“I seriously doubt that,” Carlton murmured. But he set the glass to his lips and did as his friend suggested anyway. “Hedgewick deserves my wrath. I can’t let him get away with what he did, not even for her.”
Blayne sighed and let his bulk fall into one of the chairs. “Why didn’t you tell her the truth?”
“What? That her father’s a murderer who deserves to be hung in the street? That he got away with a crime that destroyed my life?” When Blayne just held his gaze with unwavering steadiness, Carlton asked, “What good would that possibly do?”
Blayne shrugged and sipped his drink while Carlton tossed back the remainder of his. “It could have helped her understand your motivation.”
“To what end?” Carlton set his glass aside and stared at the last remains of brandy still clinging to the edges. “Even if she understands and chooses to take my side, we still can’t have a future together. Not when I’m going to end up in prison. Or worse, at the end of a rope.”
“And you didn’t want to cause her that kind of pain.” Not a question, but a clear observation.
Carlton raked his fingers through his hair. “No. I can’t.”
“So then what you’re doing now, letting her think you don’t care about her at all, that’s better?”
“It gives her a chance to put me behind her so she can move on.”
Blayne was quiet for a while, and then he said, “You do realize that you love her. Right?”
Carlton gave him a quelling look. “Do I look like an idiot to you? Of course I love her. That’s the whole bloody point!”
“Right. So now what?”
Recalling the desperation in Regina’s eyes when she’d told him that he was wrong about Hedgewick, made his blood feel like sludge. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her and yet he’d managed to do so anyway. Because she had no idea how he felt. She didn’t know he was only pushing her away in order to protect her from what was to come. His nerves tightened, partly in anguish and partly in anticipation.
To not think about her was hard, but he made the effort anyway and deliberately focused on what Blayne had asked. “We get the men ready and prepare ourselves for the earl’s arrival.”
“Will you tell me how you ended up there?” Marcus asked as soon as he’d gotten Regina into a hackney and taken the seat across from her. He didn’t sound angry, but rather curious and eager to understand her.
“After speaking with Stokes, I knew it was up to me to prevent an unhappy union between us.” She glanced out the window, at other carriages and at the pedestrians. Everything looked so normal, as if nothing had changed. But for Regina, the world she’d once known had vanished and another had taken its place. “So I ran. That morning shortly before the maids began preparing the dining room for breakfast, I snuck out of the house and just…” She made a sweeping motion with her hand.
“You could have come to me,” Marcus said. “I would have helped you if you’d asked.”
She nodded and turned away from the window, giving him her full attention. “I know. But you’re Papa’s heir. It would have been wrong of me to make you come with me.”
“You wouldn’t have been making me do any—”
“And if you’d stayed behind, knowing where I’d gone, chances are Papa would have gotten the truth out of you eventually.”
He shook his head and she regretted how hurt he suddenly looked. “I would never have betrayed you.”
“You’re not a very good liar, Marcus. That’s not a bad thing, but it wouldn’t have helped me in this instance.”
“And yet I still found you.”
“Yes. You did.” She managed a smile even though it was wobbly. “I’ve always admired your tenacity. I just…this changes nothing. Papa will find someone else for me to marry now.”
“I’m not so certain about that.”
Regina frowned. “What do you mean?”
He pursed his lips and then said, “I think he was hell bent on Stokes because he’ll be the Duke of Windham one day.”
“Of course that’s the reason. We already know that he—”
“No. You’re mistaking my point, Regina.” Marcus leaned slightly forward and held her gaze. “He didn’t just want you to marry a future duke. He wanted you to marry that future duke, because of the history he had with his predecessor.”
“Were they friends or something?”
Marcus nodded. “Until Windham had an affair with Mama.”
Shock zigzagged through Regina. “Mama and the last Duke of Windham?” It sounded preposterous. Her mother just wasn’t the type. She was far too quiet and demure. Too proper. She wasn’t at all the sort of woman who’d sneak about behind her husband’s back. The idea of it was one that Regina’s brain was intent on rejecting.
“I recently found some letters.” Marcus snorted and folded his arms. “Evidence, I suppose, that Papa compiled at the time and never got rid of.”
Regina frowned, her mind whirling with possibilities. “Were they dated?”
“Yes. They span a few years. The most recent one was written in 1800.” He stretched out his long and slender legs. “I’ve thought on this a great deal this past week. It didn’t make sense to me that Papa would want to attach the family to a name and title he must surely loathe. Until I considered the possibility that installing you as the future duchess was his way of making peace with the past – of seeking some sort of revenge on the man who cuckolded him long ago.”
“That sounds really twisted,” Regina muttered.
“Agreed. But it does explain his dogged insistence on Stokes and his unwillingness to heed your wishes.”
Regina’s mouth had gone dry, making it hard for her to form words, so she chose to stay silent while pondering this new information. It didn’t have anything to do with the deep resentment Carlton harbored for Hedgewick, which had to be based on something else entirely. One thing the two incidents did have in common, however, was their ability to show her that nothing was as it seemed. And she was now very determined to find out the truth.
But she realized that asking questions and digging into her father’s past would have to wait when she stepped through the door of Hedgewick House a short while later.
