by Allison Lane
“Ever the gentleman. You must say that, of course. But I won’t inflict myself on you longer than necessary.” Raising her chin, she curled into the corner, and closed her eyes.
He sighed, but refused to despair. Fate had pushed them together. He must trust that Faith would accept that.
Chapter Eleven
Terror! Richard nearly died today. Without my dear Francine, he would be gone. She urged me to breathe for him when he could not draw air himself. Praise God, it worked! But it was my fault. The roses must go. I did not understand the danger…
Duchess of Westfield, Aug. 1785
Sleep was impossible, but feigning it gave Faith time to compose herself. If she spent another minute on John’s lap, she would give in to temptation. How long could she cling to honor instead of following her heart?
Yet she must. She’d already harmed him enough. The upper classes might indulge in discreet affairs, but even they punished scandal. The professional and merchant classes were far harsher. Chester’s exaggerations would make John’s situation worse.
New tears stung her eyes, but she fought them down. Emotion made it difficult to think. Terror and pain increased until her head felt ready to explode. Never had she been so weak – or so uncertain. The future yawned, a gaping hole leading straight to hell.
Stop it! Despair solves nothing! She added every curse she’d ever heard – a lengthy list after spending years surrounded by the military.
This wasn’t the first time she’d been brutally thrust out of her home. She’d survived before and would again. At least she was old enough by now to control her own fate. And she was worldly enough that she no longer expected miracles.
John’s honor was forcing him to make the best of a bad situation. He accepted that fate was often cruel. If appeasing honor meant lying to her, he would do so in an instant – she’d never understood the way men twisted honor to justify blatantly dishonorable actions, but she’d seen too many examples to deny that the practice was common. So his words meant nothing.
What he must accept was that her honor refused to condone his sacrifice. He would not pay for her selfishness. She could manage without him.
Twenty years ago, losing her family had left her bewildered and too grief-stricken to think. Nine-year-old girls couldn’t care for themselves, especially without money. So when the major had informed her that she would henceforth live with her guardian in England, she’d numbly nodded and followed orders.
This time was different. John’s litany hadn’t surprised her. She knew what dangers threatened a woman alone – especially in London. She knew her meager inheritance would not last. But she would find a position. It might not be the most desirable position, but she would satisfy her employer and eventually move on to something better. It was time to take charge of her life.
Determination stiffened her spine, restoring her energy. It was time to leave that terrified nine-year-old behind. Despite faith in her own abilities, she still meekly followed orders, rarely protesting when other people arranged her life. She had let Catherine relegate her to a servant’s post. She’d let Chester terrorize her with threats against her friends. Now John expected to take their place.
She couldn’t let him. Once she convinced the trustees to care for the staff, she would address her own future.
Controlling fate was a seductive idea. Freeing. Exhilarating. And far better than wedding John.
You don’t mean that.
Of course she did. Marriage would make them both miserable. Loving him made his offer tempting, but indulging her dreams at the cost of his would engender guilt that would ultimately destroy them both. And he would regret his offer soon enough. A wife whose deformity discomfitted potential patrons would hamper his career. And when he discovered her other faults…
John was naïve to think that dukes influenced only the aristocracy, though he was right that not everyone would follow Chester’s lead. He would eventually regain his reputation, but only if nothing else tarnished his image. His wife must be respected, scandal-free, and encompass all the attributes men looked for in their mates. Faith would never qualify. He might currently accept equal blame for their predicament, but that would not last. Every time he faced her he would remember that her demands had tumbled him into scandal.
She could not do that to him.
Yet for now, she was in his debt, with nowhere else to go. The best way to set him on the road to recovery was to divert Chester’s attention, which meant revealing secrets she’d long hidden. John deserved her best efforts.
Her hands trembled, for this might hand Chester the title, increasing his power. Yet it might also tarnish Chester’s reputation so badly that he would be ostracized despite that title.
She was the only one who knew that Montrose had not gone to France. Revealing the truth had never been in her interest, for uncertainty held Chester at bay, but now…
What if Montrose lived?
The possibility was remote, she admitted, but it did exist. Why else did the crown refuse to give Chester the title? A missing commoner could be declared dead after seven years and his property distributed to his heirs, but that was not true for lords. Producing a living duke was the one thing that might drive John completely from Chester’s mind. The duke could also find her a post, restore John’s reputation, and pension off the staff. Chester might even have to leave England. Without the dukedom behind him, his creditors would demand immediate payment. And if her efforts endangered the duke’s life…
John was more important.
Straightening, she met his gaze.
“There is only one way to prevent Chester from destroying us both,” she announced. “We must find the duke. Only he can help us.”
“You said he was dead.”
“The odds favor that conclusion, but there are two explanations for why he might live, yet not step forward.”
“A duke fail to meet his duty? You amaze me.”
“It is possible that he doesn’t know he’s a duke.” She shrugged. “That’s unlikely, of course. Francine promised—”
“Francine?”
