Her voice of reason made no more difference than Dolly’s hysteria. Graham glared at the offender. “Ask Arthur how he did it. I daresay his good friend DeVere was helpful, but the troublemaker really should have burned that note you wrote him, Reardon. He’s grown too over confident, our friend has. He thinks I don’t know of his involvement, that I won’t come after him like all the others, but he’s wrong. I’m saving him for last. You don’t know much about the bastard you befriended, do you, Reardon? Well, the government intends to help me make his death one to remember. I understand they have rather unpleasant means of disposing of traitors.”
The gasps this pronouncement produced brought no satisfaction to Graham’s demeanor. Penelope paled as much as Arthur. She dropped her hand from his arm.
When he glanced down at her, she stared at him in horror. “You pretended to be an invalid so you could spy on your friends? You deceived me so you could have your revenge for something that happened long ago? And now you would destroy the Reardons, your friends, me, and Alexandra by dueling over something that can be neither proven nor disproved? Unless you have evidence to incriminate Arthur of my kidnapping, I cannot condone this. I do not think I know you at all, Graham. I can forgive you much, but I cannot forgive you if you do this thing.”
For a brief moment, pain flickered in Graham’s eyes. He raised his hand to her, and then the moment was gone, his expression closed into that implacable mask she knew so well, and his hand dropped.
“Arthur drove the carriage that night. He was the one who ordered the others to leave Marilee there, dying, with the rain pouring in her wounds. Would you have me forgive that?”
Dolly’s shrieks had died to choking sobs. Guy turned questioningly to his young friend. Arthur offered no denial.
Still, Penelope searched her husband’s face. “If you kill him, you will have to leave the country. Is it worth it for something that happened a long time ago, when he was no more than a boy?”
Graham’s grim visage did not change. “I vowed to avenge Marilee’s death. That vow is the only reason I kept on living. I will not break that vow even for you, Penelope.”
“I am sorry, Graham, I believe God would forgive you if you broke that vow, just as I believe He will forgive me if I break mine now. If you must do this, I will consider you not to be the man I married. The vows we said in the church would be meaningless.”
The meadow and the fallen ruin they stood upon darkened with the shadows of twilight as. No sound other than Dolly’s sobs could be heard. Even as Penelope boldly stood up to her husband for the first time, he regarded her expressionlessly, before turning to the man waiting for the verdict.
“I will be expecting your seconds before sunrise, Reardon.”
Broken-hearted, Penelope lifted her skirt without another word and started down the hill toward the carriage.
Chapter 36
Penelope was barely aware of how she arrived at the Hall and had even less notion of who accompanied her. She only knew that her bedchamber was dark and empty as she began deliberately choosing those few frocks she wished to take with her.
She felt totally alone although the house was teeming with servants. Alexandra slept in the chamber above but she could not, would not think of her. She could not steal Graham’s child away, no matter how great a beast he had become.
Her choices of clothing scarcely filled a small trunk. She left behind the jewels, the delicate slippers, the elegant gowns, and gossamer night wear. She would not need them in the village.
With equal deliberation she took the full sum of the last charitable allowance Graham had left for her the week before. Some good would come of this fiasco, whether he liked it or not.
Soul and heart aching with a pain she could barely endure, Penelope ordered the carriage brought around. She had only one place to go, and Graham knew it. There would be no point in hiding her destination. She gave the orders to be taken to Hampshire.
She could not bear to hear the outcome of the dawn meeting. It would rend her heart in two, no matter what the outcome.
The carriage rattled through the night on familiar roads. Penelope’s head ached with weariness, but she could not sleep. There was so much left unexplained, so much she did not understand, but she was not capable of logical thought. She only knew she had to get away.
The dark cottage was not as welcoming as she had expected. Without Augusta, it became just another house, as the Hall was nothing without Graham. The loneliness brought tears to her eyes, but she would not give in to them. She had survived as much before. She would do so again. It would just take time to learn to do it on her own, without Augusta’s sage advice or Graham’s false security.
