Daring Lords and Ladies

by Emily Murdoch

  The countess smiled sadly. “That would be a Godsend, Duchess. I should make arrangements for Carpenter’s funeral. I must also see to the details of Andrew’s untimely return to our childhood home.” She turned to Lovelace. “I am making the assumptions, sir, that you hold no reservations in my involvement in your brother’s death.”

  Hunt noted the pained expression upon Lovelace’s features. “I will assist you, ma’am, as is due my brother and you, as his widow. With your permission, I will call upon you before you depart. We will face this together.”

  The countess nodded her gratitude and slowly made her way to the door. She turned to face the room before exiting. “I cannot believe how jealousy can lay bare one’s vulnerability—stripping a person of all reason.” To her daughter she spoke through her tears. “Farewell, Mathild. May God have mercy upon your soul.”

  Sir Alexander picked up the papers before him. “We have enough evidence for the time being. I will escort Lady Mathild and her henchmen to London on the morrow.”

  “Am I to know my death without knowledge of my parentage?” Lady Mathild protested.

  The baronet’s expression closed down. “It appears so, my lady. Remmington, would you escort Lady Mathild to where she will be held until tomorrow?”

  The earl rose slowly. “It would be my pleasure, Chandler.” He caught the girl’s arm and pulled her to her feet. Grasping her tightly, the earl dragged the lady from the room.

  Lovelace cleared his throat. “Angelica and I should call upon the countess.”

  “Not yet, Lovelace,” the duke cautioned. “I feel compelled to speak further on this matter. There is much yet to be said.”

  Sir Alexander eyed the duke in silent appraisal. “Are you certain, Devilfoard?”

  “It is time, Chandler, that my family know the truth, and what I must say concerns Lovelace also.”

  It should have surprised Hunt that the baronet knew the McLaughlin family secrets, but it did not. Hunt suspected Sir Alexander was privy to a variety of secrets, making his friend undoubtedly one of the most powerful men in England.

  “Then I will leave you to it.” With his notes in hand, the baronet disappeared into the manor’s bowels.

  The duchess waited for Sir Alexander’s exit to pose her question. “Do you mean to explain your previous approval of Lady Mathild as Malvern’s choice of wife?”

  His father kissed the back of the duchess’s hand, and Hunt wished he possessed the right to offer Angelica a similar endearment. He suspected what would follow would change everything between them, and he wished to claim her affections before that happened.

  “Malvern’s future and much more, my dear. Even so, I pray the context of my speech will not upset Miss Lovelace nor you, Duchess.” The duke sighed in resignation.

  Hunt could feel the room shrink—closing in on him. If his father asked forbearance prior to speaking, then the duke’s words would shatter the thin connection between his family and Angel’s. If asked, Hunt would admit he feared the duke’s truth. As odd as it might sound to others, Hunt would prefer to carry on in his ignorance. His current stability was fragile enough, without more uproar. He looked up to find Angelica regarding him with a wealth of tenderness in her eyes.

  “Certainly, Duke,” Lovelace said in graciousness.

  “I suppose I will begin with the tale Lady Sandahl kept from her daughter. As the countess disclosed, the chit’s father was not Lord Newsome. What she did not say was Lady Mathild’s father was my younger brother Harold.”

  “Harold?” the duchess whispered in agitation. “But—”

  “I will explain, Duchess,” his father admonished, and Hunt wondered what it was about his Uncle Harold that kept him from naming the countess as his wife. Hunt did not believe it was in his uncle’s nature to act dishonorably toward women.

  “First, I must explain that Marianne Odom took a strong liking to Harold early on, and my twin did what every young man does. He flirted with the girl, who was likely no more than sixteen or seventeen at the time. However, the lady never engaged my twin’s heart. Harold simply acted in a manner expected of all youths coming into their manhood. I suppose that if he had not taken ill, Harold might have asked the woman to marry him. They got along well, and in many marriages among the aristocracy that would be ideal.”

  The duke paused. He glanced away briefly to search the shadows of the late afternoon, which had crept closer. Hunt thought his father greatly moved by the emotions of speaking of his late brother.

