by Eva Devon
“Ah. Italy, a region which hides so much of England’s sin.”
“So, it would seem. So then, will you tell me?” he asked softly.
“What?”
“What you ran from? I will help you, you know. With whatever it is. I can protect you.”
Tears stung her eyes. How would he ever understand? But Nicholas had understood her when no one else had. Perhaps, she could trust him. Perhaps, she should at least try. “My father is an honorable man, Nicholas. He’s as traditional and conservative and as loyal to the crown as anyone might hope or wish.”
“And at home?” he prompted.
“A good man. A distant man. A man who finds powerful men for his daughters to marry.”
Silence stretched out between them as Nicholas seemed to be thinking on her words.
“Do forgive me,” he began quietly, “but am I to understand that you ran away from your parents because a marriage had been arranged for you?”
She blanched. There was something terribly cold in his voice. Not at all like the Nicholas she had known. “Yes.”
Nicholas said quickly, “And the man is blackguard of course.”
“No.”
“No?” he echoed.
Allegra licked her lips. “As I understand, Viscount Ponsonby is everything that he should be.”
A dry laugh rolled from his lips. “Ponsonby? That’s who you ran from?”
She shifted on her boots. The accord that had been between them was gone. Suddenly. In an instant. Nicholas was staring at her as if she were a total stranger.
“I’ve never met Viscount Ponsonby,” she said, “but it seems you have.”
“The lad is as gentle as a lamb. Dim as sundown, of course, but I don’t think he’d harm a fly.”
“I couldn’t marry, Nicholas.”
“You couldn’t marry him?”
“I couldn’t marry. You know I’ve made a vow. It’s why I refused you.”
“Are you sure it’s not simply some sort of childish whim on your part?”
The statement hung between them and she almost couldn’t believe he’d said it. In fact, she desperately wished it would disappear. But it didn’t and he had, indeed, said such a thing. “I beg your pardon?”
“You’ve abandoned your parents. You’ve left them utterly in the lurch because they wish you to marry a titled, decent, wealthy man.” His words were flat, but his entire stance seemed to suggest bated fury. Suddenly he bit out, “Do they even know you’re safe? Do you write them often?”
“They know I’m safe,” she defended, shocked by his anger.
“How?” He stretched the word out.
She’d felt so solid. So strong in her desperation to run away, to save herself when Juliana could not be saved, but now, standing here under his imperious glare, her certainty began to shake.
Allegra squared her shoulders, refusing to be cowed. “I wrote them when I left and I’ve arranged messages.”
He stared blankly as if her assurance meant nothing. “Please. Please help me understand why you’ve done this.”
Her insides suddenly tangled as his coldness seemed to suggest that she was wrong. So very wrong for what she had done. And given how much she had come to respect him, his sudden withdrawal of his easy friendship shook her badly.
“Nicholas,” she began, “I don’t know if you can understand. But after my sister died, I knew I could never marry. Marriage killed her.”
His face softened for a moment. “I’m sorry.”
At least there was still some kindness between them. She wanted to smile at that, but she couldn’t. The moment was too severe and she had a sinking feeling that whatever accord had been between them was about to be permanently severed. “Thank you.”
“How did she die?” he asked softly.
“In childbirth.”
His face remained blank, a slate in which one could read nothing. She longed to know what he was thinking.
At last he ventured gently, “And you are afraid of dying in childbed?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry Allegra, but I still fail to understand.”
“She died in childbirth, but that’s not what killed her, not really.”
“What did then?”
“Her marriage.”
“The viscount was a cruel man?” Nicholas asked softly.
“No,” she said then frowned. “Yes. How do I explain to you that I watched sister disappear?”
“Oh Allegra, perhaps I can understand that your sister was lost in a bad marriage. They happen every day. It is a cruel fate for anyone. I am sorry for your loss. I am sorry that your sister was so lost in her marriage. But. . .”
For a moment she’d felt a surge of hope. He did understand.
“I could never do what you have done,” he said flatly, “and I cannot respect you for it. I would give anything, anything for one more moment with my parents. Anything for a touch, a glimpse, a word. And you have thrown your parents away.”
He let out a harsh breath before stating. “You have been a fool.”
Those words hit her harder than any slap. She could not even form words. His pain was so palpable. She could feel his grief for his parents and suddenly she understood that she had done the one thing he could not forgive.
Over their time together his regard of her had been obvious. He’d been impressed by her. She knew that.
Now, disappointment shadowed his eyes and pulled at his strained mouth. “I thought better of you,” he said.
Tears stung her eyes. Of all the things he could have said, somehow this was the worst. His abject disappointment in her was so palpable she felt sick.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Nicholas.”
“We are going to London and you are going to give your parents the peace of mind of seeing you and knowing you are unharmed.”
We. She blinked back hot tears.
“There is no we, Nicholas. I understand that you do not care for me at present—”
“Care for you?” he suddenly cut in. “It is because I care that I cannot let you continue to do something that, one day, you will regret with every fiber of your being.”
