His Scandalous Kiss: Secrets at Thorncliff Manor: 6

by Sophie Barnes

  “From what I gather, she is a romantic. Perhaps she would appreciate a token from you? A poem or maybe some flowers?”

  “I have already sent her a peace offering,” Richard told his brother gruffly. He knew that Mary deserved an apology, but he was beginning to wonder if his attempt at one had been good enough.

  “And?”

  Richard glared at him. “Do you think I would be sitting here talking to you if she had forgiven me?”

  “Point taken.” A brief silence followed. Spencer drummed his fingers on the armrest. The clock ticked loudly on the mantel.

  “What?” Richard finally asked.

  Spencer tilted his head. “I noticed that she failed to put in an appearance at dinner. Give her time, Richard. If she cares for you half as much as you care for her, then she will come to you sooner or later. I am confident of that.”

  “Really?” Richard drew the palm of his hand across his face. “Carthright’s arrival took me completely by surprise. As a result, I said some terrible things to her.”

  Spencer nodded. “Your concern is understandable, I suppose. But before you decide what Lady Mary will think of you, perhaps you ought to ask her yourself.”

  “She fled the room when she discovered what had happened.” The stricken look upon her face . . . he would never be able to forget that. “And now I am to meet her brother at dawn.”

  “A tricky business, to be sure. Especially if you win.”

  Groaning, Richard picked up his own brandy and took a fortifying sip. “You make it sound as though losing might be an option.” Shaking his head he set down his glass. “Pistols do not allow for the sort of sportsmanship one might enjoy with swords. I cannot go easy on Carthright for the simple reason that I fear he will take advantage of it.”

  “Just as long as you don’t kill him then.” The gravity of the situation was prevalent in Spencer’s tone and expression.

  “And what if he kills me?”

  “Is he that good a shot?”

  Richard considered the question for a second before saying, “He may not be as precise as I am, but he is certainly good enough to hit his mark, even at a distance of forty paces.”

  “Then you must strike him first—a shot to his leg or perhaps his shoulder.”

  “Naturally, I have considered that, though I doubt Lady Mary will approve.”

  A frown crept across Spencer’s brow. “You think she would prefer it if you are the one who gets wounded?”

  Richard expelled a deep breath. “I have no idea. But her loyalty toward her brother is undeniable.”

  “I really think you ought to ask her if that is still the case after what she has just discovered about him.”

  “Perhaps—”

  A knock at the door cut Richard off. Eying Spencer, he got to his feet and crossed to it. He hadn’t been expecting anyone. “Yes?” he inquired.

  There was a brief hesitation, and then, “It is I, Mary.”

  A warm shiver rolled through him at the sound of her voice. He glanced toward Spencer and found that he’d risen to his feet. Pushing back the warning that Mary’s reputation was at stake by her being here, he opened the door and quickly ushered her inside. Her eyes widened at the realization that they weren’t alone.

  “I should leave,” Spencer said as he took a step forward. He tilted his head in Mary’s direction. “A pleasure, my lady.”

  And then he was gone, leaving the two of them completely alone in Richard’s bedchamber. For a long moment, they just stood there staring at each other until Richard finally collected himself and gestured toward the chair that his brother had just vacated. “Please have a seat.” He waited for her to move, to dislodge the awkwardness between them before saying, “Would you care for something to drink? The sherry is quite good.”

  Lowering herself onto the chair, she nodded. “Thank you. I would like that.”

  Stiffly, he crossed to the sideboard and prepared her glass which he offered her shortly thereafter. “You are aware that you risk ruination by coming here? If someone were to discover your presence in my bedchamber—”

  “I know that my brother has challenged you to a duel, which means that lives are at stake now. My reputation seems insignificant by comparison.” Her eyes met his, staying with him while he took the seat across from her.

  “Just so you know, I do not plan on killing him tomorrow.” He spoke slowly, gauging her reaction. “Indeed, I would like to prevent such an outcome.”