  “Yet, he did take ill. I came to the dukedom early on, and, using the power of my position, I sought the expertise of the best physicians and surgeons in England, but no one could identify what ailed my twin. Alas, each day Harold became a bit weaker.”

  The duchess’s fingers interlaced with her husband, and the duke kissed the back of her hand in gratitude.

  “How he and Miss Odom came to bring their relationship to such intimacy, I possess no knowledge except a comment in passing from Harold regarding a drunken state. Unfortunately, I knew nothing of the encounter when I sent my twin to a physician upon the Indian side of the Himalayan Mountains—a healer of whom I heard quite by accident. From what I learned of the man’s successes with herbs and diets and a sundry of other manipulations, I felt confident Harold would know health again. I bundled my twin on a private ship and sent him on his way. It was nearly a month after Harold set sail that I learned of Miss Odom’s condition.”

  Hunt observed how the tale affected his father, who always acted for the benefit of his family. He was certain the necessity of the choices made were never a consolation to his father’s role as the family’s protector.

  “The lady’s father called upon me with the news of her condition and a demand that Harold make his address known. Sadly, there was little the previous Lord Newsome or I could do but to find the lady a husband willing to accept Harold’s child as his own. It was common knowledge that Carpenter Lovelace wished a fortune and a title of his own. It was said he simply waited for his older brother’s demise to claim the title. And as Lady Sandahl said previously the possibility existed that she would deliver a son, which would secure Carpenter’s eventual claim to his brother’s title. I assisted the elder Newsome with the dowry, and the viscount began negotiations with Carpenter Lovelace. I knew Harold, if he survived the journey and the treatments, would regret my decision, but even if I sent word to him, it would be a year before my messenger found my twin and Harold returned. Miss Odom would deliver before then.”

  Hunt’s heart thumped hard against his chest. “Lady Mathild is my cousin?” he whispered.

  “And not truly mine,” Angelica observed.

  “The reason is not important. Carpenter claimed the girl as a Lovelace,” Angel’s father corrected.

  “Yes, Papa,” she said obediently.

  The duke’s jaw set in resolve. He spoke directly to Hunt. “When the idea of your marrying Harold’s child first came to my notice, I could think of nothing but how much it would please my twin to have his daughter recognized as a McLaughlin. Harold could never claim the girl. It grieved him greatly not to be permitted even the simplest gesture of affection for his only child. However, I was not prepared for Sandahl’s manipulations. Somehow the earl learned of Harold’s secret, and he meant to use the news to earn his connection to the dukedom.”

  “How so?” Hunt demanded.

  He knew the answer would prove more than he could stand, but he could not stop the words before they reached his lips.

  Tears glistened in the duke’s eyes. An overriding sense of honor spread across his father’s expression. “Harold did recover. My brother returned to England in more health than I could ever recall his possessing. The loss of his family brought devastation, but at length, he found a new resolve to live what years that remained in a manner of which few would approve. Although he kept his life as secret as possible, Harold took a lover.”

  “Who?”

  Hunt closed his eyes in hopes to bloc
k out the duchess’s que tion, but it was Lovelace who responded. “My brother Cadon.”

  Hunt heard Angelica’s gasp, but he could not look upon her. It was too much for him to think upon his uncle being intimate with another man. He could imagine how the innocent Miss Lovelace must think England the most perverse of societies.

  The duke nodded his agreement. “How did you know?”

  Lovelace smiled wryly. “How do any of us know? I could ask you the same of Harold. We simply do.”

  “By the time Harold finally passed, speculation had grown among the aristocracy as to the truth of my twin’s relationship with the elder Lovelace, and so to divert attentions, Cadon proposed to Lady Rachel, with the hopes of producing an heir for the earldom. I still hold my doubts as to how the then Earl of Sandahl ended up overboard from a yacht he commanded often. When asked, Cadon claims he was drunk and missed a step.”

  Lovelace’s voice broke. “What mean you by ‘Cadon claims’? Is my brother alive?”

  “He was some six months past,” the duke confirmed.

  Hunt froze. Recognition of the truth served a hard blow to his abdomen.

