Heiress in Love (Ministry of Marriage Novels)
Page 31
The duke paused. “From my observation, these wounds heal much faster when there’s a clean break. Give her a reason to hate you and she’ll get over you soon enough.”
He ought to be in full agreement with Montford about this, yet everything inside him rebelled against it. He’d be damned if he’d attend that ball, torture himself, use some woman to make Jane jealous … and all to make the break easier for her.
He wanted her to suffer, didn’t he? Too soon, she would forget him and marry some other prime candidate, some protégé of Montford’s. Someone suitable.
He struggled against it, but the words slipped out anyway. “I suppose you’ll marry her off to Trent in the end.”
“No, I won’t do that,” said Montford. “I like Trent even less than I like you.”
Constantine gave a humorless laugh. “And the second request?”
“Give up custody of the boy to me.”
“No.” Out of the question. Luke needed him, depended on him. God knew what the duke would do to the lad.
The duke’s brows climbed. “Oh, come now, Roxdale. You cannot possibly wish to be saddled with a six-year-old child.”
“No, I said! I told Lady Roxdale he will visit her often, but Luke belongs at Lazenby Hall. He belongs with me.”
“If you think to use him as some sort of bargaining chip—”
“Do not judge me by your standards, Your Grace,” said Constantine harshly. “We can agree on a schedule of visits here and now, if you like. I won’t need to communicate with Jane at all.”
Another twist of the knife in his chest. He’d thought himself scarred forever by Amanda’s betrayal. The weak inclination he’d felt for her had been as a candle to the sun when compared with his love for Jane.
Love.
Oh, God. It was as if admitting it in his head opened the floodgates to agony greater than any he’d known.
The duke was saying something. He forced himself to listen.
“Did you ever discover who Luke’s father was?”
“No, but I have my suspicions.” He shifted a little. “I suppose, being your omniscient self, you must have heard the rumors that he was mine.”
“I did hear something of that nature, yes. It seemed to explain why your uncle took the boy in.”
“Well, he’s not my son. Though you’re probably right about my uncle. I realize now that he thought Luke was mine and that’s why he provided for him as he did.” The impotent fury threatened to overtake him again. His uncle had gone to his grave believing the worst. There was nothing he could do to change that.
The duke leaned forward. “Ah. Well, now, that is interesting. One wonders whose he is, then?”
Montford accepted his word, just like that? Constantine fought to check a sharp rush of emotion, intense and double-edged. He did not wish to harbor any gratitude toward this man.
He licked his lips. He couldn’t voice the suspicion in his mind. In the end, he had no proof, and he’d achieve nothing by voicing his fears. “I’ve no idea.” He shrugged. “It could easily have been Trent. He was nearby, had ample opportunity, and—”
“He is exactly the sort of fellow who would take advantage of a maid in a gentleman’s house,” added Montford, his up-cut nostrils flaring in disgust.
A novel experience, to have someone take his part over the seemingly angelic Adam Trent.
“I’ve no proof and he would never admit it, so let’s leave it at that.”
“Yes, I think that’s best.” The duke paused, regarding Constantine with a kinder eye than he’d shown him yet. “I see you feel strongly about the boy. But I’m afraid this point is not negotiable. Lady Roxdale wants him. And I think he needs her, too. It would be selfish of you to part them.”
Constantine ran a hand through his hair. Jane would care for Luke, had loved him for years. He himself was a newcomer who might more easily pass from Luke’s life. Montford was right, it would be less wrenching for the lad if he stayed with Jane. But Luke must know he was wanted. That Constantine had not abandoned him, that he had not broken his promise.
At last, he exhaled a long breath. “You’re right. She can take him. But I’ll remain his guardian—nothing can change that. And he will spend every second summer at Lazenby Hall.” He fixed his gaze on Montford’s. “And that’s not negotiable.”
