“Um…” Caroline cleared her throat again. “I did.”
Alex and Inis both turned to her, speech halted.
“Why would you do something like that?” Alex finally asked.
Caroline turned pink and then shrugged. “Revenge. Half the ton have heard about the Ravaged Revelers Club and know the story behind the negligees. I thought if Amelia received one, and George saw it, he would think… Well, knowing George, the more Amelia denied being lovers, the more suspicious he would be. In a way, it would make him think you won after all.” Caroline took a deep breath. “And I wanted him to know what it felt like to be tossed aside.”
No one spoke for a moment.
“I realize now it was a stupid thing to do. I had no idea Amelia would confront you at the ball, or that Inis would happen onto the whole thing.” Caroline looked from one to the other. “I also had no idea that the two of you…um…”
“Never mind that,” Inis said quickly. “It does not matter now.”
“Does not matter?” Alex asked, an incredulous note in his voice. “It matters even more than before. I have sheltered the niece of an Irish duke in my house for weeks, unchaperoned. When your uncle gets word of this, he will call for my head.”
“Not to be indelicate,” Caroline said, “but if I am understanding correctly, Inis no longer needs to worry about her betrothed since her reputation is quite ruined.”
Inis gave an unladylike snort. “The earl in question is near penniless. He will not turn down a large dowry, let alone a tie to a duchy, simply because I’m ruined. The Irish are more practical than that.”
“Well, your uncle will be relieved to know I will not accept a dowry,” Alex said.
Inis drew her brows together. “What are you talking about?”
“Caroline is right. Now that Society knows who you are, we must avoid a scandal and keep your reputation intact,” Alex answered. “The obvious thing to do is marry. That will solve everything.”
“It will solve nothing.” Inis stood and marched past him, opened the door to the foyer, and picked up her bag. “I told you before, I will not take a husband who marries me out of duty.”
As she stormed out the front door, she heard Caroline tell Alex to give her time to think on it. That would do no good. Responsibility, obligation, and duty were not reasons to marry.
She only needed enough time to get out of town.
…
“You look like hell warmed you over twice and tossed you out,” Stephan said to Alex three nights later as they sat in a corner of White’s.
“Thanks, Kendrick. I cannot tell you how much better that makes me feel,” Alex replied.
Brice studied him. “You are either working through your female conquest list at lightning speed or you are maudlin over one particular woman. If I had to guess, I would say the latter.”
“Keep your guesses to yourself,” Alex growled. “No woman has ever gotten the best of me, including Miranda Locke.”
“But it’s not the countess we’re talking about, is it?” Kendrick asked.
Brice grinned before Alex could answer. “Nice try, Ashley. We are not going to be sidetracked by a missing countess or her murderous attempts on a certain guest in your house.”
“Inis is no longer my guest,” Alex said.
Both of his friends looked at him in surprise.
“Why not?” Kendrick asked.
“You did explain about Amelia’s negligee?” Brice added.
“Yes.” Alex sighed. He’d told his friends what happened after the scandal broke. He had hoped the whole miserable episode at his brother’s ball could be concealed, but once word spread that Amelia had gone to her father’s for an extended stay, gossip had spread faster than a wildfire in dry grass.
“Where did Inis go?” Brice asked.
“Caroline’s,” Alex answered. “I am surprised that information has not gotten out.”
“Caroline tends to stay to herself,” Brice said. “She doesn’t care for the ton’s machinations any more than you do.”
“Make that three of us,” Kendrick said with a grin. “Given the rumors I may have been responsible for my brother’s demise, I’m not exactly welcomed by that illustrious group, either.”
Brice smirked. “Which has probably saved you from the parson’s noose a time or two.”
Kendrick nodded. “If it were not for my title, I would definitely be persona non grata in Society.” He eyed Alex thoughtfully. “A woman’s reputation can be ruined a lot easier than a man’s. Given the fact that Inis is actually Irish nobility, perhaps it’s best she stays with Caroline.”
