"You are a challenge," Candlewood replied quietly as he sipped his drink. "You are the only man to ever refuse her, at least from what I can gather. Therefore, this has become a game to her. A rather sick game, but a game all the same. I think that in her mind, she feels that if she annoys you enough, you will eventually give in to her demands. That you will somehow see her worthy to be your lover."
"That is insane." In fact, it was one of the most insane ideas Lachlan had ever heard in his entire life.
"Madness often is." Candlewood shrugged.
"I am not mad. I simply know what I desire. And what I desire is you, Lachlan, my love."
Annoyed, but again not completely surprised, Lachlan looked up to see Claire standing in the doorway. No doubt she had somehow discovered a way past his footmen and the other guards he had placed around his town home. His only saving grace was that the duke was here. Somehow, he doubted that the Bloody Duke would allow one mad Scotswoman to run roughshod over him. After all, they were friends.
"Back again, my lady?" Candlewood asked, as he rose, still sipping his drink casually. "Have you not caused enough of a scene already this season? Enough, in fact, to last several seasons, I would think."
Without a care for her safety or reputation, Claire stalked across the room to stand in front of the duke, the swish of her skirts the only sound other than their combined breathing. "I shall continue to cause a scene each and every day until I have what I desire," she practically spat. "What should already be mine by rights!"
"Yes. Yes. I know. You wish to bed Hallstone and bear his bastard children." Candlewood yawned. "Do you have any new material, madam, or is this simply the only story you know? It really does grow stale, you know."
With a screech, Claire launched herself at the duke, but he managed to catch her neatly and then trap her within his arms, his drink tumbling to the floor. Clearly he had not been anticipating the attack, for Lachlan knew the man would be upset at the loss of his favorite scotch more than anything else.
In front of Lachlan, Candlewood held Claire firm in his grip. "Tut, tut, madam. I will not have you flailing about while we speak. It is unseemly. Especially for a lady."
"Let me go, you brute!" she howled at the top of her lungs. "Lachlan! Tell him to release me this instant!"
"No." When Claire had attacked Candlewood, Lachlan had risen to help his friend, but clearly, no help was needed. "I grow weary of this, Claire. I will win Diana back and you cannot stop me. I do not see how you can expect this plan of yours to work. Really? A false pregnancy and whatever else that brain of yours is spinning right at this moment?"
Hissing and spitting like a cat, Claire attempted to get at Lachlan but Candlewood held her fast. "It does not matter! I want you and I shall have you! I love you!"
"Love is not carrying on like a banshee, my good woman," Candlewood whispered almost seductively in her ear as he shifted her in his grasp. For some reason, she seemed to settle a bit after that, though she did still occasionally struggle to get away. "There. Now that is better."
"I love you, Lachlan," she whimpered. "It has always been you. Not your father."
"Yet you married him," the marquess countered, still making certain Candlewood had a good, firm grasp on her. "And I am sorry, Claire, but I do not love you. I never have and I never shall. I love Diana. You know this." Admitting that love aloud was a very freeing thing, Lachlan quickly realized.
"Bastard!" Claire screeched. Candlewood must have let down his guard for a moment, for in an instant, she was on the offensive again. Somehow, the two men managed to get her back under control once more. This time, however, Lachlan suspected the duke would not go so easy on her.
"Enough of this," the duke growled, clearly annoyed, and pulled Claire so tightly against him that she whimpered - though with fear or pain, Lachlan did not know. "I tire of this game, my lady, and my friend here has a woman to seduce. One," he continued on easily when Claire would have interrupted him again, "That is most certainly not you. So here is what is going to happen."
There was a calmness to the duke's voice that Lachlan envied. Then again, with his stomach all tied up in knots at the prospect of losing Diana forever, he wasn't certain he could even manage a calm tone.
Once more, Claire attempted to kick herself free and once more she failed, earning her a place more tightly pressed against the duke's chest. "You do not dictate to me, you bloody bastard! I am Lady Gladston!"
