A Matter of Choice

by Laura Landon

  Serena knew the exact time he was talking about. Her indiscretion with Jordan nearly destroyed all she’d worked for.

  “Anyway, Paxton vowed he didn’t need you. He let slip where he’d found you and insisted we go there to…renew his acquaintances. He said your former establishment would cheer us both up. He boasted that he was on familiar terms with a number of the…inhabitants. One in particular.

  “We’d both had far too much to drink, but Paxton was worse. One thing led to another and… Well, you know how he was when he drank. He was quite angry with you. His tongue became quite loose.”

  Serena felt a cold chill. Ashbury could ruin her. If anyone found out where she’d come from, what she’d been, the life Paxton had taken her from, she’d lose everything.

  Her mind reeled. She had to make a choice. She’d endured too much to get where she was to lose it all now. This was her life, what she’d always dreamed of having: the balls, the parties, the attention. Being the Countess of Paxton and having the prestige and influence that went with it. She’d never survive if she lost it. Never.

  “Why haven’t you said anything before?”

  “There was no need—until now.”

  She looked at the malevolent grin on his face and realized with appalling alarm that Ashbury would not hesitate to ruin her if she didn’t help him destroy his son. She braced her shoulders and stood brave against the evil he carried. With devastating clarity, she knew she had no choice. Destroying Montfort was the only way to save herself.

  “How can I be assured you will keep my secret even if I do help you?”

  His lips lifted in a mocking grin. “You can’t.”

  She stared at him a long time before she spoke, her insides roiling with a hatred so intense it almost made her ill. “Then I will give you this promise, Your Grace.” She took a step closer and faced him as if she were facing her worst enemy. Because she was. “I did not grow up where I did, and survive the life I did without acquiring some valuable skills. If I hear even one whisper that questions my past, or if you ever threaten to blackmail me again, I’ll kill you.”

  Ashbury blinked in surprise.

  “Yes. You heard correctly. I will kill you.” She smiled. “And take great pleasure in doing so.”

  He stared at her with a dumbfounded look on his face as if he were trying to digest her words. After a long, uncomfortable silence, he threw his head back and roared with demented laughter. “You have nothing to fear, Lady Paxton. I will never breathe a word concerning your past. Nor will I ever ask another favor of you. Once Montfort is destroyed, there is nothing else I will ever need.”

  She stepped away from him. She was not at ease being in the same room with a man so evil. She walked to the settee and sat in stoic silence while the duke explained her part in the plan he’d devised to destroy his son.

  She felt ill. She’d done many things in her life she wasn’t proud of, but never had she intentionally set out to be so cruel. Never had she purposefully determined to cause such pain, especially to someone for whom she truly cared.

  By the time Ashbury finished detailing his plan of destruction, Serena visibly shook. A part of her wanted to stand up to him, tell him she refused to have anything to do with his vile scheme. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t brave enough to lose everything she had.

  “Get out,” she said when he finished outlining her part in his devious plan.

  “But—“

  “I said, get out! And don’t ever come near me again.”

  “As you wish.” He bowed politely if not a little unsteadily, then walked to the door. “I will wait to hear when the deed is accomplished.”

  Simpson was there, waiting to escort the duke out.

  She stared at his back, anxious to have him gone. She clasped her hands around her middle and prayed she could hold on until he left before she became physically ill.

  “Oh, by the bye,” he said, stopping on the other side of the door. “Your mother sends her regards.”

  Chapter 17

  Joshua braced his right arm against the window frame and stared out into the early evening sky. Allie and he would leave soon for the opera, then return here afterwards for a midnight supper. It had been a little more than a week since they’d made arrangements. A little more than a week since she’d seen him on the terrace with Lady Paxton. A little more than a week since he’d noticed the subtle changes in her.

  Let me be enough.

  She’d whispered these words the first time that night when they made love. There’d been a desperation to her plea, but he hadn’t paid as much attention as he should have. He’d been too wrapped up in his passion. Too consumed in pleasuring her. In finding pleasure himself.

  Remembering the way she touched him, held him, clung to him even after they’d both found their release caused his body to react even now.

  Please, let me be enough.

  He’d heard her words again last night, barely a whisper she probably didn’t know she’d spoken aloud. Only this time there had been a ‘please’ at the front. As if she directed her entreaty to a higher power. As if her request was a prayer she wanted God to answer.

  Please, let me be enough.

  Did she think she wasn’t? Did she doubt he was content with her? A niggling worry settled in the deep recesses of his mind. Surely, she didn’t. Surely she knew Lady Paxton meant nothing to him.

  His blood ran cold. He knew her greatest fear. Knew the crushing blow it would be if she thought he’d been unfaithful. Knew how much she feared having a husband who would flaunt his affairs before the world and prove his disregard for her. What could he do to make her believe nothing had happened between Serena and him?

  He spun around, filled with the most urgent need to rush to her and assure her she had nothing to fear. To take her in his arms and hold her and kiss her until she never doubted his faithfulness again. He took one step and stopped short.

