A Duke Will Never Do

by Burke, Darcy

  “You mustn’t judge him. I don’t know that I want to marry him.” What if the darkness never went away? Could she live with that? “Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. When you took up with Marcus, you didn’t think you’d wed.”

  Phoebe exhaled. “That’s true. I never expected—or imagined—things would turn out as they did. I suppose you’ll just have to see what lies in store for you and Anthony. So long as he doesn’t hurt you. I won’t be able to forgive that.”

  “He won’t,” Jane said. So far, he was doing a good job of keeping himself at bay, of ensuring he didn’t do damage. But what if she opened her heart too much?

  Culpepper appeared in the doorway. “Lady Satterfield, miss.”

  The countess entered the garden room having already removed her hat and gloves. “Good afternoon, I hope you don’t mind that I arrived early.” Her gaze settled on Phoebe. “Oh, I see I wasn’t the only one. My apologies. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  “Not at all,” Jane said, rising to welcome the countess. “Please join us.” She gestured to the settee, and Lady Satterfield came to sit.

  Jane inclined her head toward Culpepper, and he responded with a slight nod. She knew he’d return in a bit with the refreshments since it seemed their meeting was to begin early.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Satterfield,” Phoebe said cheerfully.

  “I’m pleased to see you, Lady Ripley. I know I said this at Brixton Park, but it bears repeating: marriage certainly agrees with you. And with the marquess. He is as smitten as I’ve ever seen a man.” Her eyes gleamed with approval as she added, “Well done.”

  Phoebe laughed softly. “Thank you.”

  Lady Satterfield turned her gaze to Jane. “I came early to tell you what I’d learned about that matter we discussed, but we can talk about it another time.” She flicked a glance toward Phoebe.

  “Phoebe knows all about the rumor,” Jane said. “If you don’t mind sharing now, I’d be delighted to hear what you learned.”

  “Very well,” the countess said warmly. “I spoke to a few people about it, and while it was well known among the young men of the ton five years ago, no one else was aware. I talked to Nora, and she hadn’t heard a word of it. Oh, by the by, she won’t be joining us today. Her youngest didn’t sleep well last night, and Nora didn’t want to leave him.”

  “I hope all is well,” Phoebe said.

  “Oh yes. Lucas is not the best sleeper,” Lady Satterfield noted. “And the less he sleeps, the more he wants his mama. As to the matter of the rumor, if it helps, Clare mentioned a few gentlemen who undoubtedly knew of the rumor: Lord Edgecombe, Mr. Adair, and Lord Rockbourne.”

  All the names were familiar to Jane, but one was particularly so. “Rockbourne was one of my suitors that first Season—before he inherited and became Lord Rockbourne. We didn’t have an official courtship, but I had hoped we might. He ended up marrying Dorothea Chamberlain at the end of the Season. I remember because she was so very happy.” They’d been friends, but like so many women, Dorothea had abandoned her unmarried friends the following Season.

  “Is there any reason he would have started the rumor?” Phoebe asked.

  Jane shook her head. “Thomas, I mean Rockbourne, was—is—one of the kindest gentlemen I’ve ever met. I can’t imagine him starting a rumor of any kind, let alone one that painted me as a wanton.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be of more help,” Lady Satterfield said.

  Jane gave her a warm, grateful smile. “Please don’t apologize. I’ve decided you were right anyway—there’s no point in looking backward. What’s done is done, and I’d rather live in the present.” Yes, the present—no past and no future. Just the here and now. With Anthony.

  Lady Satterfield smiled approvingly. “Brilliant. I think that’s the right attitude, my dear. You have this wonderful new endeavor with the Spitfire Society to focus on. I am absolutely delighted to be able to participate.”

  “And I’m delighted to have you.” Jane looked toward the door as Culpepper brought in a tray of refreshments. A few minutes later, Lady Gresham and Miss Whitford arrived.

  Yes, Jane had a wonderful present on which to center her attention. The past wasn’t worth worrying about, and the future… Well, she’d just avoid thinking about that entirely.

