by Eva Devon
She scowled. “This is hardly drama. This is life changing. This is scandalous.”
She tried to continue. “I’ve. . .” She blinked tears from her eyes. Why was it always so bloody difficult to speak about?
“You’ve had an affair with Aston.”
“How the devil did you know?” she sputtered.
He arched a brow. “Please do not ask such an insulting question of one with my perception and observation.”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry.”
He looked like thunder for a moment before smiling. “Forgive me. I couldn’t resist teasing you. Anyone who sees you two together and has half a brain, which most don’t, would see it. You two are ablaze when together. Alive, don’t you know? He is the tinder and you are the match. With each other, you make a stunning fire.”
A rueful smile tilted her lips. “He said something similar.”
“You see?”
“He also stated that such a blaze would consume us.”
“Oh dear,” he groaned. “He didn’t quote Romeo and Juliet, did he?”
“Yes.”
“I never would have guessed Aston to be so nauseatingly romantic and, I might add, self-pitying.”
She blinked.
“I beg your pardon if I’m being too blunt,” Basingstoke said factually but with growing indignation. “It’s nonsense. When there’s an obstacle, one overcomes it. One doesn’t wallow in poetry and self-slaughter painted as romance.”
Rosamund glanced out to the horizon which was now a soft glow of slate gray sea and hazy sky. “You’re not too blunt. I welcome your honesty. I suppose I never considered that he was wallowing in anything.”
“Well, he may not be entirely alone in that.”
She snapped her gaze back to Basingstoke. “Indeed?”
“You are standing here looking longingly back towards England as if you’ve left your soul there. I haven’t seen such a hangdog look since—”
“Sir, you’re about to overstep.”
Basingstoke laughed. “Ah. Yes. But if you ask me, you should depart this ship at the first port and turn about.”
“I—I can’t.”
There must have been terror in her face because his gaze softened and understanding dawned on his features.
“I see.”
“If you do, I pray you keep it to yourself.”
“I give you my promise. And I’m here if you need anything, but dear girl, I do think you’ve made a tremendous error.”
Tears stung her eyes. “Thank you. You are no doubt right.”
“Whatever the case may be, you do not need to feel adrift. I’m happy to be your friend.”
She tried to smile through her tears but failed. Perhaps she wasn’t entirely alone. If she allowed it. Still, the man she longed for wasn’t standing beside her. Oh, no. He was miles away in the greatest city on earth.
And she’d left him. Not the other way around.
That was something she’d have to live with for the rest of her empty life.
*
Aston had barely slept in days. He kept waiting for word from Ros. Since the drunken night on his ship, he’d literally stayed in the room by his front door, leaving only to use the necessity and bathe. He’d been certain she’d send a note around, asking for his help. Accepting his hand.
Minutes had slipped by into hours. Hours had slipped by into days and he was now beginning to think she was not going to yield.
Another dawn had risen and the soft blue light of the first touches of morning spilled into the room. The house was quiet. Echoing his painful thoughts.
She wanted to know his secret.
He stared into the cold fire. He hadn’t allowed his housemaid to enter to clean the ashes. Being alone was the only thing keeping him from lashing out at the world around him.
Was he never to escape his father’s curse?
Foolishly, he’d assumed that if Rosamund was with his child that she’d take his hand. She’d have no other choice. But what a tosser he was. Of course she was choosing the more challenging path. That was his Ros.
And his one chance to have her was escaping his grasp.
Wasn’t it?
He could tell her. He’d already almost decided to.
Fear immediately choked him. Fear was not an emotion he was accustomed to. In the past, things that frightened him had been met with bold action. He’d embraced those things so that they had no power over him.
This was different. The fear was old. Deep. It was the voice of his father in his mind, repeating again and again that he would never be worthy; that his life had resulted in the destruction of his parents’ happiness.
Tony accepted him. They were two of a kind, after all.