She let the footman light a fire for her, then sent him and the coach on to Stanhope Manor to rest. Adelaide and Brian would be over by day’s end, but by then perhaps she would have perfected a reasonable story.
All she really wanted was to be left alone until she could reassemble the pieces of her broken life and patch them into some usable purpose again.
Graham knew Penelope was gone by the time he returned to the Hall. He had known she would be, and he had given her time to do it. His only worry was Alexandra, and he hastened up the steps to the nursery.
He breathed a sigh of relief and frowned at the same time as he gazed down upon the innocent sleep of his daughter. Whatever became of him, he knew Penelope would always watch over Alexandra. Although it would have broken his heart, it would have been better if she had taken the child with her. They would both be safer away from here, and they could have comforted each other. He certainly didn’t deserve the gift Penelope had given him of Alexandra’s love.
With that thought Graham closed the door and returned downstairs where the others awaited him.
Arthur sat wearily slumped in a tapestried wing chair of some antiquity that Penelope had rescued from the rubbish pile and ordered restored. Guy had sprawled across a sturdy leather sofa, his head bent over the arm and his boots crossed over the seat. Penelope had ordered that chair there for the use of his “uncivilized” friends who would have damaged a more delicate piece of furniture. Graham wrapped his fingers around the corner of a heavy library table as these memories of his wife washed over him. His wife. She had been more wife and helpmeet than the woman who had driven him to this moment.
Guy didn’t even glance up as he growled, “You never deserved her, anyway. I hope she took Alexandra.”
“She didn’t. Penelope wouldn’t.” Graham lowered himself to his desk chair as if he were the cripple he had pretended to be all these years. The crippling was on the inside now, but the effect was the same. He would never be whole again.
“Go after her, Graham. Leave this to Guy and myself. It’s not your fight. It has never been your fight,” Arthur whispered in hoarse anguish.
All these years Graham had thought Arthur a traitor, no better than the murderers who had sent Marilee’s carriage over the bridge. How wrong had he been about the others he had hounded to death? Penelope had been right. Only God had the right to play God.
Graham’s scorn was all for himself. “I’ll not have Penelope touched by any of this. She is innocent and will remain so. I started this long before you were of an age to understand, Arthur, and I will finish it. The worst has already befallen me. You two still have your lives ahead of you. Go on back to them and let me deal with the bastard. The wretch has cost me everyone I have ever loved, and I intend to make him pay.”
“Oh, very well said, Othello,” Guy mocked. “Or are we Hamlet tonight? I’m not much up on your heroes, but I’ll wager there’s some good swashbuckling to follow. I’ll be deviled if I let you take the lead again, Trevelyan. Set one foot out of this house without me and I’ll come after you first and DeVere later.” These brave words were spoken tonelessly, without Guy moving a single muscle of his elegantly draped frame.
“Same here, Gray.” Arthur twisted his cane between his hands. “I cannot forgive myself for trusting the sco
undrel. All these years of fighting and I still cannot prove to myself that it wasn’t cowardice that sent me running to DeVere for help that night. I have to prove that I can stand up to him. You’ve already suffered enough for my blindness, Gray. Go after Penelope.”
“The bloodthirsty louts would probably have put a bullet through my head as well as the horse’s that night if you hadn’t sent them away. You did what you could. Let’s not go over it again.” Wearily Graham stared at the brandy decanter on the corner of his desk. That bottle had been his only solace for too long. He didn’t lift a hand to reach it now.
Arthur had tried to go for help that night. He had tried to prevent the ambush but arrived too late. Thinking Guy to be the victim, he had sent the villains away and rushed to DeVere—-Graham and Guy’s old friend, DeVere—for help. To go to the authorities would have meant implicating his fellow club members. He had counted on DeVere to come to the rescue.