  * * *

  The double-faced clock hanging over the street greeted Anthony as he arrived at St. Dunstan-in-the-West, sending a bead of dread up his spine along with a rush of apprehension. He hadn’t been to the church in some time, but it wasn’t long enough. He’d never wanted to see this place again.

  Moving into the dim interior, he ducked into an alcove and waited. A few minutes later, a boy came to him. He wasn’t familiar, but the Vicar employed many.

  “Are ye here to light a candle or make a donation?” the boy, who was maybe ten years old, asked.

  “Light a candle.” It was code for requesting a meeting with the Vicar. Donations were payments. On his last visit, Anthony had made his final donation. Or so he’d thought. If the Vicar was behind the extortion letters, then that wasn’t the case. Anthony was curious, however, why the Vicar hadn’t directed the extortion payments to be made here instead of some tavern in Blackfriars. Maybe he wanted to keep these types of “donations” separate. And the Stinking Sheep was very close. Close enough for Anthony to believe the Vicar might use both establishments. He ruled this neighborhood. Or so Anthony had been told.

  The boy took himself off, leaving Anthony for quite some time. Leaning against the wall, Anthony took deep breaths and calmed his racing heart by thinking of Jane. The time he’d spent with her in his bed yesterday—and not just the part when they’d shagged—lingered in his mind, giving him the greatest sense of peace he’d known in more than a year. He tried to cling to that feeling.

  At last the boy returned and led him to a small room downstairs in the bowels of the church. He knocked twice on the door, then opened it, stepping aside so Anthony could walk inside.

  The door closed behind him, clicking a sound of finality and entrapment. The first—and only—time Anthony had visited this room, his heart had practically pounded right out of his chest. He’d been shocked to see that a criminal moneylender conducted business from a small, unassuming office beneath a church. But then he supposed he should have expected the location at least, since the man was called the Vicar.

  A single window high on the ceiling at street level provided a modicum of light, but a pair of sconces also flickered on the wall on either side of the window. A narrow hearth stood to the left, while a simple desk sat to the right.

  On Anthony’s previous visit, the Vicar had sat behind the desk. Today, however, he was situated in a plush, velvet-covered high-backed chair near the hearth. Surprisingly youthful in appearance, with an athletic build and shining blond hair, the Vicar wouldn’t have looked like a criminal if not for the nasty scar that cut across his chin and into his lower lip.

  He surveyed Anthony with piercing blue eyes, one of which was marred with an odd orange spot, that seemed to see into one’s very soul. When Anthony had met him, he’d assumed the man had read every one of his vices. And given the knowledge he’d possessed about Anthony’s misdeeds, he had to think he was right.

  “Lord Colton, I’m surprised to see you.”

  Anthony’s neck pricked. “Last time I came, you were expecting me.”

  “I was. You’d been referred to me, if you recall.” His mouth curled into a half smile. “In addition, I was aware of your debts, some of which were already owed to me.” Because he owned two of the hells where Anthony had left IOUs.

  “You truly have no idea why I’m here today?”

  “Sit.” The Vicar gestured to the other chair in front of the hearth. It was not high-backed, nor was it covered in velvet. It was simple wood, and not finely made either. “If you please,” he added with a hint of warmth.

  Anthony took the chair and waited for the Vicar to respond to his question.

&nbs
p; “I don’t know why you are here today. I don’t usually take meetings in this instance, but since we are acquainted and you paid your debt in full, plus interest, I wanted to extend you a courtesy.”

  Though fury raged inside him, Anthony knew he was looking at a dangerous criminal. “It’s the least you can do after killing my parents.” He was proud of himself for keeping his tone even.

  The Vicar’s icy eyes narrowed briefly as his nostrils flared. “Did you come here to accuse me of something? Be very careful, my lord.”

  The absurdity of the polite address accompanying the threat nearly made Anthony laugh. But there was nothing humorous about this situation. “I did not. However, I don’t see the point in hiding the truth. You had my parents killed when I wasn’t able to repay you fast enough.”

  “Who told you that?” the Vicar asked softly.

