A Duke Will Never Do

by Burke, Darcy

  Anthony ignored the man’s critical tone. “If you compare those letters to something Chamberlain wrote, I’m sure you’ll find that they match.”

  “I’ll do that.” Sheffield pressed his lips together. “But Colton, you understand these are evidence?” He rested his fingertips on the parchment. “Your gambling debts and the story behind your parents’ death will become a matter of record. Everyone will know.”

  The Runner’s words chilled Anthony to the bone. Everyone, including his sister and Felix. He fought to take a breath. “There must be another way.”

  “I would need other proof—a confession or something that would tie Chamberlain to the Stinking Sheep. I can conduct an investigation, and I will, but that will take time. Which you don’t have.”

  No, he didn’t. “Can you arrest him now and then conduct the investigation? He can’t be allowed to get married tomorrow.”

  “I’m afraid without proof, I can’t act. Give me these letters, and I can.”

  Anthony stood and went to the desk. He grasped the edge of the parchment, and Sheffield lifted his hands. Anthony plucked the letters up and refolded them. “I’ll find you proof by the end of the day.”

  “I hope you do. In the meantime, I’ll visit the Stinking Sheep.” Anthony was glad to hear it, but he intended to go there too. He might even visit the Vicar again. He’d discovered Chamberlain was behind the extortion. Surely the Vicar could provide proof for how he’d done that?

  “Thank you. Hopefully, I’ll see you by this evening.”

  “I hope you do.” Sheffield sat back in his chair. “And if you change your mind about the letters, I’ll go and compare them to Chamberlain’s handwriting, probably arrest him straightaway.”

  Hell, it was so tempting, but then Anthony thought of Sarah—of Sarah’s innocent child who’d been deprived of her grandparents—and he couldn’t devastate her by allowing the truth to be known. It would be bad enough for Sarah to learn of it, but for her to have to share in his shame? No, it wouldn’t be borne.

  Without another word, Anthony turned on his heel and left. He strode from the building, intent on going straight to the Stinking Sheep, where hopefully he would find a connection between the money he’d left with the barkeep and Gilbert fucking Chamberlain.

  And if he didn’t? He shoved the thought away. He’d find the evidence he needed to stop the wedding, to save Jane’s sister. He simply had to.

  Chapter 15

  “It’s a pleasure to see you, Miss Pemberton,” Mullins, Jane’s parents’ butler, greeted her with a wide smile. His shock of white hair and affectionate expression were a welcome sight. “You look well.”

  “I am, thank you, as do you. I imagine things are busy preparing for Anne’s wedding tomorrow.” Jane glanced around the familiar hall with more than a bit of anxiety. She never imagined returning home while her parents were still not speaking to her and certainly not for the purpose of telling them Anne couldn’t get married.

  Home. Jane didn’t feel a rush of warmth or comfort. Just apprehension and dread.

  “I’d like to see my parents. And Anne,” she said.

  “If you’ll wait in the salon, I’ll let them know you’re here.” Mullins left the hall, leaving Jane to make her way into the salon.

  This was the main room on the ground floor besides the dining room and was typically where the family congregated. Looking around, Jane recalled happier times spent reading, playing cards, and discussing topics as varied as politics and horticulture, which was of particular interest to her father. In truth, the more she thought about it, the more she realized there hadn’t been enough of those times.

  “Jane.” Her mother’s tone was flat as she walked into the salon. “I’m surprised to see you.”

  “Disappointed is a better description,” Papa said coldly as he followed her into the room.

  They both wore matching expressions of distaste. Jane had expected this reaction, but she’d also hoped for maybe a bare hint of something positive. If not happiness at seeing her, then perhaps just less…animosity?

  “Coming here to implore us to allow you to attend the wedding tomorrow won’t work,” Papa said, moving to lean against the mantel where he crossed his arms.

  Jane had hoped they might sit and converse pleasantly, but clearly, that was not going to happen. Mama stayed near the door, her face pinched beneath the severity of her hairstyle—her blond curls had been tamed into a tight chignon. Meanwhile, Papa looked as if he might have lost a bit more of his brown hair. And perhaps gained several lines around his eyes and mouth.