“I agree,” Brice said. “Once word gets back to Ireland, it’s only a matter of time before the Duke of Kildare arrives in London. Better his niece is not residing under your roof when he gets here. There will already be hell to pay.”
Alex sighed again. “You do not know the half of it.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Inis will not be in London when the duke arrives.”
Stephan raised a dark brow. “Are you going to tuck her away in the country, then, and keep her as your mistress?”
“That would not be wise,” Brice said. “The Duke of Kildare is her guardian. All he has to do is get your brother involved, or maybe go directly to the Prince Regent and demand her return—”
“I am not going to keep her as my mistress,” Alex replied, although he wished he could. “Inis will not be in England.”
“What?” His friends spoke in unison.
“She’ll be on a ship sailing to the States.”
Brice shook his head. “Passage to the States in return for going along with your scheme might have been the plan originally, but you cannot follow through with that now you know who she is.”
“I gave her my word,” Alex replied. “It doesn’t matter who she is.”
“But that’s insane,” Brice argued. “You’ll be arrested.”
“For what? I am not abducting her,” Alex answered. “She’ll be travelling alone.”
“That’s even worse.” Brice shook his head again. “Perhaps Kendrick and I should do you a favor and take you directly to Bedlam before you carry this out.”
Alex gave him a brittle smile. “Too late. Passage has already been booked. Inis leaves the day after tomorrow.
Alex woke the next morning with a hangover from hell. If Brice and Stephan thought he’d looked terrible last night, this morning—actually closer to noon—he felt like he’d been hit over the head with the devil’s own pitchfork. Barclay and Kendrick had taken him to all their favorite gaming establishments, but the cards held no allure for him. Nor had he been attracted to the women who’d offered their services. All he could think of was a slender, independent-minded redhead who wouldn’t even speak to him.
So he had done what any self-professed rake would do—he’d gotten stinking drunk. His friends must have brought him home, since he had no recollection of arriving at his door. His coat and breeches were hanging on a rack by the wardrobe, and his boots were standing alongside, evidence that Evans must have been alerted to his condition.
Splashing cold water on his face from the basin on the dresser helped marginally, and he picked up the pitcher and poured the rest of the contents over his head, then slicked his wet hair back. He managed somehow to shave without slicing his face or throat to ribbons.
The aroma of cooking meat and some sort of spice assailed his nostrils as he approached the small day dining room. Ordinarily, he appreciated the smells emanating from the kitchen, but his stomach was practicing somersaults.
Evans appeared in the doorway. “Would you like breakfast or lunch?”
“Just some tea and dry toast,” Alex replied.
“Of course.”
Evans withdrew discreetly and returned so quickly that Alex suspected the tea and toast had been made as soon as his approach was heard. Getting drunk had solved nothing, but the brandy had lessened the pain that had settled in like a
dull toothache since Inis had left his house five days ago. Alex had given her the first day to come to her senses. Actually, he’d needed time to get over his own anger. Inis had lied to him. Deceived him. She’d played her part better than the cunning connivers of the ton. Eventually, when he’d calmed down enough to think rationally, he could begin to understand why she’d done it.
When he’d called on her the second day, Caroline had told him she needed more time to think over the situation. He hadn’t pressed the issue, since he wasn’t sure he’d totally forgiven Inis, either. The last thing he needed was to get into an argument with her because his pride was still smarting.
The third day, he was informed that Inis wanted to secure passage on a ship. When he’d said he wanted to talk to her first, Caroline had dutifully delivered the message and returned with a note that simply said, You gave me your word.
Alex finished his meager breakfast—his stomach did feel more settled—and patted the coat pocket that contained the ticket for the passage. He would deliver it in person. If Inis wanted it, she would have to see—and talk—to him first.