  She stood in the doorway, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. An unsurpassable vision of loveliness and grace.

  She wore a gown of the deepest emerald green, a perfect shade to enhance her coloring. The satin material shimmered in the glow of the lanterns, the unique design perfect for her slight figure. The décolletage was low enough to show off the rise of her breasts but not so low it was offensive.

  She’d pulled her magnificent auburn hair loosely atop her head, leaving wispy tendrils of burnt gold to cascade downward. Vibrant curls touched the long curve of her neck and framed her face.

  Her complexion was as pure as a porcelain doll’s and around her neck she wore the necklace of small emeralds and diamonds he’d bought on impulse just the other day.

  Her eyes shone with a brightness that lit the room, and when she smiled, he feared his heart would burst with joy.

  Let me be enough.

  Surely she knew she was. Surely she knew how much he’d come to love her, and that he would never do anything to hurt her.

  “My dear, Marchioness of Montfort.” He bowed formally, then closed the distance between them and grasped her hands. “You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman God has ever put on the face of the earth. How I was ever fortunate enough to have you as mine will forever be a mystery.”

  “Oh, Joshua.” She leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “I am the one who is fortunate.”

  When she pulled away from him, he noticed a faint dampness in her eyes. He kissed each eye lightly and vowed she would never shed a tear on his account. That he would make sure her eyes were only filled with laughter and joy.

  He checked the time on the mantle clock. They were still early. “Would you like a glass of wine before we leave?”

  “I’d love one. It’s been a harried day.” She smiled. “But I think everything is ready for our guests.”

  “You didn’t mind that I suggested returning here, did you?” He handed her a glass of deep red burgundy wine.

  “Not at all. I’m glad you suggested it. Really.”

>   He sat down on the settee beside her. She moved her voluminous skirt, then turned to face him.

  “How soon can we go back to Graystone?” She reached for his hand and held it.

  “You are tired of life in London?”

  “A little. But mostly, just selfish. I had such a wonderful time when we were there before. I miss it.”

  “So do I. But we can’t leave just yet.”

  “Because of your father?”

  “Yes.”

  He got to his feet and stood with his back to her. This afternoon he’d had a long meeting with his solicitor, Mr. Graham, and Mr. Nathanly, his father’s solicitor. Nathanly feared the duke and at first was hesitant to agree the duke’s behavior was out of the ordinary. Eventually he admitted his concern.

  Upon prompting from Mr. Graham, Nathanly admitted that the duke’s prime purpose had been to bankrupt every piece of property that would eventually pass down to Joshua. He intended to leave Joshua so destitute he wouldn’t be able to afford the upkeep on anything, so all the properties he could not sell would crumble around him. Especially Graystone.

  It had taken quite a bit of talking, but eventually Nathanly agreed that the Duke of Ashbury was indeed unstable and needed to be placed someplace where he would be taken care of. If not for his own protection, then for Joshua’s. And even Lady Montfort’s.

  The moment the solicitor mentioned Allison’s name, a cold wave of panic washed over him. In his next breath, he informed both Mr. Graham and Mr. Nathanly he wanted to begin proceedings immediately to institutionalize his father. Not in Bedlam or any of the public institutions, but at some private hospital where he would receive only the best of care.

  “I can’t leave until I know everything is taken care of,” he said to Allison. “My father is far too ill to be left on his own.”

  Allison rose from the settee and stood beside him, clutching his arm and holding it to her breast. “Of course you can’t. I know how sick he is. It’s just that I worry about you. I don’t trust him, Joshua. Promise you won’t let anything happen.”

  “Nothing will happen, Allison. I won’t let it.”

  How could he tell her that his greatest fear was that in one of his father’s drunken tirades he would try to rid himself of the son he believed had killed the son he loved. Or worse. Try to kill the only thing he loved.

  He placed a kiss on her forehead. “Now, are you ready to go?”

  “Yes.”

  She smiled at him, her smile warm enough to melt butter, seductive enough to make him uncomfortably hard. “Then we’d best leave before I conjure up a reason to go back upstairs.”

  She laughed. “I would not mind. We could be fashionably late.”

  “Being late is only fashionable when attending balls. Arriving late to the opera is not fashionable at all. And we would probably miss the whole first act.”

  He held out his arm then dropped it when Converse entered carrying a small silver tray.

  “This just arrived for you. The messenger boy said it was urgent.”

  He took the note from the tray and turned it over. “It’s from Chardwell.” He tore it open then stepped closer to the light to read it better.

  Montfort,

  It’s imperative that I speak with you right away. Alone.

  I’m on my way.

  Chardwell

  “Allison, something important has come up. You go to the opera without me. I’ll be there as quickly as I can. It won’t take long. I promise.”

  She hesitated as if she wanted to argue, then gave in. “Very well.”

  He saw the worry on her face and felt a pang of guilt. “Don’t worry. It’s probably nothing.”

  “If it’s not? If it’s something important?”

