She and Daniel had been enjoying afternoon tea together, but she now stood. “I believe I will leave you two gentlemen to talk in private, Daniel—”
“Your presence is also required for this conversation.” Blackmoor, with his usual arrogance, had not waited in the hallway for Cross to show him into the drawing room.
Thea’s hand shook slightly, the cup rattling in the saucer she was holding as she turned away to replace them both on the tea tray, giving herself time to gather her defenses together before she at last dared a glance across the drawing room to where Blackmoor stood in the doorway.
Her traitorous heart leapt in her chest just at the sight of him. As a warning, perhaps, that despite the cruel way he had dismissed her from his life, she was not yet over her feelings for him.
Her heart, Thea had discovered these past few days, took absolutely no heed of the dictates of the head. If it did, then she would no longer care what Blackmoor did or said. She would be able to look at him again without feeling as if her heart were breaking.
On closer inspection, his appearance seemed rather harsher and more austere than usual, that impression added to by his usual somber clothing. There was also a bleakness to the gray of his eyes, rather than just their usual coldness. Lines had etched themselves beside his nose and unsmiling mouth. His face seemed thinner, sharper, the skin stretched tautly over his high cheekbones, as if he might have shed some weight these past few days too.
No doubt the strain of the impending wedding was finally taking its toll on even Blackmoor.
Thea’s gaze remained fixed on his perfectly shaven chin as she answered him. “It is kind of you to include me, Your Grace. But I am sure the two of you do not require the presence of a lady to conduct your conversation.” She used the word deliberately, as a reminder to herself, as well as Blackmoor, that when they last spoke, he had accused her of lacking the decorum necessary to be called a lady.
“On the contrary, this particular lady’s presence is very necessary,” Blackmoor bit out abruptly.
Thea’s wide-eyed gaze rose sharply to meet his. Surely Blackmoor did not intend to tell Daniel of the wantonness of her behavior just days ago? It was cruel enough that he had dismissed her so scathingly. He surely had no need to involve her brother in the details of their brief and ill-favored affair.
She frowned as she realized those gray eyes did not seem to be so icily cutting as they had appeared a few seconds ago. Indeed, on closer inspection, Blackmoor’s austere demeanor seemed to owe less to arrogance and was more an expression of preoccupation and anxiety.
But anxiety over what?
Thea had spent no time at all with Amelia these past four days, needing that complete break from Blackmoor and anyone or anything that reminded her of him. To give her time to lick and heal in private the wounds she’d suffered from their last encounter.
She did so hope that Amelia had not spent those same days fretting and worrying as to whether or not she was doing the right thing in marrying George. Not only would it cause a scandal in society to call off the wedding at this late date, but her nephew would be heartbroken if Amelia had decided she could not marry him after all.
“Another cup and fresh tea, if you please, Cross,” she instructed briskly.
“I do not have time for—”
“If you please, Cross,” Thea repeated firmly over the duke’s refusal, waiting until the butler had left the room before speaking again. “You will have tea and some cake to eat before commencing your conversation,” she told Blackmoor firmly.
He looked as though he were about to continue arguing, but her brother spoke up. “I should do as I was told, if I were you, Blackmoor,” Daniel drawled. “I know from past experience that once my sister gets that look on her face, there is no point in arguing further. She will have her way, no matter what you or I have to say on the matter.”
Julian was so weary, in body as well as spirit, he did not believe he had the strength at present to even attempt to gainsay Thea on any course of action. Even if the thought of ingesting anything, food or drink, made him feel ill.
Besides which, he might need the fortification for what he was about to do.
The days—and nights—since he’d last seen Thea had been…unbearable. Jennifer was nowhere to be found in London, despite his own efforts and those of the men he had employed to find her.
He had also been suffering a heavy burden of self-recrimination for the harshness he had shown towards Thea in his study that night. Had he needed to be quite that cruel? Quite that cold and cutting?
She looks so achingly beautiful today.
Pale, perhaps a little thinner, but to Julian’s hungry gaze, Thea had never looked more beautiful than she did in the russet gown she wore today. A color that perfectly complemented the red of her hair and her creamy complexion.
It was all he could do not to cross the room, take her in his arms, and crush her slender body to his. To once again feel the warmth of her against him. To lose himself in her unique perfume. To kiss and caress her before burying his cock inside her and never have to leave.
All of those were actions the proud expression on her face warned him against even attempting to accomplish.
Julian sat down abruptly in a chair on the opposite side of the room from Thea as the butler returned with the third cup and fresh tea. Julian accepted the tea and plate of cake she prepared for him. He even managed to take a sip of the hot brew as the butler quietly departed the room again.
Thea’s tension grew the longer Blackmoor remained silent. What was so urgent that he insisted on speaking to Daniel about it today? If Blackmoor had come here to expose her to her brother, then she would never forgive him—
He stood abruptly, as indication he did not intend to delay the conversation any longer. “I have…several things I need to impart to you, Latham.”
Daniel merely looked puzzled at the other man’s intensity. “Amelia is perhaps suffering pre-wedding nerves…?”
