Undone by the Earl

by Elizabeth Rue

  “You should not have come, Miss Colbrook.” She looked plumper than when Anna had last seen her over a year ago, and her chestnut hair was more elegantly styled.

  Anna took a step towards her then paused. “Did you receive my letter?”

  Julia nodded, her face grave.

  “Why did you not reply?”

  Julia opened her mouth to answer and then hesitated. Finally, she said quietly, “I had nothing to say to you. Nothing I should say at any rate.” She glanced towards the house. “I must ask you to leave.”

  “No,” Anna said. “Not until we have spoken about Edmund Sinclair.”

  Julia’s eyes widened, and then narrowed. She stared at Anna for a moment as if deciding whether she meant it.

  “Not here,” Julia finally said, glancing at the open windows. “Will you walk with me?”

  Anna nodded.

  Without another word, Julia led her along a path through the garden and down a gentle hillside towards the woods below.

  They walked briskly in silence for several minutes. As the trail entered the woods, the air turned damp. Ash and elm trees gave way to birch and aspen, with thick ferns concealing their bases.

  Julia slowed her pace to a stroll. “No one will hear us out here. What is it you wished to speak to me about?”

  “Tell me what happened in London last year.”

  “Why should I?” Julia said, walking faster again. “What business is it of yours?”

  “What happened to you is disrupting my life,” Anna said, “and the lives of my family. Your child isn’t Mr. Sinclair’s, is she?”

  Julia abruptly stopped walking.

  “Why did you lie?” Anna said.

  For a few seconds Julia looked like a startled animal ready to flee. Then her shoulders slumped, and she drew her shawl across her chest. With a mix of anxiety and excitement on her face, Julia glanced from the ground to Anna and back to the ground again.

  She wanted to tell the truth.

  Likely she’d never been able to speak it to anyone. Anna knew all too well what a terrible burden a secret could be. And Julia had more than just a secret. Her whole identity, her entire past, was all a concealment. When was the last time she’d even been called by her real name?

  Julia looked at Anna and shook her head. “You of all people,” she said softly.

  Anna frowned. What did that mean?

  “Why did you lie?” Anna repeated.

  “Why?” Julia’s eyes narrowed. Her gaze drifted from Anna to somewhere behind her. “I was angry and upset, and I wanted to punish the scoundrel for what he did to me. And, well, I wasn’t thinking clearly.” Anger flashed in her eyes. “Although if I’d been cleverer about it, it could have worked.”

  “But why name Mr. Sinclair?”

  Julia straightened and met Anna’s gaze again. “I chose Mr. Sinclair because he is your cousin.” Her voice was ragged, her eyes shining. “I wanted to create a scandal between Sir Neville and your family. I wanted him to have to challenge Mr. Sinclair to save face. So Sir Neville would never get what he wanted, the reason he abandoned me. You.”

  25

  Shortly after they returned home, Adrian went in search of Edmund. As he neared the drawing room, he heard words that stopped him cold. He froze, standing just before the doorway, unable to see in.

  “I cannot believe you nearly married Sir Neville. True, he is a respectable gentleman and his heroics have raised him above his birth, but he’s still beneath you, Madeline. You are granddaughter and cousin to an earl, you can marry far better.”

  The words were verbatim to ones he’d heard Lady Carlton speak a dozen times, but the voice wasn’t. It was higher pitched, softer.

  It was Cecelia’s voice.

  Adrian leaned one arm against the wall. He felt ill.

  “If I shall marry a duke,” Cecelia continued, “you can at the least snare a viscount or an earl.”

  Madeline sighed. “If I should be fortunate enough to form an attachment to a viscount or—”

  “Form an attachment?” Cecelia laughed softly, but the hint of a scoff had crept into her voice. “That is unimportant. Indeed, it is probably unwise.”

  “I disagree,” Madeline said. “In fact, I worry for you, Cecelia. Do you care for the duke?”

  “A foolish question,” Cecelia said quickly. But her tone had cracked, the haughty imitation of Lady Carlton fading. At least Adrian desperately hoped it was still only an imitation.