But surely, she would curl her lip.
Ros was made of stern stuff, but surely this would be a step too far. Even for her.
The knocker on the door banged with a reverberating series of raps.
Benson’s footsteps thudded softly as he went to meet them.
It was all Derek could do not to rush to the window and see if it was a footman bearing a note. Or perhaps, even Rosamund herself.
He just managed to refrain.
As the door to his morning room opened, he ran a hand through his hair and faced his guest.
Benson entered and said stoically, “Lord Charles and Master Anthony, Your Grace.”
He couldn’t keep his disappointment from heaping onto him like the world on Atlas’ shoulders.
“You look like the devil, Aston,” Charles immediate said as he entered.
Tony’s own eyes bulged as he spotted his father. “Da, when did you sleep last?”
He couldn’t look that bad. Could he?
He turned to the mirror on the opposite wall. He’d studiously avoided the glass. After all, he’d no need to see his own shame staring back at him. But now, he forced himself to look and a wild man met his gaze.
His hair looked as if a wind storm had attacked it. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and his face was a map of grooved lines. He wasn’t a youth. Lines had been there for years. After all, he’d spent a great deal of time squinting into the horizon at sea. . . But this? This was from strain and lack of nourishment.
“If she did come for you now, she’d turn tail and run out of fright, old boy,” Charles drawled.
“Stuff it, Charles,” he growled. “Besides, if it is not clear to you, let me assist. She isn’t coming.”
Tony frowned. “No, Da. She’s not.”
There was such a finality to the boy’s words that Derek felt his heart stop. “What do you mean exactly, lad?”
Tony glanced at Charles. “We ran into each other not just out in the park. I was on my way home from a few revels and well. . .”
“I spotted him just down the road as I was coming here.”
“Why were you coming here, Charles?” Derek asked warily.
“She’s gone.”
“Gone? Who?”
“Don’t be obtuse, Aston.” Charles hesitated then said, “Lady Rosamund departed the house this morning. She had several trunks with her and, according to Gemma, she’s going on a prolonged journey. Something about Egypt and my sister-in-law’s brothers, the Basingstoke fellows.”
Duncan had insinuated Rosamund longed to travel the last time he’d seen the Scot. The claim had been outrageous. “Blackburn’d never let her go,” he bit out. “Not truly.”
“I’m not sure Blackburn knows,” Charles said softly. “It seemed the decision was rather last minute.”
“And her brother is preoccupied with his new wife,” Tony added.
“She bloody well can’t go to Egypt,” Derek said firmly.
“She can and she has,” Charles stated.
“It’s not safe,” Derek said, feeling a dose of heady concern.
Charles gave a rueful smile. “I doubt those brawny lads will allow her to come to harm.”
“She’s pregnant,” Derek roared.
Charles’ smile disappeared. “Ah.”
“And she’s running away?” Tony asked, his face aghast.
“I told you both, she won’t have me.”
“She’s madly in love with you,” Tony shouted. “What did you do?”
“I, puppy? I asked her to wed and she turned me down flat. Even with a babe in play.”
“No.” Tony narrowed his gaze. “There’s more. Ros is no fool and she does love you.”
“Does she?” Derek whispered. “She’s a deuced way of showing.”
“She’s got her pride,” Charles offered. “Quite a lot of it. All that red hair and a Scot to boot. You never thought this would be easy, did you? She’s not some soft miss with wool for brains. She’s fire and steel and—”
“Yes, thank you,” Derek cut in. “I’m aware of her good points.”
“Glad to hear you think they’re good points.”
“What else could one think?” Derek asked. “She is the stuff of dreams.”
“No, Da. I think that’s where you’re wrong. Rosamund is the stuff of reality. She’s the stuff you build a life on. She’s strong. Strong enough to take your secret and love you still.”
Derek’s throat tightened as he locked gazes with his son. “How the devil do you know that’s why she won’t have me?”
