“He is dying,” Hero said in a cool voice. “This is the rest of my life we speak of.”
“So, you have given it thought,” Asher said. “You just don’t care.”
“Asher.” Valiant turned to him, still holding Hero. “That’s unfair.”
“No, I agree.” Lore had one arm resting across his middle and the other balanced on top. He stroked his jaw as he stared at Hero. “We’ve all had to make sacrifices.”
“Have you?” Hero asked Lore, actually interested in the secrets his brother kept close.
“Where is your honor?” Asher asked. “What is the family creed?”
As Hero’s anger rose, he parted from his sister, fearing she’d be caught in the crossfire. He didn’t enjoy the way he was being intimidated by his family. It felt very close to being surrounded by the enemy. “I’ve done everything right. I’ve made one sacrifice after another. I’ve fought in the war. I’ve bled for this family and for its honor! Have I not earned one moment of selfishness?”
“I think so,” Valiant whispered, tears streaming down her face. “You should marry… for love.” And then, even quieter, she added, “One of us should. Like Mama and Papa.” She looked at Lore and Asher for confirmation. “Don’t you agree?”
The injury her words delivered nearly left him Incapacitated.
Lore looked away.
“Valiant.” Asher’s voice was cool. “Go and make yourself ready for tonight. Lore and I will deal with Hero.”
Valiant lowered her gaze and walked out of the room.
Hero watched her leave and then turned to Asher. “I’ve made my decision.”
“Then you send our father to an early grave,” Asher said.
“He’d want this,” Hero said. “He’d want me to have her.” He knew it in his heart.
Lore looked at Asher. “I hate to say it, but I believe him to be correct.”
Asher cut in. “Go see to Valiant. Leave Hero and me alone.”
Lore challenged Asher with a hard gaze but left without a word.
Asher walked over to Hero and moved to the sideboard. He grabbed two glasses and poured the brandy.
Hero watched in fascination. “You don’t drink.”
His brother didn’t look up as he spoke. “If my brother is going to die, I believe I’d like to have a final glass with him.”
Hero moved closer and maneuvered himself in Asher’s face. “I’ll not die. I’m a better shot than most of the men in Britain and abroad. I’ll win.”
Asher lifted his glass and handed Hero one. “Then to a bright future.” His blue eyes penetrated him as he spoke. “I didn’t want to say this in front of the others and start an uprising, but you are right. Father would want you to have her.”
Hero accepted his glass with a grin, impressed that he’d finally won his brother over. Asher rarely bent for anyone. “I’ll win. You’ll see. By morning, you’ll have a new sister-in-law.”
“I look forward to morning then,” Asher asked.
Hero chuckled and patted Asher on the shoulder. “Thank you.”
Asher lifted his glass.
Hero lifted his and threw the brandy back. There was only a slight burn as it went down. It was strangely sour. “Forgive me. I’ll have to have my footman procure me another bottle.” Perhaps it had gone bad while he’d been away at war.
“I’m sure it was fine,” Asher said.
Hero put his glass back on the sideboard alongside Asher’s. He noticed then that Asher’s glass was still full.
Hero lifted his brow. “You didn’t drink.”
“I don’t drink, Hero,” he said plainly.
It confused Hero. He shook his head. “Then why did you pour if you had no intention of drinking it?”
“Because, I needed you to drink yours.” Asher crossed the room and sat in the wingback chair by the couch. “I’m sorry that it came to this,” he said as he crossed one knee over the other. “But one day, you’ll understand why it had to be this way. I do this for you and for your honor.”
Hero frowned. “My h…” He closed his mouth and shook his head again. There was a dullness in his mind. He reached up and began to rub his skull. “My honor?”
“And for the family. We are Curbain.” Asher leaned back in his chair. Though his vision blurred, his voice was strong. “Did Father ever tell you that the Trojan Horse was Corbenaius’ idea? Another family legend.”
Hero felt one of his knees give out right before the other. He fell hard to the floor, landing on his hands, and cursed Asher. “You… drugged…” His mouth no longer took commands from his mind. He groaned and tried to make it loud enough to reach the ears of his staff, but he knew the sound was faint.
His heart was racing too fast. Whatever his brother had given him was working quickly. He needed to slow his breathing.
“I will make sure to give Beatrix your condolences.” Asher’s voice sounded far away, yet Hero felt the pressure of his brother’s traitorous hand on the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”
I hate you. I’ll never forgive you for this.
They were the last words Hero thought before he blacked out.
∫ ∫ ∫
4 4
“My brother apologizes that he could not be here for the event, but under the circumstances, I’m sure you understand,” Asher said as he spun Beatrix across the dancefloor.
His expression was absent of anything that would tell Beatrix how he felt. But what did it matter? It was the Hero’s feelings that mattered, and he’d not even come for their dance.
Beatrix’s smile trembled, but she kept it firmly in place. This was her ball and every eye in the ton was looking at her. Anthony watched, concentrating on her more than she’d ever seen before. As was her brother.
Benedict had spoken on her behalf most of the night and while such presumption would have usually annoyed her, she was thankful for it.
This way, no one was aware that she was but the walking dead.
