The Revenge of the Betrayed Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  She clasped her hands together tightly in front of her. “There was part of me that always wondered if James had someone manufacture my father’s downfall so that he could save me. He knew I would never marry him without some pressing need for me to do so.”

  Edward started to speak, but Emily raised a trembling hand to stop him. “I was wrong. You are not my Edward. My Edward was a kind, generous soul. This Esteban Duarte is merely a flimsy and cruel imitation.”

  Emily went to turn, but Edward’s hand caught her around her arm. “Emily,” Edward said.

  “Take care, Edward,” Emily whispered. “I never want to see you again.” It took everything she had to pull herself away and walk to the door. Emily took a steadying breath as she opened the front door. She did not allow herself to look back for doing so would have done her no good.

  Out on the street, Emily gave the doorman a nod and walked on towards her carriage. Her legs felt heavy, and her gait was stiff. She barely glanced at the coach driver for fear the man might see something in her eyes. Once she was safely in the carriage, she allowed herself to cry softly into her handkerchief. It was bad enough to lose Edward once, but to lose him twice was just too much for her to bear.

  ***

  Edward went back up the stairs as every fibre of his being seemed to be screaming for him to go after her. It was better this way, he told himself. He should be grateful not to have to deal with the drama of it all later on, but Edward felt as if his very heart was being ripped out.

  He had important tasks at hand that he needed to focus on, and Emily was a distraction he could not afford. Edward entered his bedroom and stared over at his reflection. The ache would go away, he reasoned. It had dulled enough to let him plot his revenge, and with her out of the picture, it would again.

  All of those facts, of course, made him feel no better. The only thing he could do was keep moving forward and wait for time to work its healing magic. Edward lay down on the bed and willed himself to just sleep for a bit.

  ***

  A week later, a letter arrived from Cantara informing Edward that Mr Durand had had a sudden change of heart, and they would be escorting the man personally to England. Edward chuckled. Things were finally moving along. His brain reminded him that it was Emily who had helped get the Frenchman’s name, but Edward ignored the annoying fact and focused on getting ready for Cantara’s arrival.

  Edward went downstairs and found Augustus sitting on one of the sofas in the large main room of the home. “Augustus, I am going out,” Edward said with far more cheer than he actually felt.

  “That letter must have been good news,” Augustus remarked as he set his teacup down on the low coffee table before him.

  Edward nodded. “It was. My friends have secured Mr Durand’s agreement to testify, and they are bringing him to England as we speak. With the delay in the mail, I expect they will arrive in a few days’ time.”

  “I would not have thought he would have agreed so easily,” Augustus said as his bushy eyebrows crept up his face.

  With a chuckle, Edward said, “My friends can be very persuasive.”

  Augustus was silent for a moment before he said, “I have known some very persuasive men in my time. I hope they are less dangerous.”

  “Probably more so, but I trust them,” Edward admitted. He cleared his throat and added, “I have not yet received word from your parents.”

  Augustus waved off Edward’s concern. “It matters not,” Augustus said. “I should return to my family home and try to rebuild what I have done to it.”

  “Perhaps,” Edward said. He had no real control or concern over what Augustus did. Emily’s voice in the back of Edward’s mind reminded him that he was just an imitation, and Edward began to wonder if that was not true. Edward forced a smile onto his face. “I have to go by the solicitor's and get everything arranged.”

  Augustus nodded and went back to his tea. “Of course,” he said.

  Edward turned to leave, but Augustus said, “I heard you and Emily when I was upstairs resting.”

  “That is really none of your concern,” Edward said. There was no real anger in Edward at the man’s intrusion, but he had little interest in talking about what had happened between Emily and him.

  Augustus sighed. “It probably is not,” he said. “Yet, she is probably right. I was not privy to James’ schemes by that time, but I doubt he would have hesitated to throw Emily’s father into financial ruin if it suited his needs.”

  “That matters little,” Edward assured the man. “I need to go.”

  Augustus called, “You came all this way to be reunited with her, and now you just let her go. What folly men make of things.”

  Edward left without looking back at the man. The wind out on the street was crisp. It was a bit early in the year for such a wind, but it was cooling on Edward’s hot skin. The doorman gave Edward a look that Edward thought held concern. He waved the man’s unasked question off before he walked on down the street.