“Not at all.” Blackmoor gave a hard smile. “My daughter knows her own mind and rarely, if ever, changes it.”
Like her father, Thea added silently, even as her own tension grew. Because if Blackmoor had not come here to talk about Amelia…
“That is something of a relief.” Her brother nodded. “George would be inconsolable if she were to change her mind about marrying him.”
The duke nodded. “The reason I am here does not concern the two of them directly but indirectly. At least, I believe it does.” He frowned. “You may feel differently after our conversation.”
“Proceed if you please, Blackmoor,” Daniel invited with curiosity.
The duke began to pace the drawing room, a sure sign, to Thea that Blackmoor was deeply disturbed. Surely he could not be considering canceling the wedding because George’s aunt had proven to be less of a lady than she appeared to be?
“I have thought on this at length,” he finally sighed. “In fact, I have been able to think of little else these past four days— Did you burn yourself?” Blackmoor frowned his concern as Thea dropped her cup into her lap.
Thank goodness it contained only a little tea, and what there was had cooled to tepidness. “No, I am not burned,” she dismissed as she distractedly mopped up the liquid from her gown with a napkin while sending Blackmoor a frowning, pleading glance.
She accepted she had behaved wantonly in his presence, very much so, but that was between the two of them and should not reflect upon Daniel or George and his impending nuptials to Amelia.
It was a testament, Julian realized heavily, to how badly he had treated Thea that the expression of pleading he could now see on her face revealed she believed he had come here today with the intention of informing her brother of their brief relationship. An affair of such short duration, Julian was not even sure it merited being called such.
So brief, and yet it had affected him so profoundly he could not stop thinking about Thea. Wanting to be with her.
The last th
ing he ever wanted to do was to hurt Thea any more than he already had.
“My conversation concerns something that happened eighteen years ago.” Julian watched for Thea’s reaction, her expression at first blank, quickly followed by relief, and finally puzzlement.
Understandably so. Eighteen years ago, Thea had still been in the nursery, with all her life still before her. He doubted she would even have known of the existence of the Duke of Blackmoor then.
He gave the ghost of a smile. “Latham will perhaps remember those events.” He looked at the older man. “I believe you and my older brother were friends?”
“We were at school together,” the other man confirmed.
“I remember you came to stay with us in Worcestershire one summer.” Julian nodded. “His death would have been as much of a shock to you as it was to our family.”
“It was a tragedy, yes.” Latham concurred.
Julian gave a bitter laugh. “I have another name for it. But I am jumping ahead of myself,” he continued briskly as brother and sister looked at him questioningly. “Although I was only nineteen, I assumed the dukedom after Robert’s death, along with the onerous responsibilities that went with it.”
Latham shrugged. “It is our lot in life, I am afraid. You may have been very young, but you were still the spare,” he attempted to cajole.
“You may rest assured that my father had ensured both his sons had all the necessary training to become duke after his demise.” He acknowledged. “The responsibility that caused me the most…difficulty had nothing to do with my duties as duke. Just days after Robert’s death, a young lady came to see me at Blackmoor House. She…imparted to me the knowledge that she was expecting Robert’s child, and that the two of them would have been married if not for his sudden demise.”
Thea was unable to suppress her shocked gasp. Seconds ago, she had been afraid of what Julian Remington intended telling her brother, but she could never, not in a million years, have guessed that it was going to be something as shocking as this.
“Her family was only on the fringe of society and totally without funds, but in the circumstances, I felt I had no choice but to marry her myself,” Blackmoor continued bleakly. “She was expecting Robert’s heir. A girl, as it turned out, but still Robert’s child.”
Thea’s head was spinning with all that Blackmoor had just said. His brother’s unexpected death. The young and pregnant woman. How he had felt duty bound to marry the girl himself.
All these years, everyone, including Thea, had believed Julian Remington had married in such haste after his brother died because Julian had impregnated a young woman. Just as they had believed him to be mourning the wife he loved all these years, when all along it had been a marriage of—
Of what?
The fact he had married this woman because he felt it his duty to do so did not preclude him having fallen in love with her himself once married to her. Or that he loved her still.
“Amelia?” her brother questioned softly.
“Yes,” Blackmoor confirmed.
“Why are you telling me this now?” Daniel frowned. “Did you think it would make a difference to how we feel about her? That we would no longer wish for George to marry her? Because if so, you should know that I feel highly insulted you would ever think that I, that any of us, are so damned shallow of nature as to blame Amelia for something she had absolutely no control over.”
A nerve pulsed in the duke’s tightly clenched jaw. “I am gratified to hear it—”
“I repeat, I am insulted you could ever think otherwise—”
“Daniel.” Thea quietly interrupted her brother’s indignant tirade even as her gaze remained fixed on Julian. His expression was no longer bleak but agonized. “I do not believe His Grace has finished talking.”
