’ll provide you with half of what I originally promised Lockwood. A half million in cash and one million in stock. You’ll have it after the ceremony.”
“It’s not necessary, but thank you. I’ll have a portion put into trusts for Maddie and our children.” Harrison rose and shook the other man’s hand. “I appreciate this.”
“Never forget I am doing this for her.”
“Of course.”
Maddie’s father checked his pocket watch. “When did you first know?”
“Know what?”
“That you wanted to marry my daughter.”
Harrison’s mouth hitched. “When I was fifteen.”
Webster shook his head and he pinned Harrison with a hard stare. “You could have returned from Paris sooner and saved us the trouble.”
True, but until a few days ago Maddie hadn’t thought of him in a romantic way. “I could have, but where would have been the fun in that?”
“I daresay it won’t be easy earning Maddie’s forgiveness. She’s been working on this match with Lockwood since March. Between that and tennis, it’s all she’s talked about for months. You know how much she hates to be taken by surprise.”
“I do.” Harrison remembered how annoyed Maddie became whenever he didn’t follow her schemes to the letter. “And if you don’t mind, I’d like to find her now, start working on that forgiveness.”
“Go on, then. I need to find my wife. I’ll let you know what time to show up for the ceremony.”
Chapter Fifteen
Nellie was lingering in the corridor when Maddie left her father’s office. She followed Maddie toward the stairs and hissed, “What happened?”
“It’s a disaster. I need to find Lockwood.”
“He went up the steps and asked the butler to send up his valet. Then he said he’d need a carriage to take him to the train station.”
Maddie paused on the bottom stair. Oh, God. Lockwood was leaving.
Of course he is leaving. You humiliated him.
“Come with me.” Nellie grabbed Maddie’s arm and dragged her toward the empty drawing room. Maddie followed blindly, her mind still tripping over all that had happened.
When they were alone, Nellie folded her arms across her chest. “Spill.”
“Mrs. Lusk told my father everything and Lockwood has begged off. Harrison and I are being married this afternoon.”
Nellie’s eyes rounded. “Goodness gracious. When you decide to go bad, you really take the three-tiered cake, don’t you?”
That hardly made Maddie feel better. “Nellie!”
“I’m teasing. Listen, you kissed a man and got caught. It’s not the end of the world.”
“It feels as if it is. Lockwood despises me, and my mother is no doubt reaching for the smelling salts.”
“Perhaps, but so what?” Nellie gave her a smile full of affection and understanding. “I am aware of your desire for everyone to like you best, but no one is perfect, Maddie. Not even you.”
“I don’t need for everyone to like me best”—she ignored Nellie’s disbelieving expression—“but I do not like hurting people. Or embarrassing them.”
“I understand, but have you considered that maybe you were meant to be with Harrison all along?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Someday, you will—and you will thank Aunt Nellie for all the great advice she gave you these past few days.”
Maddie threw her arms around the other woman. “After this party, you might be my only friend left.”
“Stop.” Nellie patted Maddie’s back. “Society has a short memory. Time heals all scandals, as they say.”
No one said that, but Maddie didn’t quibble. She let Nellie go. “I need to find Lockwood and apologize. I feel absolutely awful.”
“Don’t feel too awful. The duke would have made you a terrible husband.”
Her friend said it with such certainty that Maddie cocked her head. “Why?”
A look passed over Nellie’s face before she could mask it. “Because he isn’t Harrison. Now go.”
Maddie had the sense the other woman was not telling the whole truth but there was no time to dig into that pile. Best to leave it for later. “Thank you for attempting to make me feel better.”
“You are welcome,” Nellie called as Maddie dashed out of the room.
At the top of the staircase, she spotted Lockwood striding along the corridor, headed right toward her. He walked briskly, as if desperate to leave. Swallowing, she drew in a deep breath and prepared to grovel. “May I speak with you?”
“Of course,” he replied easily. “Shall we continue this outside? The carriage is waiting.”
