Scandalous Duke

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Scandalous Duke Page 20

by Scott, Scarlett


  “You were ashamed of me, then?” she asked.

  It was a necessary question, but she did not relish the asking. Nor the response.

  “I was not ashamed of you,” he denied. “But I was looking to protect Verity. My daughter is everything to me, and you know that.”

  Of course she knew how much his daughter meant to him.

  “It is because of Verity and how much I care for the both of you that I cannot possibly marry you,” she said brokenly. “Can you not see that?”

  “I have fallen in love with you, Johanna,” he told her then. “Against my better judgment, it is true. I never thought my heart would find another woman I was capable of loving after Hattie died. But then I met you, and you proved otherwise. You brought me back to life again. In the past two days, you have brought more joy and laughter to Verity and me than we have had in the past five years. And I am a greedy, selfish man. I want that lightness, that happiness. I want you for myself.”

  She searched his gaze, his countenance, for some sign he was jesting. That he was toying with her. Because surely he could not have just said he loved her.

  Surely not.

  Unless…

  Could it be?

  “Felix,” she said softly. “What can you be thinking? Did you not listen to any of the things I have said? You do not love me. You cannot love me.”

  Although there was nothing she wanted more in this world than Felix’s love—and to become his wife—she knew she could not. His proposal, and indeed, even his confession, were rash and rushed. Quite unlike the man she had come to know.

  “I can,” he assured her, “and I do. But I will be honest with you now, Johanna. There is another reason why I have asked you to marry me today, aside from the way I feel for you.”

  Ah, there it was. Another reason. The true motive behind his abrupt proposal. She had not been wrong in her assessments, then.

  She stiffened, preparing for whatever it was he had to say, certain it would not be anything she wanted to hear. “What reason could you possibly have for wanting to marry me, Felix?”

  “To protect you.” His jaw tightened, a grim note she had not heard before underlying his words. “I received word this morning that the Special Investigative Unit of Scotland Yard intends to arrest you.”

  Shock hit her, and she felt, for a beat, as if all the air had been stolen from her lungs. Her knees went weak as one of her greatest fears washed over her.

  “Arrest me,” she repeated, her lips numb, coldness seeping into her marrow.

  “Yes.” Felix paused, closing his eyes for a moment as if he, too, were struggling to compose himself. “It is not the sole reason why I wish to make you my duchess, Johanna. But it is the reason why I must do so imminently.”

  “You must marry me imminently,” she said, struggling to comprehend everything he had just revealed to her. “Why?”

  She had already been in shock from his unexpected proposal. She had begun their interview believing she would be telling him goodbye, believing these precious few minutes were the last she could ever allow herself to have with him.

  But now, he had told her he loved her.

  That he wanted to marry her.

  Still, any incipient joy she experienced because of the first two was crushed beneath the gripping weight of the next, undeniable fact.

  It was all because she was going to be arrested.

  “Scotland Yard intends to arrest you soon,” he said. “Perhaps today. We have not much time to tarry. When I was gone this morning, I was securing the license we need to marry. Fortunately, I was able to procure it in time.”

  The weakest part of her was tempted to accept Felix’s proposal. But neither her pride nor her heart would allow her to do so.

  “How will marrying me keep me from being arrested?” she asked, still struggling to make sense of everything.

  Fearing there was no possible way to make sense of it.

  “I will not be able to testify against you,” he answered swiftly, “regarding the trunk and the explosives you smuggled into England. From what I understand, Scotland Yard intends to use one of your brother’s men as Queen’s Evidence against you.”

  Before Johanna could offer a response, there was a commotion at the door to the study. She heard the familiar voice of the butler raised in alarm, mingling with other male voices.

  He was too late, she realized. They were already coming for her.

  Stricken, her gaze searched Felix’s.

  The door burst open.

  A handful of men stormed over the threshold.

  “Johanna McKenna,” one of them said.

  Her eyes slid closed, all the fight draining from her. “I will go with you. You need not say anything more.”

  “Johanna,” Felix cried.

  Rough hands took her by the arms, dragging her from Felix’s comforting embrace. She allowed it, her resistance gone. Like always, the sins of the past had a way of inevitably returning to the present, and it would seem the time had come for her to face her fate.

  “Step aside, your Grace,” ordered another of the men. “We are under orders to arrest her on suspicion of conspiracy.”

  “By whose authority, damn you?” Felix demanded.

  “The Criminal Investigation Department of Scotland Yard,” answered another as manacles were placed on Johanna’s wrists.

  They closed with the snap of grim finality.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Johanna was seated across from a detective. After she had been taken from Felix’s home, she had been driven to the Scotland Yard offices where, she had been informed, all Fenian investigations were conducted. She had been handled quite roughly by the men who had taken her into custody despite Felix’s protestations. Her hands had been shackled, and she had been treated much in the manner of a prisoner. Pushed and prodded. Spoken to in short sentences. Reviled.

  It only occurred to her as she settled into the small and windowless room where she had been taken to await her fate that she was a prisoner. The questioning was a formality. She would be going to prison.