Foolish youth. Graham ground his teeth and switched his gaze to the fire in the grate. He had known since they were boys that DeVere had some willful, sick streak in his character that enjoyed the pain of others, but he had thought it a boy’s viciousness and had not considered the effect when matured to adulthood. DeVere had fallen gleefully into the gambling, whoring ways of idle youth in London, but this, too, Graham had discounted. So many others of their age had succumbed to this pagan life that he could not condemn DeVere for it. He had simply ignored him and went on with his own life. Not once had he considered the older man’s influence on others.
So, in a way, it was his own fault. Graham didn’t doubt that DeVere had been the one to send his drunken playmates out to seek revenge against Guy. When the incident had got out of hand and Graham and his wife became the victims, it had probably not disturbed a particle of his warped soul. Graham had foiled his attempt to silence Guy. In DeVere’s mind, he had probably deserved the accident. He’d certainly not responded to Arthur’s cry for help.
If nothing else, the experience had completely disillusioned Arthur to his old friend’s character or lack thereof, but it had destroyed the boy’s confidence in himself, too. So what did the hands of God require Graham to do now? Save the lad’s life by sending him home to his mother, or let him regain his self-esteem by allowing him to hunt DeVere down for the dog he was? Graham groaned and covered his eyes. He needed Penelope’s wise judgment to guide him.
“DeVere is after me,” Graham reminded them. “He abducted Penelope and forged those notes just to lure me out where he can get at me. I think he’s finally realized that I know him for what he is, and that I am coming after him as I did the others. You and Guy can’t destroy him any longer, but I can. He will leave you and your families alone if you will just stay out of this.”
Arthur started to speak, but Guy’s harsh voice overrode him. “Balderdash! There ain’t a soul safe while that bounder walks the streets. He’ll be hitting Dolly over the head and carrying her off to one of his bordellos to get even with us. He’ll decide we know too much and send one of his thugs out to throw us into the bowels of some ship as Navy deserters. The bloody monster has tried to assassinate public officials and has murdered women in the street to make you into a maniac. You want us to lie idly by and watch you claim all the glory?”
This time Guy swung into a sitting position so he could glare at Graham. “It will bloody well take some getting used to your new face. You should have been on stage.”
Arthur had grown pale at the mention of Dolly’s possible fate, but his expression was resolute. “He’ll not suspect me just yet. I can’t get about much, but I can be your eyes and ears. I’ll say the physician has a new treatment for me and go up to London. Guy, you’ll have to persuade Dolly and my mother to stay here and not accompany me. I want them kept out of this.”
Guy studied the suggestion. “Without you here, they have no reason to miss the Little Season. How am I to persuade two females from following their natural inclination?”
Graham gave up the battle. Glancing from one aggravating companion to the other, he gave the answer his wise Penelope would have. “By giving them a wedding to plan.”
Both men turned to stare at him. Arthur showed a hint of laughter behind his weariness. Guy stared in outright astonishment.
Graham shrugged. “Since I am quite certain Penelope has no use for you, Guy, you might as well find a good woman and settle down. The sacrifice is worth it, don’t you agree?”
Arthur chuckled as Guy struggled with this solution. Even Graham’s lips began to twitch at the eligible bachelor’s dismay. Guy might act with courage in battle, but one small female had him checkmated. Graham’s grin grew wider as Guy gave up the fight without a protest.
“Tomorrow. I will ask her tomorrow,” he muttered. At a look from both men, he amended, “Today. Let me get some rest and change my clothes. I’ll ask her today.”
Graham reached for the decanter and tray of glasses. “A little fortification is needed here, gentlemen. To tomorrow.”
Chapter 37
Penelope glanced at the letter in her hand introducing the very proper lady seated in the cottage’s best parlor chair. Mid-thirties, she guessed, with a youthfulness about the mouth and eyes. Her stiff traveling suit had been carefully brushed and pressed, but Penelope’s experienced eyes noted the traces of alterations made from some much larger woman’s wardrobe.