He held out his arm, ever the gentleman. The consideration was more than she deserved. Placing her hand atop his forearm, she let him lead her down the main stairs, through the vestibule, and out the door. In the drive, footmen were securing the duke’s things to the top of a carriage.
Folding his hands behind his back, Lockwood stared off into the distance. The angles of his handsome face were harsher, less welcoming than they’d been yesterday. Her stomach roiled with self-loathing and regret as she considered what to say. “Please accept my heartfelt apology. I never meant for this to happen.”
He cleared his throat. “I assumed as much. If I had thought your attentions were engaged elsewhere, I never would have pursued you.”
“They weren’t. There is no explanation for what happened.”
“I’d say Harrison Archer happened,” he said, wryly.
“Nevertheless, I have no excuse for my dishonorable behavior. I feel terrible for treating you this way.”
His jaw tightened, lips thinning into the hint of a grimace. “If you are hoping for absolution, I’m incapable of providing it at the moment. Honestly, it is quite humiliating to be thrown over like this. I hadn’t expected it, especially considering how well we got on together.”
A duke was a position of great power and responsibility, and she could imagine losing was a bitter pill for him to swallow. A tear slipped from out of the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek. Then the other eye followed suit. “I understand, and I regret causing you any embarrassment. Someday, I hope you will be able to forgive me.”
He gave a short nod but didn’t reply. A man, she assumed the duke’s valet, approached. “Your Grace, the bags are packed and secured. We may depart whenever you are ready.”
Lockwood nodded once. “A moment, Wilkins.” The valet climbed into the carriage to wait.
Maddie clenched her hands together tightly, more tears leaking, unsure what more she could say. “Do you plan to return to England?”
“No, I’ll return to New York first.” His gaze darted over her head and his expression hardened. He grunted, the noise sounding full of derision. “I suppose he’s come to gloat.”
She didn’t need to turn around to know who stood there. “Perhaps he wishes to apologize.”
A grim smile twisted the duke’s lips. “He isn’t sorry, not one bit.” He pulled on his cuffs. “I wish you luck, Mi
ss Webster.”
Lockwood disappeared into the carriage and a groom set the step, then the carriage rolled down the drive. Maddie watched, her mind spinning as the emotion of the day settled on her shoulders, weighing her down. She’d caused so much damage, all from a single moment of passion.
How could she ever forgive herself?
By the time Harrison discerned Maddie’s whereabouts, she was already engaged in conversation outside with the duke. Lockwood stood stiffly beside a carriage, while Maddie talked quite animatedly at his side. Crossing his arms, Harrison leaned against the doorjamb and openly watched. A better man would probably give the former couple privacy . . . but Harrison was not that man.
Instead, he didn’t move, just waited patiently for the conversation to end. Anticipation throbbed in his veins, a constant drumbeat of victory, reverberating with the knowledge that he and Maddie would be married by day’s end.
Married.
Fuck, he could not wait.
Lockwood’s gaze flicked toward Harrison, and the duke frowned when their eyes met. Harrison allowed a smug half smile to twist his lips. You lost, Your Grace. Do run along.
Lockwood murmured something to Maddie, then inclined his head before disappearing into the carriage. She stepped back and appeared to swipe at her cheeks.
Dash it, he hadn’t thought she’d cry. Shout and carry on, yes. But he hadn’t prepared himself for tears.
He hated when she cried. The last time he could recall was when she stepped on a jellyfish one summer. He’d carried her, nearly running, up the beach to the chateau where they could rinse her foot in vinegar.
He stroked his jaw as the carriage rolled down the drive, taking the duke to wherever dukes went when they lost their fiancée to another man. Harrison felt a touch guilty, but Lockwood would be fine. There were hundreds of wealthy women in America who would undoubtedly leap at the chance to become a duchess.
When the carriage disappeared, Maddie turned and her eyes locked defiantly with his, her chin thrust high. She had indeed been crying, and the sight tore at the inside of Harrison’s chest, stinging as if he’d been flayed open with a sharp instrument.