He hesitated, took a breath, and said, “That man was your uncle, and his cargo was your wheat.”
His words were so unexpected that Lucy couldn’t think for a moment, and then relief coursed through her. She had completely forgotten about the wheat, and had she thought of it, she would have come up with a hundred excuses to defend his actions. She could no longer reconcile her previous conclusions of his character with the man she had come to know. She’d be more inclined to think Stephen had fabricated the story than to believe Derek would intentionally take what was hers for profit.
“Did it fetch a good price?” she asked lightly, fortified by the temporary reprieve from the heartbreaking news she feared. If Derek didn’t announce his departure today, then that was one more day he would be with her. Nothing else mattered.
He tipped up her chin to look into her eyes. “You’re not angry with me? I put my share of the profits into your account, but still, it should have been your decision.”
She shook her head, unable to speak for a moment for fear of weeping, and then said softly, “No, I’m not angry with you. My uncle had already taken the wheat; you had no part in that. If I had to choose another person who would profit, I would choose you.”
“Lucy…”
She gasped at the tenderness he folded into that one word and tears sprang to her eyes. Derek brushed a finger across her lashes, causing the tears to spill. He clasped her to him and when he spoke, his voice was thick with the emotion she’d seen in his eyes.
“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you, but whatever it is, I want to go on doing it for the rest of my life.”
Lucy caught her breath at the words that held such promise, and she wished she had the courage to ask him his plans. She knew he would tell her the truth, but she was so terrified of his answer, she couldn’t bring herself to ask. He would tell her when he was ready, just as she would tell him about losing the baby when she was ready—if he asked her to return with him. Otherwise, there would be no point.
*****
Breakfast had been long and leisurely, but Lucy said she had tenants to call on, and Derek looked forward to driving her. First, though, he wanted to pen that quick note to Stephen. He shuffled the items sitting atop Lucy’s writing desk, finding a pen and ink but no paper.
“What are you looking for?” Lucy asked as she finished lacing her slipper.
“Paper. I have business to settle with Stephen, but I can’t seem to force myself into Town. I’m hoping he’ll be amenable to visiting me here.”
“Check the drawer. There should be paper inside.”
A quick search revealed a few sheets of stationery, and Derek took one. As he lifted it from the drawer, something oddly familiar caught his eye. He moved a paper to uncover the rest of Stephen’s calling card. He stared at it, trying to remember a time when Stephen had presented it to Lucy.
He looked up at Lucy. “Where did this come from?” he asked, holding up the card.
Lucy started toward him, eyes squinted on the object he held out. Her face began to draw color.
“Stephen left it when he came to call, just before you returned. I meant to tell you.”
“Stephen?”
“H-he insisted I call him by his given name. As he said, he’s as close to you as a brother.”
The seed of jealousy that Derek felt the moment he saw Stephen’s card tucked away in a private place seemed to sprout and spread as quickly as Lucy’s blush, and just as quickly he squelched it. He started to put the card away but noticed writing on the back of it, recognizing at once directions from Stonecrest to Stephen’s house in London. “Were you planning to visit him?” His voice sounded odd, even to him.
Lucy laughed, a bit shakily. “No, he was just being kind, giving me directions should I need to send a messenger, in case I worried about your return.”
She started toward him. “Derek, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
Derek shoved the card back into the drawer, his action uncovering another piece of Lucy’s stationery. Stephen’s name was written on it. Picking up the sheet, he read aloud, “Dear Stephen, Derek has returned,” which was all the unfinished note said. He looked up at Lucy with a questioning lift of his brow, trying to remain calm even as his heart began to pound.
“I-I promised him I would write to let him know when you returned, but as you see, I never finished the note.”
“Why would you do that? Didn’t you expect me to get in touch with him?” He knew something wasn’t quite right—Lucy was too nervous—but he refused to give in to the suspicion that she may have been unfaithful to him. He had promised himself, and Lucy, even if she didn’t know it, that he wouldn’t let jealousy do his thinking for him. Still, he couldn’t help himself as he scanned the drawer for other evidence.