“That you’re keeping a secret?” Tony queried. “I know Ros. I know you. She won’t have a man if there are lies being told.”
Derek could barely draw breath as he looked at his wise son. “But. . .”
Good God, how could he say it to Tony? Tony was a bastard who’d faced the censure of the world. Granted, he’d had the support of a father who loved him, but how could he now be afraid to tell one person when the world had known Tony’s state?
“Oh, son. I’m ashamed.”
“Don’t you dare be,” Tony commanded. “You’re a great duke and a great man. And you’ve protected your mother.”
Charles arched a brow. “I do beg your pardon, but I’m feeling a trifle lost.”
Derek narrowed his gaze. “And that’s how you’ll stay. . . For now.”
“Well, I do feel lost most of the time, so at least it’s a familiar feeling.”
Derek nodded. “Good. Now, to go find her.”
Charles clapped his hands together. “I’m sure Gemma will be forthcoming with information about her departure.”
Derek felt a degree of relief. At least they weren’t starting entirely blind. “It’s a good thing I told Bates to ready the ship.”
Tony let out a frustrated sigh. “What’s wrong with all you old people?”
“What on earth do you mean, young’un?” queried Charles. “We’re all perfectly marvelous.”
“You’re all bloody terrified,” his son exclaimed.
Charles stared but made no rebuttal.
Tony folded his arms across his chest. “You were going to run too, Da?”
Derek nodded. “I was, of course, hoping you’d join me.”
Tony scowled.
“It was not, perhaps, my finest hour when I gave the command to Bates,” Derek admitted.
Tony rolled his eyes. “You’re all bloody frightened of love. When I find love, I shall embrace it. I shall revel in it. I shall—”
“Keep going, young’un,” drawled Charles. “Just know every declaration is digging your grave a bit deeper for the day in which said amour occurs.”
Tony snorted.
“I’m going to delight in making you eat your own words. . .” Charles cocked his head to the side. “With sauce.”
“It’ll never happen,” Tony replied confidently.
“Tony,” Derek pointed out. “Never is a very dangerous word.”
“Never,” Tony reiterated.
Charles smirked. “Oh, what an amusing day it will be when you eat that word.”
“Right,” Derek cut in. “Let’s go question Gemma then head for the docks.”
“Lady Rosamund might not take kindly to being tracked down,” Charles pointed out.
“Who needs to be kind?” Derek said. “I once was a bit of a pirate after all.”
Tony waggled his brows. “As they say Lord Charles, Faint heart never won fair lady.”
Chapter 21
It was remarkable how one’s plans could be so entirely cocked up by one angry Scot.
Granted, said angry Scot also happened to be the brother of the woman he had every intention of marrying. Still, Derek had not counted on all of the dukes from The Dukes’ Club suddenly descending upon his ship before it could set sail. Hell, before he’d even gotten on board.
But there it was.
And so now, instead of following Rosamund, who was aboard the Dolphin according to Lady Gemma, alone, he was accompanied by Charles, Tony, the Duke of Roth, the Duke of Darkwell, the Duke of Hunt, the Duke of Blackburn, and a partridge in a pear tree.
The Duke of Blackburn was armed.
Derek supposed he could be grateful that the dukes hadn’t been all joined by their formidable wives. He wasn’t sure he could have faced that chorus of fierce females.
Then again, they might have talked some sense into their husbands who seemed ready to march him down the aisle by force, (force wasn’t even necessary, though the arrogant ponces wouldn’t listen to that) then assassinate him once the deed was done.
He’d always known he was going to die in rather unsavory circumstances. But he’d never counted on such a prestigious group to perpetrate his execution.
“You’re a dead mon,” growled the Duke of Blackburn as he cradled his primed pistol with the ease and skill of a man who knew firearms well.
Unable to resist infuriating his soon to be brother-in-law further, he drawled, “You’ve already said that. Thrice.”
