But now?
Something shifted inside her, and the pressure in her chest increased to the breaking point. The dam burst, and love came flooding through. And, oh, heavens, there was so much of it! It was like a tidal storm, sweeping aside everything in its wake.
She turned back to Nicholas.
A year ago, she had sworn revenge. Her hatred for this man had consumed her, eating away at her soul until there was nearly nothing left. She had devoted her life to destroying his.
She still missed Adelaide with an ache that would never fully dissipate. He had ruined her and indirectly caused her untimely death, and for that, Alice hated him still.
But it was such a small thing now, that hatred. It did not consume her. How could it, when her heart was so full of Nathaniel? There simply wasn’t room for hatred and revenge.
Revenge wouldn’t help Adelaide. It wasn’t worth wasting Alice’s life, and it certainly wasn’t worth ending Nathaniel’s.
Revenge was nothing.
Nicholas was nothing.
But Nathaniel…Nathaniel was everything.
She went to her knees.
Colonel Kent stepped forward. “Miss Bursnell, I say!”
But she kept her eyes trained on Nicholas. “Please, don’t kill him. I couldn’t bear it.”
“Get up, Miss Bursnell,” he said harshly. “This is beneath you.”
No. Nothing was beneath her. Not when it came to those she loved.
She remembered saying those very words to Nathaniel, back when he’d accused her of blackmail, but she hadn’t meant them then.
She meant them now.
She would do anything, anything, to keep Nathaniel alive.
“Please,” she said again.
For a moment, the mask slipped, and Nicholas looked well and truly baffled. “You blame me for Adelaide’s death, and yet you kneel before me?”
“I love him.” It was the simple truth.
“Get up, Miss Bursnell. For the love of God. This is embarrassing.”
“No.” The damp earth sank through her skirt. “Not until you promise me you won’t kill him.”
Nicholas looked at her with an unreadable emotion tucked into the corners of his mouth. She might have called it compassion if she thought him capable of it. But his next words proved he was not.
“Adelaide’s locket. Give it to me.”
The locket was all she had left of Adelaide. Could she really give it to this odious man?
Yes, she could.
She unclasped it from around her neck with trembling fingers, kissed it once, and dropped it into his waiting palm. His hand closed into a fist around it.
“Nate is safe. You have my word.”
Was that enough assurance?
It had to be.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Nathaniel watched his brother approach him with a strange feeling of calm. Nathaniel was not a prideful man, by any means, but he knew his own strengths. He had trained in self-protection nearly his whole life with the intensity of a man who knew death was coming for him. He had boxed and fenced and run until his muscles screamed and grew stronger. In nearly any match, he was assured of holding his own.
Except now.
He knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that he was outrivaled. The man walking toward him was lethal, and Nathaniel understood that down to the very marrow of his bones.
But Nick would not win. He could not. A man could not destroy a woman’s life without consequences. Nathaniel had right on his side, and right always triumphed.
He could not fail Alice.
He should have done this a week ago, when she had first told him of Nick’s connection to Adelaide. Would she have clung to her revenge so desperately if he had called out Nick immediately? He hoped not.
No, he should have confronted his brother even before then, when the accidents had first begun. All this might have been avoided had Nathaniel taken control of his own life rather than being helplessly tossed about by fate. He had let his fear unman him.
Fate did not exist. All that existed were choice and consequence.
And love.
“You did not tell Miss Bursnell,” Wessex said next to him.
Nathaniel felt a sliver of guilt, but it was a very tiny sliver. “I was distracted.”
“You will be fortunate if she does not strangle you.”
Nathaniel waved that off. “I will make it right.”
They walked ten paces to a flat, open area. It was just outside the shade of the oak tree. There was something fitting about that, he reckoned. He removed his jacket and handed it to Wessex. He followed that with his shirt and cravat. He didn’t want to muss the white linen with blood.
Nearby, Nick was doing the same thing, handing his garments to Kent.
Finally, the moment had come.
Nathaniel faced Nick, and Nick faced him, square on, for the first time in years. Nathaniel looked at his mirror image, and something twisted in his gut.
“Nick.” Nathaniel stretched his hand to his brother. “It is good to see you again.”
“Is it? I’ve heard otherwise.”
Again, the knife twist in the belly. “You should have heard it from me, long ago. I should not have doubted you, but if I could not help being irrational, then I should have at least confronted you.”
“What would you have said?” Nick asked curiously.
“I would have asked whether you wanted the earldom more than you wanted a brother.” A leaf blew onto his arm, and he brushed it off. “What would you have said in return?”
“Words would have failed me. I would have knocked you in the nose.” Nick spread his hands expansively. “Thus, here we are.”
“No, we are here for Adelaide,” Nathaniel said sharply. “Or have you forgotten?”
The briefest glimpse of unease touched Nick’s eyes. His hand went to the locket at his throat before dropping again. “I have not forgotten.”
“Well? What have you to say about it?” Say you were almost mortally wounded. Say she left first and you didn’t know how to reach her.
