by Dayna Quince
“I’m not following. Is something the matter?” Anabelle looked at her with worry.
“You tell her. You seem to know more than I do,” Heather muttered bitterly.
Draven’s eyebrows shot up. He rattled off the details to Anabelle, who was no longer glaring at him.
“Why are you involved?” Anabelle asked.
“I was riding with Ablehill yesterday, when a groom fetched us from the park. I suppose I didn’t need to accompany him, but I was curious. It just so happens I am able to assist with the situation. Though I didn’t put it all together when I was initially introduced to him, I had heard of the Duke of Ablehill’s son long before he came to England. We have a mutual interest in horses, and his horse and the breeder he was bought from are very well known.”
Anabelle pressed her lips together and looked at Heather. “How strong you’ve been this evening. I never would have suspected a thing.”
“I wasn’t trying to hide it, I only sought not to deal with it for the evening.”
“I understand. We should return now, or my father will wonder what has become of us.” Anabelle hesitated and sent a glance toward Draven. “Goodnight, Lord Draven.” She disappeared behind the curtain.
“I feel as though I’ve upset you,” he murmured.
“You didn’t upset me. You’ve been very informative. The whole situation is just…upsetting.”
“I think I understand.” He nodded. “Good evening, Miss Everly.” He parted from her, disappearing around the curve of the hall.
Heather was afraid he really did understand. She found that unsettling. Though he portrayed himself as a careless rogue, he was showing a far kinder side.
“It’s troubling, isn’t it?”
Anabelle’s voice spooked her. Heather turned to find Anabelle’s face poking out from behind the curtain. It was almost comical.
“Every time I think I have his measure, he does something unexpected. Is it all an illusion? Or is he like one of those lizards that can change its color to match its surroundings?”
Heather hid a speculative glance. “You truly wish to know?”
Anabelle raised both brows like a shrug. “Intermission is almost over, come sit.” Then she retreated behind the curtain.
Heather decided not to press it and returned to her seat. This was all too much to bear. She needed to see Fallon, and she needed to tell him everything, if only to prove that she would remain by his side no matter what.
Chapter 23
The next morning, Heather was walking with her maid. She’d been to visit Lady Lucy, and was now returning to join her mother for a visit to Cousin Milton this afternoon. She returned to the townhouse and changed, meeting her mother in the foyer as their carriage arrived. It was a short jaunt to their old home. Heather stepped out of the carriage and looked up at the familiar façade. Her mother took her hand, and they shared the same worried expression. Cousin Milton had said the meeting was about an urgent matter. Heather loathed the idea of meeting with him for any matter after the way he had treated them. She understood his need to protect his family, but that didn’t explain his heartlessness.
The door opened and Milton’s new butler showed them to the drawing room. A pot of tea was served, and then Milton arrived, looking shaken and pale.
Heather’s mother set her tea down in alarm and stood. “What has happened? Is it young Debra? Corrinne?”
Milton shook his head. “My daughters and my wife are in peak health, I assure you.” He motioned for her to sit.
“I’m afraid this meeting is not for a pleasant matter.”
Heather watched her cousin carefully, sensing that he was hiding something. She took her mother’s hand and squeezed it in warning.
“You said it was urgent, go on and tell us what it is.”
He pulled on his cravat. “Well, it isn’t for me to tell. Lord Brightly—”
Her mother shot to her feet. “You were to have nothing to do with Lord Brightly. You know he is a snake.”
“Hissss,” Lord Brightly said as he strolled through the door.
Lady Everly turned to face him, stepping in front of Heather protectively. Heather stood, her hands shaking as she looked between Lord Brightly and her mother.
“Milton, explain this betrayal.”
“He has a solution,” Milton hurried to say, stepping between Lady Everly and Lord Brightly as if he knew they might attack each other at any moment.
“His goal is to ruin us, not help us,” Lady Everly said. She narrowed her eyes at Lord Brightly.
“On the contrary, my lady. I think I have a suitable arrangement for all of us.”
“Let’s go, Mother,” Heather begged. Nothing good would come of this meeting. Heather knew in her gut it was a trap.
“Don’t go, not until you hear my appealing offer,” Lord Brightly smiled at Heather, his lips and teeth stretching over yellowed teeth.
“Go to hell.” Lady Everly took her daughter’s hand and moved to the door. Milton stepped in front of her.
“You can’t go. Can you not listen for one moment? He will ruin both of us. He knows Everly shot himself, and he means to use it against us.”
Lord Bright chuckled. “Thank you, Milton, for confirming my suspicions.”
Milton spun around. “You made me believe you already knew!”
“I lied, but as I said, I suspected. He shot himself? Truly?”
Heather hugged an arm around her mother’s shoulders. Her mother was shaking uncontrollably.
“What do you want,” Heather demanded. She was done being scared. She was tired of living in a constant state of fear of what this man could do to them. “You may not know it, but I am engaged to the Duke of Abehill, and his word has far more power than yours.”
“Ah yes, the notorious duke who had a son no one knew about? I heard there was an interesting event at the park. My how word travels in this town.” Lord Brightly gave her an oily smile.
