“How did you know there was a woman?” Chev snorted. “I thought Kent was discreet.”
“Kent is,” Hurtheven replied. “He didn’t tell me a thing. But you just confirmed my suspicion.” A back was slapped. “Cease your grimace. There’s always a woman.”
“There is not a woman,” Ash said aloud. Not anymore.
“I beg to differ,” Chev said. “I’ve only just seen Lady Stone.”
“Lady Stone?” Hurtheven snorted. “You are a devil, Ash.”
Ash scowled. He needn’t be told. He knew.
“Well,” Chev said, “if he really is a devil, the antichrist is expected in approximately eight months.”
Hurtheven whistled. “Bad go, my friend.”
“I tried to make amends,” Ash replied. “She does not want anything to do with me.”
Hurtheven hummed thoughtfully. “You almost have to admire Ash’s commitment to self-flagellation.”
“Dates back all the way to Eton,” Cheverley agreed. “Possibly even before.”
“Thunder-faced and forlorn, that is our Ash. …Although, are we being fair? He never elicited pity.”
“True,” Cheverley replied. “He actually believes it noble to remain alone. Protection of the weak minded, whom he’d taint simply by association.”
“Have you been tainted?” Hurtheven asked.
“No. You?” Chev countered.
“Not that I can say,” Hurtheven hummed. “Perhaps we should ask Lady Stone?”
“Stay away from Lady Stone,” Ash replied.
“I believe that is what we told you,” Hurtheven replied. “If you cannot listen, you should learn.”
Ash groaned. “Is there no one else you can bother, Hurtheven?”
“Did you hear his tone?” Hurtheven asked. “He’s elevated his usual menace.”
“You did give him the name Hades.”
“Well, yes,” Hurtheven preened. “I am a brilliant judge of character, there’s no disputing that.”
“Go away.” Ash kept his eyes firmly closed. One did not engage Hurtheven. Not when he was in this humor.
Hurtheven tsked. “He hasn’t been this bad since the fire.”
“In his defense,” Chev supplied, “losing one’s wife, father and home is apt to make one melancholy.”
“He was melancholy before. But this... This is simple indulgence.”
Do not engage.
“Arrogance,” Hurtheven continued, “of the highest form.”
“You would know arrogance.” Ash opened one eye. “It is hardly conceit to protect others.”
“Is that what you are doing?” Chev asked.
Yes, it was. Wasn’t it?
“Say, Cheverly, on a scale of woebegone indolence to despondent wallow, where does our hero fall?”
“The needle points to wallow, I’m afraid.”
“You two have no idea—” Ash started. Chev’s raised brow made him pause.
Hurtheven hit Ash’s shoulder with his knee. “Get up, fool. I am here to mount a rescue. I haven’t all day, you know. Not even for you.”
“No rescue is required.”
Hurtheven clapped his hands and then rubbed them together. “I’d appreciate if one of you would pour me a drink so we can get started.”
Reluctantly, Ash sat up. “Why is it that you always barge into my rooms and demand a drink?”
Hurtheven grinned. “Because you buy fine tipple of course. Much better than I can afford.”
Ash lifted a brow. “You are rich beyond measure.”
Hurtheven shrugged. “Much more than I am willing to pay, then.”
“I’ll serve,” Ash said. “But only because I find myself craving something strong.”
Ash distributed healthy pours.
“You confronted her, I take it?” Chev asked.
Ash gazed into the soft, brown liquid and nodded. “She told me she’d do anything to keep her child safe.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Hurtheven said.
Ash glanced up. “From me.”
“You must have made quite an impression,” Chev said.
“The bruises did not improve my appearance,” Ash replied.
“Doubtless.” Hurtheven leaned forward. “What were you thinking?”
Ash’s head whipped up. “I bloody well wasn’t thinking.”
“You were bleeding, for God’s sakes,” Chev pointed out.
Ash grimaced. “You’d know something about that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, well,” Chev replied. “You deserved a beating, didn’t you?”