And there it was. Even if the sentiment was good and kind. The word let was another blow. “You do not own me. Therefore, you cannot permit me to or let me do anything. You are not my husband. You are not my father. You are—”
“Your lover.”
“Yes. . .”
“And your employer.”
“Not any longer. I give you my notice. . .” She swallowed, her emotions wild but she knew what had to be done. “As both.”
“Both?”
“Your lover and your servant, Your Grace.”
“Allegra—”
“No,” she bit out, feeling as though the world was collapsing about her.
“You understand,” he countered, “I feel I must take you to London.”
“If you force me, I will never forgive you.”
“I’m a duke.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m used to employing force. There are all types of it you know.”
“If I give you my word, my vow,” she said desperate to avoid the path that they’d suddenly gone down, “that I will go to see them on my own, will you accept my wishes?”
“I never thought it would end like this,” he whispered. “I suppose I never really thought it would end.”
His voice was so gentle she could swear it broke her heart. But she’d learned already that hearts didn’t break so easily and even if they did, one carried on.
“I don’t wish us to part as enemies,” she said.
“Just not as friends?”
“Not as lovers, in any case.” She wished she could somehow go back and prevent this moment but that was a futile hope. Whatever they were, they were over.
“Because I know it is so important to you,” he began tightly, “I will not use force as you say. But know this, I will visit your parents soon. If you have not visited them, I will track you
down, and you will have to explain to me again how your vows mean so much to you.”
She gave a tight nod.
“Please take one of my carriages and a servant for your protection. I cannot bear the idea of you alone on the road.” He eyed her slowly, a new emotion in his gaze. “You are very innocent after all, Alfred. More innocent than I ever thought possible.”
Her heart hurt. It hurt so badly she could barely reply. “I will accede to your request if it gives you peace.”
“It will beyond measure.”
“Then goodbye, Your Grace. You shall not see me after this.” With that she turned on her heel and strode as fast as she could over the uneven ground, unsure of where she was going. She only knew she could no longer bear to be under his disappointed gaze a moment longer.
Chapter 14
The long carriage ride home should have prepared Allegra for the traumatic events that would follow. It did not. Days ensconced in the ducal coach were comfortable in comparison to how she had traveled when she’d first escaped. It was true. But the cushioned seats and sprung wheels had only given her time to think of Nicholas and how she would almost certainly never see him again. Or if she did, their mutual esteem would be so altered that it would be a deeply painful experience.
She’d felt her heart rattle against her chest, thinking of facing her parents. She didn’t regret her choice of actions, but coming home would be no easy thing.
And it wasn’t.
At present, she sat in her father’s study, the fire crackling, her mother sobbing in the chair in the corner, and her father pacing. His face was so full of fury that Allegra couldn’t help wondering if the doctor that had been summoned would be needed for her papa and not herself.
The dark night of London had descended. Even so, she could hear the active life from the street. She wished she was still out there. But there was no going back now. She’d made a promise to Nicholas and by God, she’d fulfill it.
“You’ve ruined yourself, you know that?” Her father’s voice once so soft and kind was hard now.
She gave a tight nod.
“We had no idea where you’d gone,” he said, not with coldness but a sort of wild desperation.
She knew that too. “I’m sorry for frightening you, but I did send word that I was safe.”
Suddenly, her insides twisted. “Where is Rose?”
Her maid, Rose, had helped save her from an intractable future. She had yet to see any sign of her at all.
Lord Portmund turned to face her with narrowed eyes. “I sent her out into the streets.”
Allegra’s mouth dried with horror. “What?”
“She refused to tell us your whereabouts, so I threw her out. With nothing but the clothes on her back.”
“You gave her a reference?” Allegra asked hollowly, knowing the question was a foolish one. If he had truly sent Rose out into the streets with no reference then, my God, her maid could be in the most terrifying circumstances.
Nicholas was right. She was naive. She was a bloody fool for thinking that her actions wouldn’t leave a wake of disaster.
“I told her to go to the Devil. For surely, she’s a curse on my daughters. The first in her care dead. The second?” Her father stopped his pacing and his shoulders slumped.
“The second?” Allegra prompted, wondering what her father might say next, knowing that she’d made her choices and that she deserved whatever he might say, especially with Rose at risk, and, yet, she still felt a sort of unyielding fear.
Her father’s face sagged with disappointment. “You’re as good as dead to us.”
Her mother let out another sob and pressed her face into a crumpled handkerchief. “We’ve had to lie to all our friends,” she managed between shaky breaths. “We’ve had to hire rough men to look for you and pray we could bring you back before the worst might have happened.”
It did occur to ask her mother what the worst was. Death or ruination, but she couldn’t face the answer, so Allegra asked, “You assume it has?”
“Dear God girl, one look at you tells us you are not the young woman that left this house in the middle of the night,” her father suddenly snapped, wiping a hand over his face. “Your innocence has vanished as surely as your place in society.”
“I do not much mourn my place in society, Papa, but I am afraid for Rose.”
“I hope that girl was murdered in the streets,” her father spat passionately.
