His gaze was gently encouraging. ‘Who was it fought over then?’
She shrugged. ‘I believe it must be the person—the man that both Barnaby and Sir Stanley were … involved with, and who has likely kept breaking into Highbury House.’
That was Rupert’s conclusion also. ‘Sir Thomas is another who wed to hide his sexual preferences?’
The slenderness of Pandora’s throat moved as she swallowed before answering him. ‘Yes.’
It was worse than frustrating for Rupert to wish for the death of two men who were already dead! ‘And you have remained silent in order to protect Stanley’s family,’ he guessed gruffly.
Pandora’s eyes were still wet with tears as she looked up at him appealingly. ‘Please understand, Rupert, I couldn’t bear for Lady Clara, and her two darling children, to be placed at the centre of the ridicule they would suffer if the truth were ever known.’
Of course she could not. She was soft-hearted Pandora, a woman who would rather take all the scorn and gossip upon herself rather than see it inflicted upon another innocent woman and her two children.
Pandora was, as far as he was concerned, a woman without equal. A soft-hearted and beautiful woman, who deserved to be spoilt, and petted, and loved for the rest of her life.
Loved …?
Dear God, what now?
Rupert turned towards the door of the bedchamber as a light knock sounded on its exterior. ‘What is it?’ he demanded impatiently.
‘A gentleman has brought a letter which he says is in need of your urgent attention, your Grace,’ Pendleton informed him apologetically. ‘The gentleman is waiting downstairs for your reply,’ he added before Rupert had opportunity to tell him to inform the ‘gentleman downstairs’ to take his damned letter and go to the devil.
‘It may be news from Constable Smythe, Rupert,’ Pandora said.
He drew in a deep and steadying breath, knowing that his usual control of a situation was not what it should be; in fact, he felt as if he had just been struck in the chest with a very large and heavy fist, his emotions all in disarray. Benedict had already accused him of liking Pandora, but what if—?
‘Your Grace?’
‘Yes, damn it!’ Rupert released his wife in order to cross the bedchamber and throw open the door, hardly sparing poor Pendleton a glance even as he took the letter from the silver tray the butler presented to him.
Pandora trembled as she watched Rupert break the seal on the letter and quickly read the contents, hardly able to contain her anxiety, her need to know if this nightmare was finally over. If she, and her household staff, were to be safe at last.
‘They have caught him, Pandora,’ Rupert confirmed flatly.
So it was indeed over. Just as she wondered if her marriage to Rupert, the man she loved with all her heart, and who must now feel nothing but pity for her, was to be over before it had even begun …
Chapter Seventeen
Anthony Jessop was her nemesis!
Pandora felt numbed by that knowledge as she sat silently in the carriage beside an equally silent Rupert as they returned to Stratton House several hours later.
Rupert had not wished her to accompany him to Constable Smythe’s offices, had assured her there was no need for her to put herself through any more suffering because of Barnaby’s actions. Pandora had insisted that she must go with him, that she had to be there, that she needed to know why the lawyer had pretended to be her friend, whilst all the time he and Barnaby—
‘Don’t think of it any more, love.’ Rupert’s arms moved firmly about her as he pulled her tightly against his chest. ‘It’s over, and neither of us need ever talk of it again.’
Yes, it was over at last, Anthony Jessop having taken one look at Pandora earlier, before launching into a vitriolic attack which had confirmed that he was the person who had broken into Highbury House this past year, setting fire to Pandora’s bedchamber, as well as attacking Bentley. A vicious diatribe, which had also confirmed that Rupert had been right in his earlier surmise concerning the contents of the box in the attic containing Barnaby’s few belongings from Highbury House. Anthony Jessop had been looking for several incriminating letters he had written to his lover in the past. Letters he had been determined to retrieve in an effort to prevent anyone from learning of the affair.
The rest of the time they had spent at Constable Smythe’s offices had been taken up with Rupert thrashing out a compromise with the constable that would best suit Pandora; having sacrificed her own reputation this past year, with the intention of saving Sir Thomas Stanley’s widow and children further pain, Rupert had been determined that her efforts should not have been in vain.
It had finally been decided, with neither Pandora nor Bentley wishing to press charges, that Anthony Jessop would remove himself from England, never to return, with the promise that if he did so then he would be placing himself in a position of feeling the full measure of the law.
Pandora could not help but feel grateful to Rupert for taking this time to think of her happiness. ‘Rupert—’
‘We will talk once we are home and you have eaten something, love.’ He glanced up to where the grooms were seated above.
She sighed as she sat back against the upholstered seat. ‘I am sure I shall not be able to eat a thing.’
Rupert looked at Pandora, very aware of how pale she was, those shadows beneath her eyes seeming darker than they had earlier. And was it any wonder when let down by yet another man in whom she had believed she might place her trust?
An occurrence which did not bode at all well for Rupert being able to persuade her into trusting him …
‘Better?’
‘Much.’ To Pandora’s surprise, encouraged by Rupert, she had managed to eat a hearty late breakfast, and was now feeling much stronger, emotionally as well as physically.
‘We will ring if we need anything else, Pendleton.’ Rupert turned to give the butler a dismissive nod, his expression becoming grim as he stood up to pace the room in brooding silence once the two of them were alone in the breakfast parlour.
Pandora fortified herself as if for a blow as Rupert continued to pace restlessly, the food she had eaten settling like a dead weight in her stomach.
Finally he came to a halt at her side. ‘Pandora, I have a question to ask you—no, I have two questions I wish to ask you,’ he corrected himself. ‘Neither of which you need to answer if you would rather not.’
