Angelica shook her head in the negative. Everything she desired was within her reach, but she could not claim her happiness without Lord Malvern knowing contentment as well. She could not bear the thought of his seeking his pleasure with others. Having Malvern as her husband would provide her no peace because he did not love her. She could accept Lord Remmington as a marriage of convenience, but not Lord Malvern.
It would break her heart not to possess his love. She shook her head a second time, fearing the unspoken question: Can I give up the man I love?
“Do you not understand?” she said at last. “Lord Malvern turns to me because I am his one true memory. His lordship does not come to my quarters to claim a woman, but to claim a simpler past.” She prayed she could reason with the duke. “When we were at the Wendts’, Malvern and I created this wonderful world where we were William and Elizabeth Copley, a young couple with a future. We came up with amazing ways to spend our limited funds and to create a means to earn more. There was no fabulous estates or titles. When Malvern returns to me, it is because he yearns for that simplicity.”
“Do you truly believe what you say is so?” the duchess asked.
Angel rose to kneel before the woman. She cradled the duchess’s hands within hers. “I do not mean to offer an offense, Duchess, but surely, as a woman, you see how Lord Malvern suffers. Every moment of every day, your son is at odds with what he should be feeling. Think on it. Other than those he borrows from his loved ones, Malvern holds no memories of this house and his position in it.” She gestured to the well-adorned room. “Although he has been in these quarters a hundred times, I doubt his lordship could have described it prior to his return to the Keep. This room was as foreign as the depths of China or the outlands of the American continent. Lord Malvern has been at Devil’s Keep for a bit over a week, and each of you forget how tentative his position is, but the marquess has not. You see him as he always was, but your son is no longer that man. Is it not logical that Lord Malvern would seek a few moments when he can be William Copley, a future clerk in one of my father’s offices, rather than the heir to the Duke of Devilfoard?”
Instead of disapproving of Angelica’s assertions, the duchess caressed Angel’s cheek. “You are too wise, Miss Lovelace.”
Angel kissed the woman’s knuckles before returning to her seat. “May I speak further?” she asked through light tears.
“Please do,” Devilfoard said with as much emotion as had his wife.
“When you approached Lord Newsome at supper two evenings prior, I observed how proud you were of Malvern standing strong beside you, but did you look into your son’s eyes afterward?”
The duke shook his head. “I do not recall doing so.”
“I thought not,” Angelica said in sympathy, “for a father would have recognized Malvern’s fear. While you removed Lord Newsome’s weapon, his lordship held his gun upon the viscount, not only to protect you from immediate danger, but also from future danger. It was quite obvious to those of us who know Lord Malvern that he understood that if you fell, he would be duke, and the marquess believes himself unprepared for that possibility. He has much to relearn in that regard. Afterward, he spoke of being a coward and never measuring up to your standards.”
The duke released a heavy sigh. “I should not have accepted Malvern’s façade as real.”
Angelica softened her observation. “Your son would do well upon the stage. He is quite the performer.” She smiled wryly. “In truth, I imagine Lord Malvern held similar fears prior to his recent troubles, but his memory loss has exasperated the situation. Although he would never speak of his pain, the marquess willingly claims his family’s care. Earlier this evening, I watched the marquess and Lord Harrison teasing Lady Stoke, and I imagined his having done so a thousand times. Even so, for Lord Malvern, who acted from brotherly instincts, it was his first time doing so. When this house party is over, you should close ranks. Smother Lord Malvern with family. Permit the marquess time to relearn his place in this household. His lordship does not require another responsibility in the form of a wife.”
“Would you consider an extended engagement?” the duchess suggested. “I believe you would do well for Malvern. You obviously care deeply for our son’s future.”
No matter how much the idea of being Huntington McLaughlin’s wife enticed her, Angel could not convince herself it would be best for both of them. Sitting calmly by and watching her hope of happiness die a slow death was not to her liking.
“If this tale of Lady Stoke’s despair does not destroy his interest, I believe Lord Remmington means to make me an honest offer. I promised my father I would claim a husband at the Season’s end. If the earl proposes, I shall accept.”
