by Dawn Brower
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JONAS GULPED DOWN THE glass of brandy he was holding. The amber liquid burned as it traveled down his throat. He deserved the pain and so much more. Nothing he did would erase the image of heartbreak etched across Marian’s face. He’d been such an arse. Why had he let things progress as far as they had? She was perfect in every way, and he’d sullied her with his touch. He should have kept his hands to himself.
Maybe he wasn’t any different than the old bastard that dogged his heels. The duke had done a number on him over the years that he sometimes acted first and considered the ramifications later. His grandfather messed with his psyche in ways no one else could. When Marian had walked in, Jonas had been blinded by his need and hadn’t taken into consideration her feelings. He flirted with her and often; however, he’d never taken things as far as he had.
There was a time he’d wished his life to be simple, and to have a mundane existence of attending balls to search for a wife. His father would be alive, and his mother would never have abandoned him—leaving him in the cruel hands of the Duke of Southington. He’d be able to openly love and plan a family... Unfortunately, that wasn’t his life, and he couldn’t go back to change it. Instead, he had to consider every possibility and try to outsmart his evil grandfather. Maybe he should stop worrying about what the evil bastard might do and live his life. That was so hard for him. Age-old securities wouldn’t go away in one heartbeat.
Jonas slammed the glass down on a nearby table. What was he going to do? How could he possibly make Marian understand how incredibly messed up he was? Would she ever be able to forgive him? Darkness had been a part of his life for so long he didn’t know if he could live in the light.
“There you are.”
Jonas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His grandfather wasn’t going to leave well enough alone. He’d gone to London in search of him, and when that hadn’t worked he’d followed Jonas to Kent. “What do you want?” Jonas turned to face him, preparing for battle. Every conversation was a skirmish they both fought to win. “I don’t have time for you.”
“Don’t be foolish,” the duke barked out. “You’re going to inherit my title some day, and you need to listen to me.”
“I don’t want your bloody title. Let David have it—he’s itching to lord over the ton.”
“Your cousin is a blundering idiot. I will not let him anywhere near my estate. It’s you, or it dies out with me.”
“Then so be it.” Jonas poured more brandy into his glass. He lifted it up and slowly sipped it as if he had all the time in the world. “With your death, there will be no more tyrant dukes to be found.”
“You stupid boy,” his grandfather said angrily. “Don’t you realize everything I’ve done for you?”
Jonas slammed the glass down. The brandy spilled out, pooling down the sides. “Are you becoming senile in your old age? All you’ve done for me is leave me bruised and bloody—but those wounds heal. The emotional scars are buried deep and continue to make me less of a man. I won’t let you destroy what little there is left of my dignity.”
“I didn’t...”
“You did so much damage. Don’t you think its time to own up to it? Not to me—I need nothing from you; however, if you pray hard enough, maybe you won’t end up in hell.” He lifted his brandy. Half the contents were a puddle on the table. Jonas raised it up to salute him. “Somehow, I don’t think you’re in line for redemption though. So, here’s to your impending residence in a fiery pit. May it be everything you imagined it to be.” Jonas drank the remaining contents of his glass and set it down.
“Jonas,” his grandfather began. His face remained expressionless. “I...”
“Save it for someone else,” Jonas interrupted him. “There’s nothing you can say that will make things right between us. Go bother someone else and never trouble me again. I won’t be quite this—” He paused a moment to consider his words. “—this pleasant the next time we meet.”
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll leave you for now, but this isn’t over. But you should realize that the title will be yours either way. I wish things would have been different—that I had been what you needed. I’m not perfect; nonetheless, I realize some mistakes can’t be undone.”
What game was the old man playing this time? Jonas didn’t believe for one second the duke had regrets. His grandfather left the room with his head hung low. It was probably a way for him to make Jonas feel guilty and come back home. The bastard hadn’t yet realized Jonas was immune to his tricks. He refused to let him have any more power over him.
“You were a little hard on him, don’t you think?” James walked into the room after his grandfather exited. He must have been directly outside in the hall listening to the conversation. “Have you finished off all my brandy?”
“Not nearly enough,” Jonas disagreed. “There’s still some left, and I haven’t had an adequate amount to forget my problems. I hope you have another secret stash I can dip into somewhere.”
“I might,” James replied cryptically. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “Perhaps I can help. Brandy can lead to a devil of a headache. Talking might be a better solution.”
Jonas poured another drink. He liked his idea better. What had talking about his problems ever done for him? If he’d voiced his opinion when he was younger, it led to beatings from his grandfather. He’d learned quick to keep his beliefs to himself. It was a different kind of pain, and in some ways harder to live with. Instead of discussing his twisted relationship with the duke, he asked, “How did you meet your wife?”
“I found her injured on the beach below the cliffs,” James replied. “I had come home from the war and hadn’t expected to find a lady in need of my help.”
“How did she end up there?” He found it odd that she would be left abandoned on a beach. “Did someone hurt her?”
“That’s a story for another time,” James replied easily. “The how or why don’t matter. What does is that fate set her in my path when I needed her most. Why do you ask?” He walked over to the table and poured himself some of the dwindling liquor supply. “I see you’re spilling a fair share of the brandy. That may be a good thing and leave you a little less of a headache later.”