“I did not know she was with child. If she wrote to me, the letter was lost.” He paused. When he spoke again, it was as though each word was forced from his lips. “But I caused Alice a great deal of grief, and for that please accept my sincere apologies.”
It was something, but not enough. Adelaide should never have had to write that letter, except as a wife writes to a husband.
“Had it not occurred to you that would be the case? You were a soldier, Nick. Your life was not guaranteed, much less the mail.”
Again, Nick touched the locket, his face blank. “Shall we begin?” he asked, and Nathaniel wondered if he only imagined the slight tremor in his voice.
“We shall.”
They circled each other.
“Do you know, I have been quite looking forward to this,” Nick said. He threw the first punch, more as a question than to cause injury. Nathaniel easily evaded and Nick grinned. “Perhaps this will even be fun.”
“I believe that,” Nathaniel said. “I can’t say I blame you, after the shabby way I treated you.”
Annoyance flickered across his brother’s face. “You are my brother. How could you let them send me away?”
Nathaniel flinched and then immediately flinched again when he felt a blow land solidly on his cheekbone. He stumbled back, but didn’t fall.
He glared at Nick. “How could you seduce a lady and refuse to marry her?”
“I would have married her! I didn’t get the damned letter!” Nick roared.
Oh, for God’s sake. Did he truly not understand?
“Fuck the letter, Nick!” Nathaniel exploded. “You should never have left her to begin with! The stakes were too high, the risks too great. A man does not—”
He didn’t finish. They clashed together, grappling like lions for territory, like warriors for Rome, or like two brothers who didn’t know what else to do with each other. For a moment, Nathaniel
’s consciousness was consumed with pain, feeling it and causing it. And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nick turn his head and startle as if he had seen a ghost.
It was Nathaniel’s chance, and he took it.
He pulled back and delivered a blow so hard that his own teeth rattled in his skull. Nick’s eyelids fluttered just before his body went slack, crumbling to the ground in a heap.
There. It was done.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
What Nathaniel wanted more than anything was to find Alice and collapse into her arms. He was exhausted. He also suspected he was hurt, but luckily, he didn’t feel a thing. Yet. Later, after the exhilaration wore off, he would feel plenty.
But he couldn’t go to Alice just yet because his brother was unconscious. Nathaniel nudged him with his boot, turning him onto his back. He squatted down and examined his brother’s face. Thankfully, Nick had insisted a surgeon be present. His cuts would have to be stitched up with care to prevent scarring. Nathaniel got the impression that Nick wanted to blend in. Scars would make him stand out. It was something Nathaniel intended to give some thought to, once more important matters had been put to rest.
He finished his examination and stood, only to be bowled over again by a soft, warm cannonball that smelled deliciously of lemon verbena. He went back on one foot, steadying them both as his arms went around her.
“Vile, teasing man,” Alice said her voice hitching. “Why didn’t you tell me your life was not at stake?”
He turned his face in her neck and inhaled deeply. “Didn’t I?”
She pulled back and gazed at him disapprovingly. “No.”
“Hmm. It must have slipped my mind.”
“I shall hate you tomorrow for frightening me so,” she said. “But just now, all I feel is—”
Love. Please say love.
“Relief.” She finally smiled at him, her eyes glowing.
He tried not to look disappointed.
Nick groaned at their feet, and they both glanced down.
Nathaniel mentally scratched two items off his list as complete. Stay alive, and Bring Nick home.
“Was it enough?” he asked. “Nick is not dead, as you can see. But thoroughly humiliated. Do you require further vengeance, or is it finished?”
“This was enough.” She held his face in her hands and kissed him tenderly. “Thank you.”
Thank God.
Enough to satisfy her sense of honor.
But was it enough to win her heart?
Chapter Sixty
Alice was utterly finished with the man.
It had been three days since the duel, and four days since Nathaniel had made love to her—for the second time. But had he offered marriage even once during those four days?
No, he had not.
He had scarcely even been in the same room with her, and never when she was alone. Sometimes she caught him watching her, his expression inscrutable. But the moment she moved toward him, he bowed and retreated.
Well, not always.
Sometimes he didn’t bother to bow.
Now it was Sunday, and Alice had reached the limit of her patience. She did not care if it was the Lord’s day. Surely, the Lord understood that she might be with child, and that trumped all else.
Then again, perhaps she was not. She had heard that children rarely resulted from the first encounter. However, she had seen many bouncing babes make their appearances a scant seven or eight months after the wedding, so she had her doubts.
Regardless of whether or not there was a child, he had ruined her. She could not marry another man, even if she wanted to.
Not when she knew what it was like to love Nathaniel. It would be preposterous. He knew that. He had told her as much. Mine, he had said, and she had agreed…even if the words were left unspoken. She was his, body and heart.
But…perhaps now that he had claimed her body, he no longer wanted her heart?
He had never said he loved her. It had been implied in every look, every kiss, every word between them. Or so she had thought. He had fought a duel for her, for God’s sake.