  The statement did not seem to ease her concern. Her expression remained stark as she reached for her sherry, sipping it before setting the glass aside and saying, “I appreciate that, but . . . I am actually more worried about you. If anything were to happen to you . . .” She looked away, her teeth puckering the soft flesh of her lip as she bit into it.

  Richard felt his heart rate increase. “If anything were to happen to me?”

  “It would destroy me,” she whispered, her voice so fragile that it sounded as though it might break.

  “What about your brother?” He held his breath, fearful of her answer.

  She gave a small shrug. “He has wronged you in the most despicable way. I cannot support his actions.”

  The statement eased some of his concerns. Still, he needed to know that things were once again right between them—that her coming here meant that they might at least stand a chance. “So you are not angry with me anymore?”

  “Of course I am!” Raising her head, she looked at him directly. “Do you have any idea how deeply your words wounded me today?”

  “I was unprepared to discover that you are Carthright’s sister.” A ridiculous excuse. One that he knew she neither wanted nor needed, so he dropped to his knees before her and said, “I have wronged you in the worst possible way by betraying the trust that you placed in me when you gave me your heart. You are innocent, Mary, and I am sorry for what I said to you.”

  Her eyes seemed to strain against the onset of tears. “You should have told me what happened sooner so I would not have had to discover it like this.”

  He knew she was right and yet he’d had his reasons. “I feared you would not be able to accept what I was doing and that you would judge me harshly for it. Mary, I could not allow his actions to go unpunished. I hope you can understand that.”

  “I do.”

  Lowering his head, he kissed her hands before raising his gaze to hers. “Forgive me. Please, I cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

  A weak smile touched her lips. “The gift you sent to my room this afternoon . . . it was remarkably thoughtful—the most perfect thing in the world!”

  Her voice trembled as she spoke and Richard’s heart swelled with renewed hope. “It is the first song in the opera that I have begun working on, and because of the story, I thought it might be the best way of telling you how I feel.”

  “It is our story, is it not?”

  Seeing the tears that clung to her lashes, he nodded. “I have drafted an outline, but I am no longer certain of how it will end.”

  “Perhaps you should ask yourself how you would like for it to end.”

  “Happily, I hope.”

  Leaning forward, she placed her hand against his cheek in a gentle caress that carried a glimpse of the future with it. “I think that would be a most excellent outcome.”

  Exhaling the breath he’d been holding, he rose up, capturing her lips in an aching kiss born from longing and despair. “You mean the world to me, Mary. I need you by my side.”

  “And I need you by mine.”

  He kissed her again, promising her with the loving caress of his lips that he would never again be careless with her heart. “I cannot believe that Carthright is your brother,” he told her moments later as he placed his forehead against hers, reveling in the closeness. “What are the chances?”

  “I have no idea. Perhaps the more important question is whether or not you are able to accept it.” Sadness filled her eyes once more and for a moment it looked as though
she was finding it painful to breathe.

  “The alternative would be impossible for me to live with, so if you can forgive me, Mary, then I can definitely come to terms with who your brother is.”

  Relief flooded her features. “This must be terribly difficult for you.”

  He stared at her in amazement. “Difficult for me?” Even now, with disaster threatening to ruin their lives, her kindness and consideration for others shone through. “Andrew is your brother, Mary.”

  “By blood only.” A lonely tear trickled down her cheek. “I cannot in good conscience approve of his actions. My support lies entirely with you, Richard. I have told him as much.”

  Overwhelmed by her love for him, he pressed her to his chest. “Oh, sweetheart”—the words tore at his throat—“I honestly thought I had lost you.”

  A choked sob escaped her. “The choice became increasingly clear to me after listening to Andrew’s account of what happened. He was inconceivably selfish and cowardly. The fact that he did not give an accurate report of what happened but left you to die, is unforgiveable.”