Blackmoor shot her a grateful glance. “Lady Dorothea is quite correct, Latham, I am nowhere near finished. Of course Amelia is not to blame for any of this. She is an innocent. She is also my daughter, and I love her dearly,” he added in a tone that brooked no dispute to the claim. “Her mother is another matter, however,” he continued grimly. “As I have said, she was pregnant with Amelia when the marriage took place. It was a difficult pregnancy, requiring that our marriage not be… Jennifer and I did not have a real marriage but one of convenience.”
“Just for the length of the pregnancy?” Daniel prompted.
“For the duration of the marriage,” the other man corrected stiffly.
Thea bit down painfully on her lip to prevent her second gasp from being audible. Not only had Julian not loved his wife, but the two of them had never consummated their marriage?
“I did not love her when I married her or after,” he continued bleakly. “I tolerated her because I believed she was the woman Robert loved and was the mother of his child. In the end, I came to hate her.”
“Oh, I say, old chap—”
“She was the bitch from hell who confessed to killing my brother!” Gray eyes glittered with the force of Blackmoor’s emotions.
Thea stared at him. She was beyond shocked now. “She killed your brother…?”
“Yes,” he confirmed through gritted teeth. “I had discovered that she was meeting another man in secret, a footman employed in her parents’ home.” His top lip curled back with distaste. “When I confronted her with that knowledge, she confessed all, seemed relieved to do so. She did not just confess to killing Robert, she boasted of it. And I—I could do nothing, nothing.” His hands were clenched at his sides.
“Because of Amelia,” Daniel guessed.
“Yes.” Blackmoor sighed. “She knew that if I accused her to the authorities that Amelia would also be dragged into the scandal that ensued. Apparently, Robert had refused even to contemplate marrying her, because he could not be sure, and neither could she, as to whether or not Amelia was his child. In fact, any marriage between the two of them would have been null and void anyway, because the man she was secretly meeting was already her husband.”
Thea’s breath caught in her throat. “But if that is so, then surely it meant she was also married to someone else when the two of you married?”
“Yes.”
“Then the two of you were not married at all?”
“No.”
This was all too much for Thea to comprehend. Julian married but not married. Being Amelia’s father but not Amelia’s father.
It did, however, go a long way towards explaining the comment he had once made regarding past events having long colored his words and actions. And the aversion he had expressed to sharing any woman’s affections. Or hearing her lies.
“Robert had already found out about the other man and was threatening to expose her for the blackmailer she was,” Blackmoor continued unemotionally. “She killed him for it.”
“But I thought—” Daniel sat forward abruptly. “I had assumed you meant his heart seizure was due to the stress. This woman actually confessed to killing Robert? Her own self?”
“Yes.” Blackmoor nodded.
Thea swallowed. “How?”
“She put poison in his wine. The doctor who attended mistook the symptoms for a heart seizure,” he added with disgust.
Daniel stood abruptly to cross to the tray of drinks on the sideboard, pouring a good measure into three glasses before carrying two of them over and handing one to first Thea and then to Julian. “They say that confession is good for the soul, Blackmoor, but I am not sure for whom!” He took a large swallow of his brandy. “Amelia knows none of this, I presume?”
“No.”
Daniel scowled. “She never needs to know either.”
“And therein lies my present dilemma,” Julian told the other man grimly.
“We will never tell her,” Thea assured him with an edge of indignation in her voice.
His expression softened slightly. “I did not for a moment think that either of you would.”
She gave a perplexed frown. “Then what is your dilemma?”
Ju
lian’s mouth thinned. “Jennifer admitted to me that she and her real husband had planned this together all along. Her seduction of Robert, the pregnancy, the fake marriage, and the blackmail. Which she now practiced on me. In exchange for her agreement to leave and have no further contact with Amelia or myself, Jennifer demanded a large sum of money so that she and her husband could live abroad, far away from the condemnation of society. The money was their goal all along,” he added bitterly.
“They planned it all. This woman’s pregnancy, and Robert’s death when he refused to comply?” Thea could not imagine such ruthlessness as must exist to execute such a cold-blooded plan.
“Yes,” he confirmed tersely. “They had no money, and Jennifer’s parents would have cast her off completely if they had ever known she was married to one of their footmen. The plan was to ensnare Robert, and when that failed, they killed him and turned their attentions to me…” He gave a shake of his head. “I was a fool ever to be taken in by such a tale as she spun me.”
“You were nineteen years old, grieving for the brother you loved, and newly come into the onerous title of duke,” Daniel excused gently.
“That is no excuse.” He gave a disgusted shake of his head.
“Of course it is,” Thea snapped her impatience with these self-recriminations. “You had no reason to doubt this woman’s claim.”
“It is kind of you to say so—”
“It is the truth,” she insisted, knowing how much it must hurt and humiliate the proud and haughty Julian Remington to admit to falling afoul of such trickery.
“There is still more,” he revealed evenly. “Amelia was only a baby of one year old, and I adored her. She was, and still is, my Achilles’ heel,” he accepted ruefully. “Something Jennifer was only too aware of. She played upon the fact that the existence of her previous marriage meant I had no claim to Amelia. She offered to leave the babe with me if I would agree to all she asked.”
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