Filled with irritation precariously close to hurt, she marched into the library. Because she wanted a book, but also because she wanted to see a certain person who could often be found in the library.
She was not disappointed. The library was full of books, and Nathaniel and Duke Wessex were seated in the comfortable leather chairs.
“Your Grace.” She curtsied. “Lord Abingdon.”
They stood and bowed.
“Excuse me,” Nathaniel said, and promptly left the room.
She stared helplessly after him, her mouth hanging open in a quite stupid fashion. He had left her alone with Duke Wessex. Unchaperoned! Did the man truly care so little for her that he would risk her marriage to his closest friend?
“I— I—” She did not know how to begin or end, so she left those stuttered words hanging in the air.
“Sit down, Miss Bursnell,” the duke said.
“I would rather not,” she said, and edged toward the door.
His eyes twinkled. “I assume you mean you would rather not be forced to marry me. I ought to be quite insulted. But the door is open, and this is a house party, not Almack’s. You are quite safe.”
She hesitated.
“Sit down, Miss Bursnell,” he repeated in the tone of a man used to getting his way.
She sat.
“I’ve always liked you, Miss Bursnell. Yes, from the very moment you pushed Abingdon out of the way of that falling chandelier and left me to save my own life, I’ve liked you. And he has also been rather fond of you.”
She ignored the last part of his declaration. “I suppose I like you, as well, Your Grace, although I haven’t truly given the matter much thought.”
He laughed. “You are too kind.”
What on earth did he mean by that?
“Do you know,” the duke continued, “when Nate fell off his horse and you stood there laughing at him, I thought to myself, that lady will either be the death of him or the life of him.”
She felt a queer burning in her chest.
“Everyone hoped it would be a love match. But what is love, really? I find myself asking that question repeatedly.”
“Do you, Your Grace?” she asked in deep disbelief.
His lips tipped up in a wry smile. “One hears such conflicting reports. Is love desire, easily spent and replaced? Is love rage, something to kill and die for?” He paused and tapped his chin thoughtfully with his index finger. “I believe none of those things are love. I think, in the end, love is quite simple. It’s holding someone else dearer than yourself.”
He leaned forward suddenly, the smile vanishing from his face. For the first time in their acquaintance, the Duke of Wessex went completely serious. “Do you know how I came to this remarkable conclusion, Miss Bursnell?”
She shook her head warily.
“It was when I saw a lady sink to her knees before the one man on earth who was most abhorrent to her, the man who had taken so much from her, and beg this man to spare the life of another. Only one thing under heaven can overcome such hatred. That, Miss Bursnell, is true love.”
The silence ticked on for several moments.
Then she admitted quietly, “I would do anything for him.”
“Yes, I believe you would.” The duke sipped his tea. “Such a pity he does not know that.”
She sat like a woman turned to stone.
He did not know?
How was it possible that he did not know? She had given him every indication…
She had given him everything.
“Another man, perhaps, would have understood your feelings,” the duke said as though reading her mind, “without you putting them in words. In his defense, you did refuse his offer of marriage, and that mucked things up quite a bit. In his mind, at least.”
She leapt to her feet, pinning Wessex with her gaze like a specimen on a board.
“Ah, e
nlightenment dawns,” he murmured. He rose from his chair.
“I must—” She paused.
It was not enough to simply tell Nathaniel she loved him. He deserved so much more.
She took a cleansing breath. “Say nothing of this to him.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
She curtsied and moved swiftly to the door. There, she paused and looked back curiously. “Have you ever been in love, Your Grace?”
“Absolutely not! I have set the bar too high.” He grinned. “You see, I hold myself very dear.”
Chapter Sixty-One
Last Monday, Nathaniel believed there could be nothing more dismal than a marriage of unrequited love. How terrible it would be to see Alice at the breakfast table every morning calmly eating her eggs, while his soul died by inches.
On Thursday, he’d run five kilometers more than usual, but it had done nothing to quiet the hunger quivering in his every aching muscle.
On Sunday, he decided he was being a fool. So what if she did not love him? He would take her any way he could have her. Since she seemed not averse to him physically, he would simply keep her in his bed until her belly was swollen with his child. Unless she was already with child, in which case he would marry her tomorrow.
His hands clenched into fists. Surely, she would tell him if that were the case?
He felt a moment of anguish at the thought that she might not tell him.
Good God. He must speak to her. At once.
After searching the house and finding no sign of her, he stepped outside. It was not yet midmorning, but the air was already warm, hinting at an unusually hot day. He started in the direction of the garden, but halted at the sound of low voices.
“I purchased the special license on behalf of Miss Bursnell just yesterday,” Wessex was saying. “I expect the wedding will be immediate.”
Colonel Kent spoke with his back to Nathaniel. “Thank you, Your Grace. This was…kind of you.”
Nathaniel’s stomach swallowed his heart. That was the only explanation for the gaping, wounded emptiness in his chest.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Alice was thinking.
About Nicholas Eastwood, of all things.
Twice as Wicked Page 23