Ash looked away. “Our arrangement was for three nights.” His breath caught. “I never meant to cause her harm.”
“What happened on the fourth day?”
“Kent saw her off.”
Chev and Hurtheven exchanged a speaking glance.
He knew he’d been a fool. He should have fought with all his might. But even if they’d managed to wrest a time of happiness, the end would have been the same.
What hurt most was that she believed he would harm their child. That he was mad like his father.
“I am not mad,” he said.
“Oh?” Chev replied. “You pursued a woman you’d never laid eyes on before. Then you abandoned her without so much as a farewell. And after you found out she was with child, you accosted her in her own home.” He leaned in. “It all sounds perfectly rational to me.”
“It wasn’t...rational, I know.” Ash frowned. “But neither was it the work of madness. When I saw her—” An image of Alicia rose in his mind—so beautiful, so untouchable, so fine. What the devil was happening to his eyes? He shook his head and wetness seeped between his lashes. “Damnation.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Good God,” Chev said. “You love her.”
“He loves her.” Hurtheven hit the arm of his chair. “And yet, he let her go.”
“I am protecting her! Chev told me she had scandal enough.” He propped his elbows on his knees and dropped his head. “She said I wasn’t any better than the slime that bought tickets to my father’s trial.”
“She said that?” Chev asked.
Ash winced. “I may have implied she owed me.”
Cheverley whistled. “You deserved worse, then.”
“Don’t I know,” Ash sighed.
“Come, now,” Hurtheven scoffed. “Something real is at stake, here. You had a mad father. Her husband was a cheat. So? These things aren’t rare. What is rare is you, weeping into your scotch—finally in love.”
Ash looked up to see Hurtheven grimace.
“I loathe you both for finding love.” Hurtheven’s gaze moved to Chev. “I’ll loath you both even more if you let it go to waste.”
“What if,” Ash’s voice cracked, “she ends up dead, like Rachel?”
Hurtheven’s gaze softened. “Stop right there. You are a league past wallow. Enough is enough, Ash. Where’s the spirit you had when you claimed your father’s name? Lady Stone has seen your darkness. Reveal your light.”
“I have no light.”
“Who—as soon as he was old enough—protected the servants, ensuring anyone who wished to leave found a position in a household where they would be safe?”
Ash frowned. “You?”
Hurtheven’s lips twisted. “At your request.”
“Who,” Chev asked, “made frequent trips to visit my wife, making sure she had everything she needed? Yes—I know about that.”
“She is a good woman,” Ash replied. “You would have done the same for me.”
“I will do the same for you,” Chev replied. “I will plead your case.”
“My case?” Ash asked.
“You plan to marry her, of course,” Hurtheven said.
He hadn’t. He hadn’t, not because he did not want to marry Alicia, but because he had not dared to believe she’d agree. And that was before he’d poured salt in her wounds.
“What if I break her?” Ash whispered.
“She survived t
he admiral,” Hurtheven answered.
“Even Bianci—”
“Bianci? Miss White?” Hurtheven laughed aloud. “She clawed her way from a job as costume girl to be the prima donna of the stage on pure ambition. You did not break her. She left you for someone with more shine. And why shouldn’t she? You didn’t care if she stayed or left.”
Ash frowned. Was that true? He’d been put out when she’d left. Mostly because she’d been vicious. But he hadn’t been heartbroken. And, she had left him for someone better, hadn’t she? A Prince, no less.
“Miss White and her Prince?” he asked.
Hurtheven shrugged. “Besotted.”
Maybe he did not ruin everything he touched.
“Do you think Lady Stone would agree to be my wife?” Ash asked.
“I wouldn’t marry anyone who left their home a wreck.” Hurtheven patted Ash’s knee. “It is time, I think, for you to put Wisterley to rights.”
“Wisterley...” Ash’s voice trailed as he remembered Alicia’s words.
It was a sad house. A shell of what it had been. I used to look up and wish with all my being that someone would come along and see the beauty there. That someone would rescue the ruin, love the house and all it could be and make it whole once again. Make it a home.