His eyes lit on another note, with scrawled handwriting that could be Stephen’s if he’d written it in a hurry, and Derek pulled out the note. It was wrapped around a packet of seeds or herbs.
“Derek, don’t! Please, let me explain.” Lucy’s face was stark with fear, and Derek felt driven to read the message.
Confusion, shock, and then rage, almost blinding in its fury, swept through Derek. He was reading instructions for getting rid of an unborn child. His child. He could hardly believe what he was seeing, but the proof was burning its presence into his fingers.
Lucy hadn’t suffered a miscarriage, as the midwife had said. She had caused it. He turned to fully face her, note in hand. “Exactly what did you want to tell me? That you killed my child?”
Lucy’s hand flew to her heart. “No! I had a miscarriage. I didn’t tell you because—”
“Ah, yes, a miscarriage. That’s what the midwife told me, but I can see she didn’t have all the facts.”
“No, it’s not like that. I d-did miscarry, but not because of that. I wanted the baby, Derek; I truly did, at least after I recovered from the shock. Mrs. Sutton said it happens sometimes—”
“Did she?” Derek asked, his clipped voice as hard as steel. “Then would you explain why these herbs are in your drawer?”
“You can’t think… you must know I could never… Bridget gave that to me. She thought I was unhappy about the baby, but you can’t think…”
Derek stood completely still, his pulse roaring in his ears, as he forced himself to take an even breath. The blush of color on Lucy’s face was gone, leaving her deathly pale. Would an innocent woman behave this way, be so afraid, look so guilty?
“I don’t know what to think. I hardly know you, do I? Secret notes to another man, directions to his house, and now this.” He grit his teeth as he stared at the offensive herbs, trying to force himself to think logically, but found he could not. He hurled the packet at the wall and then grabbed the notes and card out of Lucy’s drawer. “You won’t mind if I borrow these,” he said as he stuffed them into his pocket. “They may come in handy when I talk to Stephen.”
He spun on his heel, finally giving in to the suspicion that shouted out at him. She was alerting Stephen to his return, and he could think of only one reason why she would do such a thing. The venomous hand of jealousy squeezed his heart when he realized the midwife had not said how far along Lucy had been. Before he could put voice to his thought, a soft knock sounded at the door.
“Come,” Derek barked, and the door opened hesitantly. A flustered Bridget took one step into the room. Under Derek’s vehement stare, she dropped her gaze.
“I have a message for Lady Louisa, and the man said he was to wait for an answer.”
Derek was beside her in three long strides, and he snatched up the note, ripping it open. His eyes raked the paper, and then he lifted his gaze to meet Lucy’s, leveling her with a murderous glare. “Was it even my baby, Lucy? Or was Stephen waiting on your doorstep the moment I sailed?”
Lucy gasped and stumbled toward him. “Derek, please, you’re making a mistake.”
“Am I?” He waved the note in her face. “It seems St
ephen is worried sick about you, so worried that if he doesn’t hear from you immediately, he’ll go mad. We wouldn’t want that to happen, would we?” Derek added, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But don’t worry, love. I’ll let him know you’re fine, right before I make him rue the day he was born.” He turned and strode from the room.
“Derek, no! You’re making a terrible mistake!” Lucy ran after him as he stomped down the hall toward the staircase. “Stephen has nothing to do with any of this.”
“I guess we’ll see what Stephen has to say about that, won’t we,” he said over his shoulder. “Oh, and don’t wait dinner for me, sweetheart. I won’t be back.”
Chapter 32
Paralyzing fear rushed through Lucy as Derek bounded down the stairs two at a time.
I won’t be back. The words echoed in her brain, growing louder with each imagined iteration. What had just happened? Only moments ago, they’d been friends, lovers, and now…
I won’t be back. The words left a hollow ache in her chest, an ache that grew stronger with each breath until it was almost impossible to take another. Desolation, so deep she feared she would drown in it, washed over her.