Heather wasn’t cowed. She raised one brow. “It does indeed, and just as quickly, it dies.”
“Ah, death, the unavoidable consequence of life. Let’s speak of death, shall we?”
“No, we are leaving.” Heather looked to Milton but he did not move.
Lord Brightly came to Milton’s side and patted him on the shoulder. “Meager though Milton’s inheritance was, he still received an inheritance, which he shouldn’t have because Everly committed a great sin against himself. By law, the title should have been returned to the crown and with it, ever last ha’penny Lady Everly had left. How devastating,” Lord Brightly pouted mockingly. “But my lady was quick to pay off the undertaker and claim his heart gave out. A plausible cause for sudden death, wouldn’t you say Milton?”
Milton had paled even further.
“What is your point, Brightly?” Lady Everly barked at him.
He grinned slowly, clearly enjoying himself at their expense. “My point is this.” His eyes moved to Heather. “Heather marries me—as promised by her father—and I don’t inform the authorities of the nature of Everly’s death.”
“What?” Heather gasped. She looked to her mother, but her mother was watching Lord Brightly like he was indeed a very real and venomous snake set to strike at them any moment.
“Mother? What is he talking about?”
Lady Everly remained silent, the color draining from her face.
“Your father bet heavily the last time we met. He’d run out of coin, so instead he put you on the table and a plot of land in Somerset. I learned shortly after that the land had already been bet and won by someone else. But you, Heather, you would still be mine.”
“No,” Heather said with revulsion. “That is not possible and most definitely not legal. I don’t have to marry you.”
Lord Brightly tipped his head back and laughed. “I’m blackmailing you, sweetheart. I care not for the legality of a father betting his daughter’s hand. You are owed to me. Cry off from your betrothal and marry me, or I ruin all of you.”
Heather glared at her cousin. “Easier for you. You will always do what is best for you and your family, Milton, and so will I.” Heather pushed him aside, refusing to look at Lord Brightly as she hurried her mother between the men.
“I’ll give you time to think it over and call on you tomorrow. Think wisely, Miss Everly,” he said to their retreating forms. Heather ushered her mother out the door and into their waiting carriage. They spoke not a word to each other on the short ride home, parting ways in the foyer as Heather rushed to her room.
Her stomach roiled, and her heart had turned to stone during the brief trip.
She needed Fallon more than ever but he was gone, off dealing with his own troubles and utterly oblivious to the nightmare she’d brought to his door.
Chapter 24
The following day
Fallon watched Heather as she descended the stairs. He hadn’t seen her for two days, busy as he was finding a solution to Mr. Bell. She hadn’t seen him yet, and he took every precious second he had to watch her. His heart was heavy. His stomach felt like rocks had replaced his vital organs. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep all because of that damn Mr. Bell—Franklin Bell, he had learned. He wished time would slow so he could watch her a little longer. As it stood, it looked as though his time was going to run out. His hopes of having a life with her, a home and family, dwindled by the second. Would she be angry or relieved? She cared for him, he was sure of it. She would not have let him take liberties otherwise and would not have accepted those liberties so eagerly. Heather was as genuine as the sun. There was nothing false about her, nothing devious or manipulative. He would remember her touch for the rest of his days, even when he was a wrinkled old man.
The question burning in his mind, the question that ate at him—consumed him—since the moment he woke after that fateful night… Would she still marry him? He’d already risked losing her once by not being honest about who he was, and now his identity was in question again. He wanted to curse the skies like a heathen. He wasn’t even sure he could let her walk away, but as much as it tore him apart, he had to do it for her. If she wanted to go, he would let her. He couldn’t back out. That humiliation would never leave her, but she could cry off and he wouldn’t be able to stop her. In fact, it was probably the best thing for her.
“We should talk privately,” he said without preamble as she reached the bottom stair
Heather hesitated, her palms instantly becoming damp. “There is a morning room down the hall.” She turned away and he followed her. Her stomach fluttered anxiously. Did Lord Brightly contact him? This wasn’t the Fallon she knew. He was acting so strange.
They reached the morning room, a drab little room with very little furnishing or color. It was obvious the room had been ignored during the old duke’s remodeling of the house. It featured one sofa, a padded chair, and a small side table. Heather took the sofa, while Fallon remained standing.
“If I knew this was going to happen, I never would have dragged you into this.”
“You didn’t drag me into anything,” Heather returned. It was her fault for not being honest from the beginning.
“The last thing I ever wanted to do was put you and your family at risk for scandal, gossip—any sort of difficulty, really.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I just want you to know that I am profoundly sorry.”
Heather bit back a laugh. Those were the exact circumstances that urged her to pen her letter to the duke in the first place.
“I’m trying to protect you, Heather. Even if it means I can’t have you.”
At this, she was sure her heart stopped. It painfully started thumping again, and it took her a moment to find her tongue. He got down on one knee before her and took her hand.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“No! You’re not being clear at all.” She sucked in a breath, fighting the rush of tears that burst forth.
