by Diana Bold
“You want me to marry a woman I can’t trust? Spend the rest of my life worrying that every time I go to my wife’s bed, it’s you she’s imagining beside her?” Michael shook his head. “I think I’ll pass on that particular form of hell.”
Dylan made a soft sound of frustration. “I said I’m sorry. What else do you want me to do?”
Michael gave him a long measuring look. “We’re not children anymore. You can’t say you’re sorry and make everything all right. It’s done. It’s over. There’s nothing you can do to take it back.”
Dylan knew he deserved his brother’s harsh words. He nodded once, abruptly, and accepted Michael’s judgment.
“I’m through trying to fix your mistakes.” Michael shook his head again. “Go to Scotland. Don’t ever come back. There’s nothing left for you here.”
Then the only person who still cared about Dylan turned and walked away, leaving him alone in the duke’s garden.
Aching. Knowing he deserved it.
NATALIA’S FATHER ESCORTED her back to her room in utter silence. Anger and frustration emanated from him in a wave, but somehow, he managed to restrain from any further recrimination.
Thank God. She couldn’t bear to be berated any further. She felt emotionally naked, stripped and laid bare by the evening’s events. She’d gone from the heights of joy to the depths of despair, all in a matter of moments, and she was still reeling.
“We’ll speak about the consequences of your actions in the morning,” he told her gruffly when they reached her door. “Don’t leave this room again tonight.”
“I’m sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.”
“I know,” he said, softening a little. “Don’t worry. We’ll find you a husband who’s worthy of you. Perhaps Sherbourne or Prince Nikolai will still agree to the match. No one need ever know about the mistake you made tonight.” He pressed an awkward kiss on the painful bump on her temple, and then hurried away.
Mistake.
She shut her door and undressed by herself, unwilling to call for her maid when she needed privacy so badly. Her movements were stiff and awkward, and her head still ached from the fall she’d taken.
Father was right; it had been a terrible mistake to meet Dylan in the garden. Her gullibility shamed her, as did her passionate response to his sweet kisses.
He’d played her like a musician strums an instrument, said all the things she wanted to hear, and led her irrevocably into a trap of her own making. She shouldn’t have believed his pretty words. After all, she’d heard the rumors about his many affairs. She’d known no woman had ever managed to capture his attention for more than a moment or two.
But she’d wanted to fall in love so badly.
So, she’d constructed a phantom hero, someone who met all her criteria and just happened to be named Captain Dylan Blake. Then, when the actual man came along, she’d tried to force him into a suit of armor that had never quite suited him.
She should have trusted her first instincts and listened to her head, not her heart. She’d known he wasn’t the man she wanted him to be the very first night she’d met him. Why hadn’t she been more careful? Why hadn’t she thought things through before behaving so rashly? She should have chosen someone else on whom to bestow her kisses. Someone manageable like Viscount Sherbourne.
With a sigh, she hung her wilted gown over the back of a chair for the maid to take care of in the morning. Finally, redressed in a warm flannel nightgown, she slipped into her bed and took several long deep breaths, trying to calm her frazzled nerves.
It was no use. She couldn’t stop thinking about Dylan, couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Merely a trickle at first, they quickly gained momentum as she mourned her lost innocence.
When Dylan looked at her, he had made her feel like the center of his world. She’d been thoroughly taken in by him, so she supposed she deserved whatever fate her father chose to hand her. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen for a pair of mysterious eyes and a cocky grin.
Stupid. So very stupid.
When all her emotion was spent and she laid in her lonely bed, staring up at the ceiling with dry burning eyes, all she could think about was that kiss. She couldn’t forget the way Dylan’s hand had felt upon the tender slope of her breast. In his arms, she’d felt gloriously alive.
Her worst fear was living the rest her life without ever again knowing that feeling.
AFTER HIS CONFRONTATION with Michael, Dylan returned to his rented rooms. He spent the rest of the night drinking himself into oblivion, trying to forget the utter mess he’d made of his life.