Jonas swirled the brandy in his glass. Maybe this was something he could talk about. James was so in love with his wife, and they appeared happy. To have even an ounce of that—he craved it more than he cared to admit. He wanted to openly love Marian. He’d have to give up his membership to the club, but for her it might be worth it. Asthey and Shelby would still be his friends, and there were other former members. They didn’t seem to mind the loss of the club. “I may have blundered, and I don’t know how to make things right.”
“With Lady Marian?”
Jonas jerked his head up and met James’s gaze. “How?”
“Did I know you loved her? The secret glances, the exchanged smiles, and I happen to understand what it’s like to be completely besotted.” James took a sip of his brandy. “I don’t know what you did, but there isn’t a man alive who hasn’t made a foolish mistake with the woman he loves. Start with apologizing, and then beg—on your knees. It might take longer than you like, but she will forgive you. She loves you too.” He wasn’t as certain as James was that Marian loved him. He hoped, oh God, did he hope...
“I don’t know.” Jonas scrubbed his hands over his face. “She’s more than I deserve. Maybe I should leave her alone and not dream past my own worth.”
James emptied his glass and set it down. “That is your decision, my friend, but in my opinion, it’s a grave mistake.” He set his hand on Jonas’s shoulder. “Do me a favor and go find her. See if that is something you can live with before you give up on a happy future. Nothing in life is easy and no one promised it would be; however, love makes the tough times worth it. Dare to claim a love worth dying for, and it might surprise you to find that all your doubts will disappear.” The duke turned and left Jon
as alone.
Laughter echoed through the halls, and Jonas turned toward the sound. He recognized those particular chuckles. Shelby and Asthey practically fell into the room—dragging the Earl of Darcy with them. All three of them were quite disheveled, but Darcy was by far the worst. He’d had blood dripping from the corner of his mouth and a bruise on his cheek. “Oh, there you are,” Shelby glanced up at Jonas. “We need your help with something.”
“Are you drunk?” Jonas asked. Not that he had room to talk. He’d practically drowned himself in brandy. “What nonsense is this?”
“This bastard thinks he is good enough to court my sister,” Shelby said knocking Darcy on the head. “As if he’d actually marry her—we all know what a reprobate he is.”
“I thought you wanted Samantha to marry?” Jonas lifted a brow.
“Exactly what I said,” Asthey replied. “He’s being rather unreasonable. Asthey seemed a little uncomfortable with whatever Shelby had planned.
“Can you reason with him?” Darcy met Jonas’s gaze. “I am not treating Lady Samantha as if she were a courtesan. My intentions are honorable, and I’ve been respectful the entire time.”
“Nothing you do is respectful,” Shelby shouted. “You’re the worst of the worst in the club. Everyone knows your record as a rogue.”
“Mine is not worse than yours,” Darcy pointed out. His voice held a hint of desperation to it.
“Precisely,” Shelby spat back. His dark blue eyes darkened to black. He probably wasn’t nearly as drunk as Jonas had originally believed. “That’s how I know you’re not good enough for her.”
Jonas sighed. He didn’t have time for this. He had to find Marian and apologize. There had to be a quick solution, but for the life of him, he couldn’t see one. Both sides were easily understood. Even if he didn’t have a sister he, could see why Shelby didn’t want one of the wicked earls’ courting his. None of them had sterling reputations. They lived for the debauchery and wildness of the club. It had been their savior when they needed it most—especially him. If not for the club and its resources, he wasn’t sure where he’d be.
“Surely you must understand that I want something more with Lady Samantha. I need a wife, and she’d be perfect...” Darcy’s voice trailed off. Shelby punched him knocking him backward. Lord Darcy hit the floor with a thud.
“I don’t care how perfect you think she is. You’re not marrying her.”
“Do you think you can stop them?” Asthey said as he came to stand next to Jonas. “I’ve tried everything, but he’s beyond reason.”
Jonas sighed and pinched the bridge between his nose. He was sobering fast, and his head hurt. There was only one thing that would get through to the contradictory bastard. He stomped over and yanked Shelby back before he launched another set of punches on Darcy. “Can’t you see he’s not fighting back, you fool? He must have some pretty strong feelings for your sister to let you beat on him.”
“Damn it,” Shelby cursed. “Why do you have to make sense?”
“Someone has to,” Asthey offered. “You weren’t listening to me.”
Darcy rubbed his jaw. “Do I have permission to ask Lady Samantha to marry me?”
“Fine,” Shelby replied begrudgingly. “But I’ll be watching you. If she says no, you will respect her wishes.”
“Why would she say no?” Asthey asked.
Shelby shrugged. “Samantha can be perverse. She’d say yes just to spite me, so I’m giving my blessing. It’s the sure way to guarantee she’ll do the opposite.”
Jonas wasn’t sure if he wanted to examine his friend’s motivations, but at least he’d stopped using Darcy as an unwilling sparring partner. Not much sport in punching a man who wasn’t hitting back. “Are you done being an arse then?”