"And Lady Gladston you will stay," Candlewood said, a deadly tone in his voice that somehow even managed to finally penetrate Claire's madness. "So long as you do as I say. For if you do not? I am certain that I can convince certain influential members of Parliament to grant your ailing husband an annulment."
"On what grounds?" Yet there was a note of fear in her voice that had not been there mere moments ago.
"Attempted. Murder." The duke's words were low and hissed with something decidedly deadly mixed into them. "You see, my lady, after we last met, I sent one of my men to Scotland. There he learned the most interesting thing. Your husband? He has shown marked improvement in his health since you have departed for London. So I had them continue on in their search, with Lachlan's blessing, of course." Candlewood glanced up at Lachlan who only nodded briefly in return. "Do you know what they found?"
Claire screeched something unintelligible. Then, "I don't care!"
"But I do." Suddenly, Lachlan found a calm he did not know he could muster at this point. "What did you do to my father, Claire?" Lachlan had no great love for the man but he did not wish to see him murdered, either.
"Nothing." Suddenly, the woman was shaking within Candlewood's grasp, fearful now. "I didn't do anything."
The duke smiled, but there was no humor in his expression. "I have a vial of poison that says you did." Then he pulled her tighter still until Lachlan wasn't certain the duke was not cutting off her air supply. Not that he much cared. "Not to mention witnesses."
"I only wanted him out of the way," Claire cried, much of the fight leaving her. "I did not want him dead!" Her eyes leapt to the marquess. "Lachlan, you must believe me! I swear I didn't want to kill him. I just wanted you."
Candlewood shrugged. "No matter. The end result would have been the same." Then he shoved Claire away from him and into the waiting arms of Harry Grier. "So here is what will happen, Viscountess. You will remove yourself from London without saying a word to anyone. Not even that delightful French count you are trying to get a child by. You will return to Scotland where you will make your apologies to your husband. Then you will go away, preferably to a convent that my men have already selected for you. And you will never go near the McKenna family again."
"And if I don't?" There was still enough spite left in Claire that she would not give in quite so easily.
"Then I will make you disappear. Permanently." Candlewood's words were icy cold, his expression bland. And Lachlan believed he meant every word he said.
Clearly, so did Claire. "Lachlan, please," she pleaded one last time. "No! I cannot live without you! You must see that!"
"Actually, I see nothing of the sort." Lachlan knew he needed to be as ruthless as the duke in this moment. He needed to be the libertine that had once ruled Edinburgh. But just this once and never again, at least not if he could help it. "What I see is a woman who has tried to ruin my life and hurt the woman I love. Pray that I am able to win her back, Claire, or you will not have to worry about what Candlewood's men will do to you. I will snap your neck myself and be glad of it. And no one will be any the wiser." A raised eyebrow was the only sign that the duke approved of Lachlan's plan. "Now go. And do not come back."
Claire was still screeching as the Bow Street runner dragged her from the room, kicking and screaming.
"She is not well," Lachlan sighed as her screams echoed down the hallway.
"No, she is not," Candlewood agreed as he straightened the cuffs on his jacket and went to pour himself another drink. "Which is why I have made arrangeme
nts for Claire to stay at a nice little asylum outside of Edinburgh for a time. She may have the French pox, in which case her lovers will need to be notified. Or she may simply be mad. Until she can be examined - and even after - I do not want her running free to cause more havoc."
That was more than Lachlan thought Claire deserved and he said as much. "You do her a kindness I would not."
Candlewood shrugged. "I am not as heartless as I often appear. I am not a beast either, contrary to most rumors. Lady Gladston is not well and does deserve some consideration, especially since all is not yet lost with Miss Saintwood. Diana does love you, Lachlan. She is angry with you at the moment, true, but it will pass."
"I pray that you are right." The knot of fear rose up inside of Lachlan again. "I cannot bear the thought of living without her."