It didn’t work. Every time he closed his eyes, thoughts of the people he’d betrayed haunted him. Michael—finally washing his hands of his black sheep brother, once and for all. Natalia—her beautiful green eyes filled with reproach, her professed love turning to bitter anger.
In the end, he didn’t even have the bloody 200 pounds to show for the whole debacle. He’d never gotten Natalia to agree to a second dance. Instead, he’d compromised her beyond his wildest dreams, after promising Michael he wouldn’t.
He couldn’t blame Natalia and his brother for hating him. And he couldn’t blame Mrs. Tweed for finally serving him with an eviction notice.
Fumbling in his breast pocket, he drew out Natalia’s pilfered gloved. He lifted it to his face and inhaled her faint scent. His life had been empty for a very long time, but until tonight, he’d never realized how much he longed for what he’d glimpsed in Natalia’s eyes. Friendship. Love. Hope.
The mere thought of what he’d lost made him sick with yearning, so he made a conscious effort to turn his thoughts away from Natalia. Instead, he distilled his pain into anger and focused it on his father.
As happy as he’d been to learn his grandfather had left him Aldabaran, it killed him to know he’d spent twelve years in the army for nothing. How could his father have kept something like that from him?
He’d struggled all his life to discover the innate flaw that turned everyone who should have loved him away in disgust. Even his mother had abandoned him.
Michael had counseled him to go to Aldabaran immediately, but he knew he couldn’t leave London without confronting his father. Perhaps he was a glutton for punishment, but he needed to focus on discovering why the earl had hidden the inheritance—it was far less painful to think about confronting his father than to dwell on the look in Natalia’s eyes when she discovered the truth about the wager.
“NATALIA, DARLING. IT’S time to wake up.”
Natalia groaned, covering her head with the blanket, and tried to ignore Clarice for as long as possible. Her head felt as though it been trampled by a herd of elephants. When she explored her scalp with her hand, she found a large bump near her temple. She winced. How had that happened? Bad memories hovered at the edge of her consciousness, but instinct warned her not to examine them too closely.
“Natalia, wake up.” Clarice would not go away. She pulled relentlessly at Natalia’s blankets until there was nothing left to hide beneath.
With a sigh, Natalia opened her eyes and found her stepmother hovering next to her bed. “What time is it?”
“It’s just after six.” A frown creased Clarice’s lovely face. “You look terrible. Are you truly ill, on top of everything else?”
Everything else. Last night’s events came rushing back, despite her best attempts to keep them at bay. Natalia buried her face in her hands and wished Clarice had let her sleep. Time to face the consequences of her actions, but she wasn’t ready. She’d rather turn back the clock and make different choices. How differently she’d behave, if given the chance.
“I’m not sick.” Natalia flinched inwardly at the sound of her own scratchy voice. “But my head is throbbing, and my eyes feel like boiled onions.”
“I’ve had that malady before. It comes from crying yourself to sleep.” Clarice sighed and sat down on the edge of Natalia’s bed with a rustle of lavender-scented skirts. “Why didn’t you
tell me Dylan Blake was the man who’d caught your attention? I would never have invited him to the party last night if I’d known.”
Natalia forced herself to sit up and brushed a limp curl of hair from her eyes. “Don’t blame yourself. I would have found a way to meet him, with or without your help.”
“Dylan Blake.” Clarice shook her head. “What were you thinking, darling?”
“Apparently, I wasn’t thinking at all.” Natalia looked away, unable to bear Clarice’s censure.
To her surprise, Clarice leaned forward and dropped her voice to a whisper. “He is one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen. Was it sheer bliss to kiss him? You must tell me everything.”
Clarice had done the right thing. She’d married for duty instead of love. She would never understand what Natalia had experienced in Dylan’s arms. Personally, Natalia wished she had remained ignorant. She’d learned the hard way that passion only led to a broken heart.