  “Why has Cadon not returned?” Lovelace demanded. “Why would he permit Carpenter to assume the earldom?”

  The duke shrugged. “I can only answer what I know. After two days of being at the will of the sea, Cadon washed ashore in southern France. Some peasants assisted him, but they soon turned him over to a band of thieves, who thought to hold him for ransom. However, your brother would not provide his captors with his true name.”

  During his father’s tale, images of a dark cell flooded Hunt’s memory, and a kind countenance, one very similar to Horace Lovelace’s, rose from the blackness. Grimly, Hunt steeled himself against the memories.

  “How long was he imprisoned?” Lovelace demanded.

  To Hunt, the man’s voice was as distant as the thunder plaguing the day. He closed his eyes again to keep the image before him. In the background the clock upon the mantel struck the half hour.

  “Two years, three months, and fourteen days,” he whispered into the near silent room.

  “You recall?” the duke asked softly beside him.

  “He asked me my name when my captors threw me into the same cell as he. I was so frightened, but somewhat thrilled to discover another Englishman among the unwashed within the prison.” Hunt slowly opened his eyes, and it was to Angelica he spoke. Her understanding of what had occurred was all that mattered to him. “There were ten of us in a space meant for no more than three or four. When I told the stranger I was a McLaughlin, he claimed we would be great friends. He never once told me his full name—nothing more than Jonathan, but he encouraged me to share mine with our captors. For months, we shared a mattress, taking turns guarding each other while the others slept. We spent hours speaking of books and Latin conjugations and of home. He said doing so would keep me sane—said I could not permit the men who took us prisoners to steal the essence of who we were. He was correct. We survived when the others did not. One by one, our fellow cellmates died while waiting to be freed. Although other captives replaced those who lost their lives, throughout it all, he was my existence.

  “Jonathan convinced me my family searched for me. It was a month or more before he admitted to holding an acquaintance with Uncle Harold. He encouraged me to speak of home. At first, I refused, thinking of dwelling upon my lack of freedom too depressing, but Jonathan spoke often of his two brothers—of the one who would celebrate his absence and the other who would grieve for him.” A bloody eternity had passed since he knew that hellhole. “Soon I was speaking of Etta’s Come Out and of Harry’s driving his tutors to distraction and of Uncle Harold’s teaching me to ride and shoot. Jonathan would always get a sad smile upon his lips when I spoke of those moments.”

  Even now, Hunt’s blood ran cold with the memory. “Finally, one day Sir Alexander led a contingent of British agents into the prison. Although he was no more than my age, even then, the baronet stepped into danger to save English interests. Lord Remmington whisked me away from the scene, but I demanded that my university chum assist my English friend. I never saw Jonathan after that date.”

  When Hunt looked to Angelica again, tears streamed down Miss Lovelace’s cheeks. He had no doubt she grieved for both him and Cadon Lovelace.

  His father took up the tale. “The baronet recognized Cadon immediately. Initially, Lovelace’s presence remained a secret because the baronet meant to prove Cadon’s fall from the ship was not an accident.”

  “And when that proved futile?” Angelica’s father demanded.

  The silence that followed the man’s question seemed unbearably loud.

  “Sir Alexander asked me to stall Carpenter’s petition for the title, but eventually, Cadon learned that once he was officially declared dead, Lady Rachel wished to remarry. Your older brother thought it best if he disappeared into Austrian society. It was not fair for Lady Rachel to be denied happiness with Lord Caulton, and if Cadon returned after Lady Rachel spoke her vows and delivered a child, the woman’s marriage would be deemed unlawful and her children illegitimate. Cadon held too much honor to punish others because of his weaknesses. The former earl could not live his life as he chose if he returned to England, and at the time, there was no means to displace Carpenter as his heir presumptive. It is my understanding Cadon Lovelace has surrounded himself with artists and musicians and politicians, who all know him as Mr. Jonathan Pittman.”

  “Did Lord Sandahl ever learn of his brother’s whereabouts?” Angelica asked.