“Doubtful,” Shelby deadpanned. “I’m not making a promise I’m unlikely to keep.”
“I don’t care what he does anymore,” Darcy said as he rolled to his feet. “I’m going to search for Lady Samantha and prove him wrong.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Shelby said. “My sister has better sense than to accept you.” After that, he ignored Darcy—which was a good thing since the earl left them in search of Lady Samantha. Shelby walked over and poured what was left of the brandy into a glass. “Someone was having some fun without me.” He glared at Jonas. “Did you drink the entire decanter?”
Jonas wouldn’t admit to that under any circumstance. He ignored the question and said instead, “You don’t need any more to drink, but by all means finish what’s left of the duke’s brandy. I’m going to leave you two to whatever else you have planned. There is something else I have to do.”
“Like what?” Asthey asked. “You’ve been acting odd this entire trip.”
“I’ll explain later,” Jonas stalled. “I’m not sure I can right now.”
Asthey nodded. “I’ll watch over Shelby and make sure he doesn’t murder Darcy. Do you think he’s right about his sister?”
Jonas shrugged. “Probably. He’d know more than we do.”
Asthey nodded absentmindedly and then headed toward Shelby. Jonas cared a great deal for his two friends, and he hoped they found some measure of happiness. They had healing of their own to work through before they could find it. Shelby was overprotective of his sister for good reason. If Darcy screwed this up... He couldn’t think about that. There were a lot of other things on his mind, and if he was lucky, he’d find a way out of the mess he’d made.
If Marian could forgive him...
Maybe he should follow the duke’s advice. He wanted Marian and always had. With his grandfather lingering on the edges of Jonas’s life, he’d thought he had no choice. He couldn’t make her his and keep her safe. Now though, perhaps he would be able to do as the duke suggested—dare to dream of something more.
He had to find her...
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MARIAN STROLLED IN the garden, lost in thought. She had finished reading Alys’s journal. She could learn so much from the duchess, but she understood how dangerous that knowledge could be. After she finished, she’d gone to see the duchess. She wouldn’t be able to use what she learned in order to become an actual doctor, but she could perhaps work with people in secret. If someone had half the knowledge Alys did, perhaps Marian’s mother wouldn’t have died. It would be foolish to pass on the opportunity to learn. Maybe she’d never be a doctor, but she could be so much more than that.
She wandered aimlessly, not paying attention to where her feet led her. Before long, she was so deep into the garden she didn’t recognize anything around her. The garden at Weston Manor was extensive and bordered on being a maze. She hadn’t wandered so far into it before. Hopefully she’d be able to find her way back...
“Ah, there you are,” a male said. “I saw you walking in the garden and thought perhaps we could talk.”
Marian spun on her heels and met Jonas’s grandfather’s gaze. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “Oh?” What could the Duke of Southington wish to speak to her about? She had never had a conversation with him in the past. “About?”
“My grandson seems quite taken with you.”
She laughed. He knew so little... “Lord Harrington is taken with many ladies. That’s what rogues do.”
“No,” he disagreed. “You’re different. I’ve paid attention to his activities over the years far more than he’s realized. He doesn’t dabble with innocents, and you, my dear, are the marrying kind.”
“Part of that may be true,” she couldn’t deny her own virtue. “But he’s not interested in marrying anyone, let alone me. You’re mistaken if you think he wants anything of the sort with me.”
“I can prove you wrong,” the duke said. “I mean to before the day is over. You’re going to help me control my grandson again.”
“Pardon me?” She had to have heard the old man wrong. She would never help him with any such thing. The duke’s days of controlling Jonas were over. If she had to separate herself f
rom him forever, she would. Nothing would induce her to aid the duke in his quest. She loved Jonas, and she’d do anything to ensure his happiness. “How to you propose to do something so ridiculous. No one can control Lord Harrington, least of all you.”
“Is that so?” The duke pulled a pistol out of his pocket and pointed in her direction. “Not even to save you?”
The lump formed in her throat again. She lost the ability to think for several heartbeats. This situation wasn’t something she’d ever—could ever—plan for. Why would she? What were the chances that she’d ever have a pistol aimed at her in her lifetime? “Is that necessary?”
“I assure you, it most certainly is.” His grin had an evil twitch to it. For the first time, Marian could appreciate why Jonas hated his grandfather so much. “Go sit over there.” He gestured toward a stone bench at the end of the path. She hadn’t noticed in her meandering.
“What do you think this will accomplish?” Maybe if she could get him talking she’d be able to figure out his motives, and in return, figure out how to escape.
“You’re a means to an end, and not even a very pretty one. I don’t quite understand what that boy sees in you, but I’m not one to question a gift when it’s presented to me. He loves you, and therefore, if I have you I can and will have him too.”
Marian had never been so terrified in her life. There was no easy way out of this situation. The path had ended with the stone bench. She could either sit there and pray that someone found them, or run past the duke and hope he didn’t shoot her. Somehow, she doubted he’d abstain from firing the pistol. He seemed dead set on this course of action. “What now?”
“We wait for my wayward grandson to join us. It’s only a matter of time before he comes looking for you.”