Those last few words she flung over her shoulder and marched into the drawing room.
It seemed another discussion about the state of their marriage was at hand. He followed her in and shut the door. ‘We are married.’ There was no getting around it.
‘To your deep regret.’
‘Julia, do not put words in my mouth.’
‘I do not need to. I see them in your face. In what you do. Actions speak louder than words and right now they are shouting that you wish you had not married me.’
‘I do wish it.’ If he had made her his mistress they could have been perfectly happy. Perhaps for the rest of their lives, because at least then he’d be free to love her without this weight of guilt bearing down on his shoulders.
He froze. Did he love her? Heaven help him, he did. And by marrying her, he’d likely ruined her life by denying her the warmth and family she so obviously wanted, not to mention putting her very life at risk.
She was right, she would have been better off without him.
He clenched his fists.
Julia saw the movement and stilled.
Damn, didn’t she know by now he would never raise a hand to her? Before he could speak she whipped off her bonnet and took a deep breath. ‘Our marriage is a farce. I think it is best if I leave.’ The pain in her eyes was hard to see.
‘You cannot leave. You are my wife.’
‘Then I am a prisoner.’
He raked his fingers through his hair. Wasn’t this the conclusion he’d come to a couple of days ago? Then why would he not simply agree? ‘I don’t want you to leave.’
Sorrow filled her gaze. ‘I—care for you, Alistair. I really do, but I want a proper marriage. Children, if at all possible.’
Wounded to the quick by her expressionless tone, he stared at her. ‘I can’t. You know that. You know why.’
‘Then there is nothing in this marriage for either of us. Nothing. Will the dissolute Duke be happy to spend his life as a monk? Or will he be dashing off to find his pleasure and entertainment elsewhere? Or perhaps you will find a different way to be rid of an inconvenient wife.’
He flinched at the bitterness in her tone. ‘What are you saying?’
‘Someone was putting laudanum in my tea. Why not you? You were quick enough to spirit Mrs Robins to parts unknown when I discovered the plot.’
Fury coursed through his veins in a red-hot wave. He curled his lip. ‘If I wanted rid of you, believe me you would be gone.’
‘As your fiancée was gone?
Blankly, he stared at her.
‘The woman your brother married on your behalf. You abandoned her.’
Ice filled his veins. ‘So your meeting was with dear Stepmama.’
Her cheeks flushed. ‘You know, you are really awful to your family. Your father—’
‘My father let his second wife walk all over him along with the rest of my benighted family. I am not my father.’
‘And you do not want or need a wife. I want you to let me go my own way. It won’t make any difference to you.’
Not make a difference? His whole life had changed since her arrival. He’d changed his whole way of life because she’d made him want to be worthy of her regard. But he wasn’t. He never could be. And if she didn’t want to stay, why would he force her?
He gazed at her. Took her lovely face in one last time as if he could imprint it on his mind. Saw the sweetness in her eyes. The courage in her determined chin. The passion. Things that had drawn him to her right from the first. Things he wanted, but had been doing perfectly fine without for years. He let a chill invade his soul and curled his lip. ‘If you want to go, I won’t stop you.’
Sorrow filled her face when he had expected satisfaction. She nodded. ‘It is for the best.’
‘Let my lawyers know your address. I’ll have them set up whatever funds you need.’ It was the best he could do.
She looked shocked. ‘I don’t want your money.’
Even his money wasn’t good enough. A pang pierced his heart, ripping it open. He stuffed the tear with ice. Recalled the way his father had turned from him after his marriage to Isobel. How hurt he’d been.
He needed no one but himself, he’d proved that for years, but that didn’t mean she had to go back to living in poverty.
He gave her his best ducal stare. The one designed to put mushrooms in their place. ‘You wanted my money enough to marry me, I believe.’
She flushed as if he’d slapped her. ‘I cannot deny I was desperate. But—’
‘Exactly. You were desperate and we’ve both had a rollicking good time and now it is time to pay the piper. The carriage will be at the door to take you to London in an hour. I’ll send along anything you cannot pack now. My lawyers will be in touch about the settlements.’
Unable to bear watching her go, he walked down to the stables, ordered the carriage, then saddled Thor and rode he knew not where.
Chapter Fifteen
It was late when Alistair, weary to the bone, rode into the courtyard and dismounted. No one came running to take his horse. He frowned. ‘Halloo.’
No answer.
No doubt they were still down at the Wheatsheaf imbibing Prosser’s best. And John Coachman and a groom were well on their way to London with Julia.
Surely, there should be one lad left on duty.
He removed Thor’s saddle and began the task of grooming himself instead of seeking out the stable lad who must be around somewhere. It felt good to be busy. He knew it for what it was, of course. A way to put off returning to an empty house. For some stupid reason he’d hoped she might not have gone.
His gut roiled at the memory of what his stepmother had told her. Shame washed through him that Julia would believe he would have willingly abandoned a woman carrying his child. It seemed, even in her eyes, the dissolute Duke was sunk to the depths of depravity. Damn Isobel and damn Elise for not coming to him after their brief encounter. Instead she’d gone to his father, no doubt expecting him to force Alistair to the altar. Instead, he’d whisked his heir off to the Continent and required Luke to fill the breach.