  There was no illness in Edward other than that which a woman puts under a man’s skin. Edward wished he could shake free of it, but it held its grip on him despite how he raged at the feelings. The walk to his solicitor’s place of business was not a long one, and Edward was saddened to leave behind the cool breeze for the stuffy office as he pulled open the door to the building.

  “Ah, Mr Duarte,” Mr Renford said with a delight that did not escape Edward’s ears. He had paid the man a handsome retainer fee, and Edward was not the least bit surprised that the man was happy to see him. Once the door was fully shut behind Edward, Mr Renford said, “Lovely to see you again, Mr Dalton. Mr Milford seems to be improving, or he was the last time I saw him. Do you think he will be able to testify?”

  Edward walked over to the man who peered up at him from a pile of papers that were heaped on the solicitor’s desk. “I think he will do well enough. Getting him to agree to it might be harder. He has a difficult time facing the Duke.”

  Mr Renford nodded sagely and said, “That is often the case with such things, I am afraid. His written testimony will help, but his words spoken aloud would do more.”

  “Yes,” Edward said. He cleared his throat. “I am here to make arrangements for another witness. I spoke to you about the uncle of the murdered girl,” Edward said, and the solicitor nodded that he remembered. “He has been found and is in route to England to testify.”

  Mr Renford clapped his hands together. “That is marvellous news,” he said. “When can we expect him?”

  “Early next week, I would imagine. My colleagues did not specify when they would arrive. I shall let you know as soon as I have a word of them. Will you be able to get everything in order by then so that we can proceed?” Edward eyed the man with interest as he waited to see what he would say.

  Mr Renford nodded slowly, and Edward saw the man’s brow furrow as he thought. “I have approached a barrister, and he advised that we take it through the military course. I think we have a strong civil case, but a court-martial would be swifter.”

  “Then a court-martial is what we shall do,” Edward said without hesitation. “It is fitting, after all.”

  Mr Renford agreed. “It does seem so from what you have told me. I have the writ prepared to petition the courts for your titles and estate.”

  “Good,” Edward said with a smile.

  ***

  James had sent a letter to France but had heard no reply. It had been long enough for him to have heard something, yet he had not. James prayed the man was dead, and that was why he had not responded.

  “What is it?” Emily asked as she brought in the tray laden with tea and sandwiches.

  James shook his head. “Nothing,” he said as he eyed the tray. “Did you let the kitchen staff go?”

  “Not all of them,” Emily said with a shrug. “I am just making the best of it.”

  James did not suppose it mattered whether the Frenchman responding or not. Soon enough James would be destitute, and that
was all due to that Spanish devil that had robbed him. The man had smiled as he took every coin James could muster. He eyed Emily with deep suspicion. As pleasant as the woman had been over the last week, he still did not trust her.

  “Have you seen your friend lately?” James asked. Emily had not left the house in recent days, but whispers of rumours swirled in James’ brain. There was talk, and it was talk that did not involve James and other women. No, there had been talk that Emily had been seen at Mr Duarte’s residence.

  Emily shook her head. “No, of course not,” she said as she set aside a teacup and began pouring tea into it.

  “Odd that I have heard stories that you were seen at Mr Duarte’s residence,” James said. He was gratified to see Emily’s hand pause in her pouring momentarily.

  Emily shrugged. “I went to plead with him to let you be,” Emily admitted. “He refused, and I left. That is all there is to it.”

  “I see,” James said as he pursed his lips.

  Emily finished pouring his tea then excused herself. James watched her go and then sighed in discontent once the woman was out of earshot. He never thought of Emily as a wanton woman, but Mr Duarte seemed to bring out something in her that was making her foolish.

  James pondered his wife for a long while as he sipped his tea. She had never looked at him the way her eyes seemed to linger on the Spaniard. James frowned deeply at his tea. All that was Edward’s was his, and yet he found it so lacking that James wished he had never attained it.

  James stood up abruptly almost upsetting the tray of tea and food. He would go to see Oscar. James could not sit around this dreadful house any longer and indulge in Emily’s sweet nature. No, he felt as if he were merely biding time in a cage of his own design. He had to be free of it.

  By the time James got the carriage driver and rounded up, it was nearly midday. He told the doorman that he was going out and to inform the Duchess that he would not be in for luncheon, should she ask. He made his way out to the carriage and gave the house behind him an accusing glare. “If I had never seen you, then perhaps I would not be ruined,” James whispered to the house. The house stood quiet and condemning as James looked upon it as if it too were reminding him of his sins.

