Project Duchess

by Jeffries, Sabrina

  Damn. He couldn’t exactly reveal he’d bedded Beatrice—and proposed to her—the night before he’d gone to London. “Holy hell, Mother. You know how to hit a man where it hurts.”

  “Well? Answer the question.”

  He released a hard breath. “I did not put that announcement in the paper. My aunt did, trying to force my hand and make me marry Vanessa. But I straightened it out. I paid the Times to say they’d made an error in printing and my true fiancée is Beatrice.”

  Her face lit up, and she threw her arms about his neck. “Oh, Grey, what wonderful news! I’m so happy for you both!”

  “Don’t tell her about it, however,” he said. “She accepted me at first, but then turned me down because I made an arse of myself over something her brother might have done. Now I have to fix that before she’ll marry me. So I’m hoping she doesn’t see the paper until I repair the situation.”

  “Oh, dear. That sounds serious. What exactly did Joshua do?”

  He debated whether to tell her, but given it was her husband who’d been murdered, and Sheridan might ignore Grey’s protests and run off to get the constable anyway, it was probably best Mother be prepared for what was to come.

  So he summarized Sheridan’s suspicions, his own attempts to confirm them, what alibis Joshua claimed to have, and Beatrice’s reaction when Grey hadn’t just taken her at her word concerning her brother.

  “Now I see why she rejected you,” Mother said hotly. “I’d reject you, too, if you sided with your brother against me and my brother.”

  “You don’t have a brother.”

  “That’s not the point! That woman is a jewel, which you obviously know already, since you wish to marry her. Her character is solid. She would never shield a murderer.”

  She did try, he wanted to say, but the situation had been very different. And he couldn’t shame Beatrice by sharing her secrets about her uncle with his mother. She deserved better.

  In any case, he agreed with Mother—he didn’t really think Beatrice would lie for her brother. He shouldn’t have said that to her. Why had he?

  Oh, right. “Joshua did summon Father to the dower house that night. Yet he denies it.”

  A frown knit her brow. “It probably slipped his mind. Or perhaps he’s embarrassed at having unwittingly been part of Maurice’s death. The whole thing still might have been an accident after all.”

  “I doubt that, Mother. And so does Sheridan.”

  She snorted. “Sheridan is grieving. He’s frustrated by the mess his uncle and Maurice left behind, and he’s looking to blame someone for it.” Drawing back from him, she smoothed her skirts. “And you have your own reasons for wanting his theory to be true, admit it.”

  Something in her solemn gaze gave him pause. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t you? If Joshua is guilty, you don’t have to compete with him for Bea’s affections. Or worry she will take his side.” As he stiffened, she caught his hand in hers. “You don’t have to fear she’ll leave you for him, the way we essentially left you.”

  “That’s nonsense.” But she was right. His mother, in her usual wise way, had struck to the heart of what ailed him. Even after all these years, she knew him so well.

  Suddenly, Gwyn burst into the room. “Mama, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Sheridan rode off to fetch the constable, babbling some nonsense about Joshua having killed Papa.”

  Holy hell. Grey rose. “When did he leave?”

  “An hour ago at least.”

  Before Grey had even had the chance to talk to him. Damn Sheridan and his determination to avenge his father.

  “I rode along with him for a while,” Gwyn went on, “trying to make him see reason, but he wouldn’t listen. So I came back here to get Mama.” She set her hands on her hips. “And I see that you’re back, Grey. I suppose you agree with Sheridan.”

  His mother looked at him, a question in her eyes.

  It was the moment of truth. Did he want to go on not loving or being loved out of a fear he might be abandoned? Or did he instead want to take a chance on trusting Beatrice, the one woman who made him truly happy?

  He knew what his answer must be. “No, I don’t agree with Sheridan. But he’s hell-bent on proving it.” He leaned down to kiss his mother. “I have to go. Joshua needs to be warned.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Gwyn said.