Curse it all. What a mess his life had turned into.
A lonely mess, without Julia. He missed her already.
He glance up at a sound, expecting to see one of the lads coming to help, or take over.
Instead, he saw his stepmother, a lantern in one hand and a pistol in the other.
He frowned. ‘What are you doing here?’ And for once it wasn’t a rude question. He couldn’t recall a time when he had seen his father’s wife in the stables.
‘Waiting for you.’
He straightened and moved away from Thor, his gaze on the pistol in her hand.
Isobel glared at him. ‘You weren’t supposed to survive childhood, Alistair. And would not have if not for that interfering old governess. I could not believe you avoided my trap in Italy, either. But even you cannot survive a bullet to the heart.’
His gut lurched. Recollections of French soldiers chasing him away from the ship sent to bring him home surged through his mind. Memories of how they had seemed to know exactly when to arrive at the dock and the way they had singled him out. ‘You had me betrayed to the gendarmes?’
She glared at him. ‘The clergyman your father hired to conduct you around Europe promised me you were dead. He said he saw your body.’
Pain shot through Alistair’s chest. ‘They shot the fellow I was with. A friend. I switched our papers, took his identity.’
She glared. ‘It was supposed to be you. The Lords were hovering on the brink of declaring my son Duke and you came back.’
‘Inconvenient, to be sure.’ He edged away from the stall. He didn’t want her shooting Thor by mistake. ‘I suppose you had my girth cut, too.’
/>
‘A broken neck is a common enough occurrence.’
It could have been a broken back, leaving him paralysed. His blood ran cold. ‘There were other accidents when I was a boy. The stone falling from a chimney. The leak in the boat on the lake. Was that you also?’
‘You were such a hardy little beast.’
‘And Julia? The poppy?’
‘How did you figure that out? That stupid Robins woman, she could do nothing right.’
He shifted towards an empty stall. ‘It was one of your servants I saw Robins with in Boxted. I knew I recognised him, but could not place him until now.’
‘You always were too clever for your own good.’ She waggled the pistol. ‘Not clever enough. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I cannot use this. Your father taught me well.’
His father always was a damned good shot. And a good teacher too. He held still.
‘Why did you seek to harm my wife, when it is I who holds the title you want for Luke?’
‘I won’t risk having you leave behind an heir. Not after all my trouble to be rid of you.’
Cold fingers strolled down his spine. ‘You will leave Julia out of this.’
‘I wish I could. Actually, I didn’t think she would go after our talk this morning. She actually likes you, more fool her. But I gather from my man she took me at my word and left. For some reason, she went to London instead of Portsmouth, but I will deal with her later.’
Not if Alistair could help it. He kept his gaze fixed on her face, tried to look harmless, confused. ‘Your man? Another of your spies planted in my household?’
She shrugged.
He folded his arms over his chest, eyeing the distance, weighing the likelihood he could get to her before she pulled the trigger. ‘How do you plan to get away with killing me in my own barn?’
‘An unfortunate robbery, a duke cut off in his prime, a body to prove it, too, this time, and all but forgotten in a sennight when my son takes his rightful place.’ Bending at the knees, the pistol held steady, she set down the lantern.
In the brief second she glanced down at the lantern, he risked another step closer. He needed something he could launch at her.
‘You cannot kill my husband before a witness.’ Julia stepped into the circle of lamplight.
Alistair wanted to shout at her to run, but feared that his stepmother might do something foolish like fire the damn pistol. Now he had Julia to worry about, too. Not that he was worried for himself. His father had been right. His younger brother would always have made the better Duke.
Pistol levelled at Julia, the Dowager backed against the wall of Thor’s stall. ‘Make one move, Alistair, and I will shoot her.’ She shook her head. ‘What are you doing here, girl? You should be well on your way to London. You are spoiling my plan.’
God help him, but the woman sounded irritated. ‘Julia, you need to go.’
A look of hurt crossed Julia’s face. ‘I’m sorry, Alistair. I thought of something I wanted to tell you before I left.’
A thought that would get her killed, if he wasn’t careful. ‘You need to leave.’
Isobel’s face turned sly. ‘No. Stay. When the authorities find the Duke dead and the rubies in your wife’s possession, they will know who to blame for your demise and everything will be as it should be.’
Alistair gazed at Julia. ‘You took the rubies?’
‘I did not,’ Julia said, stiffening.
‘You’d have been welcome to them,’ he muttered, moving a step closer to his stepmama. ‘They are said to be cursed.’
Isobel must have caught his movement from the corner of her eye because she shifted to keep him in view, but the pistol remained pointed at Julia. ‘She has the rubies all right. Or rather an excellent version in paste. I had my man pack them in the bottom of her dressing case. With that and all the other evidence pointing at her, who will believe her protestation of innocence?’
The woman had run mad. ‘You should have shot me when I first returned,’ he said. He would have been glad of it. He hated the future of unmitigated loneliness he’d carved out by indulging in his lust with Elise. ‘Or is this Luke’s idea? He always did have a devious mind. I suppose he was worried he might be suspected, having the most to gain.’