  “I’ll let you know.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  He escorted her to the front door and helped her on with her cloak. He made arrangements for two footmen to accompany her, then escorted her beneath the portico and down the steps. “I’ll be there before the end of the first act.” He helped her into the waiting carriage. “I promise.”

  He kissed her hand then stepped back while the footman closed the door. He stared after her long enough to watch the carriage rumble down the street.

  “I’m expecting someone,” he informed Converse as he walked into his townhouse to await Chardwell’s arrival.

  His heart raced in his chest. He’d known there would be repercussions because of the actions he took to help his father. But bloody hell! He didn’t think they’d start already. It hadn’t even been one whole day.

  He walked to his study and paced the room while he waited for Chardwell to arrive. It didn’t take long.

  He breathed a heavy sigh when he heard a carriage stop at the curb outside his townhouse. He went to the small liquor table and poured two drinks, knowing they would probably both need one before this discussion was over.

  The outside door opened and closed, then Converse knocked before opening his study door.

  “The Countess of Paxton, my lord.”

  He turned in surprise.

  “You look shocked, Montfort.”

  He set the two glasses in his hand back on the table and watched Lady Paxton glide into the room. Her every movement was as graceful as anyone he’d ever seen. She exhibited a natural confidence that made her seem perfectly at ease in any situation. Even alone and uninvited in a married man’s home.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to make peace.”

  “Consider it done, my lady.” He moved to open the door and escort her out.

  “Oh, please, Joshua. Surely you aren’t so angry with me from the other night that you’d eject me from your home?”

  “I’m expecting a visitor and would like you gone before he arrives.”

  “Very well. I’ll leave the minute your guest arrives. I promise.”

  He dropped his hands to his sides and stepped back into the room. He left the door open wide. “What do you want?”

  “Just a few moments of your time.”

  She walked to the table where he’d set down the two glasses and ran one long, graceful finger over the rim until it rang a tiny, high pitch.

  “You’ll have to excuse me,” she said, turning away so he only saw her back. “This is not ease for me.”

  “What is not easy?” he asked when she kept her back to him so long.

  “Apologizing. Saying good-bye. Like I said, I want to make amends for the other night. I misunderstood your devotion to your new bride and overstepped my bounds.”

  “Consider your apology accepted. Now, if you will excuse me—“

  She turned around to face him with the two glasses in her hands. “It’s a shame to waste the two drinks you already poured. Would you have just one last drink with me before I leave?”

  He felt uncomfortable. He didn’t want her here. The sooner she was gone the better he’d like it.

  “I’d prefer you left right now, Lady Paxton. We have nothing to discuss and I hardly want to remember anything we might have shared in the past.”

  She held up one of the glasses. “If you will share but one last drink with me, I promise I will leave and never bother you again.”

  She stepped closer to him, yet not so close as to make him wary. “Just one drink.” She held out a glass.

  He looked at the glass then at her. He’d known Lady Paxton far too long to trust her. He was also well acquainted with her determination. She would get no encouragement from him.

  “Please, Joshua.”

  “Very well.” He took the glass from her hand. Without the slightest hesitation, he threw the contents to the back of his throat and swallowed. “Now...” He lifted the glass so she could see it was empty. “I’ve finished my drink. Please, leave.”

  She stared at him. Was that a flash of concern he saw in her eyes? Surely not.

  “Joshua,” she said, her voice soft, almost muted. “I have something to tell you.”

  �
��I’m not interested in anything you have to say. I’d like you to leave now.”

  She set her glass down on the corner of the table and turned to face him. The expression on her face seemed unfamiliarly sincere. Almost apologetic.

  “We are often forced to make choices we’d rather not make if we could avoid them. Some choices are simple, with few or no consequences. Other choices are earth shattering and affect not only our own lives, but those of everyone we touch.”

  “What does that have to do with…” He paused to wipe his forehead. The room was suddenly terribly warm and even though Serena still stood in front of him, she now seemed very far away. He reached out to anchor his hand against the back of the settee.

  “I want you to know I had no choice.”

  “No choice about what?” He suddenly felt strangely weak. He had to hang onto something for support. His knees would not hold him up.

  “Let me help you, Joshua. It’ll be easiest if you sit down.”

  He tried to digest her words but he couldn’t think. What was wrong with him?

  She came toward him and placed his arm about her shoulder, then led him to the settee and helped him sit.

  He wanted to fight her, to at least resist, but he didn’t have the strength. It was all he could do to let his body sink down onto the cushions.

  “What have you done to me?” His words were slurred and his tongue barely able to form the words in his mouth.

  “I’m terribly sorry, Joshua. Please believe me. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “God…damn…you! What…have you…done!”

  He brushed his hand across his eyes, desperate to wipe away the blur. He couldn’t see. Couldn’t stay awake.

  “Don’t fight it, Joshua. It will do no good.”

  He tried to struggle to his feet but her small hand held him down. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He couldn’t.

  “No!” He struggled to stay awake. To remain conscious. He couldn’t.