His Secret Heroine

by Delle Jacobs

  "Now that is settled," he said gruffly. "I shall expect you will teach them to be proper, biddable young ladies, Miss Englefield. Undoubtedly they have been given such instruction in the past, but their education appears to have suffered of late."

  "Mother has been dead nearly two years."

  "Just so, and you must make up the difference. They shall come out when they are eighteen, and not before, at which time I shall settle ten thousand apiece on them, in addition to the portion granted by their father's will."

  "That is not necessary, as we have already agreed upon seven."

  "Of course it is not. Nevertheless, it is my decision. You will see that they are worthy of a suitable husband."

  "And if they choose not to marry?"

  "Ridiculous. Why should a lady choose not to marry?"

  "It was my aunt's choice, and would have been mine, had I been able to make such a choice."

  The nostrils on the long, elegant nose flared slightly. "Ah, yes, that aunt of yours. A handsome enough woman. It was undoubtedly her regrettable disposition which prevented a suitable match."

  Chloe set her jaw before she remembered how quickly he read such gestures. Deliberately, she forced it to relax. "My aunt made it clear she did not intend to marry, and although her parents insisted she have a season, she kept with her intention."

  "Why?"

  "She found no man she felt she could trust with her person and her small portion. But as feme sole, she has managed her own affairs without the interference of a man."

  "Well, as I have said, her disposition is regrettable."

  "As is mine, Your Grace," Chloe replied acidly.

  "See to it your sisters do not take it on."

  "I will not force them to marry, nor will you. And I doubt even a hundred thousand would sweeten the pot sufficiently if they are not so inclined, since such funds would only go to the husband and not to them."

  "You are the most audacious female I have ever met, Miss Englefield."

  "Thank you, Your Grace," she said, and smiled. She had no intention of telling him that he was the strangest man she had ever met. "Feme sole," she repeated from their earlier argument.

  "No. If it is to be ten thousand, it will be on my terms."

  "Feme sole, or not at all. So that they may choose for themselves. A woman grown should not be abused, either, simply because she is smaller and lacks resources to fend for herself."

  The thick muscles in his jaw worked back and forth, so that she wondered if he might grind his teeth to stubs. "It goes against my grain, Miss Englefield."

  "It would appear that life goes against your grain."

  "I will consider it."

  Feeling the smile on her soul if not on her face, Chloe lifted the little red book again, running a finger over the gold lettering. Whatever was it that caused him to concede to her? Was it that strange resemblance he thought he saw to a child who had never lived to grow up? Chloe felt a vague sense of power.

  "And for that concession, I shall ask again to see that book you caress with such fondness."

  Startled, she gripped the book. "You gave no concession. You merely said you would consider it."

  "Very well, then," he growled. "Feme sole. I would like to see the book. You need not worry that I shall bring it harm, Miss Englefield, I have great respect for books. And I give my word I shall return it to you promptly."

  Chloe worried at her lower lip. She could not imagine why she should trust him, a man who made her shudder with fear. The book was all she had of Reggie, perhaps all she would ever have. If he destroyed it, it would break her heart.

  Chloe held her breath as she gave over the book. It felt as if she had placed her heart in the man's hand.

  The duke frowned as he studied the tooled border in the red leather, and his jaw tightened as he traced the gold letters.

  "So, it is true," he said quietly.

  Chloe nodded.

  "Is it a very good book, Miss Englefield?"

  She nodded again.

  He thumbed through the pages, stopping here and there to read, always frowning. Then he closed the book. "I have heard that he modeled his heroine after you, and you were most overset because he had held you up to public ridicule."

  "No." But she was not being entirely truthful, and for some reason she felt obligated to respond in kind to the truth he had shared with her. "At first, I believed I had been held up to ridicule, I must admit, but I was led to believe that falsely, and I am ashamed to say I believed it all too easily. But I have nearly finished reading the book, and now I see it differently."

  "Still, you are a young lady gently bred. Surely you would have preferred a gentleman who did not make a public figure of you. You had other suitors. Lord Castlebury, Lord Vilheurs—"

  "Lord Castlebury is kind, but would not have come up to scratch, and made that clear. And Lord Vilheurs broke into my chamber and attempted to rape me."

  The duke sat back so abruptly, Chloe thought he would bump his head on the coach roof. "Vilheurs is a gentleman."

  "If so, then you have a very strange definition of gentleman. It was Reggie who rescued me. But in so doing, he caught himself in the mousetrap."

  "How so?"

  Chloe felt a sudden twinge in her chest, recalling that night, but she quietly related the story.

  "And I cannot imagine, if everyone else deduced I had no portion left, why Lord Vilheurs did not. It is so very clear, he wanted nothing from me but the fortune he thought I would bring."