  Leaning back a little, Richard tilted her face so he could meet her troubled gaze. “I love you.” Nothing else remained to be said as he lowered his mouth over hers once more, kissing away the remainder of her pain.

  Slowly, she brought her arms around his neck, pulling him closer until he hovered over her. “You should leave,” he murmured against the corner of her mouth.

  The sweetest sigh escaped her parted lips. “And if I stay?”

  His fingers trembled ever so slightly as he brushed them against her cheek. “If you stay . . .” Jesus, what a thought! Closing his eyes, he tried to control the tension building inside his chest. Lord, how he wanted her to do so. But it would be wrong. “I fear there will be consequences.”

  He heard her breathe; soft inhalations that seemed to trap them in time. “And what if this is our only chance?”

  Opening his eyes, he gazed into the dark pools of emotion staring back at him. “You are worried that I will not survive the duel?”

  She turned her head away. “I have to acknowledge the possibility.” Her voice broke, fragmenting the words. “Considering what I now know of my brother, I fear that he will not act honorably and that you will pay for it with your life. I . . .” She shook her head, unable to speak.

  “It will not come to that, Mary. I have seen your brother shoot before and while he is capable of handling his firearms, he is not nearly as accomplished a shot as I.”

  Shifting, she met his gaze while unshed tears welled against her lashes. “So you believe that he will miss his mark?”

  “I cannot say for sure, though I do believe that even if he does manage to shoot me, the shot will not be fatal.”

  Gulping, she quietly said, “But nothing is certain, which is why I find it impossible to leave your side right now. Please don’t make me go.”

  Her voice was so imploring, so fragile, that he found his discipline wavering. “You will be ruined if anyone finds out.”

  “I would gladly risk ruination for a chance to spend the night with you.”

  He shook his head and drew back. “You say so now, but what if the duel tomorrow does not go according to plan? What if you find yourself with child and without a husband by your side? Think of what that would do not only to you, but to our son or daughter.”

  Her eyelids drooped with hopelessness. “They would be shunned by Society. As would I.”

  Rising, he drew her to her feet so he could pull her into his arms, her head nestled firmly against his chest. “We cannot allow this situation to divest us of our common sense,” he whispered against the top of her head. “No matter how tempting it is to do so.”

  “I just want . . .”

  “So do I, my love.” Sweeping his hand up and down her back in long soothing strokes, he whispered again, “So do I.”

  Chapter 19

  Dewdrops lay like shimmering glass upon the ground the following morning as Mary made her way across the lawn. She hadn’t slept since returning to her bedchamber the night before, afraid that she would miss the duel that would soon take place between her brother and the man she meant to marry.

  Drawing her cloak tightly around her shoulders, she fought the chill that threatened to sink into her bones. Gray tones surrounded her in a haze as light began to soften the darkness. The field was beyond the trees, and with no one else in sight, Mary quickened her pace, afraid that they might begin before she managed to arrive.

  But this fear was soon brought to rest as, after following a short path, she arrived to find several people gathered together in discussion. They included Richard, Andrew, Spencer, Lady Foxworth, Lady Duncaster and a few footmen.

  “What are you doing here?” Andrew asked, spotting her first.

  “I came to watch the duel,” she said, approaching the group.

  Richard gave her an uneasy smile as he stepped away from the others and came toward her. “You should not have come. Dueling grounds are not appropriate places for young ladies to visit.”

  “He is right,” Lady Foxworth said. “You ought to return upstairs to your bedchamber. The event that is about to take place is scandalous enough without your involvement.”

  “I do not plan to get involved,” Mary replied, annoyed that they were trying to send her away. “I merely wish to watch.”

  “And whose side will you be on, exactly?” The question was bitterly spoken by Andrew.

  “I believe you know the answer to that already,” she replied, “but to be perfectly clear, I am in favor or Mr. Heartly winning.”

  “Traitor,” her brother spat. “You denounce your own flesh and blood.”