Chapter Seventeen
Despite her lack of sleep, Angel called upon her father early, before he dressed for the day. She spoke honestly regarding her actions since coming to Devil’s Keep, and her father, thankfully, listened, without comment.
“And you mean to permit Devilfoard to twist the story to his son’s benefit?” he asked when she finished.
“I mean to tell some form of the truth,” she assured. “Lord Malvern lost everything which defines him. I cannot permit his lordship also to lose his freedom.”
Her father scowled. “I am disappointed that Devilfoard did not demand the marquess speak his proposal.”
Angel knew her father would not approve of her response, so she dropped her eyes. “Devilfoard offered me an opportunity to be the future duchess, but I refused his kindness.”
“Oh, Angel.” He caught her in a tight embrace. “I wish you had inherited your mother’s sensibility rather than my stubbornness.”
Angel snuggled closer, the familiar scent of soap and sandalwood necessary for her sanity. Despite her tears, she teased, “At least it was not your nose I inherited. I imagine I would require a much larger head to make it appear balanced upon the female form.”
He chuckled as he rubbed her back in a comforting stroke. “I believe you offer your dearest parent a most wicked insult.”
Angel kissed his still firm cheek. “Your nose, Dearest Father, is quite aristocratic and absolutely perfect for a gentleman of your fine countenance. Mother always said you were the most handsome man of her acquaintance.”
“Your mother was quite blind to my faults,” he said in self-chastisement. “And you will not distract me with your false flattery, young lady. I am aware of your tactics.” He chucked her chin before placing a kiss upon her forehead. “Do you wish to return to America? I would arrange it if it is still your desire.”
Angelica pulled away where she might examine his countenance. “But what of Lady Gunnimore?”
Her father shrugged. “Constance will understand.”
It was the first time Angel had heard him use the countess’s Christian name. The word sounded foreign upon her father’s lips.
“Shall Lady Gunnimore disapprove of my actions?”
Her father shook off the notion. “Lady Gunnimore will think you quite heroic. As do I.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “I am the most blessed of daughters.”
“And what of Lord Remmington?” he asked.
“I do not know. When the earl learns of Malvern’s late night visits, he is likely to shun me.”
“Must he learn the whole truth?”
“As Malvern’s dearest acquaintance, I cannot think it is possible to keep it from him, and I would not wish to begin a relationship with half truths.”
* * *
To paint the portrait of acceptance and amiability, Angel had agreed to break her fast with the duchess and Lady Stoke at her side. The story was not yet common knowledge, but the viscountess played her role flawlessly. Lady Stoke made mention to several other women at the table of her recent discomforts. The others offered sympathy, as well as suggestions on foods to avoid and positions in which to sleep to ease the viscountess’s pains. None seemed to think twice of speaking so openly before an unmarried woman. Angel was
not certain whether to credit the conversation to her invisibility or to the duchess’s obvious inclusion of her within her inner circle.
When the gentlemen entered, she noted the haggard expression upon Lord Malvern’s countenance, as well as the tight-lipped guardedness of Lord Remmington. Angel took a few steadying breaths. She had several more hard conversations awaiting her upon this day. Only the duke looked upon her with fondness. She had won a powerful ally last evening, but would Devilfoard’s influence be enough to weather the gossips nipping at her heels?
Before he filled his plate, the duke strode to the head of the room, where a clearing his throat brought the morning chatter to silence. “I have information of import, and although beginning one’s Sunday with dire details is not what I would prefer, it is incumbent upon me to report that late last evening, Sir Alexander and several of my men recovered Lord Newsome’s body from one of the estate’s tarns.”
A soft buzz of interest spread among the onlookers, and with intent, Angel did not meet the eyes of any involved in this façade.
“I wondered why we had not seen the man since that scene at supper two nights prior,” mused the Earl of McIntyre. “Did the viscount wander off while under the influence of whatever had him seeing snakes upon the supper table?”
Angel kept her eyes downcast. Evidently, the duke meant to stifle the rumors before they could grow. She wondered what he planned to say of her confession. She was thankful when Lady Stoke squeezed the back of her hand.