‘This is nonsense,’ Julia said stepping between Isobel and Alistair. ‘And you know it.’
The pistol wavered, then steadied. Mouth dry, he stepped out from behind Julia, causing the pistol to swing his way.
‘Stand alongside your husband, Julia,’ the Dowager said. ‘Tell her, Alistair. Or so help me I will shoot her first.’
‘And then what?’ a male voice said.
‘Good God,’ Alistair said bitterly. ‘Is everyone hiding in the dark in my barn? All it needed was you.’ The odds had just got a whole lot worse.
‘Luke, darling. Thank goodness,’ the Dowager said. ‘Tie her up, while I deal with him.’
Luke strode over to his mother and grabbed for the pistol. ‘I’ll take that, Mother.’
The gun went off. A searing pain crashed through Alistair’s head. Shot, by God—
Everything went dark.
* * *
Julia screamed and went to her knees beside Alistair. Blood was pooling in the straw around his head.
‘Fire!’ someone yelled.
She looked up to see flames running along the floor catching straw on fire, little sparks and smoke dancing in the air.
‘The lantern,’ Luke shouted.
Isobel was backing away from the flames. ‘You idiot,’ she screamed. ‘You have ruined everything.’ She started reloading her pistol.
Luke rushed to Alistair’s side and knelt down.
‘Stay away from him,’ Julia said, her heart pounding with fear.
He glared at her. ‘We have to get him out of here.’ He grasped Alistair under the arms and began dragging him. Smoke was all around them. Flames licking at her skirts. Heat. Thor squealed and kicked at the walls of his stall.
Luke glared at her over Alistair’s inert body. ‘Run. Trust me, I won’t leave him.’
She saw truth in his eyes, the agony of loss, and ran for the faint patch of daylight already disappearing in a veil of black smoke.
Outside, she fell to her knees her eyes streaming, her throat burning. Gasping and coughing, she fixed her gaze on the open doors and the smoke billowing from within.
Where were they? Had she made a terrible mistake in trusting Luke? Moments seemed like hours and then Luke, carrying Alistair over his shoulders, staggered out. Behind him, Thor was screaming.
Luke turned to go back in. His mother came out of the smoke. ‘Don’t.’
He shook her off and, wrapping the cravat around his face, ran back inside.
‘No,’ his mother howled. ‘No. My son. The Duke.’ She plunged into the building.
Julia on the ground beside Alistair, pressing a handkerchief to his wound, could only stare in shock. A moment later, Luke bent double, his cravat now covering Thor’s eyes, came running out of the barn. He led the horse into the paddock, removed the blindfold and the panicky horse galloped off. Luke was staring all around him.
‘Luke,’ Julia called out. ‘Your mother. She followed you back inside.’
‘What?’ He strode towards the barn which was now a blazing inferno. Julia rushed to his side, held his arm when it looked as if he might try to dive in. ‘There is nothing you can do. Think of your sons.’
He sank to his knees. ‘Why did she do something so stupid? Blast it, she was safe.’
She put an arm around his shoulders. ‘She was never going to be safe.’
Eyes glittering in a soot-covered face, he gazed at her, then buried his face in his hands.
The heat from the barn was dreadful, even at this distanc
e. And they needed to help the living. Now.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, patting his back. ‘But, Luke, we need to get Alistair up to the house. He needs a doctor.’
Servants came running—some from the house, others on their way home from the village inn. Without a word they formed a bucket brigade.
Julia sent one of the younger lads to fetch a doctor. Luke, with one last despairing look at the blaze, hoisted his brother over his shoulders and carried him up to the house.
* * *
Two days later, Alistair reclined on the sofa in the drawing room with an interesting bandage around his head, wondering where his wife had gone off to.
Not that he was worried she would gallop off to far distant climes. She had promised she would not. Not yet, at least. But she remained unhappy. And she had been gone a long time, having promised him a tisane for his headache.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway had him leaning back against the cushions. It seemed, from the heavy footfalls accompanying the lighter steps he recognised as Julia’s, that they had company. Dash it all, and they still hadn’t had a chance to talk. Now he was out of bed and dressed, he’d thought to have a discussion with her, lay all his cards on the table. And if she left him after that, he wouldn’t blame her. Indeed, he’d do everything in his power to make her life easy.
A hesitant Luke appeared in the doorway. His face showed relief when Alistair beckoned him in.
‘I won’t stay long.’ Luke turned his hat in his hands. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d see me despite what Julia said.’
His wife was a sensible woman. ‘Sit down. Julia tells me you saved my life, little brother.’
Julia followed him in and sat down on the ottoman beside his sofa.
‘Your wife saved your life.’ Luke’s voice was full of pain. ‘I couldn’t save Mother.’ Luke perched on the edge of a chair. ‘The inquest this morning declared her death an accident. The funeral is tomorrow.’
‘We will be there. My condolences.’ There was little more he could say. His sorrow for his brother’s loss was genuine, though he could not grieve for his stepmother.
Secrets of the Marriage Bed Page 22