  “That’s not why I came,” Jane said evenly, hating that the actual reason would upset them even more. “Where’s Anne? She should hear this too.”

  “Your sister is too busy to join us,” Mama said crisply. “Just tell us why you’ve come and then be on your way.”

  Jane wanted to insist Anne come downstairs, but determined it was pointless. Her parents were utterly immovable. Her faint hope that she’d be able to persuade them to call off the wedding dwindled. Nonetheless, she took a deep breath and plunged forward. She had to.

  “Anne can’t marry Mr. Chamberlain. It’s come to my attention that he associates with known criminals and is an extortionist.”

  Papa dropped his arms to his sides and took a step toward her. “That’s a serious accusation. It’s also preposterous. What proof do you have of any of that?”

  “I realize it sounds unbelievable, but trust me, it’s not. I have personal knowledge of his extortion.”

  “Why, because he’s extorting you?” Mama shook her head, her eyes sad. “What embarrassing thing have you done now? Am I going to read the paper and see that you’re embroiled in some tawdry affair?”

  Jane sucked in a breath that made her cough. “Pardon me. No.”

  God, she hoped not. She hadn’t thought to ask if that could happen. If Chamberlain knew Anthony’s worst secrets, wouldn’t he know about them too? Not necessarily, but she should ask.

  “This isn’t about me. He’s extorting someone I know.”

  “Probably someone who deserves it. There’s no telling whom you associate with now,” Mama said derisively.

  Jane stared at her, disbelieving her mother could be so callous. “Who would deserve to be extorted, Mama? What an awful thing to say. And if you’d care to know who I’m associating with now, perhaps you’ll ask Lady Satterfield—the newest member of the Spitfire Society—next time you see her.” Jane cocked her head to the side. “Or perhaps not. I don’t think you know her all that well.” As soon as the gibe was out of Jane’s mouth, she regretted it. She didn’t want to quarrel with them.

  “You’re just trying to ruin your sister,” Papa said, his eyes blazing. “You weren’t successful, and you don’t want her to be either.”

  Jane’s insides crumbled, and she began to shake. “How can you say that? I love Anne. I want nothing more than her happiness, which is why I can’t stand by and watch her marry a man as horrid as Chamberlain.”

  “But you have no proof he’s horrid,” Mama said. “He’s absolutely charming—and wealthy into the bargain. Goodness, Jane, we’ve known him for years. Since your first Season, in fact. Are you jealous he never courted you?” She shook her head sadly.

  It was as if Jane was sinking into a mire from which she couldn’t escape. No matter what she did, she was sucked deeper and deeper into a dark—and lonely—abyss. She struggled to find words. “No,” she said softly. How could she be jealous of Anne, especially with regard to Mr. Chamberlain when her heart belonged completely to Anthony?

  She remembered where he was this morning and couldn’t believe she hadn’t mentioned it sooner. She’d been too nervous and then too upset to think clearly. “It’s very likely that Bow Street will arrest Mr. Chamberlain today. I presume when that happens, the wedding won’t happen.”

  Papa’s brows shot up, and he and Mama exchanged a look of concern. Jane felt a modicum of relief at last.

  “Do you
know for sure that’s happening?” Papa asked sternly.

  No, but she believed it would. How could it not? “I don’t know when, but I would expect it at any time.”

  Mama inhaled and schooled her features into a serene expression. “Then we shall wait and see.”

  Shocked at their refusal to accept the seriousness of the situation, Jane looked from her mother to her father. “Is there really nothing I can say to convince you I am earnest and that my motives are pure?”

  “Pure is not a word you should use,” Papa said.

  For a brief moment, Jane wondered if he’d somehow heard the old rumor about her and that he…believed it? She wanted to ask, but couldn’t. No, on second thought, she didn’t want to know. It seemed her connection to this family was over. Or at least to her parents. She wouldn’t give up on Anne, especially with regard to her marriage. The moment she heard that Chamberlain would be arrested, she’d inform Anne. And her parents couldn’t stop her.