  The realization left her chilled. Almost numb. She attempted to distract herself with details. To forget about what was to come and to protect herself as best she could. For Felix could not save her from the tangled web in which she now found herself. No one could.

  The table at which they sat was bare. The chair was stiff-backed and hard. The man facing her was, she judged, ten years or so her senior. Dark whiskers covered his jaw, and he was dour and unsmiling. He possessed the air of a man who had found great disappointment in his life and was determined to make everyone around him pay for his displeasure.

  He pinned her with his flinty gaze.

  “Miss McKenna,” he said, his tone almost conversational, “I am Mr. Ravenhurst, and quite pleased to make your acquaintance. Would you care for a cup of tea before we begin?”

  His query was not what she had expected. But tea was the last thing on her mind. And she recognized the false cheer in his tone for what it was, an attempt to get her to warm to him. A means of facilitating his questions.

  “No, thank you,” she said. “I would prefer to face whatever is in store for me rather than delay.”

  “A woman of decision,” he observed, flashing her a grim smile. “I admire your eagerness to arrive at the reason for your presence here.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, swallowing down a knot of fear.

  “You are an actress by trade, are you not, Miss McKenna?” he asked, almost lazily.

  “I am.” Her shackles had been removed, and her hands were now in her lap. Belatedly, she realized she was clutching at her gown with such desperation, her fingers were biting into her thighs. Later, she would probably find bruises.

  She forced herself to exhale.

  “And your name for the stage,” he added. “It is Miss Rose Beaumont. Is that correct?”

  “It is,” she acknowledged.

  “Do you deny being the sister of Mr. Drummond McK
enna?” he asked next.

  “No,” she said quietly. “I do not deny that. He is my brother.”

  He had also been her curse. Her bane. Her tormentor.

  And, it would seem, her ultimate downfall.

  “Your brother, Drummond McKenna, provided you with a trunk for your journey from New York City to Liverpool, is that accurate, Miss McKenna?” he queried.

  The words Felix had whispered in her ear returned to her then.

  Admit nothing.

  It occurred to her that perhaps her best chance at fighting for her freedom was not to acknowledge the truth. The truth was damning. She would have to think of this as yet another role. She was playing a part.

  “I am not aware of such a trunk,” she told the detective.

  “The Duke of Winchelsea contacted the Special League with information concerning a trunk in your possession,” he countered, his false smile once more in place. “A trunk which had been given to you by Mr. Drummond McKenna. The trunk was said to contain lignin dynamite, nitroglycerin, and a packet of correspondence. Do you now deny its existence?”

  Had there been nitroglycerin? She had only known of the dynamite and the letters. She wondered if the man before her was adding to the information he possessed to scare her, or if he had been provided with false information.

  Her heart was beating fast. Her mouth was dry. Everything within her screamed to tell the truth. To admit to the trunk, to explain how it had come into her possession. To reveal the full extent of her brother’s campaign of torture.

  But again, she heard Felix’s voice.

  Admit nothing.

  And she believed in him. Because if she did not believe in the man she had come to love, what else had she to believe in?

  “I do not know of the trunk you speak of, sir,” she said, forcing herself to be calm. “Nor am I familiar with such contents. I never was in possession of such an item.”

  “You are lying, madam,” he accused.

  She met his gaze without flinching or looking away. “I do not recall such a trunk, sir. I would think I should know if I had dynamite in my possession. Do you not think so?”

  His lips thinned. “Do you think because you are warming the bed of the Duke of Winchelsea that you are above reproach, Miss McKenna?”

  “I do not presume to think I am above anything, sir,” she said, for this was the truth, regardless of how badly his words had stung.

  She did not want to think of herself in those terms, as if she were a mistress. A lightskirt. As if she ought to be ashamed of herself. She was not ashamed. She would never be ashamed of what she had shared with Felix. Nor would she ever be ashamed of the love she felt for him.

  “You are aware, Miss McKenna, that Winchelsea was initially charged with watching you,” Mr. Ravenhurst said. “That is the reason you exerted your wiles upon him, is it not?”

  She frowned, attempting to make sense of what he had just said.

  “Winchelsea was charged with watching me,” she repeated.

  “In the course of his work for the Home Office, yes,” agreed her captor. “You were aware of Winchelsea’s position, and that is why you chose him as your target.”

  “I had no target.” Confusion warred with dread, deep within her. “Nor had I any knowledge of the Duke of Winchelsea’s work for the Home Office. Indeed, I do not know what the Home Office is.”

  Ravenhurst’s eyes narrowed. “Of course you do, Miss McKenna. You may have easily influenced Winchelsea with your beautiful face, but I am not a man so diverted by the female form. You know very well that Winchelsea was tasked with investigating your involvement with Mr. Drummond McKenna. You knew Winchelsea was attempting to use you to lure Mr. McKenna to London.”

  His words sent another chill through her.

  Because either he was lying to manipulate her, or there was some truth to his words. And if there was truth to his words, it sounded as if Felix was somehow involved in all of this.

  But, of course, he could not be. He had never breathed a word of such involvement to her. The man before her was prevaricating. That was the only truth she could believe. Her heart told her anything else was wrong.

