My Dearest Friend (Books We Love Regency Romance)

by Hazel Statham

  Now I must thank you, you have done everything that is right. I cannot tell you the service you have done me. Go and get some nourishment whilst I write the draft and you must return to London at first light. I will follow in your wake and arrive shortly after you. Find out what you can and report to me in two days’ time but, should you have need of me during that time, I will be at Blake House.”

  “That I will, sir,” said Proctor, rising and leaving the room.

  ***

  Now what new coil is this, thought the duke, taking pen and paper and quickly writing the banker’s draft with instructions that Proctor should be paid. If she had meant to abscond with Darrows, surely she would have gone straight to him and not to her aunt. At least with a relative she would be safe, but why the need for secrecy and such a large amount of cash, what need had she for money? Then a thought struck him. Unless of course, she wishes to leave me and set up her own establishment. That could prove a distinct possibility and I have certainly given her cause, but I will not relinquish her that easily. By all that’s sacred I will not. The law decrees that she is my wife and no matter what the reasoning behind her flight, that fact remains irrefutable!

  Chapter Fourteen

  Proctor stood before the duke in his library at Blake House, the duke standing with his back to the hearth showing no signs of the disquiet that had so recently raged within his breast. “Well?” he demanded. “What news of my wife?”

  “She appears well, your grace,” replied Proctor.

  The duke let out his breath. “Thank God! And the money?”

  “I took the draft to your bank as instructed and gave the money to her grace yesterday,” informed Proctor.

  “And?” prompted the duke impatiently. “What now?”

  Proctor indicated the leather satchel he held under his arm. “I have been directed to take it to Mr. Darrows, at his town house.”

  “She sends him money? Why the deuce should she send him money?”

  “The reasons are not mine to tell, sir. They do not involve her grace alone.”

  “Out with it man. I care not whom it involves, I will have the truth,” demanded the duke, impatient to get to the nub of the matter.

  “I believe it to be for the major’s gambling debts, sir.”

  “So, the light dawns,” said the duke, a vast wave of relief washing over him. “I should have guessed as much. What a fool I have been not to have thought of that myself. I thought I had expounded all reasons why she would need the money but, unbelievably, that cause did not cross my mind. Of course, she would think that she could not come to me to salvage Harry. Am I to believe that Darrows has been fleecing him?”

  “It would appear so, sir, and is now calling in his notes.”

  “We shall see about that. What is his direction? I will present him with his winnings, such as they are. You will accompany me, Proctor. Now hand over the money.”

  Proctor gave him the satchel containing the notes and he threw it carelessly onto his desk, the money’s value having no meaning to him. His mind was too occupied with more important issues.

  ***

  Later that evening, the duke’s carriage halted outside Darrows’ residence, but when he instructed Proctor to inquire if his quarry was at home he was informed that Darrows had gone to a club situated near to St James’s. Not to be diverted from his course, he directed Proctor to drive him to the establishment that was frequented by all the aspiring bucks and Corinthians.

  Entering the smoke-filled gaming rooms, he scanned the players for sign of Darrows, but he was not immediately visible amongst the press of tables, each one occupied to its full capacity with ever hopeful gamesters. Deciding that Darrows must have moved on to another establishment, Robert was just about to leave when he perceived him in a small alcove separated from the main room by a curtain that had been momentarily thrust aside by a waiter.

  As he made his leisurely way amongst the tables, several of his acquaintances hailed him and invited him to join their set, many exclaiming at his presence after so long an absence, but he declined all invitations. Amongst those seated near to the alcove was his friend Sir Richard Austin who jumped up from his seat as he saw the duke’s imposing frame approach and hurried forward to grasp his hand.

  “Robert,” he enthused pumping the duke’s hand enthusiastically up and down. “Deuced good to see you after all this time, damn me if it is not. Thought you had rusticated.”

  “Just so,” replied the duke distractedly, disengaging his hand. It would not do to be sidetracked from his purpose. “You must excuse me Rick, but I have an appointment with Darrows who is seated in the alcove.”

  “Whatever do you want with Harwood’s cousin?” asked Sir Richard, thoroughly perplexed. “I would have thought he would have been someone to avoid!”

  The duke snapped around, his attention riveting on his friend. Attempting to digest his words, he took his elbow in a vice-like grip and steered him out of the room, all the while looking for a place where they could be private. Sir Richard protested volubly at being so roughly handled, but Robert remained deaf to his objections. Eventually he espied a small anti chamber just being vacated by a private card party. Ignoring his complaining friend’s protestations he propelled him into the room and thrust him into one of the plush chairs ranging around the table.

  “Have you run mad?” Sir Richard expostulated smoothing his sleeve where the duke had had his grip. “Whatever ails you, Robert?”

  “You said Harwood’s cousin?” demanded the duke standing over him. “I knew not of the connection.”

  “Why should you?” replied Sir Richard. “He has lived abroad for most of his life. Only came over to England to claim the title when young Harwood died.”

  “You never thoroughly explained the incident,” said the duke. “My impression was that he had died in a general brawl in a gaming house.”