“Lady Regina,” the butler exclaimed so loud it took but a moment before her father arrived in the foyer. He’d been in his study not too far away and was now staring at her as if not quite sure he could trust his own eyes.
“Where have you been?” he eventually asked in a voice that suggested he’d soon lose his temper.
Regina shot her brother a pleading look, and he responded with an apologetic one of his own. “I found her in St. Giles,” Marcus said.
Regina groaned. She would have to reconsider giving her brother a gift for Christmas. Although, to be fair, their father deserved to know what had happened however unwilling Regina was to share the information.
“St. Giles?” Hedgewick spat the word as if it tasted sour. “How on earth did you end up there?”
“I believe I turned left onto Oxford Street, took a right and…I’m not sure after that. It’s a bit of a blur.”
The color in Hedgewick’s cheeks turned crimson. “Do you have any idea of the upheaval you have caused? Your mother had no choice but leave the country under the pretense that you had gone with her. Thank God she likes Paris or I’d never hear the end of it.” He narrowed his gaze when Regina smiled. “It amuses you, does it? I’ve been hounding Bow Street every day since you disappeared, ordering them about and insisting they come up with some hint of what might have happened to you.” His expression softened as he sighed. “I was worried about you, Regina. We all were.”
Stepping forward, she embraced her father and pressed her cheek to his chest. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t go through with that marriage.”
There was a pause, and then his hand settled gently against her back. It lasted but a second, but it was enough to inform her that she’d been forgiven and that things would turn out all right. Or at least th
at was what she thought until Hedgewick said, “St. Giles is not the sort of place I would ever want my daughter to visit. The fact that you stayed there for nearly a month gives me chills.” He eased her away and met her gaze for a long solid moment before directing his attention back to Marcus. “Tell me exactly where you found her. I want to know who sent me those letters.”
“It was—”
“Nobody,” Regina interrupted. She clasped her hands together and fought the tremor that shook her. “I…I mean, I believe someone must have recognized me and taken advantage. I’ve no idea what—”
“You’ve always been honest with me.” Hedgewick spoke slowly while studying her closely. “But now you’re lying. To protect someone, it would seem.” His mouth flattened and a pair of tight brackets appeared on either side. “The letters made me think you’d been kidnapped and held against your will, but that’s not it at all, is it? You fell for a no good mutt, didn’t you? Whoever he was, he was honest when he wrote you’d find comfort with him in his bed. Dear merciful God, I thought he was lying – I prayed that he was – but it’s worse than that, isn’t it? You gave him your innocence, didn’t you?”
His sudden roar of anger startled Regina so much she shrank back and reached out for Marcus to steady her. Uncharacteristic rage burned in Hedgewick’s eyes, causing her heart to flutter in panic. “No. I didn’t,” she gasped. “I swear it.”
Hedgewick moved toward her and leaned in close. “Tell me who sent those letters, Regina. Whoever it was did not wish you well.”
His comment made sense. The letters Carlton had written had not been with her best interest in mind. She’d been used as a weapon in some strange attack on her father, though the reason for it still puzzled her. And while it hurt, a part of her resisted the urge to give in to anger and pain. For although facts and words ought to make her despise Carlton for what he’d done, her heart urged her to think of the man she’d gotten to know – the man who’d held her in his arms and made her feel safe and cherished. It seemed impossible to her that he’d only pretended to care.
“I’m sorry, Regina, but he did say that I should let Papa know who he was.” And then, before Regina could think of some way to stop him, her brother said, “Carlton Guthrie sent the letters.”
“No.” Regina jerked her head around and stared into her brother’s eyes. Her own started pooling with tears. She could not move, let alone speak. All she could do was stand there, mute and motionless.
“You little fool,” Hedgewick hissed, his lip curling with disgust. “You ran away from Stokes so you could take up with a villainous scoundrel?” He stared at her as if he scarcely knew who she was anymore. “I ought to have you whipped,” he sputtered. “God damn you, Regina! Did you plan this whole thing? Were you secretly sneaking around with Carlton Guthrie when you said you were out visiting friends?”
“No. I only just met him. I—”
“Only just met him and already smitten,” Hedgewick sneered. “What exactly did he do to make you forget where your loyalty lies? Did he put his hands up your skirts and—”
“That’s enough,” Marcus shouted.
Hedgewick seethed. “Yes. It sure as hell is.” He glared at her. “Go upstairs this instant and stay in your room. We’ll finish this conversation when I return.” Without saying another word, he pushed Regina aside and headed toward the front door.
“He’ll kill him,” she managed to say, her voice so weak she sounded as if she was using her dying breath.
“I won’t let that happen,” Marcus assured her. Uncertainty marred his handsome features. “I’m sorry, Regina, but we need to figure out what’s going on. Perhaps when Papa confronts Guthrie, something will be revealed, and we’ll know why he’s seeking revenge.”
He turned away, intent on following their father. Regina made a desperate grab for his sleeve. “He’s not the villain you think him to be, Marcus. In spite of everything, he’s a good man, a noble man who protects those who cannot protect themselves. He saved my life, Marcus. You mustn’t go after him. Please!”