  “I am not familiar with anything you have just said, Mr. Ravenhurst,” she said.

  “But of course you are,” he countered, before pausing and studying her. “The Duke of Winchelsea was using you, my dear, in much the same way you are using him.”

  “Which way is that, sir?” she asked, feeling as if the ground had been pulled from beneath her. “I confess, I do not follow your reasoning.”

  One moment, she had been certain.

  And now, she was…

  Dear God, she could not bear to contemplate the way she felt. But the doubt was everywhere, infectious. Filling her with trepidation and dread.

  Shaking her.

  Shaking everything she thought she had known…

  “Winchelsea was using you to further the investigation into your brother,” Ravenhurst said smoothly. “Just as you were using him to keep from being arrested. And yet, here you are. Your plans did not come to fruition in the manner you had hoped.”

  Felix had been investigating Drummond?

  But how could that be? When she had laid bare all the painful details of her past, he had never for one moment suggested he was already familiar with her brother’s name. Or with her. Or with any detail remotely connected to herself, her brother, or the Fenians.

  “Winchelsea was not investigating me,” she denied.

  Felix, her Felix, would never betray her in such a fashion. She was sure of it.

  “Of course he was,” Mr. Ravenhurst said. “Winchelsea himself was responsible for bringing you here to London.”

  “Explain yourself, if you please,” she demanded. “How can His Grace have been responsible for my time here? I was hired by the Crown and Thorn.”

  Her entire being was cold, as if she had just plunged into the waters of a frozen winter’s lake.

  “By Mr. Theo Saville,” the detective agreed. “Saville is a close friend of Winchelsea’s. He was willing to accommodate Winchelsea’s request. Surely His Grace mentioned all this to you in the course of your…relationship with him. Did he not?”

  No, he most certainly had not. He had mentioned nothing of the sort.

  Felix was friends with Mr. Saville. She knew that much herself without having to ask.

  “His Grace is a very private man,” she said, attempting to deflect any further attention upon her relationship with Felix to another matter.

  To anything else.

  For her own sake as well as for her wellbeing and future freedom.

  She could not afford any more mistakes. She had already lived a life of so many. From the time she had run away from her father and the life she had detested, she had been fleeing. Too fearful to settle down and find a home anywhere, with anyone.

  Felix had changed that for her.

  For the first time, she had wanted to stay with him. To remain with him, wherever he was. She wanted him to be her home.

  “Winchelsea is indeed a private man,” Ravenhurst agreed. “He has always been a bastion of honor, which is why I am perplexed by the manner in which he has attempted to protect you. His instinct to keep you safe, I can only put down to your seductress ways. You have brought a great man low, and for that you must be well-pleased with yourself.”

  She would never be happy with herself for bringing Felix low.

  “I am no seductress, sir,” she denied.

  “There is no need to lie, Miss McKenna. The evidence speaks for itself. Why else would a dignified member of the Home Office, a man charged with overseeing the operations of the Special League, be so determined to protect you?” he asked.

  She struggled to understand what Ravenhurst had just revealed to her. She understood that the Special League was a force tasked with attempting to curtail Fenian activities throughout England and Ireland. But as for who that man might be, or what it had to do with the Home Office,
she was at a loss.

  “Forgive me,” she began hesitantly, “but I am afraid you will have to explain yourself further. I do not know who you speak of or what these charges are which you have presumed to level against me.”

  He smiled slowly. “I speak of the Duke of Winchelsea, of course. Do not play the actress with me, my dear. I know you are entirely aware of the role His Grace plays in Her Majesty’s government.”

  Felix was involved in counter-Fenian enforcement? Involved in the government?

  Everything inside her went cold. He had never said a word. Not in all the time they had spent together. Not when she had confessed everything to him. Not when she had told him she was in possession of dynamite. Not when he had kissed her or held her. Most definitely not when he had shared her bed.

  “You are telling me that His Grace is the reason I am under arrest?” she asked, a sick sense of betrayal brewing inside her, filling her stomach with a churning sea of nausea.

  “You are under arrest because you admitted to brining lignin dynamite into England with the express purpose of delivering it to known Fenians,” Ravenhurst countered. “Fortunately, that information was given to us by Winchelsea before you were able to sufficiently work your wiles upon him.”

  “I asked him to give that information to the proper authorities,” she said, still struggling to make sense of the situation.

  “The Duke of Winchelsea was the proper authority,” Ravenhurst informed her. “But of course, you knew that when you fabricated your plan to seduce him. Do not think for a moment that your naïve innocence act is deceiving me. Was it your brother’s idea, or was it yours, Miss McKenna, to infiltrate counter-Fenian operations? It was a clever notion, I will admit.”

  She stared at Ravenhurst, the betrayal merging with anguish. If what he was telling her was true, that meant Felix had deceived her. That Felix had used her. That perhaps everything he had told her, everything he had shared with her, had been a lie.

  That he had been manipulating her all along.

  “I had no such plan,” she defended herself, finding her voice at last. “My only plan was to thwart my brother using whatever means I could. I want his men to be arrested. I want him to be brought to justice.”

 

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