“I wish I could claim Lord Newsome’s death accidental, but I feel an obligation to speak with earnestness. These events are unprecedented in the history of this estate, and you hold the right to know what has occurred.” The duke made eye contact with several among those gathered about his table. “I am not foolish enough to think that many among you have not heard the rumblings from the servants’ quarters. Therefore, it is my intention to share the truth. A sash from a gentleman’s banyan was about Newsome’s neck. The scene leads one to assume Newsome’s attacker strangled the viscount before tossing his lordship’s body into the water. Unfortunately, for his attacker, Newsome’s jacket caught upon a broken tree limb at the water’s edge, which kept the body from going under. My staff noted the viscount’s absence early yesterday morning, and with Sir Alexander’s assistance and his power as an agent of the Home Office, we conducted a thorough search of the estate and the surrounding roads.”
“What was the color of the sash? Do we know its owner?” Lord Watkinson inquired with concern.
Angel knew relief in learning not everyone had listened to the servants’ gossip. She turned to look at her father, who smiled encouragingly. She sat taller to prove to him she was not anxious for what was to come.
“The sash belonged to Malvern—one from a banyan he is known to favor.” The duke displayed no emotions in his tone or his expressions.
“Balderdash!” Lord McIntyre declared. “What reason would Malvern have for doing away with Newsome?”
“I hold Lord Newsome’s vowels to the tune of nearly a thousand pounds.” The marquess’s voice spoke of his humiliation, and Angel realized he thought himself once again a failure.
“I imagine several among Devilfoard’s guests also hold the viscount’s vowels—perhaps not to the same extent as Malvern, but hold nonetheless,” McIntyre reasoned. “Newsome gambled on everything from the turn of a card to which of his hounds would hit first upon a scent. Even so, it would seem to me a man would find it easier to collect a debt from a live viscount rather than from the man’s estate.” He turned to the marquess. “Were the viscount’s vowels and the sash all noted by the local magistrate?”
Unconsciously, mimicking his father, Malvern cleared his throat. “I admit not to handling the magistrate’s questions well.” His voice spoke of the misery of the last few hours, and Angel found her heart crying out to him. “In truth, I am not certain how the magistrate learned of the gambling debts. Even Father knew nothing of them. And as to the banyan in question, I have not worn the garment since my return to Devil’s Keep. In fact, my valet swears he left the item in London for it had a small tear, which Mr. Mangan meant to repair before I wore it again. However, during the magistrate’s search, the article was found in my quarters, minus the belted sash I commissioned to match the garment.”
This was all new information to Angel. She had assumed someone stole the sash in question from his lordship’s quarters at the Keep. Realizing Lord Newsome’s attacker had brought Malvern’s garment to the duchess’s party for a malicious purpose made the situation more sinister. Who would have access to the marquess’s quarters? she wondered. A lover, perhaps. She did not like to think of Malvern with another. A shiver ran down her spine when her eyes met Malvern’s. This madness had taken a toll upon his composure.
For several elongated seconds, silence followed the marquess’s admission. At length, Sir Alexander spoke. “I sent to London for a skilled coroner. We must determine how the viscount died. I am not convinced Newsome succumbed to the lack of air in his lungs. The scene makes little sense. Why strangle a man and then attempt to drown him? If drowning was the intent, why not weigh the body down to force it under water? And why was Lord Newsome still dressed in his evening clothes from two nights prior?”
“Those are all excellent questions,” McIntyre declared. “And I for one am pleased to count you among Devilfoard’s guests, Chandler. I have no doubt the Home Office will not rest until they discover Newsome’s attacker. Imagine attacking a peer of the Realm!”
For a brief moment, Angel thought she might escape with her reputation unstained, but the duke remained in charge of the dis- cussion. When he cleared his throat a second time, her mouth went dry. It was all she could do not to rush into her father’s arms.
“The duchess and I feel we must also speak of one more facet of the magistrate’s initial accusations against my heir.” Angel wished she could disappear. “Neither the Duchess of Devilfoard or I want any questions as to my son’s innocence.”
“Then explain, Devilfoard,” the Countess of McIntyre encouraged.
The duke looked fondly at Lady Stoke. “As you all know, my darling Henrietta is again with child.”