  “The man who killed them. He sent me a note saying the same would happen to my sister if I didn’t pay.”

  The Vicar turned his head to the hearth, frowning deeply. When he looked back to Anthony, there was a surprising sympathy in his gaze. “I am sorry he did that. He wasn’t supposed to kill them at all.”

  Anthony felt as if the world around him had spun completely sideways. He blinked to bring things back to normal, but couldn’t seem to cut through a haze that had descended upon him. “They weren’t supposed to die?” His heart, which had slowed after he’d entered the office, picked up speed again, his blood thundering in his ears.

  “No. I don’t murder people, Lord Colton. I loan money. I collect money. Occasionally, people need to be reminded to repay their debt when they have the means to do so. You had possessions to sell, so you had the means. Consequently, you were supposed to be encouraged to settle what you owed. I was told you would be on that road that day, not your parents.”

  That was true. Anthony was supposed to have been the one to go.

  The Vicar exhaled. “I regret that sometimes my information is not as accurate as I expect, though it doesn’t happen very often. And never with such unfortunate results.”

  Anthony nearly launched out of the chair. He gripped the arms, the wood biting into his fingers and palms. “My parents’ deaths were a bit more than ‘unfortunate.’”

  “Yes, of course. And I understand you have struggled, though I see you haven’t resorted to gambling again. Your restraint is commendable.” Was that a note of respect?

  “I don’t want your fucking esteem.” Anthony curled his lip. “I want to know why you’re extorting money from me after I’ve already paid you.”

  The Vicar leaned slightly forward, but kept his voice soft yet dangerous, like silk soaked in poison. “I’ll remind you to be careful about accusing me of things. I am more sorry about your parents than you can imagine, but there is nothing I can do to bring them back or change what happened. The man responsible has paid the ultimate price. You must find solace and satisfaction in that. Or not. It’s your choice as to how you wish to live your life.”

  Anthony stared at him. He had no idea what to do with this man’s counsel. “I didn’t ask for, nor do I need your advice. Are you saying you aren’t extorting me?” The Vicar hadn’t said any such thing, but twice now, he’d cautioned Anthony about making accusations.

  “I don’t extort anyone.” His steely tone conveyed a deep sincerity. “I am simply a businessman, and extortion is not one of my many enterprises. Why would you think it was me?”

  Because he was a criminal? Anthony bit back the retort before it leapt from his mouth. “Because you’re the only person who knows of my transgressions. The note I received said they would all be made public in embarrassing detail: the extent of my gambling, the fact that I had debts, drinking, womanizing…murder.” He glanced away and swallowed.

  The Vicar scoffed. “You didn’t commit murder any more than I did. The rest, however, are quite true. And doesn’t everyone know about the drinking and womanizing? You are hardly discreet.”

  No, he hadn’t been about those. “I was about the debts, and no one knows how bad they were or that I had to borrow money from you—which led to my parents’ murder.”

  “Your father knew about the debts, but that’s immaterial.” The Vicar waved his hand. “The man who referred you to me also knew. How else would he have known you needed help?”

  Gilbert Chamberlain—whom Anthony had known since Oxford and with whom he’d often gambled. Chamberlain had money to burn and the luck of the devil. Anthony had stopped seeking his company because it always left him the poorer for it.

  “Chamberlain wouldn’t have any need to extort me. He doesn’t want for funds.”

  The Vicar chuckled. “You think I have need for funds?”

  Anthony lifted a shoulder. “You were insistent I repay you—with interest—by a certain date and threatened me when I wasn’t able to do so. It certainly seems like you needed funds.”

  The Vicar’s hands curled around the arms of his chair, his muscles briefly tensing. “As I told you, I’m a businessman. A debt must be repaid, preferably on time. It is the honorable and right thing to do. How can I run a business if people think they can steal from me? I take what is owed, and I never take what I haven’t earned.” He relaxed, flexing his hands before raising one to support his scarred chin while he rested his elbow on the arm of the chair. “If Chamberlain doesn’t need money, perhaps there is another reason he’d extort from you.”