  He envisioned Cecelia years from now if she married the Duke of Dulverton. He’d only focused on the status of such a match before and never fully considered the woman she might become as Duchess of Dulverton. The image his mind presented was sad and frightening, even more disturbing than what he heard now.

  Then he thought of her if she married a man she cared for instead, imagined the sweet girl she still was in many ways and the happy woman she could become if she married for love.

  Married for love.

  Once again, Anna was right. About Cecelia, and maybe about Edmund as well.

  The duty that drove him, the way he tried to do what was best for his family was suddenly, horribly, all wrong.

  “Besides, it is my duty.” Cecelia’s voice was her own now, but heavy, sad. Adrian’s chest felt tight. “And it will please everyone,” she added.

  “Everyone?” Madeline asked gently.

  There was a long pause. God love his cousin. She was a caring, sweet girl, and if her influence could help Cecelia—

  “It will please me,” Cecelia said quickly. “To be a duchess. What could be better?” The words echoed what he’d said to Cecelia several times.

  Damn it, he was no better than Lady Carlton.

  “I only meant—”

  “You are jealous,” Cecelia said, “because the duke prefers me!”

  “That is not true,” Madeline said.

  “My aunt says that—”

  Adrian had heard enough. He pushed away from the wall. As he strode into the room, Cecelia and Madeline looked up from the sofa, startled. Madeline appeared weary, but Cecelia’s face brightened.

  “Adrian, there you are!” Cecelia said, suddenly looking happy. Happier than she ever did in the duke’s company, he realized.

  “Cecelia,” he said, forcing himself to speak calmly.

  “What is it?” Cecelia asked, her smile fading. “You look pale.”

  “Will you do me a favor?” he said gently.

  “Of course.” She leaned towards him. “Anything, Adrian. What is it?”

  “Should the duke make you an offer, please refuse him.”

  She frowned. “Refuse him?”

  “Yes. Refuse him. And anyone else Lady Carlton tells you to accept. Unless you also have affection for the gentleman. Strong affection.”

  “Strong...affection?” Cecelia stared at him, her mouth falling open. Madeline smiled, suddenly looking less tired.

  “Yes,” he said. “We can discuss it further later, but right now there is something I must do.”

  “Very well,” Cecelia said softly, her eyes wide.

  “Where is Edmund?” he asked.

  “Outside,” Cecelia said. “On the west lawn, last I saw him.”

  Adrian found Edmund alone beneath a huge oak tree, lounging at a table with a cloud of smoke hovering around him and a full glass of port beside him.

  Edmund puffed on a cheroot as he watched Adrian approach. When Adrian stopped beside the table, Edmund exhaled, sending a perfectly round smoke ring wafting towards him.

  “Enjoying my cheroots, I see.” Adrian waved his hand to dissipate the smoke.

  “I heard you returned with the wrong cousin,” Edmund said.

  “Madeline was ready to marry him.” Adrian shook his head. “She’s more headstrong than I’d believed.”

  Edmund nodded. “Just like her stepsister. Where is the lovely Miss Colbrook, by the way? It was she you went to fetch, was it not?”

  “She has gone to see Miss Howe.”

>   “Indeed? How fascinating.” Edmund sounded not the least bit surprised.

  “She believes you are innocent.”

  “I told you she was mentally unbalanced.” Edmund leaned back in the chair and blew a smoke ring straight up in the air; it drifted into the branches of the oak.

  “She says I have been wrong to believe you guilty all this time. Now tell me, why would Miss Howe name you if it weren’t true?”

  “Of course, it’s true.” Edmund straightened. “Why should you doubt it? Aren’t I the most lecherous, misbegotten wastrel in England? The man who cannot pass a fortnight without losing a fortune at cards or ruining some young lady’s reputation? Do you not always say so? And you could never be wrong—”

  “Stop it, Edmund.”

  “Stop what?” Edmund rose, turned his back to him, and strolled closer to the tree.

  Adrian followed him. “Did you ruin Miss Howe, or not?”

  Edmund turned and glared at him, his fingers clenched around the smoldering cheroot.

  “Did you?” Adrian repeated.

  Edmund’s voice and face suddenly softened. “No.”