“Wisterley is a wreck. No one besides Kent would dare set foot within the walls.”
“The servants I hired would return, if you asked.” Hurtheven stretched his legs. “And they are a crippling expense. Absolutely crippling.”
Ash snorted. “You aren’t needling me because of the expense.”
“Not just because of the expense,” Hurtheven said. “I am selfish to my core. I want you to join society.”
“Weren’t you just accusing me of being selfish?” Ash asked.
Hurtheven shrugged. “Selfishness is part of my nature. It is not part of yours.”
Ash swallowed. “What if I restore Wisterley, and she still does not want me?”
“That,” Cheverley replied, “is a risk you must take.”
“You have work you must do. You have a special license to procure and,” Hurtheven lifted his brows, “a great deal of construction to plan.”
The wraith-like specter of hope crystalized. Wisterley, a home. Alicia by his side. His breath slowed.
“It seems so impossible,” he said.
“Faith,” Hurtheven replied.
Faith. Yes, faith. And what did faith do? It made the impossible possible. It brought what had been in darkness into the light.
“By the way,” Chev said, “the sooner we implement a plan, the better. After you have won your lady, I’m planning to take your advice.”
“Go home to Penelope?” Ash asked.
Chev nodded. What had been lost between them slipped back into place—a brotherly bond sealed.
Chapter Fifteen
Alicia awaited the countess in Astonbury’s morning room.
The room had been dull, if she properly recalled. Since then, it had become into alignment with its name. Admittedly, the countess had fine taste. The walls were a deep, cheerful yellow, and coordinating striped satin covered stuffed chairs. The countess was one of the most oft-painted women, yet the tables and walls were adorned with images not of her, but of Octavius.
All except one.
Alicia set down the bundle of letters and approached a painting—the same one she’d seen the day of the funeral. A rueful smile touched her lips. She wasn’t surprised the countess commissioned the original. The countess had carefully cultivated Octavius’s fame from the time the two had met. She’d also made dreary Astonbury both a home for Octavius while he lived, and now a shrine.
The countess had, in fact, made Octavius a much better wife.
Where Alicia had seen a selfish, sullen man, the countess had seen only a hero.
Oh, the countess and Octavius had rows. From the accusations and apologies that appeared in the letters, far more rows than she and Octavius had ever had. But, in her heart, the countess had believed Octavius was the most interesting, powerful, loving man she’d ever known. And, Octavius had clearly felt the same of the countess.
Octavius had never looked at her the way he looked at the countess. Not even when he’d been ardent and romantic and wooing with charm.
But the duke had looked at her that way. The duke had gazed at her with awe, as if she were a woman of infinite worth. Such a look seduced. Such a look branded.
...you made a broken man feel whole.
An aching sense of loss rattled, like wind through dried leaves. She missed the duke. They’d only spent three nights together, and yet she missed him more every day.
If things hadn’t gone wrong, if, instead of letting her go, he’d asked her to stay, would she be able to make a home for them both as the countess had made a home for Octavius?
Of course.
Although with fewer portraits. And less yellow.
She turned as the countess rushed into the room, everything about her a flutter. She was always a little breathtaking, the countess. Even now, though years and grief had taken their toll, the portrait-come-to-life effect left Alicia speechless.
The countess saw Alicia and froze, suspending them both in a hazy uncertainty that could have ended with consolation or bitter recrimination. Then, the countess curtseyed, with her head bowed. The countess, who clearly out-ranked Alicia.
She approached Alicia with her arms outstretched. Truly, she was impossible to dislike.
“I am so honored by your presence,” the countess gushed.
Alicia believed her sincere. “Thank you for seeing me.”
She held Alicia’s hands. Her touch was warm, her famed eyes, full of concern. “How awful this has been. Have you been sleeping? I haven’t. Not a wink.” Her gaze drifted to the largest of the paintings. “I miss him so.” She broke into a sob. A rush of tears followed. Then, they were gone as quickly as they’d come. “Oh dear, I am sorry. How selfish of me. You, of course, miss him, too.”