  His sharp tone caught her off guard. She blinked. “Can you not see that you are in the wrong? That your actions are reprehensible?”

  Shaking his head, Andrew turned his back on her.

  “I am sorry,” Richard said. He caught her by the elbow and drew her away with him at a stroll. “The terms have already been laid out, so we will begin shortly.”

  “Please don’t ask me to leave.” Leaning into him, she savored the strength in his arm and the warmth of his touch. The possibility that she might never feel it again brought a painful knot to her throat.

  “Very well,” he agreed. Halting, he turned her toward him so he could look her in the eye. “No matter what happens next, please know that I love you with all that I am.” Taking her hands in his, he raised both of them to his lips for a kiss.

  “As I love you,” she whispered, fighting the tears that threatened.

  “Which makes me the most fortunate man in the world.” Tenderness seeped from the depths of his eyes. “To have known you and to have won your heart—”

  “You must not talk like that.” She could barely get the words out. “You will survive this, Richard. You have to!”

  Nodding, his expression turned serious. “I will aim for your brother’s arm in an effort to disarm him.”

  “So he will survive?”

  “I see no reason why he should not.”

  “Considering what you told me last night about his skill, or lack thereof, I daresay that you will as well.” Andrew had said that he did not plan on killing Richard, and with his inferior aim taken into account, there was a good chance that he wouldn’t manage to hit him at all. As they walked back toward the others, Mary prayed that this would be the case.

  “Well?” Andrew asked, glaring at her.

  “I will watch the duel from a reasonable distance,” Mary said.

  “Mary . . .” Lady Foxworth began.

  Mary crossed her arms. “You cannot force me to leave.”

  “She is correct in that regard,” Lady Duncaster said. And then, “Shall we proceed? I believe the sun will rise within the next quarter of an hour.”

  As if summoned by her words, one of the footmen stepped forward with a case bearing two ornately designed dueling pistols. “Mr. Heartly, please select your weapon.”

 
; Dropping his gaze to the box, Richard picked up the pistol closest to him, leaving the other for Andrew. When both men had one in hand, Spencer outlined the rules once more. “Gentlemen, you will stand back to back with each other. As soon as Lady Duncaster begins the count, you will step forward until you have each traveled a distance of twenty paces. Once this has been achieved, you will await the signal before turning and firing your shots. Are you both in accord?”

  Andrew and Richard nodded. “We are,” they spoke in unison.

  Looking at each of them in turn, Spencer then said, “Before we proceed, it is my duty to inquire if either one of you would like to prevent the events that will take place shortly by offering an apology instead.”

  “No,” Andrew clipped, to which Richard said, “I fear I cannot do so.”

  Mary’s heart crumpled. She’d known they wouldn’t agree to such a thing—that their pride would not allow it—but she had still hoped.

  “Very well then,” Spencer stated. “Let us begin.”

  Removing herself to the side with her aunt and Lady Duncaster, Mary watched as Andrew and Richard took up their positions.

  “Have courage,” Lady Duncaster whispered at Mary’s side before she started counting.

  Mary felt her heartbeat quicken as the men strode stiffly in opposite directions, the faint glow from the rising sun illuminating the sky as birds began to chirp from the treetops—an abundance of life so foreign from the bleak atmosphere on the field.

  At the count of twenty, the men halted. “Face your opponent,” Lady Duncaster called out.

  Each began to turn, but before they’d made a full rotation, a shot cracked like thunder, rustling the treetops and scattering the birds. Mary blinked, not entirely certain of what had just happened, the confusion distracting her from the slight ache in her side.

  “That foolish boy,” Lady Foxworth muttered. “He cannot even conduct a duel according to protocol.”

  That was when Mary noticed the confused look on Andrew’s face and the odd angle of his pistol. In his nervousness, he must have fired too early. Elation shot up inside her. She looked to Richard who seemed just as surprised as everyone else. As if in a daze, he lowered his pistol to his side.