“I enjoy it, Sassenach. It gives me a shiver of delight each time the words pass my lips.”
“I had no idea you were so bloodthirsty.”
“When it comes to my sister?” Duncan’s gaze turned hard.
“I should kill you now. But first, we’ll ensure the legitimacy of her babe.”
There it was.
Somehow, he had no idea how, the news had gotten out.
Derek had a sneaking suspicion that, perhaps, Gemma had told her mother who had decided it essential to tell the other duchesses and then, they, the ladies, had decided that something must be done since apparently he wasn’t coming up to snuff.
How could they all know that the only reason a marriage had yet to take place was because Ros had turned him down?
That wasn’t entirely true. His own fear and bullheadedness were a large part of the whole debacle.
He and Ros were equal in their stubborn natures, he realized. Their marriage, if he managed to survive to have one, would be quite an adventure. One battle and surrender after another. But how glorious to make peace?
“Why are you smiling?” asked the usually affable Duke of Roth. “To think, just a short time ago, I took your advice on women and weddings. And you? You’ve been using a young lady in the worst possible way.”
Derek snorted.
Tony charged across the deck, towards the group of older men. “Not one of you can say anything about my father. You’re all recovering rakes. Every man among of you. You all used your women most foul.” The young lad’s chest swelled with fury. “How dare you accuse him?”
Hunt, Roth, and Darkwell had the good graces to look slightly chagrined.
Blackburn’s face turned dark with anger. “That’s no reason to not murder him now. We all did the right thing, in the end. He has not.”
“You’re all a pack of braying asses,” Tony bellowed.
“Thank you, my boy, for your passionate defense. But as is common to all recently converted, they are incapable of seeing their own sins.”
Blackburn’s eyes, usually quite handsome, bulged. “I ought to kill you now.”
Derek wagged a finger at him. “No, dear fellow. If you do, your nephew or niece shall never inherit aught from
the Aston line. And your sister shall be forced to live amongst Italians for the rest of her days.”
Charles grinned and casually leaned against the ship’s railing despite the rolling of the vessel over the waves. “You know, I quite like Italians. They make delicious wine, take long naps, and adore their women. What’s not to like?”
“Shut it, Charles,” said his twin, the Duke of Hunt.
“Oh come, brother of mine,” Charles chided. “You adored Venice when we were last there. Remember playing all those games with masks and—”
The Duke of Hunt let out a beleaguered sound. “Those days are done.”
Derek could only imagine what the two young rakehells, who looked exactly alike, had gotten up to.
“Not so long ago,” put in Derek.
Hunt glowered. “You’re only digging your grave, blackguard.”
“He asked her to marry him!” shouted Tony.
Derek gave a sharp shake of his head and said from the corner of his mouth, “Shh, puppy.”
Blackburn who had taken to smiling far more as of late flashed his characteristic dark scowl. “I beg your pardon? I don’t believe it.”
Derek threw up his hands. “I’d hoped not to delve into your sister’s mule-like nature. For mule that she is, she is also a goddess divine. Athena, Hippolyta, warrior queen. I adore her. But it’s true. She, dear girl, will not have me. At least not yet.”
“All the more reason to kill you,” snapped Blackburn in thick Scottish tones. “What did you do that she would say no to a duke?”
It was common ground of the other dukes in The Dukes’ Club. It was difficult for them to understand the word no. When one was a duke it was, after all, a word one seldom heard. Derek, on the other hand, had exposed himself to a vast array of people who were happy to tell him to jump in a ditch and then there was his father who had taken delight in making his life hell.
Hell and denial were things he was accustomed to.
Derek weighed how to best answer but just as he was about to do so, a sailor called from the crow’s nest.
“Captain!” yelled Bates. He pointed out to sea from the wheel. “The Dolphin!”
They all whipped in the direction of Bates’ pointed finger.
“Where?” Darkwell demanded, squinting his smoky eyes.