Painfully, not. She had grieved long before he died. But she would never have wished him death. “I am sorry for the Nation’s loss.” Oddly enough, she was sorry for the countess’s loss, too.
The countess’s tears renewed. “So tragic. So unfair.” Her eyes widened. “Unfair to us both, of course.”
“Yes.” On those points, Alicia could agree.
The countess inhaled, dropped one of Alicia’s hands, and led her to the couch. “The Admiralty has been wretched to me, as I am certain they have been to you. All but for that one, nice man.”
“Captain Smith?” Alicia ventured, smoothing her skirts to sit.
“Oh yes! But of course, you know him, too. He’s to come today.” The countess clapped. “Oh! Oh! I’ve had a marvelous idea. You should stay, and we will see him together.”
Wouldn’t Cheverley be surprised? “Thank you, but no. I cannot stay. There is a coach that returns to the city in a little more than an hour.”
The countess looked horrified. “You mustn’t leave so soon! And not when we have so much to celebrate. I was wretched. Just wretched. I didn’t know what to do. And now, everything is going to be beautifully settled.”
Alicia frowned. “Settled?”
“Yes, of course! Why it happened nearly a week ago. Don’t you know?”
Astonbury was to go to Simon. Clearly, that was not the news animating the countess.
“A trust has been set up for Octavia.” The countess squeezed Alicia’s hand and made a happy noise. “Can you believe?”
A trust? Alicia carefully chose her words. “The Admiralty came around, then.”
“The Admiralty.” The Countess looked as if she’d tasted raw meat. “They wanted nothing to do with my poor Octavia, even though caring for her was her father’s express wish.”
The countess seemed to realize what she said, and withdrew her hands. She had never admitted to Alicia that Octavia belonged to Octavius. Then again, seeing them both, who would have doubted?
Her eyes stung. Ash.
“Oh! Oh. You are too kind.” The countess pressed her handkerchief against her lips with a sob. “You’ve always been too kind.”
Not always. “What was it you were saying about a trust?”
The countess brightened. “Oh yes, of course. Captain Smith set up the trust.” She frowned. “Not really Captain Smith, though. His friend. An Earl. Or was it a duke?” The countess pursed her lips as she tried to recall. “But the terms are what counts. Simon is to have custody. Terrible thing, but that was never in doubt. I cannot. Can you imagine? A child’s own mother.”
A terrible fear passed through Alicia’s heart. “That is true of all women, I believe.”
“That is exactly what the solicitor said. But the trust will help Simon provide for Octavia, so she will not be a burden.”
“Who is trustee?”
“There are to be two. The Captain’s friend the duke—yes, he was most certainly a duke—and Simon.” The countess sighed. “They have both agreed to allow Octavia and I to go on as we have.” Her eyes filled again. “I do not know what I would do without my sweet child.”
“I am happy for you,” Alicia said slowly. It couldn’t be.
“Thank you.” The countess caught up her hands. “Thank you.”
“Octavia is fortunate to have such a generous benefactor.”
“Oh yes. As fortunate as she can be, under the circumstances. Captain Smith brought him to meet me. I was frightened at first. I’d heard he was mad...”
Alicia stopped breathing. Perhaps it couldn’t be, but it was.
“Oh, do not worry. The duke wasn’t mad at all. I should know better than to heed nasty rumors.”
“Did he...” Alicia swallowed. “Did he say why he’d done something so generous?”
The countess nodded. “He said it would be cruel to part a mother and child.”
Ashbey. Her own tears spilled forth.
“Oh, dear.” The countess fluttered her hands.
“I’m fine.” She wasn’t. “I—I really must be going.” She stood and retrieved the packet. “I came to return something that belongs to you.”
“My letters,” the countess breathed, as if Alicia had been holding gold. “Bless you! Oh, bless you.”
Her Duke at Daybreak Mythic Dukes Trilogy Page 12