A great portion of her heart was gone.
Hero hadn’t come, and she’d hoped he would. Yet again, she’d believed in a shining moment of complete daring he’d ride in on a white horse and save her, declare his love for her in front of all who had gathered, and rescue her from a fate worse than death.
Marriage to a man she didn’t love and would never love.
But Hero wouldn’t save her.
Worse, he’d not even come to say goodbye.
He didn’t know this was her final night in London, but when he finally got the news…
It wouldn’t matter. He’d clearly let her go.
But vividly, she recalled his declaration to her at the terrace. He’d sworn he’d never let her go.
He’d called her mine. He’d touched her possessively and all but branded her with his mouth—in front of her brother no less.
But now he wasn’t here. It was no wonder her brother was so full of glee. He couldn’t have painted a better night if he’d had the brush and canvas to do so.
Benedict had not left Beatrix alone with either Valiant or Lore when they’d approached, but when the Earl of Redgrave had come for his dance, her brother had relented, if hesitantly.
Yet had she known what Asher planned to say, she’d have clung to her brother’s side willingly.
“He did want me to say,” Asher went on, “that he wishes you a great amount of happiness.”
The wound in her chest grew, nearly making her dizzy with despair. She could not listen to any more from the Earl of Redgrave.
“Please,” Beatrix said, unable to hide the pain from her voice. “No more.”
There was a flash of emotion in Asher’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” His hands tightened on hers, all but keeping her up at this point.
She felt so weak.
“We all have our responsibilities,” Asher whispered.
“Yes.” She wasn’t sure if he heard her. Over the music and the voices of those who spoke around them, Beatrix thought her voice lost in the clamor.
Yet she held Asher’s eyes as she said, “We all have our duties, to family, to name, but who looks after love?”
He frowned. “What?”
Beatrix wasn’t sure if she was making sense anymore, but she pressed on. “Love. It is so precious a thing, is it not? And what would happen if one day it were gone? Can there be duty without love? Does honor remain when it is not cultivated and taught with the gentle hand that comes from love? Think about it.”
He blinked in response.
She laughed, sure she was being quite silly now. “It is said a soft answer turneth away wrath, and why is that? Because everything is better when done with love.”
“Love comes in different forms,” the earl countered. “It is not always soft, as you say.”
“Yes, but look at your parents,” she said. “They were in love and with love they gave their children everything they needed to be the sort of men and women you are today. I daresay, no one would care for anything if it didn’t all start with love.”
He said nothing.
And after being silent for the last hour, Beatrix felt like talking. “Love is the root of every good thing. Kindness. Honor. Morality. It all has its roots in love. If one sacrifices love, they will ultimately be left with nothing. Surrounded by nothing. Alone with nothing. It is a cold existence, is it not?”
He still regarded her without emotion. “Then why are you marrying Lord Cartell?”
“Because of love,” she said.
“For Cartell?” the earl asked.
“No, for Hero,” she whispered, seeing no point in denying it. For some reason, she thought Asher understood her. “I do it so that he may always have his honor.”
“You sacrifice your love for his honor?” Asher asked.
“Yes.” She smiled.
“Why?”
She didn’t have to think about her reply. “Because your brother is the most honorable man I know. He’s a general and the finest lord I’ve ever known. He deserves true happiness.”
Asher was quiet for a moment and then asked, “And you think honor will make him happy?”
“Yes. Don’t you?” she asked. Was that why the earl had delivered Hero’s apology and well wishes? Beatrix knew it was honor that held Hero back.
When the dance came to an end, Asher didn’t take Beatrix to her brother, but to the Duke of Ayers.
She curtsied. She’d seen him earlier but hadn’t spoken to him. Again, her brother had controlled their conversation. At the moment, Benedict was across the room but was slowly making his way to her side.
“Lady Gillingham,” Ayers said with a smile. He sat in a chair next to Lord Reddington, looking more alive than she’d ever seen him. His hands rested on a cane that had the head of a lion with ruby eyes. He looked her over and said, “I would dance with you if my legs would hold me, but alas, I am left to admire your beauty from here.” He seemed embarrassed to admit it.
Beatrix pressed her hands to her stomach. Just days ago, she’d thought this man would be her future father-in-law. Now, that would never be so. Still, she cared for him. “Your Grace, you need not stand, for your kind heart and generous soul make you taller than any man in the room.”
Reddington began to blink and looked away.
Asher cleared his throat at her side.
Ayers’ gaze warmed. “Sit with me for a time.”
“It would be my honor,” she said.
A chair was brought over, and Beatrix settled beside the duke, aware that every eye was upon them.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Asher said. “I must see to a small matter.” He turned away just as Benedict approached.
“Another chair,” her brother declared.
Beatrix cringed.
“No.” Ayers lifted a hand to still the footman. “I wish to speak to Lady Gillingham alone, if you don’t mind, Lord Dalewell. After all, I’ve not seen the lady in days. This event, in my home, is in her honor. We’ve much to discuss.”
Benedict’s face fell, clearly uncomfortable with being left out of the discussion. “Your Grace...” He looked over at Lord Reddington and then at Ayers again. “If it is a matter about the event, I can assure you that my assistance is needed.”