“Everyone above ground and with eyes holds that knowledge,” McIntyre grumbled.
The duke rested his hand upon his duchess’s shoulder. “It is difficult for me to think upon my eldest as the mother of twin boys. Henrietta was always our princess.” He gestured to his daughter. “I pray you will forgive me, enfant, of speaking so familiarly of your condition.”
Lady Stoke blushed. “Of course, Papa.”
The duke chuckled. “As McIntyre has so eloquently pronounced, we above ground and with eyes can easily recognize my daughter will soon claim motherhood again. Mayhap sooner than either her mother or I hoped. Most of you invited to share my duchess’s hospitality know Lady Stoke and Malvern are twins. What some of you may not realize is I, too, was a twin. My brother Harold lost his life some ten years prior. Lord Stoke is also a twin, and my daughter’s sons are twins. Obviously, Henrietta is likely to know doubles again.”
“What is all this talk of intimacies?” Mrs. Silverton tutted her disapproval. “I did not bring my daughter to Devil’s Keep to encounter such vulgar conversation.”
“Speaking of children cannot be vulgar,” the duchess declared. “Even the Book of Common Prayer tells us to ‘Look with compassion on the whole human family,’ and it teaches us to ‘take away the arrogance and hatred which infect our hearts.’ Surely children are the most innocent of God’s creatures.”
Devilfoard looked upon his duchess with affection. “My lady is most passionate about her children and her daughter’s children. As Lady Stoke is the only one of our children to accept the role of parent, I fear my duchess can be quite protective of Henrietta’s health. Therefore, when Etta took ill overnight, the duchess’s anxiety was what Lady Stoke most hoped to avoid. Initially, Lady Stoke summoned a trusted friend to her side. When my daughter�
��s pain continued, the friend having sworn not to bother the duchess, consulted Malvern, who rushed to his sister’s aid.”
“So ...” Watkinson appeared confused. “Malvern attended his sister. What is suspect in that? Did the magistrate have the cheek to think Lady Stoke spoke an untruth in order to save her twin?”
“Not exactly,” Malvern confessed. “I refused to tell the authorities where I had been.”
Watkinson’s eyebrows snapped together. “Why ever not? There was nothing circumspect in your actions?’
“My sister’s friend remained with Etta long into the night,” Malvern said with regret. “We both did. So long we fell asleep. Although Lady Stoke was also in the room, my twin napped on and off. The lady and I were across the room from each other, but I did not wish the lady’s reputation brought into question. Therefore, I refused to speak of my whereabouts.”
“Not ideal, but certainly understandable,” Watkinson grumbled. “It was honorable of you, Malvern, to risk everything to save the day.”
When her father’s voice broke the silence, Angel’s eyes filled with tears. “I think it equally as honorable for my dearest child to risk her good name to save his lordship. And before any of you ask, I was aware of Angel’s tender care of Lady Stoke. Although I wish for different circumstances, I believe my child when she says she fell asleep across the end of Lady Stoke’s bed. She had no knowledge of exactly when his lordship returned to his quarters, but she knew it was well past three of the clock for Angelica sneaked to the kitchen for chamomile tea for the viscountess shortly after two.
“After last evening’s entertainments, Angelica overheard a servant speaking of the magistrate’s questioning of Lord Malvern. My daughter came to me for advice, and I insisted she share the truth with Devilfoard and the duchess. I have above all things taught my children Christian charity.”
Angel was not certain what story the McLaughlins had concocted, but her father’s version was now their truth.
“For your kindness, we are deeply grateful, Lovelace. I know it was not an easy decision for a father to risk his daughter’s credit in order to right a wrong. Your benevolence is only diminished by Miss Lovelace’s courage,” Devilfoard pronounced baldly. “My family has spoken of all which occurred. However, if you have other concerns, please direct them to the duchess or to me. In the light of Lord Newsome’s demise, we assume some of you may wish to shorten your visit to Devil’s Keep. We assure you we understand if you hold qualms of staying until the duchess’s annual ball. Our staff will assist those who wish to make their leave. I sent word to the local inn to keep accommodations open for I know many of you would not wish to travel far upon the Sabbath. No offense will be taken.”
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