"Then let us make certain that you do not have to." There was an odd smile now on the duke's face, one that Lachlan had not seen before. He did not know precisely what it meant, but he was hopeful. "I have a plan, you see. One that I think you will like very much. But if we are to succeed, you must get dressed. Evening clothes, other than your own skin of course, are the best way to seduce a lady, as I am certain you well know."
As the two of them set off in search of Lachlan's valet, Candlewood outlined his plan. By the end of it, Lachlan was smiling. All was not lost and for the first time since that terrible day outside of Madame LaVallier's there was a ray of hope in his life. Not a big one, mind you, but a ray nonetheless. And however small it was, Lachlan was willing to cling to it and hang on for dear life.
Chapter Twenty
"You are not obligated to give him another chance, you know." Sophia looked around the Devonmont's ballroom where the annual musicale - and once more, another scandal - had just taken place. This family had to have offended someone, somewhere, perhaps even in another life, for their annual event to showcase their daughters' musical talent - this year Lizzie's singing - to turn into such a debacle. Each and every year without fail. At least no blood had been shed this time, unlike the previous season.
Eliza glared at her friend. "Perhaps not, but it would be the nice thing for Diana to do." She glanced out onto the dance floor where couples went whirling past as they performed the quadrille. After the last several years, the earl had learned that having a small group of musicians on hand, as well as providing his guests ample opportunity to dance well into the night, often went a very long way to help quell gossip about whatever disaster befell the annual event. For a time anyway.
"Besides, what we all saw was not really the truth." Eliza pushed her glasses back up her nose and once more, Diana had to wonder if they were truly necessary. "I am certain of it."
"And I am certain you are both correct," Diana replied, her gaze darting around the room hoping to catch a glimpse of Lachlan. Her mother had assured her that the marquess would be in attendance this evening. Diana had thought he would be, simply for the chance to speak with her if nothing else. Had she been wrong? She hated to think that was the case. "I do not owe Lord Hallstone a chance to explain his actions, but I will grant him one anyway." She smoothed the wrinkles out of her ice blue silk gown, knowing that she was fidgeting. "I need to give him a chance. For both of our sakes."
Sophia inclined her head slightly. "He does love you," she allowed. "I am certain of it. Just as I am certain that my brother does not. Though he would wed you if you wished." She sighed. "I was supposed to make certain you were aware of that fact, at least before all manner of scandal broke loose." Then she threw a dark glance across the room to where a very unhappy looking Miss Phoebe Banbrook sat in the corner with Lady Weatherby by her side as her chaperone. "Mutton-headed idiot that he is."
"Men are idiots. The lot of them on whole, really," Eliza agreed, though how she had come to believe such a thing Diana could not even begin to guess. "There are a few good ones, I suppose, but they are rare." She paused. "Lord Hallstone might be one. I think he could be."
In that moment, Diana wanted nothing more than to hug her friends tightly and thank them for all of the support they had shown her over the years. But more so for what they had done for her this evening. They had both bowed out of previous engagements so that they might accompany Diana to the Devonmont's while she waited for Lachlan to make his arrival. If he appeared at all. She was still not certain that he would. Even if she did not find her fairy tale ending with the marquess, Diana still had her friends and they would not fail her. Of that she was certain. No matter what the future held.
"Do not look now, but my idiot brother approaches," Sophia hissed and she shot him a glare that, if looks could kill, would have dropped the duke where he stood. "Gads, has he not mucked things up enough this evening?"
"Ladies." Lord Hathaway offered them an elegant bow, which all three ladies returned with deep curtsies. "It is an enchanting evening, is it not?"
"It was," Sophia replied but Diana knew there was no true anger in her tone, despite the scene her brother had just caused. There might have been frustration touched with a bit of disbelief, however. Then again, Diana knew that Sophia would not remain angry with her brother for long, no matter what he had just done. She was far too happy to stay angry.
That morning, Sophia's betrothal to Lord Selby had officially been announced. Though no date had been set, Diana knew her friend was happier than she had been in a very long while. She was marrying her prince charming, after all.
"Soph," Hathaway warned, "be nice." Then he bowed to Diana again before offering her his hand. "Miss Saintwood, may I have this dance."