As he rode the short distance to Caroline’s father’s townhouse, he practiced what he should say to Inis to convince her to stay. He knew better than to use the term “mistress,” not that it would be appropriate given her own aristocratic status. Offering to set Inis up as a professional horse trainer might whet her interest, but he doubted any segment of Society would condone it, and Inis would not be satisfied to work behind the scenes. Businesses needed to be profitable.
If the woman weren’t so damn stubborn, she’d see that marriage was the only choice. In fact, if they got married immediately, her uncle couldn’t force her to return to Ireland. Surely Alex was a more acceptable choice than that sot of an earl’s son. He smiled. That’s how he would put it to Inis. He would secure a special license as soon as he talked to her.
He handed his bay over to a stable boy and sprang up the steps to the townhouse, his hangover forgotten as he raised the heavy knocker. The doorman showed him to the parlor, and a few minutes later, he heard light, feminine footsteps approaching. He rose and turned, expecting to see Inis, but it was Caroline who stood in the doorway.
“I have Inis’s ticket.” He held it up. “But she needs to come and get it herself.”
Caroline shook her head. “She cannot do that.”
“This is beyond silly,” Alex said. “I will not let her leave without seeing me.”
“I am afraid you’re too late.”
Alex frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The Duke of Kildare arrived last night and left with her this morning.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Alex stared at Caroline, not sure his ears were working. Maybe his hangover was worse than he’d thought. “The duke was here? Why did you not send word to me?”
Caroline lifted one brow. “I did. Evans told my footman you were not home and he did not expect you until the early hours of the morning.”
Alex groaned. While he was carousing—no, not carousing—washing away his pain with liquor, he’d missed a chance to talk with the duke. Now he remembered seeing an envelope on the salver by the entryway as he left. He’d assumed it was yet another invitation to some event. “If your father invited the duke to spend the night here, why did you not sent a second note this morning?” He frowned at Caroline, knowing he sounded petulant, but damn it. She should have known…
“There was no point since the duke did not spend the night here,” she replied, oblivious to both Alex’s glowering and his tone. “Perhaps you should sit.”
He sank back onto his chair. “You have more bad news?”
Caroline took a chair across from him. “The duke wanted the magistrate called to have you arrested for keeping Inis as enslaved labor.”
“Enslaved? What the bloody—”
“I know.” Caroline held up one hand for silence. “Inis explained, or at least she tried to, that she had come into your employ as a result of a card game.”
“I am sure that went over well,” Alex said.
“It did not. Apart from being angry that Inis had run away, the duke said you should have returned her immediately.”
“How the bloody… Sorry.” Alex took a deep breath. “How was I supposed to know who she was? She wasn’t exactly forthcoming with that information.”
“Inis explained that, too,” Caroline replied. “Her uncle did not care. He said you should have recognized she was no street urchin and made every effort to find out who she was.”
Alex grimaced. “I suppose he has a point in that.”
“I tried to tell him that Inis was very convincing in her…er, perceived role. That didn’t matter to him, either, even when Inis assumed the brogue she had used to show him. Instead, he demanded to see George.”
Alex stared at Caroline. “My brother was here, too?”
She nodded. “Apparently, the two of them have met before.”
“That figures. Dukes prefer mingling with their own kind.” Alex sighed. “So now I’m in for more verbal bashing from my pompous-ass brother.”
“I think it might be a bit more than that this time,” Caroline said.
“What do you mean?”
Caroline hesitated before she spoke. “George is furious with you over what happened at the ball. I could not very well explain about the negligee with the Duke of Kildlare sitting there—”
“George knows the truth about that damn negligee.”
“Yes, well. You know how important appearances are to him,” Caroline said, “and the scandal has not died down yet.”
Alex heaved yet another sigh. “What did my esteemed brother say?”
Caroline paused again, looking miserable. “He agreed with the duke that you had no right to compromise Inis.”
Alex felt a small twinge of hope. “Did my brother say the only right thing for me to do was marry her?”