  “Of course, I forgot, you would not know,” replied an enlightened Sir Richard. “You had locked yourself away from society on your estates and then it was reported that you had left the country. The young fool, even though you returned all to him, continued at the gaming tables. Couldn’t keep away. Others were not as generous as you and when he finally found himself completely out of funds he issued notes of hand he knew he could not cover. One night, when in his cups, he accused Lord Branchester of cheating and of course, my lord found it necessary to call him out. Had no other choice, y’see. Y’know Branchester’s as straight as a dye; he’d no more cheat than you.”

  “I don’t understand, I thought you said it happened in a hell?”

  “And so it did. Branchester insisted the matter be dealt with immediately. Both were in their cups and no one could dissuade them from acting there and then. Branchester was the better shot; it was as simple as that. Became the talk of society for a while. Harwood’s relatives would have it that it was your fault. That you were the one to set him on the path to ruin. Had you not initiated him in the art of gambling...”

  “I?” Robert expostulated incredulously.

  “Have no fear, it was a non-starter, and no one believed them. For as much as they tried to gather support for the theory, society would have none of it.”

  “Obviously the cousin believed it full well. However, I knew naught of him until he leased my brother-in-law’s house…”

  “Of course—you married,” interrupted Sir Richard, extending his hand and losing all track of the narrative. “Allow me to offer my felicitations.”

  “That’s as it may be,” replied the duke ignoring the outstretched hand. “Now, Rick, I want you to listen to me, I am going to put the case to you and I want you to hear me out. There is more at issue here than you would imagine…”

  ***

  Re-entering the main gaming hall some short while later, Sir Richard kept a close step behind his friend as the duke once more made his way amongst the tables to the alcove. Flinging wide the curtain, he stepped brusquely inside and was gratified to see a look of utte
r bewilderment cross Darrows’ countenance but it took him only a moment to recover.

  “Lear,” he purred as he lounged back in his seat, his long fingers caressing the wine glass that stood on the table before him. “I had not looked for the great pleasure of your company this evening, quite unexpected, but very welcome I do assure you. Won’t you join us?”

  “That is not necessary,” replied the duke silkily, completely ignoring the other two occupants of the room who sat agape. Directing his steely gaze solely at Darrows he took the leather satchel from beneath his arm and threw it onto the table. “I believe you are waiting for this. Never let it be said that my family does not pay its debts.”

  “The money? That’s very civilized of you,” sneered Darrows stretching his hand across the table to retrieve it, but before his fingers could close around the satchel’s handle, the duke took his wrist in a steely grip, rendering the fingers nerveless.

  “That would not be wise,” said the duke, an unpleasant smile curling his lip. “I am well up to your game, I know of your deception and your attempt at revenge for Harwood’s death. I also know full well how you came about laying claim to this money and I assure you it would not be prudent to try to take possession of it. You should have confined your retribution to me and not tried to involve my family.”

  Infuriated, Darrows continued to sneer, “Then perhaps your wife would be so good as to furnish me with the blunt. I had expected her to bring it to me, along with herself, which I assure you, she had promised to do. A much more satisfactory arrangement, I think. Don’t you agree?”

  Quite coldly, the duke relinquished his grip and leaning across the table took hold of a full wineglass and dashed the contents into Darrows’ face.

  “You will meet me for this, Lear,” expostulated Darrows throwing back his chair to stand facing his antagonist, the wine soaking into his starched white neckcloth and shirt front.

  “That is my exact intention,” smiled the duke, at his most unpleasant, completely in control of the situation and dusting his hands as if to rid himself of something distasteful. “This time I believe it should be pistols. They give a cleaner and more instant result than our last encounter. Shall we say Ashley Barn at first light?”

  “Certainly!”

  “Then I wish you a good evening. I have achieved what I came to do,” and throwing wide the curtain, the duke made his exit, striding from the building with Sir Richard at his side.

  Gaining the pavement outside the club, he turned to his companion. “You will act for me of course, Rick?”

  “Without a doubt,” replied Sir Richard enthusiastically. “Wouldn’t miss this for a king’s ransom,” and then thrusting the satchel at the duke, “You left this on the table.”

  “I had forgotten about it,” smiled the duke, taking it from his hands. “It’s not important. I have something of far more value now.”

  “Which is?”

  “Enlightenment, my dear Rick! Enlightenment! Now off with you to bed, you call for me at five.”

  “Do I? Oh yes, I must,” and so saying Sir Richard set out in the direction of his rooms.

  Proctor, having brought the carriage to the side of the pavement, jumped down from the box and held the door open for his employer. “Is it settled, sir?” he asked.

  “I meet Darrows at dawn,” replied the duke stepping into the coach and leaning back against the velvet squabs. “I am sure I need not say—not a word to my wife.”

  “You may be assured of that, sir.”

  “By-the-bye, Proctor, it may be somewhat unconventional, but would you act as one of my seconds?”

  “I would be honored, sir,” said Proctor bowing briefly before closing the door and climbing back onto the box.