  “Please excuse me,” Jane said through the emotion clogging her throat. She turned and left, cutting a wide berth around her mother on her way out.

  By the time Jane arrived in Cavendish Square, she’d talked herself into feeling better. Anthony had gone to Bow Street, and even now, a Runner might be arresting Chamberlain.

  She saw Anthony’s coach at the end of the square, and her heart picked up speed. Her vehicle barely came to a stop before she opened the door and waited impatiently for the coachman to lower the step.

  Dashing up the steps, she reached the door just as Culpepper opened it. “Is he in the garden room?” she asked, untying her bonnet and handing it to the butler.

  “Yes, miss.”

  Jane hurried to the garden room, ripping her gloves off on the way. She deposited them on a table as she stepped inside. Anthony stood before the garden doors, his tall, sculpted form taking her breath away. He pivoted slowly, and she knew immediately that something wasn’t right.

  Taking small steps, she moved toward him, stopping a few feet away. “What’s happened?”

  “I went to Bow Street.”

  Jane’s entire body tensed. “They aren’t arresting Chamberlain, are they?”

  “Not yet.” He turned his head back toward the garden, where the sun shone brightly on the roses and shrubs in full bloom. “Sheffield—the Runner—is investigating.”

  “Why isn’t he just arresting him?”

  “Because they require evidence.”

  “But don’t they have that from you?” She tried to think—was his testimony not enough? Even if it wasn’t, he had the letters. “You have the letters he wrote you. Surely that’s evidence. Or does he need to prove the letters came from Chamberlain since he didn’t sign his name?”

  “It’s not that simple.” Anthony’s face creased with anguish, and he couldn’t seem to maintain eye contact with her. “We need time to find more proof. Besides the letters. Did you visit Anne?”

  “I wasn’t able to see her. My parents wouldn’t allow it.” Jane didn’t hide her bitter disappointment.

  “Are they going to cancel the wedding?”

  “No. They accused me of trying to steal Anne’s success.” Her heart twisted anew as she tried to comprehend how they could think so very little of her. “I told them Chamberlain would likely be arrested by Bow Street today, and they preferred to just wait and see what happens.” She took another step closer to him. “But now you’re saying he may not be arrested today. I don’t understand why they need more proof. Surely the letters he sent you are enough.”

  “They aren’t!” His voice exploded in the room. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. Then he faced her, his eyes a torrent of emotion. “If they use the letters as evidence, everyone will know about my debts and about my parents’ death. It will be, as Sheffield put it, a matter of record.”

  Jane’s breath left her lungs in a rush. Her knees wobbled. “There’s no other way?”

  “Not unless Sheffield can find more proof. However, it doesn’t look good. I went to the Stinking Sheep, where I paid the money he demanded the first time. The barkeep gave the money to an urchin, and he knows no more now than he did when I paid the money. There’s no finding the lad, no way to connect my money to Chamberlain. Sheffield may investigate other clues, but I doubt he will make an arrest today.” He stared at her in anguish. “Jane, you must convince your sister to cry off.”

  “She won’t.” Though Jane hadn’t spoken to Anne, she didn’t think her sister would agree. And her parents certainly wouldn’t allow her to. “Not without proof of Chamberlain’s crimes. There has to be some way.”

  “I also went to see the Vicar, but he wasn’t taking appointments today, whatever the hell that means. I’m hopeful he can help provide other evidence, since he traced the extortion to Chamberlain.”

  He moved toward her, stopping just a breath away. “I can’t allow the letters to be evidence. You understand that, don’t you? You’re the one who convinced me that I needed to protect Sarah from the truth. Think of her and her family.”

  Jane did understand, just as she understood the need to protect her sister. “You’d sacrifice my sister to a criminal in marriage to keep your sister from finding out about your past transgressions?” The question hung heavy between them, a horrible weight of torment and division.

  “No.” His voice broke, and he looked away again. “I just need more time.”

  “We are out of that.” Her mind tried to scramble, but again, the mire pulled her down, suffocating her.