“It was wonderful.” She fought a new rush of tears. “He was so sweet, so tender. I love him, Clarice. I thought he really cared about me as well. How could I have been such a fool?”
Clarice gave her a fierce hug. “Falling in love isn’t foolish. I just wish you would have chosen someone worthy of you.”
“Someone like Sherbourne?” Natalia remembered how kind he’d been to her last night. He undoubtedly felt betrayed by both her and his brother, but he hadn’t offered one word of reproach.
Clarice drew away, her blue eyes filled with speculation. “Would you still consider a marriage to Sherbourne? He’s not to blame for what his brother did.”
Natalia shook her head, unwilling to entertain the thought even for a moment. “I don’t want to marry anyone. Not for a very long time.”
Clarice frowned. “I’m afraid time is something you no longer have.”
Natalia closed her eyes as she came to terms with the gravity of her situation. “Father wants me to marry Sherbourne?”
Clarice nodded. “The duke has made some inquiries, and he’s discovered the Earl of Warren is having serious financial problems. Michael Blake needs your dowry, and his reputation is above reproach.”
“Everyone needs my dowry.” Natalia gave a bitter laugh. “Just this once, I thought I’d found someone who needed me.”
“You could still marry Captain Blake, if that’s what you want.” Clarice watched her closely, as though trying to see into her very soul. “Now that he’s had a little time to think things through, I think your father would allow it. He wants you to be happy.”
Her father wanted her to be happy? Natalia felt guilty for all the angry thoughts she’d had about the duke in the past. But if he truly gave her a choice in the matter, after what had happened, how could she disappoint him?
Her heart urged her to pick Dylan, despite what he’d done, but she refused to be weak and foolish again. “All right. Tell my father I’ve agreed to marry Viscount Sherbourne.”
At least she didn’t have to worry that Michael Blake would break her heart. His brother had already beaten him to it.
Chapter Twelve
Whenever at home, the Duke of Clayton could be found in his library. He’d created a sanctuary out of the huge two-story room with its dark heavy furniture and thousands of leather-bound books. He rarely allowed anyone except the cleaning staff to intrude upon his privacy. Natalia knew it couldn’t be a good sign when he summoned her there late that afternoon.
Standing in the hallway outside the library door, she crumpled the note he’d sent her into a tight little ball. Realizing what she’d done, she tried to smooth it back out again then forced herself to take a deep breath and calm down.
It wasn’t easy. This would be the first time she’d faced her father since he’d escorted her to her bedchamber door last night.
She shouldn’t be so worried. No doubt he’d merely called her down here to inform her Sherbourne had agreed to divest her of her enormous dowry. And that was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Gathering every last shred of her courage, she tapped on the wide oak door.
“Come in,” the duke called.
She slipped into the room and found her father sitting behind his massive mahogany desk. A pensive frown creased his grim face as he motioned her toward the nearest chair. “Sit down, Natalia.”
She did as he asked, relieved to see no sign of Michael Blake. Michael would have to be dealt with, but she wasn’t ready to look into his warm blue eyes and see her own sins reflected back at her.
Perhaps she never would be.
The duke stared at her for a long moment, then made a small sound of frustration and shook his head. “I’ve spoken to Sherbourne. The bloody fool won’t have you.”
The duke’s obvious anger and astonishment might have been amusing, under any other circumstances. She doubted anyone had ever opposed him before. As it was, Natalia didn’t know what to feel. Relief, but she also battled with chagrin and uncertainty. Apparently, even her dowry wasn’t enough to make a man want her now.
She cleared her throat and tried to remain calm. “We should have realized Sherbourne would balk at this. He has far too much pride to marry someone whose reputation isn’t above reproach.” Appearances were very important to Michael—as they were to her father.
The duke tapped the end of a quill pen on his desk. “It’s of no consequence. I told you I would take care of you, and I meant it.”