  ***

  The township where Oscar worked was bustling with workmen and laypeople from the various establishments all seeking sustenance. James spotted Oscar at the back of the bar, and he made his way over to the man. Oscar’s eyes went up to James, and as he took in who it was that approached him, Oscar’s eyes widened ever so slightly.

  “Oscar,” James said with a smile as he sank down into the seat across from him. “How are you?”

  Oscar eyed James with what James thought was probably suspicion, and rightly so. Oscar said, “I am doing well. What are you doing here, James?”

  James leaned in and whispered, “I fear that Mr Duarte may be trying to dredge up old times in France. Emily confided that Augustus had told her about France, only she seemed to think that Augustus meant he had murdered the girl.”

  Oscar frowned. “Augustus does tend to ramble when he is in his cups. What does that have to do with Mr Duarte?”

  “He was always interested in our time in France, Oscar. Does it not stand to reason that when Augustus starts babbling about it all that Mr Duarte’s curiosity might be the reason?” James tapped the table as if to make his point.

  Oscar shrugged and waved James’ words away. “Many people have been curious about my time in France, James. It does not make the Spaniard a spy of some kind. What motive does he have to overturn such things?”

  “I have you been to see Augustus?” James asked.

  Oscar shook his head. “You know very well that he does not answer his door when I call anymore,” he said with a deep frown.

  James snarled, “I have, and he is not there.”

  “Where could he have gone?” Oscar asked as his expression took on worry that James had not expected to be there. “You do not think that he has hurt himself somehow, do you?”

  James laughed and rubbed his face. “I cannot believe that you still have this fondness for that sot. He very well could spell our end, and you are worried he might have hurt himself.”

  “He is our friend, James,” Oscar reminded him.

  With another laugh, James said, “That is where you are wrong. He has not been our friend since France. He is no more our friend than Edward was, and you know it.”

  “Do not lump Augustus in with Edward,” Oscar said as he eyed James with something akin to anger.

  James leaned back in his seat and considered Oscar. “It looks like I am truly on my own,” James said with a sigh. “So be it, Oscar. Just remember that I tried to warn you.” James stood up and shook his head at the man. He left without a backward glance. James had hoped that Oscar might see reason and finally see through Esteban Duarte’s glamour to see that the man was lying about something. There was something not right about Mr Duarte, and James could make no one see it.

  ***

  “I will try,” Augustus said with a resolve that Edward was relieved to see in the man.

  Edward nodded. “That is all I ask,” Edward assured him. “I received word that Mr Durand and company should arrive late tomorrow. I will go and collect them. I would appreciate it if you stayed away from the windows. We do not need James catching on to where you have gone.”

  “He knows then,” Augustus said in a quiet voice.

  Edward sighed and said, “I cannot say what James’ knows, but he will surely have checked on your whereabouts after Emily gave him that false story.”

  “I shall try to stay hidden,” Augustus said. “I just wish this was all over.”

  Edward put his hand on Augustus’ shoulder that was still far too frail. “As soon as Cantara arrives with Mr Durand, you may give your testimony to the barrister and judge. You should not have to face James, with any luck.”

  “I should be standing trial with them,” Augustus mumbled as he looked down at his hands. The front room was soaked in the morning light, but the light did not quite reach where Augustus sat on the sofa.

  Edward said, “No. You are redeeming yourself.”

  “There is no redemption, Edward,” Augustus said as he looked up at Edward. “I can make my pitiful amends, but my judgement is set and waiting for me.”

  Edward nodded slowly. “As is all of ours,” Edward told the man. He let the man’s shoulder go and turned to go back upstairs. “Rest,” Edward said over his shoulder to the man. “You will need your strength to get through the next few days.”

  ***

  Edward rode out to meet Cantara at the ferry. The Spanish gang leader’s face broke into a grin as Edward approached. “Mr Duarte, I assume,” Cantara said with a deep rumble of laughter as Edward clasped his outstretched hand.

  “Edward is just fine,” Edward assured the man.

  Cantara chuckled. “That is very good. Allow me to introduce to you Mr Nicolas Durand,” Cantara said with a wave of his hand at the sombre looking fellow to Cantara’s right.

  Mr Durand looked around with nervousness that Edward could understand. Edward gave the man a smile and offered his hand to him. “It is nice to meet you, Mr Durand. I am hoping that you can help us rectify a horrible wrong.”