  The duke's dark mood deepened, and he locked himself in silence. Something else was going on here.

  "You know something about it," Chloe surmised aloud. "You have a look about you when there is something you do not wish known. But as it is about me, I must insist you tell me."

  The duke studied her for a moment, then nodded. "He knows what I know, that you are not as impoverished as you believe."

  Chloe stared. "Whatever do you mean?"

  "Your uncle did not spend your portion, Miss Englefield. It was largely intact at his death. His heir, on the other hand, has drained off your funds into an account of his own, and apparently believes he has thoroughly covered his tracks by blaming it on his father. As long as you believe it is gone, he has free rein with your funds. And he is spending them rapidly."

  Chloe nearly leapt to her feet, barely recalling in time the low ceiling of the coach. "What?"

  "It is as I said. I hope it will comfort you also to know I have bidden my barrister institute proceedings against him, for you are of age, and he is not the legal administrator. What he takes from you, he takes as a thief."

  "And you!" she shrieked. "You have led me to believe I am so impoverished that I am in debt to you!"

  "You are. You do not have the money simply because it ought to be yours. You could not even pay the barrister to file suit. If you want it, you had best allow me to proceed in your behalf."

  The bitter taste of helplessness filled her mouth. "And why would you be so kind as to assist me with anything?"

  "Perhaps even I have moments of foolishness, Miss Englefield." He handed back Reggie's book. "There, you see, I have managed to keep another promise to you."

  She glared. She hated him with all the venom of a den of vipers. He strung her about, twisting and turning like a marionette, even when she thought herself defiant, she was still nothing more than a puppet dancing to his will. She jerked her head away, forcing her gaze on the deepening gloom beyond the window of the coach, pretending to see beasties in the passing hedgerows, anything to avoid looking at him.

  "Miss Englefield."

  She clamped her jaw shut and focused on the dark scenery.

  "I fail to see what has angered you."

  He knew the number of hairs that grew on her head, and he did not know what angered her? She whirled around, her eyes so blazing hot, they stung. "You enjoy watching people suffer. Now I see why your family has abandoned you."

  Rage flushed and sizzled as if she had da
red to strike him. If ever she had thought he might hit her, the time was now. But Chloe glared back, defying him. She didn't care if he beat her bloody, for she would not grovel to his arrogance any longer.

  "You are impertinent, Miss Englefield."

  "Would that I were more so." She held her breath. Was that all he was going to do to her? Insult her?

  "It is not possible for anyone to be more brazen than you. You could not possibly know about my family."

  "Do I not?" she said, her voice viciously quiet. "Perhaps I only know what the gossip mill says about you, that you control every breath they take, until they can stand it no longer? That you turn your back on them the very moment they dare defy you? That you exiled your wife to a tiny estate for sixteen years because she dared thwart your will, and you took her son from her just because you could? It is no wonder your heir hates you and would rather risk his life in a war than be at your mercy."

  He returned dark rage seething in his eyes, and the thick muscles of his jaw bulged. "Just what is it you seek to do, Miss Englefield? If you think to provoke me to violence with your false accusations, I will warn you now, it cannot be done. What I do, I do for their sakes, and if they choose to hate me for it, I have learned long since to endure it. You, Miss Englefield, come under that very category, as well. You think you know what is best for my sons, one of whom you have not even met, and the other with whom you have been acquainted barely a few months. I know what is best for Reginald, and what is best for him is that he marry his cousin Portia."

  "And as I have met Portia, I suspect you are in for a big surprise."

  "She will not stand up to me."

  Chloe smiled, a pinch-lipped smile that was fully a match for his arrogance. "She will outwit you, as will your son."

  "We shall see." His eyes as cold as they had been heated.

  Chloe turned back to her book, her eyes smarting with tears she refused to release.

  Oh, Reggie, please find me. Please find me.

  With more abruptness than usual, the shiny black coach pulled to a halt within the courtyard of a rattly old inn.

  Chloe shrugged off his disgusting attempt at propriety, unwilling to allow him even to help her from the coach, and marched into the inn ahead of him.

  "I shall take my meal in my room," she announced to the innkeeper. "Alone."

  The duke gave a stiff nod of approval. Chloe stalked up the wooden stairs in the innkeeper's wake, and when the innkeeper left, she bolted the door behind him.

  She had barely settled herself when a scratching on the door notified her the meal had arrived. She opened the door with reluctance, but she was hungry, and saw no sense in spiting her stomach.

  By the moment she finished her meal, she heard another scratching. She stiffened. "Who is there?"

  "Marmount."

  She meant to tell him to go away, but the door opened anyway. Chloe glared. "And just what would you have done if I had been improperly dressed, Your Grace?"