  Anthony searched his mind. “We were friends. I can’t imagine why he would do such a thing.”

  “Then it must be the money, regardless of what you think. Would you like me to look into his financial situation? Perhaps he isn’t as secure as you think.”

  The Vicar was offering to do him a favor? That was even less believable than Chamberlain extorting him. “How much will that cost me?”

  The Vicar grinned and lowered his forearm. “I like you, Colton. As it happens, I am in need of a favor myself.”

  Anthony steeled himself. He’d been relieved to conclude his business with this man and didn’t particularly wish to enter into another arrangement, even if it didn’t involve money. “What sort of favor?”

  “Nothing terrible, I assure you. I would like to attend a Society event where I can survey certain people. I would provide you with a guest list. You could invite more than that, of course, but those would be the particular people I would want you to invite.”

  What an utterly bizarre request. Anthony wanted to ask why, but felt certain the enigmatic man wouldn’t tell him. “And how am I to introduce you? People will notice you—a man they don’t recognize from their circles—and wonder who you are and why you’re there.”

  “If you agree and when you decide to host the party, I will provide that information. Rest assured, I will not embarrass you, and everyone I meet will be charmed.” His lips curved into a smile, and despite the garish scar, Anthony believed that would probably be the case. Hell, he’d arrived believing this man had killed his parents, and now he was contemplating hosting a party for the blackguard.

  Was it really worth it, however, when Anthony didn’t believe Chamberlain could be the culprit? “I just don’t think Chamberlain’s behind this. Furthermore, I can’t host a party without a hostess. My sister is in the country.”

  “Perhaps you could convince your friend Ripley to host it. Maybe at Brixton Park? I’d love to see the maze.”

  Was there anything this man didn’t know about Anthony? “I don’t know that I’m comfortable asking that.”

  “Then I’ll wait until you wed Miss Pemberton. That should be soon, shouldn’t it?”

  No, there was apparently nothing this man didn’t know. “How is it you know all this about me, and you have no idea I was being extorted or who was doing it?”

  “That is a very good question, and one I don’t have an answer to.” He frowned again. “Which is a position I don’t like to be in. I’ll find out who it is. However, if you want me to share that information with you, I’ll need that favor.”<
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  “So if it’s not Chamberlain—which it won’t be—you’ll still find out who it is?”

  “I will. Do we have a deal?”

  Bloody hell. Anthony wanted to turn his back on the devil, but he had to put a stop to this madness. “I’m due to make another payment tomorrow evening. Can you find out before then?”

  “Probably. I’ll be in touch as soon as possible.” He rose, slowly unfolding his legs and rising to a formidable height. He extended his hand.

  Anthony stood, staring at the man’s hand. If he took it, there was no going back. He’d be in bed with the devil—again.

  Clasping the Vicar’s hand, Anthony shook it. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.” He let go, then turned and walked to the door.

  “I am sorry about your parents, Colton. Truly. If I could change what happened, I would.”

  With his hand on the latch, Anthony turned his head. “That means I would be dead, then.”

  The Vicar gave him a slight nod. “Perhaps.”

  Until recently, Anthony would have been just fine with that. But lately, he’d begun to wonder if life didn’t have more in store for him, if it wasn’t, in fact, worth living. That had to be why he was fighting now, why he’d accepted a deal with the notorious Vicar.

  Anthony left the office, eager for the Vicar’s information, which he would then provide to Bow Street. The extortionist, whoever it was, wouldn’t be able to expose Anthony.

  That couldn’t happen—not for Anthony’s sake, but for those around him, especially Sarah. Jane had convinced him that she didn’t need to know, and he would do anything to keep her from finding out. For her own peace of mind.

  Especially knowing what he knew now, that his parents’ murder truly wasn’t supposed to happen, that in some way it was random, that if not for the sheer malevolence of their killer, they’d be alive today.

  Or he’d be dead.

  Either one of those was better than this. And yet this was all he had.

  The memory of Jane’s touch, of her scent, assailed him. Maybe this wasn’t as bad as he thought. It was certainly better than he deserved.