  ***

  Arriving at Ashley Barn, a ramshackle building set in a small coppice on the outskirts of London, the duke was surprised to see no sign of Darrows and knew a moment of disappointment. Taking a flat rosewood case from the seat beside him, he jumped nimbly down from his curricle, and called to Proctor, who had ridden to the scene, to take the horses out of sight saying, “I don’t want them taking a start when shots are fired.”

  Dismounting, Proctor leapt up into the curricle and took it to the other side of the coppice, to tether them outside earshot.

  Sir Richard dismounted and sauntered over to the duke’s side. “We’re early,” he said, snapping open his pocket watch. “It is but a quarter to the hour, shall we wait inside the building, there is a slight chill to the air?”

  “You can if you wish,” replied the duke, “but I remain here.”

  Taking the two riding horses, Sir Richard led them into the barn, just as Proctor returned from his task.

  “Take the pistols to Sir Richard,” ordered the duke passing the case to him.

  As Proctor disappeared into the barn, a curricle and pair came into sight followed by two men on horseback. Halting a short distance away, Darrows jumped down and handed the reins to his groom.

  “So, you come alone,” he scorned, coming to stand menacingly before the duke. “That would suit my purpose admirably.”

  “Not entirely alone,” replied Sir Richard sauntering to join the group and standing at his friend’s side. “Everything is as it should be.”

  “Pity,” sneered Darrows, then returning his mocking gaze to the duke, “You say nothing Lear?”

  “There is nothing to be said,” replied the duke coldly. “I would not waste my breath on you.”

  Then as Proctor came forward Darrows feigned mocking disbelief. “What, you would have a servant act for you?”

  “That servant knows more about loyalty than any of your so called friends,” replied the duke, throwing a scornful glance at the two dandies waiting to act for Darrows. “I would not wish details of the duel to be broadcast, therefore I choose wisely.”

  “I can assure you that details of the duel will become common knowledge,” scoffed Darrows, “just as soon as your lovely wife becomes my mistress, as she so eagerly promises. Indeed, are you sure that she is not already my mistress? You must know you have become tiresome to her and she seeks pleasure elsewhere. Why else should she come to London? She could have sent the money to me.”

  Involuntarily the duke’s hands clenched into fists at his side and he would have started forward, but in that instant Sir Richard brought the pistols for inspection, giving Darrows first choice.

  “Now, gentlemen,” he said taking the role of referee “I want you to each take ten paces and on my command turn and fire. Should one opponent fire before the given signal, if he misses his target, he must stand and let the other discharge his weapon without defense, however if he kills his man then he will be shot. Do you both agree to the terms?” Both nodded in agreement and fastened their coats across their chest so that the white of their shirt should not provide their opponent with an easy target.

  “Then, gentlemen, I will begin the count.”

  Each antagonist paced out the ground, turning on the count of ten to stand sideways to face his opponent. On the command to fire, they simultaneously raised their arms that were seen to jerk with the recoil of the weapons. The first ball whined past the duke’s face scorching his cheek, the other found its mark in Darrows’ chest and he pitched heavily forward. Almost immediately, a third shot rang out and the duke turned sharply in time to see Proctor drop his arm after discharging a shot and one of Darrows’ seconds sink to his knees grasping his wrist, a cocked pistol on the ground before him. “Thank you,” he said simply.

  Proctor nodded briefly in response and strode forward to retrieve the discarded weapon.

  Sir Richard hurried toward Darrows’ recumbent figure, turning him over the better to examine him.

  “Dead?” enquired the duke coldly, as he replaced the pistol in its case. Sir Richard nodded and an unpleasant smile flitted across the duke’s countenance. His green eyes remained as flint, giving no indication as to what extent Darrows’ last words had seared his very soul.

&nb
sp; He would have taken a bullet rather than hear those words. He knew in his heart that they were untrue, but nevertheless they cut through him like a knife. The mere fact that Darrows had uttered such malicious lies concerning his wife created in him a torment that would be difficult to quell.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jane sat at the escritoire set before the large bow window in her aunt’s drawing room. She had been composing a letter to Harry assuring him that his debt had been discharged, that Proctor had taken the money to Darrows, but explaining that she wished to remain in London a while longer. However, half way through the missive she found it necessary to call a halt to her writing and wipe away the tears that would roll down her cheeks and drop relentlessly onto the letter, rendering her words illegible.

  She would have given anything to be back at Stovely, for life to be returned to how it was so short a while ago. So few weeks, in which the unthinkable had happened, she had lost her husband’s love. She had felt safe in his devotion, confident that he returned her adoration. But what now? Had she alienated herself from him forever? Thoughts of their last encounter rose to torment her. How did Robert think of her? Did he think of her, or had she given him an irreparable aversion of her? What would have been the outcome if she had only stayed to listen to his pleas instead of being so determined to hurry from his side? Did he think her to have absconded to be with her lover? Would she, by remaining, have changed the course of what now appeared to be her future? She had been used merely as an innocent pawn in Darrows’ nefarious game and she knew not his reasons, only that his actions had served to set her husband against her. She felt the injustice of Robert’s accusations and railed against his mistrust. She had believed their love indomitable, but Darrows had proved her wrong.