  In the quiet that followed that one word, Adrian let out a long breath. His head began to ache, and his chest tightened. “But…you were still considering telling Sir Neville that you did and risk his challenge? Why?”

  The fury returned to Edmund’s face. Abruptly, he hurled the cigar to the ground.

  “Because I’m tired,” Edmund said, staring at the wisps of smoke drifting up from the cheroot, all the sarcasm drained from his voice. “Bloody tired of living like this. One way or the other I’d be free from...this damned nonsense.” He stepped forward and crushed the cheroot into the ground until the smoke stopped.

  “I’m sorry,” Adrian said. “But you must understand why I believed you did it, after Miss Carpenter—” No, that was only an excuse. He should have listened to Edmund better from the start. He shouldn’t have assumed him guilty despite his past. “No, I am simply sorry. I should have listened to you in the beginning.”

  “I do not bloody believe it,” Edmund whispered, staring at him. “You actually are sorry.” Edmund stepped back and looked at the flattened stub of cigar for a moment. Then he attacked it, swiping at it with his boot until all that remained were shreds of muddy paper and tobacco.

  “Edmund.” Adrian reached out to grasp Edmund’s shoulder but hesitated. He let his arm drop.

  Edmund cursed louder and gave the ground another powerful kick.

  Adrian said, “If you want to take a swing at me for what I’ve done—”

  “You bet I do!” Edmund spun around. “For months now, I’ve been planning my revenge, waiting for the right moment to tell Sir Neville it was me just to spite you, and you have to go and ruin it—”

  Edmund punched him straight on the jaw. Hard.

  Adrian stumbled back. Pain exploded in his face, but he forced himself to speak. “You want another?”

  “Yes!” Edmund raised his fists again. “No.” He frowned and lowered them. “It’s Miss Colbrook.” Edmund jabbed a finger at him. “She’s done this to you. You’ve changed.” Edmund sounded almost upset that Adrian finally believed him.

  Adrian frowned. “Are you not glad that—”

  “Yes. Well, no, I...” Edmund sighed. “All my plans are ruined. What the hell am I supposed to do now?” Edmund turned and marched away from the manor, down the slope towards the duck pond.

  “Why did Miss Howe accuse you?” Adrian asked as he followed him. “Have you any idea?”

  “Because she knew with my reputation that you’d believe it and take care of her?” Edmund scowled. “How the hell would I know why? I hardly knew her. Spoke to her a few times in London after we were introduced by a mutual acquaintance. Danced with her once at a ball, and that was it. Nothing about our interaction was especially memorable, frankly. I was more shocked than anyone when she accused me.”

  Adrian sighed. “I must speak with Sir Neville.”

  “Well you can’t right now,” Edmund said.

  Adrian frowned. “Why not?”

  “Because on my way back here, he nearly ran me off the road. I don’t think he even recognized me. He was riding north like a madman.”

  A chill rushed through Adrian. “What did you say?”

  “I said I saw Sir Neville riding north…” Edmund frowned. “Why? What is it?”

  Sir Neville had understandably appeared startled when Madeline first said that Anna had gone to see Julia. But he’d seemed completely composed by the time they’d said goodbye. So why in blazes would he be racing north?

  Unless he was desperate to stop Anna from speaking to Julia.

  Adrian let out a long, loud string of curses.

  “It’s him,” Adrian said. “Sir Neville’s the one responsible.”

  “What?” Edmund frowned. “Sir Neville? No…”

  Adrian’s mind raced. He thought back to that day when Miss Howe had come to his townhouse. She was hysterical and had seemed to want Sir Neville to have to challenge Edmund. Clearly, she had also been angry that Sir Neville was sending her away, but Adrian had assumed what she wanted most was revenge on Edmund for ruining her life. But what if Edmund wasn’t her real target?

  “Maybe…” Adrian said. “Maybe she accused you because of who your cousins are.”

  Edmund frowned. “My cousins?”

  “Anna,” Adrian said. “Maybe Miss Howe knew that Sir Neville wanted to marry Anna, and she wanted to try to ruin it for him. To create a scandal between our families.”