“The duchess’s maid. She promised to train Montrose to assume his duties, so he could not be kept in ignorance for long.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I do. I have the duchess’s diary.” She smiled as he pricked to attention. “She hid it shortly before her death, so Chester doesn’t know it exists. But it explains everything – why she sent Montrose away, where he went, how to contact him in case of need. And that is why I think the second possibility is viable.”
“What now?”
“That he is waiting until it is safe to step forward.”
“Safe?”
“Safe.” She sighed. “The colonel might mutter about family curses and premature deaths, but the family history is more sordid than even he admits.”
“Are you sure you want to pursue this, Faith? If by some miracle you find him alive, his first act will be to demand that you wed me.”
“I doubt it,” she lied. When he tried to interrupt, she laid her fingers across his lips. “Think, John. Only the duke can control Chester, for only he can prosecute Chester for his crimes.”
He frowned.
“If he is hiding, it is time that he faces his fear and deals with Chester.”
“That makes no sense. Chester was still in school when the ninth duke disappeared. His crimes are against Westcourt – something the duke can’t possibly know; if he’s been in touch with anyone on the staff, he would surely have stepped forward years ago.”
“Chester was not still in school. He came down from Cambridge two weeks before Richard’s death. At least listen to the duchess’s tale before you dismiss it.”
“Why did you say nothing earlier?”
“Everyone believed the duke would appear eleven years ago on his twenty-first birthday. When he didn’t, most accepted that he was dead, though there were those who hoped he was merely trapped in France. I was
one of those, but that hope died with the end of the war. We all accepted that he was gone and got on with our lives. So when I found the diary last year, its information did not seem relevant. And it was not in my best interests, nor those of the staff, to prove the duke’s death, which is what revealing the diary might accomplish. Now it no longer matters, for Chester is already moving against the staff. If Montrose is alive, he can help them far better than trustees who may owe their allegiance to Chester.”
He nodded.
“In addition to explaining why she sent Montrose away, the duchess also recorded family secrets, many concerning Chester. Some stories she knew firsthand. Others she learned from her husband. All depict Chester in a very bad light. I’ve found evidence to support many of her claims and nothing to refute them, so I must assume they are all true. Revealing the tales will keep Chester busy defending himself, for some of his actions were illegal. Others will invite confrontations with several high-ranking gentlemen, any of whom might kill him.”
“What does she say?”
“Parts of it you already know. Hortense and the servants confirm that Chester was selfish from the moment of birth. Richard believed that something was missing in Chester’s heart. At times he wondered if the heart itself was missing, for Chester always needed to be the focus of all eyes and more important than anyone else. He punished anyone who eclipsed him. Richard told his duchess about many childhood incidents – Chester broke any gift Richard received, demolished a cherished figurine their nurse inherited from her mother, shredded Richard’s new coat because it cost more than his own, tortured any animal that favored Richard…”
“Good God.”
“He demanded the biggest, the best, the most desirable.” She shook her head. “For example, Chester rejoiced when Richard moved out of the nursery, for it meant Chester received Nurse’s entire attention – he hadn’t yet learned that there was a larger world beyond the nursery. But then Thomas was born. Infants need constant care, so Chester was turned over to the nursery maid.”
“Mrs. Baines.”
“Yes. After I found the diary, I asked about those years, purely from curiosity, for I believed Montrose was dead. Her mind was still reasonably sharp then. I can’t believe how rapidly she’s faded.” Her voice broke.
He covered her hand and squeezed. “Did you show Mrs. Baines the diary?”
“No. I’d been reading old correspondence, so she assumed I’d found references there.”
“But she confirmed what the duchess reported?”
“Oh, yes. Chester disrupted the household time and time again. Nurse caught him smothering Thomas with a pillow one day. She scolded him, but thought no more of it, attributing the incident to the jealousy children often feel when they must share with a new child. Even the fire didn’t change her view.”
“Fire?”
He was poking about in the grate when a coal flipped into Thomas’s bed, setting the sheet ablaze. Nurse snatched the boy up and smothered the flames, but she never admitted he’d done it deliberately.”
“I hope she at least kept him away from Thomas after that.”
“She did.” Faith remembered to retrieve her hand from John’s grasp. “She wasn’t stupid, merely unable to believe that he harbored true evil. Thomas was a sickly child in need of quiet, so she moved Chester out of the nursery and made sure Thomas was never alone. Chester had his own tutor from then on.”
“So attacking Thomas earned him extra attention and a room and tutor like Richard.”
She shuddered, for she’d not considered the incident in that light. “In part. But he also lost the attention of the nursery staff, and Nurse compared his behavior unfavorably to Richard’s. His new tutor also had less precedence than Richard’s.”
“Chester was younger.”
“And not the heir.”
“Ah.”
“Exactly. Heirs always get more. It was a truth Chester never accepted. He wanted respect and worship from everyone around him. If he didn’t earn it, he coerced it through threats and attacks.”
“You terrify me.” His arm slid along the seat behind her.
“It gets worse. Richard knew Chester’s purpose because he was the victim of most of his pranks. And if he wasn’t the victim, Chester arranged matters so Richard got the blame.”