  “You will not,” Mother said. “I need you here. And Grey needs to talk to Bea without your mucking things up.”

  Awareness dawned on Gwyn’s face. “Ohhh, so it’s that way, is it? But what about Vanessa and the announcement?”

  “Please explain it all, Mother,” he said, heading for the door. “I have to be off.”

  Grey just hoped he hadn’t left things too late to save Joshua. Or he might lose Beatrice for good.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Beatrice, bleary-eyed and heartsick, was back in the kitchen helping the maid prepare supper when she heard the banging on the front door. Her pulse sped up. Dear Lord, had Sheridan already brought someone to arrest Joshua?

  If so, what would she do? More importantly, what would Joshua do?

  She didn’t want to find out. Wiping her hands on her apron, she hurried to the front, but she was too late. Joshua was already opening the door.

  It was Grey. Her heart’s hammering only increased.

  “What do you want?” Joshua growled, being his usual rude self.

  “You have to leave now,” Grey said.

  Joshua scowled. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Ignoring him, Beatrice approached the door. “Why must he leave?”

  When Grey saw her, his expression softened. “Because Sheridan is on his way to fetch the constable to question Joshua. My half brother already has information that the bridge was purposely damaged, and he’s convinced that Joshua did it, then pushed my stepfather off after summoning Maurice here.”

  “That’s a pack of lies, all of it!” Joshua said. “And I’d much rather stay and defend myself. If I leave, I look guilty.”

  “Not if you leave without them knowing you were aware of the situation. Beatrice can tell them you went to Leicester on business. Then they’ll have to wait for your return or go after you there, where your healer can give them your alibi in person. Either way it will buy you time until we can prove you didn’t summon Maurice.”

  Joshua rubbed his jaw. “I can’t prove that. It’s your mother’s word against mine.”

  “And against Beatrice’s. I’m hoping they’ll take hers more seriously, given her reputation for being a woman of good character.”

  Beatrice eyed him suspiciously. “Why would they take mine more seriously when you don’t?”

  Remorse shadowed his features. “Ah, but I do, sweetheart. I merely had to be reminded of that by my mother.”

  His mother? He’d spoken of this to his mother? She hoped that meant something, but she was afraid to put too much faith in it. He’d already hurt her more than once.

  Grey shifted his gaze to Joshua. “In any case, you’d best leave here before they arrive. Because as long as they don’t see it as your fleeing to avoid them, they’ll assume they simply missed you. I’ll tell them I came to speak to you today, but you were already gone. And Beatrice can tell them—”

  “You’re out of your mind if you think I’ll leave my sister alone with you,” Joshua said. “You had no compunction about sporting with her in her bed before. I don’t see why that has changed.”

  “For one thing, I’d have something to say about that,” Beatrice said.

  Joshua snorted. “You should have had something to say about it the first time, too, but you didn’t, did you?”

  His face darkening, Grey surged forward. “Careful, Major. I won’t let you malign my fiancée even if you are her brother.”

  “She isn’t your fiancée.” Joshua thrust his chest out. “She refused you, remember?”

  Gritting his teeth, Grey took a step back. “How about this?
I’ll take her over to my mother. Surely you trust your aunt with her. You can lock up this place, and when Sheridan comes here, he’ll just assume he missed you both. If he goes back and asks what you said to me, I’ll tell him you weren’t here when I came by, but Beatrice was, and I brought her back to Armitage Hall.” He wore a harried expression now. “Because once the constable gets you in his clutches, it’ll be a scandal for you and Beatrice, even if in the end he decides you’re innocent.”

  “Please listen to Grey.” Beatrice was already taking off her apron and exchanging it for her wool cloak. “We’ve had to weather enough scandal in our lives. Your going to prison isn’t one I want to weather.”

  Joshua leaned against the doorframe to glower at Grey. “I don’t like the idea of you being still engaged to that other woman but telling my sister that you’re—”

  Grey bent forward to whisper something in Joshua’s ear.