More of a wrench than he’d thought possible to let the boy go. His growing affection for Luke notwithstanding, it felt like the last link between Constantine and Jane had just been efficiently and cleanly severed. That was Montford’s intention, of course.
The duke considered. “That seems reasonable. As long as you agree to have no further contact with Lady Roxdale, I think I can persuade her. Any communication will be made through me, not to Jane.”
Jane. Every time the duke mentioned her name, it was as if giant hands wrung one more drop of pain from Constantine’s soul. Constantine lowered his gaze rather than show Montford his agony.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” The duke drew out a sealed letter and handed it to him. “Frederick wrote to you, explaining all I’ve just told you.”
Automatically, Constantine took the proffered note, running his thumb over the impression of a seal that now belonged to him. Without caring whether Montford went or stayed, Constantine broke the seal and spread the letter open.
The contents blurred before his eyes. God, he was so very, very tired.
But as his vision gained focus, he suddenly felt very alert indeed. This was not just an explanation; it was an admission, of the most serious offense.
I know it was a despicable thing that I did, allowing my father to believe the babe was yours, Constantine. But you were in disgrace already over Amanda. One more mark against you made no difference, whereas I was doomed to a dog’s life at Lazenby if the truth got out.
I convinced myself it was justified, that it might as well have been you as me. But living under the shadow of death as I have these past months, I’ve faced the matter squarely. The responsibility is mine. I should have been man enough to accept it at the time.
Deep inside, he’d known, hadn’t he? Not Trent. Frederick had betrayed him, almost to the very end.
The sheer, bloody effrontery of what his cousin had done took Constantine’s breath away, seemed to sap the very last ounce of his strength.
Silently, he handed Montford the letter. At length, the duke said, “Ah. We have our answer. Well, at least now we’ve no need to fear that Trent will try to claim the child.”
He placed the letter on the table. “I’d keep that somewhere safe, if I were you. You never know when you might need it.”
Constantine barely heard him. He was numb, stricken. Stunned didn’t even begin to describe it. He’d realized that his uncle and perhaps even the rest of his family had believed him guilty of an unforgivable sin. But that Frederick himself had perpetrated such a fraud on them all …
The weight of grief and disillusionment seemed to press down on Constantine’s shoulders until he could barely remain upright. First Jane and now this. His uncle had gone to his grave believing him capable of taking gross advantage of a maid in his house. Had his father heard of it, too? His mother, his sisters, did they all believe this of him? Why shouldn’t they? He’d never tried to right himself in their eyes.
Constantine’s life, which had seemed rich and full of burgeoning promise only a week before, now resembled a vast and cold wasteland.
“I’ll take my leave,” said the duke quietly. “Until tomorrow evening, then.”
Constantine didn’t look up.
There was a long pause. Then Montford said, “I recommend you return to Lazenby on a repairing lease when all this is over. If you don’t mind my saying so, Roxdale, you look like utter hell.”
* * *
“I must win him back.” Jane turned to her cousins. “Rosamund, Cecily, I need your help.”
Jane and Luke had parted from Lady Arden at her door and reached Montford House the previous evening, fatigued an
d dusty from the road. They’d arrived amid a whirl of preparations for the duke’s annual ball.
Jane had slept little, but a restorative bath and sheer nerves kept her alert, her head seething with conjecture and plans.
Rosamund and Cecily exchanged glances. It was Rosamund who spoke. “Darling, we would help you, you know we would, but…” She bit her lip. “He is making you so unhappy. Perhaps it’s best if you let him go.”
Jane shook her head. “You don’t understand! I love him. I must make him see we belong together.”
Rosamund’s jaw dropped a little. Cecily blinked. “This is unexpected, to say the least.”
Jane had no time for doubts. “I know. I know what you must think, but it isn’t like that. He loves me, too, I’m sure of it!” She struck her hands together. “I need to make him understand…”
But the more she considered it, the more hopeless her quest seemed. Was Constantine even now drowning his sorrows in debauchery? She closed her eyes as a sickening wave of pain hit low in her belly.