  The duke answered honestly. “Not of which I am aware. Sir Alexander thought Lord Newsome knew something of Hunt’s imprisonment, but nothing could be proved. There were thoughts of the viscount’s blackmailing Hunt to erase his gaming debts, but, obviously, Newsome never approached Malvern with the threat. On the other hand, Sandahl discovered correspondence between Cadon and Harold and pressured me to align Malvern with Lady Mathild. The earl threatened to make our brothers’ relationship known if I could not persuade Malvern to acquiesce to my wishes. I convinced myself the marriage of cousins was not the end of the world, and so I did my best to sway Malvern’s choice. I kept my son’s capture secret for personal reasons. If it were known I was willing to pay a ransom for his return, Malvern would become a target of every highwayman and political pundit. We simply have not spoken of the incident outside the family and Sir Alexander’s contacts.”

  “Until today,” Lovelace said without humor

  “Yes. Until today,” the duke responded without a flicker of emotion. “It is possible Sandahl discovered Cadon’s whereabouts. Even though we took precautions, it is always possible for a seaman or a servant to speak out of turn in a taproom—to speak to one of the criminals plaguing London’s streets. Such information would be worth a great deal to a man who wished to be earl.”

  Lovelace stood wearily. “If you will pardon me, Duke, I believe Angelica and I should call upon my brother’s widow. There are pressing matters, and these revelations require private time to know true consideration. I pray you will entertain my questions once I have time to define what is best for my family.”

  “Certainly, Lovelace.”

  Hunt watched her father guide Angelica from the room. He wished to call her back, but propriety demanded they stay with their respective families. “Lovelace must think he has stepped into a hornet’s nest,” he observed.

  “The man has lost a brother, a niece, and his sense of normalcy,” the duchess agreed.

  “He will rise to the occasion,” the duke promised. “The hard part will be to convince him to accept his brother’s title while Cadon still lives.”

  Quite unexpectedly, the duke caught Hunt in his embrace. “I am pleased to witness your memory returning.”

  “I, too, sir.”

  He enjoyed his father’s approval, but Hunt feared with his memory’s return, Angelica would no longer look upon him as her responsibility.

  * * *

&nb
sp; That afternoon in his father’s study was the last time Hunt saw her. By the following morning, she and her father had escorted Lady Sandahl north to the earl’s estate. No formal farewell. Just a quick note under his door. She explained that the Lovelace family would be in mourning, and she would not be returning to London’s social scene. Remmington departed with Sir Alexander and their prisoners, essentially leaving Hunt to his fractured memories. The duchess, under the circumstances, cancelled her annual ball, and within a week, Hunt was alone with his family.

  He discovered quite by accident and after the fact that Angelica suggested his family devote their efforts to aid his position as the marquess. No longer did they assume he would regain all his memories. Instead, they instructed him in the nuances of his responsibilities. He relearned the names of the locals and a bit of the history of the Devil’s Keep. By the end of the first month, Hunt could move through his day with only the occasional moment of panic.

  Somehow, Sir Alexander expedited Lady Mathild’s trial. A true bill of indictment came from the London courts rather than the local district, which was an unprecedented move on the baronet’s part. Hunt suspected his father had used the dukedom’s influence to keep the trial as private as possible. Unfortunately, nothing prevented the duchess’s guests from carrying tales of murders and kidnappings to their country seats. While Lady Mathild’s cohorts, as well as the countess’s maid, Ivy—who admitted to slipping a potion provided by Lady Mathild into Lord Newsome’s brandy and another into Lady Sandahl’s food—met the gallows, Lady Mathild knew transportation to Australia as punishment. Again, Hunt suspected the baronet had worked to reduce the public’s interest in the case. Perhaps Sir Alexander thought transportation more appropriate than the likelihood of a stay at Bedlam for the girl, who was not in her right mind. Hunt often thanked the Fates for keeping him from a joining with the lady.

  Lord Stoke arrived at Devil’s Keep only the day before his twins. Catherine and James Woodcock came into the world, healthy and full of vigor. Henrietta had delivered four healthy children for the viscount, while Hunt had yet to consider marriage until Angelica had arrived in his life.