“Father!” Allegra cried, shocked that he could say something so cruel. He’d never been a brutal man. Oh, he’d been pedantic in his beliefs, insistent that the poor remain in their place, that it was their lot chosen by God to live in the slums just as God had ordained his place as an earl. But she’d never heard him directly wish death upon someone.
The sound of the front door opening echoed through the halls and voices approached the study.
“At last,” her father said flatly. “You’re to be examined immediately.”
Allegra lifted her chin. Somehow, she had to make her parents understand the best thing would be for her to go and live on the continent now. Away from their society. Away from the pain and disappointment she had caused them. “I don’t need a doctor. I’m perfectly well.”
“The doctor is here for two reasons,” her father said with little emotion.
Allegra frowned. Two? “Yes?”
“He is here to determine if you are still a virgin, which I doubt, and secondly. . .” Her father’s face tightened and he swung back toward the fire as if he couldn’t bear to carry on.
“Mama?” Allegra prompted, real fear taking hold of her. She gripped the damasked silk of the chair. Something was happening she didn’t understand. Something dangerous.
Her mother smoothed her hands over her emerald skirts and she stood. Lady Portmund’s shoulders were squared, but tired. . . And they were determined. “Now, my dear, you mustn’t upset yourself but the doctor is also here to assess the soundness of your mind. For surely, no daughter of ours, in her right wits, could do what you have done.”
“You think me mad?” Allegra whispered.
“Madness is the only explanation for what you have done,” her mother said, all tears gone now as she faced the coming hardship, “for what you have put us through, and for the way you have so entirely thrown away your life.”
Allegra dug her fingernails into her palms, willing herself to stay calm, to not be the impulsive, petulant child Nicholas seemed to think she was.
Swallowing, she met first her mother’s then her father’s frantic gaze.
“Though it seems almost impossible we are discussing such a thing,” Allegra said, “I can tell you without aid of a doctor that I am no longer a virgin and it was by my own choosing. Perhaps this only adds to my madness in your eyes, but Papa can you not see? Can you not see that I couldn’t bear a fate like Juliana’s?”
His gaze dimmed as if suddenly thrust back in memory. Tears filled his blue eyes briefly before he blinked them away. “Juliana was a good daughter, the jewel of my heart,” he rasped. “I mourn her every day.”
“Her marriage killed her,” Allegra returned. “Society killed her.”
“Childbirth killed her Allegra,” her mother said flatly.
“I will not listen to these ravings,” added her father, taking his wife’s hand in his. “Your sister died like an honorable woman. She was a diamond to be praised. And though it breaks my heart, I see now you have become a stone in our shoe. And what does one do with a stone in one’s shoe?”
“They cast it out,” Allegra somehow managed to say.
Her father drew in a long breath. “I cannot cast you out into the streets as I did your maid, but I can see that you are taken care of. That you are treated for your madness.”
Allegra forced herself to stand and held her hands out to her parents. “Please, I beg you. Don’t take this course. You know I am not mad. I am simply different.”
To her shock, her father turned from her, dashing his
hand over his eyes quickly.
It was her mother who said without mercy, “My dear daughter, to be as different as you? It is what it is to be mad.”
The words sent a chill down Allegra’s spine. There was no jest in her mother’s tone. Or the way in which her father would now not face her.
All this time, she’d longed to avoid the prison of marriage. Now, it seemed she was to find herself in a very different sort of prison. . . Only, this one might have bars.
Once, when she’d been small, she’d been taken to a madhouse. So many people went for a few moments of entertainment to laugh and poke sticks at those in their cages.
It had never occurred to her that her parents might take this step.
The door swung open and the butler announced Dr. Barrow.
She stood transfixed, staring at the open portal, waiting for her doom. Surely, Dr. Barrow wouldn’t find her to be mad. Surely, he would tell her parents that they were acting in folly. But as she eyed the bewigged, perfectly dressed, pinch-eyed doctor who stepped through the door and into the study, bag clutched in hand, dread overtook Allegra.
Why had she ever allowed herself to listen to Nicholas? Why had she cared so much about what he thought? If she hadn’t, she’d be in Calais by now.
But as always in this life, there was no going back. She’d made her decisions. . . And now, she had to face them.
Alone.
*
It had taken all of forty-eight hours of brooding in his room without Alfred for Nicholas to pack a bag and ride like he was a man possessed to London. Once in the city that was the center of the world, he paused.
She’d rejected him. He’d then raked her over the proverbial coals. He doubted she wanted to see him and so he’d hesitated. He, the Duke of Roth! Instead of allowing self-doubt to take hold, he chose logic.
Surely, he should wait until she had had suitable time to speak to her parents?
And so, he’d gone out for a night on the town.
Now, he sat in the unofficial residence of the Dukes’ Club, brandy bottles strewn about the floor and his friends, the Duke of Hunt and the Duke of Darkwell, sprawled beside him.
It had been quite a night.
The other two dukes were passed out. The poor fellows had been too terrified to go home and face their very pregnant wives and so after the night’s bizarre happenings, they’d chosen to drink until they could no longer stand.