With an effort, she lifted her chin. “I need you to help me get ready for the ball tomorrow night.”
“You? Go to a ball?” Cecily glanced at Rosamund. “She is in love!”
“Yes, and I’m going to wear the most daring gown I can find!”
Rosamund’s brow was still puckered. “But you’re in mourning.”
Jane set her jaw. “I told Constantine if he was determined to go to the devil, I’d go along with him. We accepted the duke’s invitation weeks ago, so he’ll be here at the ball tomorrow night. But he won’t expect me.”
“I doubt he’ll come, after all that has happened,” said Rosamund. “The duke was furious with him. Lady Arden told me he challenged Constantine to a duel.”
“What?” Jane turned a shocked gaze on Rosamund.
“Nothing came of it. I believe Constantine refused, and Lady Arden made Montford withdraw the challenge. A fight like that would only add fuel to the scandal.” Rosamund seemed to choose her words carefully. “Her ladyship made a remark that took me aback, Jane. She said that for once, His Grace lost his cool demeanor. Why do you think that was?”
Impatient, Jane shook her head. “I have no idea. Perhaps Constantine provoked him. He can be infuriating sometimes.”
“Perhaps,” conceded Rosamund.
Jane paused. “You think he lost his sangfroid out of concern for me?”
Could it possibly be true? That argued a deeper feeling on Montford’s part than Jane had thought possible.
“We’ll help you, won’t we, Rosamund?” Cecily jumped up. “Let’s get our bonnets. We’ll go to Bond Street. There’s not a moment to delay. I’m perfectly ready to assist in outrageous behavior.” She winked at Jane. “Not least because it distracts everyone from what I might get up to.”
That caught Jane’s attention. “You’re not out yet. What can you get up to at a ball?”
Cecily fluttered her thick lashes. “My dear, sweet, innocent Jane. You’d be surprised.”
“Abominable girl!” But Jane smiled, appreciating her cousin’s efforts to entertain her. “You go and make yourselves ready. I must have a word with His Grace.”
* * *
Montford stood by the window of his library, wondering why he felt so ill at ease over the entire business of Constantine Black.
He was right; he knew he was right. Jane was better off without all that suffering and turmoil. And yet …
Ah, he was getting soft in his middle years, was he not? A hardened cynic like him, wishing for a fairy-tale ending? What nonsense.
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling. He’d watched Constantine Black carefully while he’d told him of his newfound wealth. And he’d detected neither jubilation nor relief, but abject disappointment. Despair.
Of course, there was still the matter of Lucas Black. Montford hadn’t been able to get sense out of Jane on the subject; she maintained that it wouldn’t matter who took the boy because she and Constantine would be together again soon.
Montford sighed. When young people fancied themselves in love, they became unpredictable, illogical, and headstrong. Jane had always been so biddable in her youth, it was a novel experience to be obliged to deal with her while she was in the throes of love.
A scratch on the door made him turn to see the object of his thoughts on the threshold. “Jane,” he said. “Come in, come in.”
He led her to a comfortable chair by the fireplace, then took his own seat on the couch. “I have spoken with Roxdale.”
“Yes, I heard,” murmured Jane. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but what possessed you to challenge him to a duel? I would not have credited it!”
What had possessed him? he wondered. Unusually, he found himself without an answer.
“That is none of your concern.”
At seventeen, Jane would have accepted that.
“But it is my concern,” she insisted. “Is it because … is it because you think he has hurt me? My feelings, I mean?”
“This is a most improper conversation. I merely did what any man in my position would do.”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow, but said no more on the subject.
“Your Grace, I wanted to tell you…” Rising, she came to sit on the sofa beside him. To his surprise, she even took his hand. “I wanted to thank you for your care of me, over the years. I’ve been ungrateful.”