  Joshua eyed him warily. “Is that true?”

  “I swear it on my honor as a gentleman,” Grey said. “My honor is unimpeachable.” He smiled at her. “Or it was until I met your sister. Then I behaved in a rather ungentlemanly fashion. My only excuse is I fell hard for her.”

  While she was still basking in the promise hinted at in those words, Joshua glanced at her, then back at Grey.

  Grey held out his hand to Joshua. “Just give me a chance to argue for your innocence. And give me your permission to make Beatrice my duchess.”

  The word “duchess” seemed to sink in with her brother. He blew out a breath, then shook Grey’s hand. “If you’re lying to me, I swear it will be pistols at dawn.”

  Grey nodded. “I would think less of you if it were otherwise.” He looked back at the bridge. “But please make it quick. And take a route where you won’t run into Sheridan and the constable.”

  With a quick bob of his head, Joshua gathered his coat and hat. He waited while Beatrice went to send the maid home through the servants’ entrance, then fetched her bonnet and gloves. Once she was standing outside with Grey, Joshua locked the door. But he insisted on watching until she and Grey had crossed the bridge.

  Turning to wave to him, she saw him head to where the horse and gig were kept. Only then did she let Grey take her past the road to Armitage Hall and onto the path through the woods.

  She and Grey walked a few moments in silence. She was the first to speak. “Do you think this plan of yours will work?”

  “For a while. And speaking of that, we should take our time returning to the hall, give him a chance to get away so he can reach Leicester before they do. But eventually he will have to talk to them. I’m just hoping I can convince them to accept your word concerning his alibi before that time comes.”

  That made sense. They walked a little farther in silence.

  “What did you whisper to my brother?” she finally ventured.

  “I’ll get to that later,” he said mysteriously.

  “Well, whatever it was, you convinced him to go. So thank you for that. And thank you for what you’re doing for him.”

  “No need to thank me. I’m doing what’s right.”

  She lifted an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t feel that way earlier today.”

  “Actually, I did. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself.”

  “Why not?”

  He cast her a rueful smile. “Because, as my mother pointed out, deep down I wanted you all to myself. I guess I wanted you to choose me over him.”

  “It wasn’t a contest, Grey,” she said irritably. “He was fighting for his life. I wanted you to help him, not hinder him. That’s all.”

  “I realized that eventually.”

  She stared at the ground. “I also wanted you to trust me.”

  “I know. And I do. That’s why I came back to try and save him.”

  He took her hand as they walked. It felt as much a declaration of his intentions as the one he’d made to Joshua, because anyone could come along and see them together. Apparently, he didn’t care.

  But that didn’t resolve everything. Not by half. “I suppose you wanted me to choose you over Joshua because you felt your mother chose the rest of your family and your stepfather over you.”

  “Something like that.” When she frowned at that obtuse reply, he added, “You said my mother did her best and yet I blame her. You were right. I did blame her. But I shouldn’t have.”

  She lifted his gloved hand to her lips to kiss. “What do you blame your mother for? What happened between you and your aunt and uncle, anyway?” Would he finally answer her on that score, too?

  He frowned, as if trying to figure out how and where to begin.

  Then he drew in a heavy breath. “First, I should explain a few things about my return to England. When Uncle Eustace came to fetch me in Prussia, I was rather excited to go with him. I knew I was heir to a great estate, and my real father was an important man. But my mother and stepfather treated me the way all decent parents treat their children—as simply one of the lot, no better or worse than the others. The five of us fought for their attention, as children will do. Yet when someone on the outside tried to hurt any one of us, we all stood together against them.”

  “So, a typical family.”

  “And a happy one, although I was too much a child to realize how lucky I was until my family was lost to me.” A shuddering sigh escaped him. “Anyway, at first, my aunt and uncle were kind. They indulged me, though I always sensed a sort of falseness in it.” His voice hardened. “I found out why on the day Uncle Eustace brought some papers and asked me to sign and seal them.”