The quadrille had ended and Diana knew the next dance would be a waltz. She did not particularly wish to dance with the duke, but she also knew she had little choice in the matter. If she did not go willingly, she would make a scene and she had done enough of that as of late. As has Hathaway.
"I would be honored, your grace," she finally replied, all the while well aware that Sophia was glaring daggers at her brother while Eliza looked as if she wanted to hit the man with a heavy object. Thankfully, there were none within easy reach.
Once they were on the floor, Hathaway wasted no time in getting directly to the point. "I wish to offer you marriage, Diana," he said as he swept her around the room. Then he glanced back to where Sophia, who had since been joined by Lord Selby, and Eliza still stood. "Despite the fact that your friends, including my sister, do not much care for me at the moment and think that I am completely wrong for you. And in spite of what I did earlier this evening." Then he looked back to Diana. "I would be good to you, my lady. You would not suffer as you are suffering now."
At one time, even yesterday perhaps, Diana might have accepted Hathaway's offer, if only to pray that the pain from the loss of Lachlan went away quickly. After her talk with her mother earlier, however, she knew that to accept the duke's offer would be a grave mistake. She did not love him, and Diana was certain she would rather spend the rest of her life alone than to be trapped in a marriage with a man she did not love. In time, she might change her mind. She knew that. But she also knew that she had promised herself that she would give Lachlan a chance to explain. Until that occurred, Diana would not commit herself to anyone. Not while her heart was still held by another.
"I thank you for the offer, your grace." Then she glanced over to where Selby had led Sophia onto the ballroom floor as well, waltzing closer together than was strictly proper and not seeming to care in the least. "And I thank you for what you did for Sophia. But I am afraid that I must decline your offer. I do not love you and I cannot marry you. Not when..."
"She will be marrying me."
Diana turned to see Lachlan standing in the middle of the floor and making a complete spectacle of himself. Dressed in well-cut black evening clothes, he cut an imposing figure and, given that Lord Candlewood was standing but a few steps behind him, it was unlikely that anyone was about to remark upon his highly irregular presence in the middle of the waltz.
Lachlan had been watching Diana fo
r some time now, his heart aching. She was resplendent in an icy blue gown made of the finest silk. Or was it more of a teal color? Was teal even a color? Sorcha had said that it was. It did not matter what Diana wore, he supposed. All that mattered was that she was beautiful in his eyes and that he loved her because she was beautiful inside as well. And that he had broken her heart. But he would fix that. He hoped.
Some young women probably would have appeared at the musicale looking worn and forlorn, but not his Diana. From the tips of her silvery slippers to the single sapphire that winked at her throat, she was magnificent. A true warrior queen with a strand of sapphires threaded through her hair, as if announcing to the world that she was truly a goddess. A queen. In Lachlan's eyes, anyway, she was and always had been. All that and more.
He had almost lost her. And while he did not have her back just yet, he had hope. Until she sent him away, there was always hope. And more than a little fear.
He had been standing in the corner for the last ten minutes, attempting to decide when the best time would be to approach her. He had been about to seek her out for the waltz, to beg for another chance, when Hathaway had swooped in. Bloody arse of a man. It had taken all Candlewood could do to prevent Lachlan from challenging the man to a duel that instant. However cooler heads had prevailed and Lachlan stood before Diana now, ready to claim her heart. If she would allow it.
He offered Diana a bow, praying that she would not refuse him. "My love, I wish to speak with you." He gave Hathaway a dark look, meant to terrify the other man. He did not think it worked. "Now."
"See here, Hallstone," Hathaway began to protest but with a grace that indicated he might have done something similar before, Candlewood maneuvered the other man to the side and neatly began to cow him towards the edge of the ballroom.
"You have said your peace, Hathaway," Candlewood said softly but firmly, not allowing the other man to protest. "The lady has politely declined your offer. Let that be the end of it." Then he turned back and grinned at Lachlan. "Hallstone. She is all yours."
A Marquess Is Forever Page 30