Where on earth had this come from? “Not at all.”
“You don’t know. I have been ungrateful, in my heart. Things…” She heaved a sigh. “Things did not go very well between me and Frederick. I blamed you for it. But you couldn’t have known. The fault was his. And mine, for not taking steps to remedy the situation myself.”
The old feeling of helplessness caught him unawares. Not an emotion he dealt with well. He studied their hands. “I sensed you were unhappy, but you would never be brought to speak of it, so I let the matter rest. Good rarely comes of meddling between man and wife.”
“No, there was nothing you could have done,” said Jane. “And I’ve realized … Since undertaking the responsibility of Luke, I’ve realized how difficult it is to know what to do for the best on a child’s behalf. You had six of us to think of, and you were a young man, too, weren’t you, when we came? You’ve always seemed so for—” She broke off in a little confusion.
“Forbidding?”
She smiled. “I was going to say ‘formidable.’” Her gaze softened. “But you have always done what you thought right. If you had not found me in that horrible place…” She shivered. “Goodness knows what would have become of me.”
A tightness in his throat made it difficult to speak. “I wanted to fight Roxdale because I hate to see the trouble he has brought you. Though I must say,” he added, looking her over critically, “Roxdale looks in a much worse state than you do at this moment.”
Her eyes lit with hope and he cursed himself for the slip. What was happening to him? His calculating mind seemed to be unraveling a little lately.
Then she frowned. “He needs someone to take care of him.” She raised her eyes to Montford’s face. “Did he speak of me?”
“Tangentially. We discussed business and we also talked of Luke. It seems…” Yes, Jane had a right to this information. “It seems we were all under a misapprehension about Luke’s parentage.”
Her cool gray gaze flew to his. “Why? Do you know who Luke’s father is?”
He nodded. “It was Frederick. He left a letter, explaining his motives.” The image of Roxdale receiving that news haunted Montford. He’d never seen a man look so utterly defeated. “Roxdale had begun to suspect Trent. At least we don’t have that contingency to deal with.”
“But Frederick! Why, of all the cowardly, selfish blackguards!” She gripped Montford’s hand with both of hers. “Oh, Your Grace, don’t you see, I must go to Constantine. He will be suffering so greatly…”
Montford felt obliged to say it. “He doesn’t want you, Jane. Let him be.”
Her lips trembled. “I see.” Blindly, she gazed into the fireplace. “Yes, I see.”
Unease struck Montford again. It was a tension in his shoulders, in his chest. With a little difficulty, he continued. “I’ve managed to persuade him to let us handle the official announcement that your betrothal is at an end.”
“I will not release him,” Jane said quietly.
“It’s either that, or letting him suffer the disgrace of jilting you,” said Montford. “If you truly love him, you wouldn’t want that.”
She didn’t answer, but he felt her body slump a little.
Then she looked at him. “Will Constantine be at the ball tomorrow night?”
“I believe so.”
Tears clung to her lashes. “Give me just one night, then. The night of the ball. Please, Your Grace. Before you announce the engagement is broken. Give me one more night.”
How to resist that pleading look? When had she asked anything of him, anything at all? “Jane, Jane, he is not good for you. Look what he’s done to you.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s me. It was all my fault. I’m the one who wronged him. Don’t you see? I hurt him! So badly, so inexcusably … I’m the one who is not good enough.”
“But surely he’s the last man on earth who’d make you happy—”
Fierce now, she said, “Constantine has made me feel so much joy I cannot possibly express it to you. It’s as if I’ve been dead all these years and he has made me feel alive as I’ve never felt before! And he needs me. To take care of him, to believe in him. I must make him see—”
She broke off, and he wondered if she regretted saying so much.
In spite of himself, he was moved by her speech. Always self-contained, quiet, sometimes displaying a dry humor, Jane had never exhibited this kind of animation—this kind of passion—before. He was forced to conclude her experience with Black had done her some good, after all.