  She caught her breath. She could easily imagine the drastic consequences that might have resulted from that.

  “He fully expected me just to follow his bidding. And when I told him I needed a few days to read them over, he probably thought I was merely pretending to know what I was doing.” He shook his head. “But my stepfather hadn’t raised a fool. While I was unfamiliar with most of the financial terms in them, my uncle had a fine library, so I availed myself of it until I could make out what the documents said.”

  “Thank God,” she whispered.

  “Thank God indeed. Because he was trying to get me to sign away several significant, unentailed pieces of property. To deed them to him outright.”

  She gasped. “Could he have gotten away with that?”

  “If I hadn’t caught it? Probably. He was my guardian. If I’d been a less clever boy, by the time I’d reached my majority, I would have forgotten all about signing some pieces of paper. He would already have been handling the properties for some years, perhaps even selling them, and I would have assumed they’d always been his.”

  “So you didn’t sign those papers.”

  “I did not.” He stared off ahead of them, his voice dropping to a monotone. “And thus began our battle of wills. He tried cajoling me. I was unmoved. He tried caning me. That only made me more willful. He tried starving me. I refused to yield, even though it sometimes went for days.”

  Anger laced his words now. “Damned bastard knew that a boy that age is always hungry, so withholding food was his favorite method. He was sure I would give in.” He gritted his teeth. “And I was determined I wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, Grey,” she said, her heart breaking for the child he’d been, forced into a battle not of his making. “How long did it last?”

  “Off and on for three years, until I went to school. Thankfully, my real father did have the good sense to stipulate which school I was to attend at thirteen.” When she muttered a curse on his behalf, he added, “But until then . . . my uncle would be nice to me for a while, to lull me into letting my guard down, I suppose. Then he would start some new method of trying to force my compliance.”

  “That’s appalling!” she cried. She could hardly bear to think of young Grey going from a blissful childhood to one of such cruelty. “Why didn’t you tell someone? Ask for help from someone?”

  “How? Ask whom?” He gave her a sad smile. “He con
trolled that household entirely. He examined every letter I wrote before it could be posted. I knew no one in England, and I had no other guardian. My reckless fool of a real father never thought to designate a team of trustees as he should have done because he assumed that my mother would always be in England to look out for me. But then, I suppose my real father didn’t expect to die of an ague in his forties, either, while I was still a babe.”

  He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Do you know what’s ironic? I found out a few hours ago that the properties he was fighting to gain were probably the same ones I would have lost if Mother had broken the will and kept me with her. In standing against him, I made Mother’s sacrifice worth it.”

  “But not worth it to you, I take it.”

  She felt his arm tense. This was obviously difficult for him, baring his feelings to her. Probably to anyone. He seemed to be a very private man.

  “I honestly don’t know anymore. Fighting my uncle made me strong, but missing my family was almost unbearable. So I . . . cut myself off from them because it hurt too much to think of all I’d lost.”

  She wanted to cry; she wanted to rage at his awful uncle. It wasn’t fair. “I can’t imagine going through such a thing and holding firm. You must have had a will of iron.”

  “You, too, to endure your own uncle’s mistreatment without letting on to anyone else it was happening. We both had our secrets to keep and our reasons to keep them.”

  “Perhaps, but at least my torment didn’t start until I was sixteen. You were so very young. How did you stand it?”

  “Believe it or not, Vanessa helped me. She was just a baby, but I knew what babies were like. After all, my mother had borne four in rapid succession after she bore me. So at my uncle’s, I used to sneak into the nursery and talk to Vanessa and listen to her babble. It felt . . . familiar. I could almost pretend I was home. I suppose the nursemaid felt sorry for me, because she told no one and tolerated my visits.”

  Beatrice ignored the quick stab of jealousy in her heart. “That’s why you wanted to keep Vanessa from being hurt by that announcement.”