The letter of introduction confirmed what her eyes had already told her. Priscilla Greene came of impoverished gentility and supported herself by teaching the children of wealthy families. The letter also stated she was of good character and a hard worker, but Penelope had already developed that impression, too.
She smiled with genuine welcome. “Miss Greene, I think we will get on well together if you should accept the position. It is not the same as working in the comforts of an earl’s estate, you realize.”
A bit of relief and excitement appeared on a primly stoic face. “You gave me to understand that the girls’ welfare will be in my management. To educate deserving young girls instead of pampered, bored youngsters without the interference of well- meaning but ignorant parents is worth every bit of discomfort I might suffer. I am a teacher, Lady Trevelyan. I enjoy teaching. Let me do what I know best and we will suit exactly.”
Penelope stood and held out her hand. “Pack your trunk and prepare to move in as soon as possible, Miss Greene. We’ll need to start looking for other teachers to help you. I know someone who is already preparing a list of girls deserving of our efforts. I hope you are prepared for the type of children you will be trying to teach.”
Priscilla Greene’s chin set firmly. “Were it not for a distant relative, I would have been one of them myself, Lady Trevelyan. I am more than eager to offer them the same chance I was given.”
And so the foundling home Penelope had dreamed of became a reality.
Graham didn’t have the pleasure of immediate satisfaction. Once DeVere discovered his prisoners had escaped, he had gone into hiding. Graham had spent weeks tracking a cold trail. He kicked at the ashes of emptied files in the cold grate of DeVere’s small flat.
They should have surrounded the prison cell in the old keep that first night and waited for the villain to return to the scene of his crimes instead of wasting time on arguments of duels and guilt. DeVere must have seen them and fled to the continent. Half of England seemed to be in Paris right now, gawking like tourists and engaging in sword play with the defeated French soldiers. Just the place for a blackguard like DeVere.
But he had found no trace of the villain having left England by any of the usual routes. DeVere would still carry the papers of his diplomatic office, although his leave of absence from the department had long since expired.
Still suspicious of Graham and his dual roles, the government continued to conduct its own investigations in the matter of the assassination attempt and the street murders, but again, the clues were old. No new murders occurred, and there was nothing to prove that Lord Trevelyan hadn’t m
urdered the diplomat as well as the soiled doves.
Graham slammed his fist against DeVere’s desk. He couldn’t let the rogue go just like that, not after what he had done to Penelope. He would grind the man’s bones into dust for laying his filthy hands on Penelope. Unless he wished to believe Guy guilty of the crime, he knew DeVere was the only other person capable of using the hidden passages Penelope’s abductor had used to carry her out of the house without being seen.
They would have to lure him out of hiding. If DeVere had gone to the continent, it would not be easy, but Graham felt certain he was still in England. He had returned to his flat, burned all his papers, packed his bags, and taken up residence elsewhere.
When Graham finally came upon an idea, his companions were dubious but willing to try. Nell was understandably reluctant. But Graham showed her the cape and eye patch hidden in DeVere’s room, the one he’d presumably used to imitate Graham while he murdered her friends, and she wholeheartedly joined the plan. Pippin thought it a great lark. Now established in Graham’s household with a fancy uniform all his own and free meals for his ugly mastiff, he was more than willing to track the villain who had hurt Lady Trevelyan.
Guy continued to shake his head as Graham completed his plan. “I don’t like it. It’s too close to home. If he should have any suspicion of what we’re about, he’s apt to take off with Dolly or Alexandra as hostages. We can’t risk it.”
Graham tapped his pen against his desk. “It has to be some place he’ll feel comfortable going to and that we know as well as he does. That eliminates everywhere else. Nell and Pippin know the East End, but we want to keep them out if we can, and city streets are just too easy to get lost in. It will have to be Surrey. Isn’t there something that’s been said about criminals returning to the scenes of their crime? I should think the old keep ideal.”
Love Forever After Page 33