How had she let this happen? It was the baby she had thought to keep a secret until she knew Derek’s plans. But the miscarriage? Why didn’t she tell him right away? Was it embarrassment, pride, or simply that she didn’t want him to know how much she cared?
Keeping silent had been foolish. If she’d told him, none of this would be happening. She as much as lied to him by her sin of omission, and now he was leaving her because of it.
Grief tangled with regret. The whole mess was her fault and she would fix it. She’d ride after him, demand he listen.
“M’lady, can I do something fer you?” Bridget stood inside the door, looking ready to cry.
“No, no, everything is fine. Go about your business, Bridget. Everything is fine.”
Before the girl could say a word, Lucy raced past her, down the hall and down the stairs, intent on saddling Ahote immediately. She barely noticed passing her aunt.
“Lucy! What on earth is going on?” Eleanor asked. “The captain just swept through the kitchen like a thundercloud, and by the time I got outside, he was halfway down the lane.”
“Oh, everything is in a horrible mess. He found the herbs and—”
“What herbs?” Eleanor asked, furrowing her brow.
“Oh… I-I didn’t tell you because it didn’t seem important at the time, but now…” Lucy’s voice broke and she feared she would burst into tears.
“Darling, what in the world…”
Sturgeon cleared his throat from a few feet away. “Lady Callister, the Duchess of Dorrington is here to see you and Lady Louisa. I’ve put her in the drawing room. Shall I ring for tea?”
The two women stared at each other. Eleanor’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open.
“Darling, perhaps I should speak with her first,” Eleanor said quickly. “I did pay her a visit while on my travels and—”
“You know her?” Lucy recalled the old duke who had argued with her father, and was unable to imagine why the duke’s widow would call.
“Yes,” Eleanor said, her voice agitated. “We are acquaintances, anyway. I think I should speak with her pri—”
“Lady Callister!” exclaimed a short, plump woman hurrying toward them. “I hope you’ll forgive me for calling without an invitation, but I’ve been so excited ever since I read your letter, I couldn’t stop myself from getting right in the carriage to pay a visit.” She turned to Lucy, her face aglow with excitement. “This must be my new daughter! Dear Lady Louisa—oh, my goodness, I guess it’s duchess now, isn’t it?” She laughed gaily. “Being the dowager duchess will take some getting used to, but I must say I am absolutely thrilled!”
Lucy was speechless as the duchess gave her an awkward hug and a peck on the cheek. Suddenly remembering her manners, she dropped into a curtsey.
“Goodness gracious. I won’t have that kind of behavior, not from family,” the duchess said, her eyes sparkling with kind amusement, “and besides, Louisa, you are a duchess now and you don’t curtsey to anyone except royalty.” She giggled. “That may not seem like much of a benefit, but at my age, it makes all the difference in the world!”
Lucy gave her aunt a desperate look. Was the woman mad? She was rattling on and on, saying such ridiculous things that Lucy couldn’t understand her. Eleanor’s own desperate look convinced Lucy that the duchess must indeed be a lunatic. However would they get rid of her? With every passing moment, her chances of catching up to Derek dwindled.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am that Jonathan, I mean Derek”—the duchess winked, winked, at Lucy—“has finally married. I was beginning to think he would never settle down, and though I cannot for one moment condone the manner in which he entered the state of matrimony, I am so happy that I shall simply overlook it. However, in case there are any problems with its legality, you shall be married again at Dorrington Hall under your legal names. I know the wedding papers bear his true name—I had the attorney confirm that immediately—but one can never be too certain when it comes to such matters.
“Whatever is wrong, dear?” the duchess asked, staring at Lucy. “You don’t object to taking your vows again, do you? We’ll just make it the immediate family. My daughters Tessa and Gretchen, my son Anthony, and Lady Callister, of course, and was there anyone else you wished to invite?”
“Oh, dear,” said Eleanor. “Oh, dear. I never thought you’d find out this way, Lucy, or I would have told you of my suspicions.”
“Find out?” The duchess gaped. “You mean she didn’t know?” She peered into Lucy’s face. “Exactly which part didn’t you know? That his name isn’t Wainright?”