  Adrian thought back to that night when he’d gone to see Sir Neville. Sir Neville’s initial shock and anger, and his wanting nothing to do with Miss Howe, all made sense considering what Adrian thought had happened. But the man’s anger might not have been for the reasons Adrian had assumed. He might have been enraged at Miss Howe for running off and accusing Edmund out of revenge.

  Edmund suddenly paled. “If it was Sir Neville, then that would also mean he knew all along that neither of us touched her.”

  “He let us take the blame,” Adrian growled.

  “That evil bastard,” Edmund whispered, almost sounding impressed.

  “Yes,” Adrian said. He knew, in his gut, it was Sir Neville.

  Adrian had gone to Sir Neville’s townhouse that night to save Edmund, having no idea he was giving Sir Neville the perfect cover for his own crime. And all this time while Adrian had been worried that Sir Neville would challenge Edmund, Sir Neville had played on Adrian’s fear shamelessly, even telling Anna that he’d ruined Julia, betting that Adrian wouldn’t dare refute it.

  Could the man really be so devious, so lacking in the tiniest shred of decency?

  Yes. And a man capable of that was likely capable of anything.

  “When it gets out that he ruined his own ward,” Edmund said, shaking his head, “the scandal will destroy his reputation, his life. He’s finished.”

  “And he knows it,” Adrian muttered.

  Anna and Miss Howe might be in grave danger.

  Adrian turned and ran towards the stables, with Edmund on his heels.

  For the second time that day, Adrian yelled for a horse. This time, he also called for his pistols.

  26

  Anna stared at Julia, dumbfounded. “You and Sir Neville?”

  Julia’s eyes widened. “I thought you already knew.”

  “I didn’t think it was Sir Neville...” Anna trailed off, feeling foolish and overwhelmed. He’d been with Julia while his wife lay dying?

  “He accused me of trying to trap him into marriage,” Julia said, “of trying to ruin his future.” She snorted. “As if I’d held a gun to his head and forced him into a dalliance.” Julia began walking again. “When he announced he was sending me away, I decided to punish him for what he’d done.” Her voice cracked, and she paused to regain her composure. “I knew he wished to marry you after he was widowed. I thought if I accused Mr. Sinclair, the scandal between our families
would ruin his plans.”

  Anna frowned. Sir Neville didn’t know her well at that time, as they hadn’t yet become close friends. It made no sense. Was Julia lying? She seemed sincere, but Anna wasn’t certain. And she was clearly capable of deception.

  “But he was still tending to Lady Mary,” Anna said. “He seemed so grief-stricken—”

  Julia laughed dryly. “His grief did not keep him from my bed. But I understand your shock. I felt the same when Lady Mary first told me about his true character.” Julia’s expression grew somber. “At first, I thought she was lying because she sensed my feelings for him. I didn’t wish to believe what she said. I was fooled by him, just like nearly everyone else.

  “He is heavily in debt, you know,” Julia continued. She kept her gaze on the winding path as she strolled, carefully navigating around the increasing number of muddy spots. “They lived far better than they could afford. Lady Mary also told me that when he rescued the carriage from the robbers, two were shot in the back. A detail left out of the ‘heroic’ tale.”

  Anna’s head pounded. Could Sir Neville, the seemingly noble gentleman she thought she knew well, in truth be so dishonorable?

  A terrible suspicion began to form in her mind.

  “Sir Neville told you before Lady Mary died that he wished to marry me?”

  “No. And he never actually told me. When he was making arrangements to send me away, I was listening at the door to his study. I overheard him tell Mr. Roland.”

  Mr. Roland?

  Mr. Roland was one of the men Sir Neville had rescued from the robbers. He had been Lord Harwick’s solicitor and was riding in his coach with him when it was attacked. But Mr. Roland was not Sir Neville’s solicitor. He had been the old earl’s.

  And he was hers.

  She stopped walking. She was such a fool.

  Julia paused and looked back. “What is it?”

  “I believe you,” Anna said. “I know why Sir Neville wished to marry me.” And why he was so patient, and why he hadn’t argued with her about waiting for Madeline to wed first. What he’d told her about promising his wife to wait longer before he remarried was such a clever story, and so well acted that she hadn’t doubted it for an instant. But if he’d planned to pursue her before his wife even died, before they’d ever become friends, there could be only one reason.