Fallon frowned, his brow creasing. “He said we should anticipate the paper getting hold of the situation. They will more than likely drag me through the mud just to sell newspapers. It will be a sensation, a scandal of gigantic proportions.”
“If it reaches the papers?” Heather said in dismay. So, Lord Brightly was going to do as he said, he’d tell everyone about her father’s death just to hurt them. Perhaps he wouldn’t be calling on Heather today as he’d said, and instead had gone straight to Fallon with his threats.
“Heather, it pains me to say this, but I’ve been thinking about what is best for you and your family. If you wish to break our betrothal, I will understand. I could dowry you and your sisters, and I would give your mother a generous settlement so you could move on comfortably. The clothes, the gifts—they are all yours. You can even stay here as long as you like, and I will remain at the hotel, or more than likely, return to Scotland.”
“I—” She couldn’t find the words. It felt as though her throat was closing. She stood, yanking her hand from his. She couldn’t breathe. Every breath she took was painful and not enough to give her air.
She turned and ran, the only thing she seemed capable of doing. She reached her room, barely able to see through the tears. She should have stayed, she should have said any number of things, but she ran like a coward. She collapsed on her bed and sobbed. She loved him. She had wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything, and now he was trying to throw her over.
Damn him! How could he simply give in to someone like Lord Brightly!
She pounded the bed with her fist. Their wedding was less than two weeks away, and he wanted her to cry off. Couldn’t he see how much she cared for him, how much she wanted to be his wife? He was willing to give it all up over the threat of scandal?
She sobbed until her throat hurt, until no sound emerged, and her chest jerked in silence. Once there was nothing left, she drew her first full breath, her lungs and heart aching. She wiped at her puffy eyes, not caring if she streaked her sleeves with tears and mucus. She pulled a pillow into her chest and hugged it tightly. It was a poor excuse for a hug, but it was all she had. She didn’t want to see another living person for the rest of the day.
It was well after twilight when Heather moved to sit up. She hadn’t given him an answer. In her bolt from the parlor, she had failed to give him an answer. She could have said the right thing at that very moment, but she didn’t. She had been so dumbfounded and heartbroken she had possibly missed her single opportunity to set him straight. What would she do if her mother had accepted his offer on her behalf?
Somehow, her family had to know because no one had disturbed her except a maid with a dinner tray. She briefly wondered if he had spoken with her mother. What had her mother said? She slipped from the bed and peeked out of her door. The tray was still there, so she lifted it and brought it to the small table near her window. She wasn’t the least bit hungry, but her throat was parched. She sipped from the glass of water and tempted herself with a bite of a roll. She set it down and returned to her bed, leaving the glass of water within reach on the nightstand.
Her head was throbbing. She closed her eyes, not bothering to even light a candle or to change. She wanted this day to be a nightmare, to wake up tomorrow and find that there was no Mr. Bell, no Lord Brightly, no talk in the parlor, and perhaps it would even be her wedding day. The tears started all over again.
Chapter 25
That evening
Fallon was in a dark mood, blacker than any he had experienced before. He sat in the shadows of his hotel room, the glass of brandy he’d poured hours before dangling tenuously from his hand. He felt like a failure, like everything his father said he would become.
He spoke with Lady Everly after Heather had run from the room, and for the life of him, he didn’t understand why Lady Everly had refused the notion of backing out. He had been very generous in the settlement amount, but no. She said it wouldn’t be what Heather would want. Everlys stand by
their word. It had felt like an insult.
But Heather hadn’t said anything. She had run from him, too afraid of what she needed to say to him.
At least, that’s what he suspected. So, she couldn’t pull the trigger. Well, that was fine. He would do it for her. He sat up and looked around. It was pitch black everywhere except where the weak light filtered through the shutters of his windows. He stood groggily, finding his way to his dressing room and filling a basin with cold water. He splashed some on his face, rubbing his eyes vigorously. He undressed and washed before forgoing his new ducal attire for the comfort and familiarity of his old clothes. They were clean and pressed, thankfully. His new valet took some convincing to keep them. He stepped into his worn boots that were more comfortable than the buckle shoes he wore of late and left his room. The lobby was almost empty. The doorman barely spared him a glance as he left. He hailed a hackney outside and gave him the address. It was late, almost eleven he saw, when he passed the grandfather clock in the hotel lobby. He wasn’t sure Heather would be home, but he didn’t think her or her mother would be in the mood for parties at present.
The house was dark when he stepped out of the hack and paid the coachman. He climbed the steps and used his key to let himself in. All was quiet inside, no candle left burning in the foyer. He assumed that meant everyone was home and likely sleeping. He was careful to not make any noise as he climbed the stairs, taking slow, even steps to anticipate the creaks. He made it to Heather’s floor and slowly traversed the hall to her door. He tried the knob and it was unlocked. He hesitated… What if he frightened her and she screamed? He let go of the handle, and instead, he scratched at the door. He didn’t think she would hear, and he debated about his next move, but then he heard soft footfalls cross to the door and the handle turned.