  “I’m sorry, Jane.” His dark whisper smashed the last pieces of her heart into bits.

  She stared past him at the bright garden, a vision of beauty that didn’t remotely permeate the shadows engulfing her. The sound of his departing footsteps echoed in her brain.

  Eventually, she blinked. She looked around the empty room. An overwhelming sense of loneliness swept over her. She’d chosen that when she’d chosen this new life. She’d known she’d be alone—she’d welcomed it. What she hadn’t expected was that people she loved would turn their backs on her. That was true loneliness. That was despair.

  That was her future.

  * * *

  By the time Anthony made his way into White’s that evening, he was gratifyingly drunk. The familiar numbness had taken over, and he could almost smile. Almost.

  Unfortunately, he could still see the hurt and defeat in Jane’s eyes. It nearly tore him in two. And it would have if not for the copious amounts of brandy he’d poured down his throat.

  He’d told her she deserved better than him. Hadn’t he told her that? Hell, it was bloody obvious. She was everything he wasn’t—generous, kind, caring. He’d absolutely defiled her with his presence, and she would be far better off without him.

  He didn’t have time for such maudlin thoughts. There’d be time enough for that for the rest of his miserable life. Now, he needed to find Chamberlain and put a stop to this wedding. He owed that much to Jane.

  After several passes around the club, Anthony finally ran Chamberlain to ground in one of the smaller salons. He weaved his way to where the man sat talking with another gentleman.

  “Chamberlain,” Anthony said, trying to put on an affable front. “Might I have a word?”

  “Colton, it’s been too long. Why not sit with us?” He gestured to an open chair next to his.

  Anthony glanced toward the other man before fixing Chamberlain with a direct stare. “I’m afraid I need to have a private conversation.”

  “I see.” Chamberlain nodded, then looked over at the other gentleman. “Would you mind excusing us?”

  “Not at all.” The man, a few years younger than Chamberlain and Anthony, stood and inclined his head before leaving the salon.

  Anthony looked back and watched him depart as well as took stock of who remained in the salon. Just a few gentlemen clustered together in a seating area on the other side of the room.

  Dropping into the chair, Anthony perched on the edge and an
gled himself toward Chamberlain. “I came to call you out.”

  Chamberlain’s brown eyes widened. “You want to duel?”

  Hell, that hadn’t come out right. “No, but I would hate for it to come to that.” He looked toward the clock on the mantel. “You will notice I didn’t pay your extortion demand before the deadline. Tell me, what do you plan to do?”

  “What the hell are you going on about?” Chamberlain whispered urgently, looking wildly around the room before settling a dark glower on Anthony. “You’re drunk.”

  “Yes, I often am. It’s a preferable way to navigate life, I’ve found, particularly when one is being extorted.”

  “I’m not extorting you.” Chamberlain’s voice was low and insistent, his gaze darting nervously about.

  Anthony waved his hand and shook his head. “No, no, let’s not pretend. You led me to the Vicar, and the Vicar has led me to you. I know you’re behind the extortion letters I received.”

  Chamberlain’s nostrils flared, and his jaw clenched. “Prove it.”

  “I’m working on that, but you could save me the trouble by simply admitting it. I’ve shown the letters to Bow Street.”

  Chamberlain swore, then ran his hand through his hair, his gaze furious. Anthony took a small bit of satisfaction in his discomfort.

  “So you paid the money for no reason?” Chamberlain asked. “You’re just going to let your misdeeds become public?” He looked at Anthony with pity.

  Anthony curled his hand around the arm of his chair and squeezed until he couldn’t feel his fingers. “Confess.”

  Lifting a shoulder, Chamberlain picked up his glass of brandy from the table beside his chair and took a long sip. “I think you should just pay me the three hundred pounds. All this will go away.”

  Anthony gritted his teeth and worked to keep himself in check. He longed to put his fist through Chamberlain’s jaw. “Until the next time you want money.”

  “I promise never to bother you again. Do we have a deal?” He waited, and when Anthony didn’t immediately respond, he added, “No one need know about your debts or your parents.”