“What do you want me to do?” Natalia asked, overcome with dread. She hadn’t been happy about the match with Sherbourne. But at least she’d come to accept it.
The duke shook his head. “Things have become even more complicated. After leaving Sherbourne, I stopped by my club. While I was there, at least four people asked me if I was going to force Captain Blake to marry you. Apparently, someone else witnessed your tryst in the garden.”
Nausea twisted in the pit of Natalia’s stomach. Dear God. Everyone knew. It had been bad enough when she thought only Michael and her father had been privy to last night’s calamity. How could she ever hold up her head again?
“Who do you think told? Was it Dylan?” Perhaps this was yet another of his underhanded attempts to gain control of her dowry.
“It couldn’t have been Captain Blake,” the duke admitted. “I sent someone to watch him last night. He went straight home and hasn’t left his rooms since.”
“Thank God.” For the first time today, Natalia felt a glimmer of relief. How humiliating to know someone else had seen her in Dylan’s arms, but she couldn’t have borne it if Dylan had done this terrible thing on top of everything else.
She didn’t want to believe everything about him had been a calculated lie. “Well, regardless of who told, the secret is out, and your life is no longer your own. You have to think about your reputation, do whatever needs to be done to salvage it.” The duke tried to smile. “There’s still Prince Nikolai Ivanovich. If we act quickly, we can whisk you away to Russia and have you married before even a hint of the scandal reaches his ears.”
Prince Nikolai. The very thought filled her with dread. “Father, isn’t there someone else? Someone English? Prince Nikolai frightens me.”
“There’s no reason to be afraid. Ivanovich is an honorable man. He is your mother’s cousin. I’m certain he would never dream of mistreating you in any way.”
Dear lord. How could her father be so blind? Couldn’t he see the cruelty just behind Prince Nikolai’s urbane charm?
She decided to try another tactic. “Please, Father. I don’t want to leave England. In Russia, I’ll be so alone. I don’t know anyone. I don’t know their ways.”
“I expect you’ll learn.” The duke sighed and tossed his pen across the desk in frustration. “I know this isn’t precisely what you want, but I can’t think of any other solution. I’ve already gone begging to Sherbourne, and I’ll be damned if I’ll do it again. How would it look if word got around that I’d tried to bribe someone to marry my daughter?” His voice had risen, and he made an effort to control
it. “You should have taken all this into account before you arranged to meet Captain Blake.”
Natalia felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She bowed her head. He was right. She’d brought all this upon herself.
The duke rose, encircled the desk, and patted her awkwardly on the head. “Don’t worry. You’ll have the best of everything. You’ll be a princess.”
A princess. How little he knew her if he thought wealth and position would make her happy.
Seeming to read her mind, he sighed and crouched down so he could meet her gaze. “There is one other option, though I hate to even mention it.”
“Is there? At this point, I’m willing to consider anything.” New hope filled her. She wanted another choice, any other choice.
“If you’d like to stay here in England, you could marry Captain Blake. He is not what I’d planned for you, but he does come from a good family, and he’s a decorated war veteran. It would quiet the gossip, and there does seem to be a certain... affection between the two of you.”
Natalia closed her eyes, overwhelmed with a sense of inevitability. Marriage to Dylan. Despite everything, her heart leaped at the thought. She’d been so sure she loved him, and perhaps she had because the emotion didn’t seem to want to go away.
Her father, however, seemed to take her silence for dismay. “Forget I mentioned it. I was right to send that opportunist away. You will marry Prince Nikolai. The sooner, the better.”
“No.” Natalia shook her head. “I’ll consider Captain Blake. I just need a few days to think everything through.”
The duke pursed his lips. “I’ll give you until tomorrow evening.”
“Tomorrow?” Natalia was aghast. Perhaps, given time, she might be able to forgive Dylan for what he’d done. But how could she marry him now, when so much anger and betrayal seared her heart?