“His name isn’t Wainright?” Lucy echoed, feeling as though she floated in a dream.
“Why don’t we go to the drawing room where we can discuss this over a cup of tea,” Eleanor said, glancing at the servants who, one by one, had joined them, each involved in some odd task.
“Sturgeon,” she called to the butler who vigorously wiped dust off a wall, “did you ring for tea?” He nodded mutely, his gaze glued to the trio of women while his arm continued to trace circles over the wall.
“I think tea would be lovely. It was a rather long journey,” said the duchess. “And you must have something to eat, Louisa. You are much too thin. If Jonathan has gotten you into the habit of skipping meals the way he often does, I shall just—”
“Who?”
“Jonathan,” the duchess replied with a wave of one hand. “Your husband, my son. Jonathan Derek Wentworth, the Duke of Dorrington, the Marquess of Fulbright, the Earl of… Oh, never mind. We’ll go over all that when we get home.”
“Home?”
“Yes, home. To Dorrington. In Yorkshire.” The duchess squinted her eyes at Eleanor. “Is she quite all right?” she asked. “This conversation is very strange, indeed.” She switched her gaze to Eleanor’s maid, Mary, who rubbed a non-existent blemish on the floor. Mary, slack-jawed, stared back at the duchess.
“Duchess,” said Lucy slowly, her mind finally working, “why is your son using another name?”
“Oh, please, call me Mother,” the duchess said with a smile. “As to Jonathan’s pranks, I have no idea, and that is what I intend to ask him. It is unlike Jonathan to do something so adventurous, though he was quite adventurous as a boy, and I suppose he was adventurous in America. One has to be, you know, what with all those savages. But he’s been in England for almost two years now, and he hasn’t been wild at all. He worked night and day, but perhaps that is exactly why he’s doing this. He is getting it all out at once. One can always hope for that, can’t one?”
“Darling, let us all go into the drawing room and have a cup of tea while we talk this over,” Eleanor said again.
Lucy stared at her aunt. “You knew?”
Eleanor switched her gaze to the duchess and back to Lucy, looking ashame
d. “Guessed, my dear. I’d met Jonathan, your Derek, when he was young. He was just as compelling then. I’d wanted to know for sure before I said anything. I should have said something, but I thought I could be wrong. I am so sorry.”
Lucy shook her head, thinking of the supreme irony of her plan to catch up to Derek to explain everything to him. She’d been running after him to apologize, to beg his forgiveness for keeping her miscarriage a secret, when all along, everything about him had been a lie, purposeful and planned. She kept a secret because of her emotions, because she couldn’t bring herself to talk about her miscarriage, while he hid truths and lied about everything in his life for no apparent reason at all. He had deceived her, not just covertly by hiding the truth, but overtly, by lying boldly when it suited his purpose.
She had fallen in love with him. She had pledged her life to him. She’d even been willing to forsake England for him. She was such a fool.
He, on the other hand, was a despicable, lying cad, and she was going to make sure that he knew that she knew it.
*****
Derek hadn’t been riding half an hour when he realized jealousy had claimed him yet again. There was no other explanation for his behavior. Now that he had calmed down, he was able to think logically.
He had acted unreasonably and unfairly.
Had he suspected a business associate of duplicity, he would have waited for a full explanation before passing judgment, but with Lucy, he’d gone off in a rage without letting her explain. It didn’t matter whether or not he could see a logical explanation for the items in her drawer. He had told himself he wouldn’t jump to conclusions again, that he would always give her the benefit of the doubt. Yet he’d walked out while she was still proclaiming her innocence, begging him to let her explain.
He scowled and pulled on his reins to slow his horse. The only thing he knew for certain was that she kept her pregnancy and miscarriage from him. Considering their relationship before his trip and everything he was keeping from her, he had no right to complain about that. The question was, did she cause the miscarriage by taking the herbs as he accused her of doing?
Duke Of Deception (Wentworth Trilogy) Page 28