“I’m sorry.” He tugged himself free and looked down at her with sympathy. “It’s clear that your judgment has been clouded where he is concerned. Which is only natural if he treated you well and pretended you mattered to him. But I’m not sure you did. The letters he sent us clearly suggest otherwise, as does the fact that he chose not to send me the letter you wrote. And as far as saving your life goes… I know that marrying Stokes would have been a terrible fate for you, but it wouldn’t have killed you, Regina. You would have found a way to live with it somehow.”
“That’s not what I mean!”
“I have to go now, if I’m to catch Papa. Get some rest and try not to worry. Everything will work out fine.”
He was gone before she had a chance to stop him. “You don’t understand,” she muttered as she stared at the closed front door. Her cheeks felt damp and when she touched her fingertips to them she realized she was crying. “I wasn’t talking about Stokes. I was talking about something much worse than that.”
“Perhaps you would like a hot bath?” the butler inquired. “Or something to eat?”
He must have overheard everything, Regina realized. She closed her eyes, not out of shame but because she wanted to block out the world for just one second. Hedgewick was going after Carlton. He had Marcus with him and the pair would probably stop by Bow Street on their way. Hell was about to break loose at The Black Swan; she’d seen the furious determination in Hedgewick’s eyes. And although Regina knew that her father would never stand a chance if he took on Carlton alone, she worried the odds would be in his favor if there was a team of runners to help him do it.
She had to warn Carlton. She had to go back to The Black Swan and tell him what to expect. “No thank you,” she told the butler. “I’m going out.”
“What?” the butler’s startled question accompanied her opening of the door. “That isn’t wise, my lady. It’s late and unsafe. Your father explicitly said that you were to stay in your room. Please. You cannot simply—”
She failed to hear the last of his words as she ran down the street, not caring if anyone saw her. Making a scene or causing a scandal was the last thing that concerned her. What mattered right now was saving Carlton from whatever her father was planning. It was the least she could do after everything he’d done for her. It was also what she had to do, because of how much she loved him.
Empty.
That was how he felt.
Like his body had been hollowed out and all that remained was an empty shell. It didn’t matter that there were still men in the taproom enjoying their ale, or that MacNeil and Claus had engaged him in cards after Regina left with her brother. Carlton felt her absence acutely and when he eventually dared venture upstairs again to his parlor, the loneliness he found there echoed through his veins.
Visions of her were everywhere—on the yellow velvet sofa taking a nap, in the armchair working on some mending, crouched on the floor as she studied his books. He could see her with his cat in his lap, sipping sherry while she told him what her dream life would be like.
He crossed to the book case and pulled down those scandalous books she’d been studying. His fingers brushed over the covers where hers had been. A smile pulled at his lips. She’d been mortified when he’d addressed her curiosity pertaining to lovemaking. Flames had brightened her cheeks, and yet she hadn’t shied away from his questions.
He put the books back and removed his jacket. Crossing to the bedroom, he paused to consider the bed. She’d lain there, her hair fanned out on the pillow while he watched her sleep. This was where she’d comforted him when the past had tormented his dreams. It was also where they’d been intimate and where his feelings for her had expanded tenfold on account of her eager response to his touch.
Aching inside as if someone had parted his ribs and extracted his heart, he turned away and went to the wardrobe. But as he returned his blue jacket, he spotted the purple one that she had
worked on. His fingers strayed to the button she’d sewn back on and the muscles in his arms and back shuddered.
She was gone and he missed her like she was a part of him that had been severed and thrown away. The pain in her eyes when they’d parted was something he’d never forget. It would haunt him forever. But it had been necessary. Hurting her was the only way he could think of to make her leave and stay away.
He took a deep breath and held it a moment before letting it go. He’d always known her visit with him would be temporary. And yet he’d allowed himself to get carried away, absorbed and distracted by the fantasy she’d offered of the perfect life that would never be his. Fool that he was, he’d lost his heart in the process. Ironically, he hadn’t known he still had one until it had been too late.
Carlton rolled up his shirt sleeves and closed the wardrobe. A fight was coming and when it arrived, he meant to be ready. The pistols he kept in his study had both been prepared and were now placed securely inside his trouser pockets. His men had been told what they could expect. The only thing that remained now was for Hedgewick to show up.
Footsteps, too light to be MacNeil’s, sounded in the parlor. Carlton placed one hand on one of his pistols and went to the connecting door. And froze. Because damn it if the woman who’d just been occupying his every thought wasn’t standing before him once more.
“How the—”
“I took a hackney and came as quick as I could.” She frowned. “MacNeil is paying the driver right now and…Carlton…I…”
The tips of his fingers started to itch with the need to touch her. Instead he gave her his best scowl. “Ye’re not supposed to be here.”
Her eyes held his with fierce determination. “They’re coming for you,” she said as she took a step closer to where he stood completely immobile. If he moved he’d likely do something rash, like sweep her off her feet and toss her onto the bed. It wouldn’t matter if the whole English army barged through the door. He’d claim her anyway and hang the consequences.
The Forgotten Duke Page 23