“To undermine his credit?”
“Exactly. As time passed, he learned to hide his purpose. Others thought he’d outgrown his childish spite, but Richard knew better. Chester still punished every perceived slight, and as he understood more of the wider world, his goals looked further into the future. When a neighboring lord left everything not entailed to his second son, Chester took the lesson to heart. If their father hated Richard, then Chester would become the favorite.”
“Diabolical.”
She nodded. “He wouldn’t accept that an heir draws more respect whether he deserves it or not, so every time Richard received preferential treatment – which happened daily – Chester punished him. It didn’t help that Richard often accompanied their father on estate business – given the family history for premature death, the seventh duke believed that Richard should learn about his inheritance from an early age. Chester hated being left behind. And he hated that the duke often checked on Thomas – he was very protective of the boy.”
John shook his head.
“Which brings us to the year Thomas turned seven. He was small for his age and remained in the nursery, for his health had never improved. Breathing was difficult outdoors, so he rarely left the house. Chester escaped his tutor one day and showed up in the nursery – at ten he was still fighting for Nurse’s affection. She chastised him and threatened to speak to the duke if he neglected his lessons again. She also called him a baby.”
“Ouch. What did he do?”
“This part is conjecture – Richard admitted that he had no proof, but he believed that Chester wanted Nurse turned off for dereliction of duty. However he managed it, Thomas escaped the nursery and fell to his death in the stable.”
“Dear lord!” His hand slipped onto her shoulder as he turned to meet her gaze.
Faith shivered, but she couldn’t bring herself to move out of reach. “Everyone accepted that Thomas had slipped away while Nurse was fixing his tea. Tragic accident. No blame to anyone. But Thomas never left the house, and not just because it was forbidden. He knew he couldn’t breathe outside. He knew horses made it worse. He was terrified of those choking attacks and avoided anything that might trigger one. Richard insisted that Thomas would never have gone to the stable alone, so someone must have taken him there. Only Chester was that cruel.”
“Did he plan to kill him, then?”
“I doubt it, at least not consciously. Maybe Thomas fell because he passed out, or maybe Chester gave in to impulse and pushed him. All that is certain is that Thomas fell from the loft and broke his neck. A groom swore he’d heard two boys quarreling shortly before the fall, but a search found Chester diligently working in the schoolroom. The tutor claimed he’d been there since breakfast, even though Nurse swore she’d kicked him out of the nursery two hours earlier.”
“No one believed her.” John shook his head.
“It’s hard to say. With the nursery empty, she left. But Richard swore that Chester changed that day. Thomas’s death taught him that an accident could promote him to heir. His pranks against Richard immediately grew harsher. When Richard escaped serious injury for the third time in as many days, he complained to his father.”
“But men don’t believe thirteen-year-old boys.”
“Not entirely.” She shrugged. “He thought grief was responsible for Chester’s tantrums. But he was a prudent man. Rather than take chances, he enrolled Chester at Harrow for the fall term instead of sending him to Eton with Richard.”
“Why do I have a grim feeling about this?”
“Because the tale is grim. Chester was furious. Two days later, the duke’s carriage broke an axle.”
“He killed
his father?”
“Not deliberately. If it had broken anywhere else, the occupants would have survived. Injured, probably, but the coachman was known as a careful driver, and they weren’t moving very fast. But the accident occurred on that narrow strip of road approaching the park gates.”
“Above the river? I meant to suggest that the road be moved. It’s clearly dangerous.”
“Exactly. The coach fell over the cliff. The duke drowned. The coachman also died – the same coachman who had chastised Chester only that morning for trying to ride the duke’s stallion.”
“So you think he wanted the coachman blamed for taking out a faulty carriage?”
She nodded. “That is what Richard thought, too, not that it matters. Richard became Westfield. Though control of the dukedom went to trustees, he convinced them to honor his father’s last wishes by sending Chester to Harrow.”
“So what happened when Chester returned on long break?”
“Chester spent breaks at a ducal estate north of London – or with friends, one of whom now holds the title Lord Bitstaff. Richard feared what Chester would do when next they met, so he barred him from Westcourt. And he took steps to secure the succession. Or tried. He wanted to wed the moment he finished at Eton, but the trustees refused.”
“Said he was too young, I suppose.”
“Exactly. They never believed Chester was evil. He was a gentleman born, and while he may have been wild – some of his school exploits raised brows – he was Lord Chester, and that was that. So Richard went to Oxford and bided his time. He fell in love at age nineteen but could do nothing about it until his twenty-first birthday. They wed that day.” She paused to swallow the lump that suddenly blocked her throat. “Once they were settled, he told his wife everything so she would be prepared in case anything happened to him. Even before Montrose was born, Richard bought a small estate in Scotland, secretly and under another name. He set up accounts under that name, too, so the duchess would never be at Chester’s mercy. And he made her promise to go there immediately if anything happened to him. After Montrose’s birth, they renewed the vow.”