Pandora’s nervousness deepened. ‘You know so much already, Rupert, that I’m sure anything else you have to ask I will answer gladly and honestly.’
‘You really are the most beautiful woman, Pandora, both inside and out.’ His expression softened as he fell to his knees in front of her before taking one of her hands in both of his.
She raised startled eyes, eyes that were almost on a level with Rupert’s warm grey ones as he knelt in front of her. ‘Rupert …?’
He raised her hand to his lips before speaking. ‘My dearest, sweetest, beautiful Pandora, will you marry me?’
Her heart seemed to leap into her throat. ‘But are we not already married?’
That warm gaze continued to meet hers unblinkingly. ‘Yes, we are. And I have realised this past few hours that I bullied you into that marriage as surely as Maybury—’ He broke off as Pandora placed her fingertips against his lips.
‘We will not speak of him again,’ she insisted firmly.
‘No, we will not,’ Rupert confirmed grimly. ‘Except for me to tell you I have spent these past few hours wishing to kill a dead man.’
Pandora gave a gasp as her hand fell back to her side.
‘Men are all primitive at the heart of it, love,’ Rupert apologised huskily as he reached up to cradle the smoothness of her cheek against his hand. ‘And I find myself filled with murderous tendencies towards anyone who has dared to hurt you.’ He gave a self-derisive shake of his head. ‘It is—forgive me, Pandora, I have never felt such strong emotions before and I find myself quite at a l
oss to know how to tell you—how to begin to tell you—damn it!’ He broke off with a muttered expletive. ‘I love you, Pandora.’ He lifted her hand to place it against the roughness of his cheek. ‘This past few days have shown me that I love everything about you. Your kind heart, your loyalty, your goodness, your beauty, your passion, your— Stop me, Pandora, before I make a complete cake of myself and grovel at your feet as I beg you to marry me and make me the happiest man alive,’ he groaned even as he turned his lips into her palm.
Pandora was so stunned, exhilarated, at hearing Rupert declare his love for her, that she could not have spoken if her life had depended upon it.
Actually, her life, her future life with Rupert, did depend upon it! But not at the cost of having such a strong man resort to grovelling at anyone’s feet, least of all her own …
Pandora slipped from the chair so that she now knelt in front of him as her other hand moved up to stroke his cheek. ‘I have fallen in love with you, too, Rupert. I love you so very, very much, my darling.’ She gazed up at him with adoration in her eyes. ‘I love your strength. Your loyalty. Your goodness. Your passion. As for your handsomeness—’ She did not get any further in her declaration as Rupert’s lips claimed hers in a kiss so full of his love and admiration that Pandora felt as if her own heart might burst from her chest.
Rupert loved her. Truly, deeply, loved her.
That such a thing had happened amidst such unhappiness was a miracle. A true and unshakeable miracle.
Rupert finally drew the kiss to an end to look down at her with all of that love shining in the deep grey of his eyes. ‘God, love …’ He drew a ragged breath into his starved lungs. ‘Will you marry me, Pandora? Not privately as we did yesterday, with only two friends as our witnesses, but in full splendour, with all of the ton in attendance? Will you walk down the aisle to me and allow me to publicly pledge my love for you, for my Duchess?’
‘Oh, Rupert!’ She began to cry again, but they were tears of happiness this time.
Rupert’s arms drew her close and he rested his cheek against her golden curls as he asked his second question. ‘And will you wear white, Pandora, in recognition of your purity?’
She stilled in his arms before she slowly raised her head to look up at him shyly. ‘I’m not sure, after our lovemaking this past few days, whether that is still possible …’
‘Oh, yes, love, it’s still possible,’ Rupert’s voice had deepened as his love for this wonderful innocent woman threatened to overwhelm him.
For Pandora was an innocent, Rupert had realised after he had gone over and over everything she had said to him earlier this morning. She was not just innocent of any wrongdoing, in regard to betraying her first husband, but she was also innocent in a physical sense. Amazingly, wonderfully, miraculously, she was Rupert’s virgin bride.
‘Then I shall wear white for you, my darling Rupert.’ Those violet-coloured eyes smiled up at him as she continued. ‘But I want, nay, demand that you make love with me, fully and completely, before this second wedding can be arranged.’
He shook his head. ‘Never doubt how much I long for that, too, love—God, I ache to my teeth to make love to you,’ he admitted emotionally. ‘But would it not be better for us to wait? For you to have the wedding you deserve?’
‘We shall still have that wedding, Rupert,’ she promised huskily even as she pulled away from him to take hold of his hand so that she might draw him to his feet beside her. ‘But do you not think, having been a wife for three years the first time, and for another day and night the second, that I have already waited long enough?’ Her eyes gleamed up at him mischievously.
Rupert looked down at her searchingly. ‘Are you sure, love?’
‘I have never been more sure of anything in my life.’ She nodded. ‘Well … except for how much I love you. I ache for you, too, Rupert,’ she vowed.
‘How I love you!’ he groaned as he bent to lift her in his arms.
‘Show me how much,’ she invited as she rested her head trustingly against his shoulder as he strode from the room and up the stairs to their bedchamber with her still held securely, safely, in his arms.
Rupert’s breath caught in his throat as he lay Pandora gently down upon the bedcovers to gaze down at the woman he loved with all of his heart.
His Duchess.
His Pandora …
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II BV/S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
® and TM are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
First published in Great Britain 2012
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited.
Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,
Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
© Carole Mortimer 2012
eISBN: 978-1-408-94391-5
Table of Contents
Author Note
About the Author
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Copyright
Some Like It Wicked (Mills & Boon Historical) (Daring Duchesses - Book 1) Page 21