Caroline looked even more miserable and shook her head. “George said you’re a philandering rakehell, set on cuckolding every nobleman in sight, and not fit to be part of Society.”
Alex hardly dared to ask, but he had to know. “Did Inis say anything?”
“Yes.” Caroline managed a small smile. “In spite of everything, she told her uncle she did not want to leave.”
A surge of warmth flooded thorough him. Inis didn’t want to leave. “She wants to marry me, then?”
Caroline gave him a wry look. “She said she was happy working with your horses and wanted to continue doing so.”
Alex smiled for the first time that morning. “If she wants to keep working with my horses, that means she’s forgiven me.”
Caroline studied the rug. “That might be a moot issue.”
“Why?”
She looked up. “George told the duke he was going to toss you out of the house, and that the horses were his.”
Alex narrowed his eyes. “I am not particularly surprised about the house. I have offered to move before, but the horses—at least Xenos and Goldie—are mine. I have the papers.”
“Then you’d better move them to my father’s stables while you decide what to do,” Caroline said.
Alex nodded. “That’s a good idea. They’ll be safe here until I can send for them. Right now, I have to convince Inis that I want to marry her, if she will only have me.”
Caroline chewed her lip. “That might be a moot issue also.”
Alex’s sudden elation backfired, leaving him feel like he’d swallowed hot coal. “Why?”
“Her uncle took her back to Ireland. The betrothal to the earl’s son is still valid.”
…
Inis closed the book she’d been attempting to read and placed it on the small table by her chair in her uncle’s library. She closed her eyes and laid her head back, not able to concentrate. Unable to relax, she rose and started pacing the room.
Since she’d been brought back to Dublin a week ago, the duke had not allowed her out of the house. Her r
estlessness grew worse with each passing day. Banns for her upcoming wedding were to be posted this Sunday. Her uncle had refused to listen to any of her pleas, even when she’d finally admitted she was no longer chaste. He’d used that against her, saying the sooner she married the better, in case a bairn were to appear in a few months.
A bairn. Foolishly, Inis had not considered the possibility of that outcome. Her courses were not due for another two weeks, so she had no way of knowing yet, but the idea of Silas Desmond claiming to be the father made her bile rise. The very thought of sharing the same bed with the sniveling idiot also made her nauseous.
She needed help. Uncle Robert would not listen to reason. A priest—especially if her uncle gave a large donation—would be only too happy to perform the wedding of a duke’s niece to an earl’s son. It would give the man something to crow about.
A vision of the faerie mound floated through her mind. She recalled how the doe had appeared in the middle of the day and had seemed to lead her to that patch of primroses. She remembered thinking she heard a child’s laughter, but no one was about. Maybe, if she could get to the faerie mound, the Fae would help once again.
She might persuade her uncle to let her go for a walk, provided she had an escort. Knowing him, though, the escort would consist of several well-armed soldiers trailing after her. She couldn’t very well talk to faeries—or even try to summon them—with her uncle’s men watching her. She thought about the window in her bedchamber. She hadn’t seen any guards posted below it.
Uncle Robert had removed the rope she’d used to escape last time, and he probably didn’t think she’d chance climbing out of a second-story window without one. Her thoughts turned to the wardrobe. There were plenty of gowns in it that had sleeves that could be tied together. The bed sheets would work, too. She began to smile. Once night fell, she would shimmy down to the ground and pay a visit to the faerie mound. Legend had it that the Sidhe did come out to romp and play after midnight.
The sound of the gong in the foyer brought her out of reverie. She heard the sound of low, rumbling voices and wondered if the earl was at the door again. Silas had only called on her once, and she’d pleaded a headache and cut the visit as short as she could. He hadn’t seemed to care that much. He’d smirked and made some snide remark about getting to know her much, much better once she was his wife. But Silas’s father was more determined. He probably wanted to make sure Uncle Robert didn’t change his mind about the increased amount of the dowry offered after Inis’s rude behavior of running away.
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