“It’s not about the event,” Ayers said, no longer smiling. “You may go unless you fear I’ll compromise her in the midst of such an assembly. Is that what you accuse me of, my lord?”
It was whispered that Richard’s honor was just as legendary as his ancestors’.
Benedict’s mouth gaped, and he took a step back. “Of course not, Your Grace.” He bowed low. “Please, my sister more than welcomes your company.” He remained low as he backed away and then he spun around and fled.
“Now,” Ayers began once her brother was away. He turned toward her, balancing his hands on that cane as he did. “I suspect your ailment this past week was all a hoax, was it not?”
Beatrix looked down.
“Or perhaps, it was your brother’s obsession with his own voice that brought on a headache.” There was a touch of humor in his voice.
She looked up at him and laughed, but then her earlier sadness returned. “One could say as much.” She touched his hand. “How are you?”
He covered her hand with one of his own. “I’m well. Has Hero proposed as yet?”
Beatrix’s eyes widened, and her heart raced. She didn’t know what to say.
Reddington leaned forward and smiled at her. “He already told us that he’d spoken to Lord Murray about the position as Secretary of Foreign Affairs. He’s sold his commission. We suspected he spoke to you first?”
Hero sold his commission? Beatrix hadn’t known.
Guilt slammed into her. He’d done it for her, yet now they wouldn’t wed. Had she sentenced him to an unhappy existence here in London?
“That look tells me that he hasn’t,” Ayers said gravely.
Beatrix took back her hand. She looked around to see who else was listening to their exchange.
Footmen kept the crowd away with little more than their bodies. The three were alone in their conversation.
“I’ll speak with him,” Ayers said. “Not to worry. I know how he feels about you. I see it in his eyes whenever your name is mentioned. I’m sure he’d like to do it in his own time, but I’ve not long to live and would like to see you both settled before I go.” He smiled. “You’ve no idea how glad I am for the match.”
“It’s all Richard can speak about,” Reddington said as he put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
Beatrix closed her eyes. “There’s no need to speak to Hero. He’s already proposed.”
“Excellent.” Ayers said. “I’ll speak to the archbishop myself. He plans to come by tomorrow anyway. It will be no trouble to ask him to bring a special license—“
“Hero and I are not getting married.” She couldn’t allow the man to get his hopes up. While she was willing to deceive the world, she was not willing to deceive Ayers. She didn’t want him to leave this world thinking her a liar. “He proposed, but I said no.”
“Why?” Ayers asked. “Hero is the best match for you. Are you mad?”
She laughed. “Perhaps.” She glanced at Reddington again and then away.
Reddington spoke in a low voice. “Is this about the debt?”
She gasped and looked between the men.
Ayers didn’t seem surprised in the least. “Reddington told me about it after we met. What happened between him and your father has no bearing on you. You’ve proven yourself to be a fine lady and a precious gift to me during these last few days I have.”
Beatrix’s eyes filled with tears. “But, the debt.”
Reddington smiled. “Consider its clearance as my wedding present to you. I never should have abandoned you the way I did. You were practically family. My wife believes the same. We were hurt by what your father did but were always fond of you.”
Tears soaked her cheeks and the gloves she used to rub them away. This was the happiest news she’d received in days.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll marry my son,” Ayers said.
She would.
If he would still have her.
∫ ∫ ∫
4 5
Beatrix ran into the foyer—which was easily done since it was empty—and nearly made it to the door before she was grabbed. A hard hand gripped her upper arm and spun her around.
Benedict glared down at her. “You’re not to be roaming around the ball on your own. Where are you going?”
She smiled at Benedict and grabbed his cheeks. “I’m going to speak with Hero. Ayers has given his blessing to marry him. Reddington has forgiven our debt. I don’t have to marry Anthony anymore.”
Her brother was shocked for a moment but didn’t release his hold. “Why? Why has he done this?”
“What does it matter?” Beatrix asked. “We are free of it.” She touched his chest with her free hand. “You are free.” She felt light. Happiness was threatening to pour from her lips with a loud shriek.
She could marry Hero. She wanted to give him the good news tonight.
“But you are promised to Anthony,” Benedict said. “You can’t go back on your word now. Engagements cannot be ended and yours is set to be announced in less than an hour.”
Beatrix frowned. “Well, technically I was engaged to Hero first. So, I am keeping my word.” She was only grateful that there would be no embarrassment from the ordeal. No one knew of her engagement to Anthony who would say anything about it.
Benedict pulled her to the side of the room, away from the door. “You must wed Anthony. Think about how grateful you are to him. Think of all the many things he’s done for us.”
Beatrix shook her head. “Hero has done much for me as well.” More than her brother had in the last five years, though she didn’t say it aloud. “It would be better that Anthony marry someone who loves him.” She wanted love for everyone.
“All Anthony wants is you.” Her brother straightened. “I’m sorry, but you will wed a duke. Our family will have a duchess in our bloodline and that will make it easy for me to wed well again.”
The Perfect Lady (Valiant Love) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 22