  "I would have told you to cover yourself. I have already said I have no designs upon your person. Nevertheless, there is something I wish to say."

  She sniffed and took a sip of cold tea. "Then surely you will say it, so do get on with it."

  "I paid Vilheurs to marry you."

  The cold tea caught in her throat, and she choked. Struggling for breath and demeanor, she glared at him.

  "I did not wish you harm. It seemed a suitable match."

  Chloe leaned back in the chair, her eyes rolling up to the beamed ceiling. "Dear God, I pray, deliver me from arrogant men! And I suppose you paid Lady Lavington, too."

  "She is a loose cannon. I have no dealings with her. But it is obvious Vilheurs made use of her unfortunate proclivities."

  Loose cannon. That was astute of him. Chloe took a deep breath. "So you really will do anything to have your way."

  "I will pay any price to protect my children, for what little good it has done."

  Chloe frowned. Whatever was the strange man trying to say now? And why ever might he be telling it to her? But as she studied him, he merely stood there, looking oddly expectant. She shuddered, hoping he did not wait for her to invite him in, for she had no intentions of doing that.

  Still he stood there. Chloe said nothing, and held her breath.

  "You know about Featherstone, do you not, Miss Englefield?"

  "I know that it is Reggie's, and you withhold it from him in order to get what you want from him."

  "Robert is there."

  Her mouth gaped. Robert? His heir? "Reggie’s brother? I thought he was in the Peninsula."

  "He was brought in to Dover. I have sent the duchess to take him up to Featherstone, as it is close to Dover."

  "Wounded, then? Seriously? Does Reggie know?"

  "If he were dying, they would not have taken the trouble to send him home, nor would they have sent him home if his recovery was imminent. I have not seen Reginald to tell him."

  "So then, you will be going to Featherstone."

  "No, Miss Englefield, I will not."

  "Your son is wounded, and he needs you, and you will not? Just like that, you turn your back on him?"

  "Not just like that, Miss Englefield. I will not be going to Featherstone."

  "But he is your son! And you can simply ignore him?"

  "Must you insist in prying everything out of me?"

  Chloe stared, aghast. As if she was prying? Was he not the perpetrator or this odd conversation? What did he want of her?

  "I assure you, I am the last person on the face of this earth my son is willing to see. Therefore, however I might wish it, I will not be going."

  "I understand the estrangement, but surely the change in circumstances warrants a re-evaluation."

  The duke let out an exasperated sigh. "It has become obvious, the less I tell you, the better."

  "Then I must wonder, why do you persist in telling me?"

  She thought the barest corner of his mouth twitched. "I have no notion, Miss Englefield. Perhaps I am merely capitulating to the inevitable. We shall leave as the cock crows."

  He shut the door behind him. Chloe jumped up and threw the bolt.

  She dug into the portmanteau and found a nightgown, changed, blew out the candle, and crossed the darkened chamber, feeling ahead of her for the table where she had left Reggie's book. Just touching the smooth leather gave her peace.

  Clutching the book, she scooted her feet along the floor to save her shins a bump until she found the bed. She crawled beneath the covers and laid the book beside her, palm resting atop the red leather.

  "Stay with me, Reggie," she said aloud. "Do not forget me. Believe in me as I believe in you."

  He's my father.

  Chloe sat up abruptly, hearing Reggie's voice echoing in her mind. If not his voice, then certainly his anguish for his lonely and terribly damaged parent. It was as if Reggie begged her to take care of the man, to protect him until Reggie could get to them.

  Reggie loved her, but he also loved his father.

  In his own unfathomable way, the duke was crying out to her for help. And that was what it was. In spite of all he had done to her, he needed her help. And it all had something to do with an infant who had died so long ago, who somehow was imagined to look like her.

  But damn the man! She didn't want to help him! He'd made a shambles of her life, threatened her and her sisters, lied to her, had her seized and tossed into a stinkhole of a spunging house! He'd taken her from the man she loved before she even had a chance to tell him so!

  Oh, Reggie! She had had the chance, but spitefully hadn’t used it. If she only hadn't been so stubborn. If she'd only believed in him!

  She didn't want to help this beastly father of his. He didn't deserve any help.

  But Reggie did. She owed it to Reggie. Chloe caressed the leather as tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Circe. I will be Circe for you, Reggie. I will not let you down.

  * * *

  Reggie rode into the
courtyard of the Bear Inn in Reading and dismounted wearily. Castlebury and Bibury sat at a trestle table in the open air. The rustling leaves of the last of summer blew in little whirls near their feet as Reggie trudged over to sit on a bench beside them.

  "Any news?" he asked as a dark ale appeared before him, set down by a plump hand that his mind vaguely acknowledged as feminine. The ale was cool and thick, a balm to his dry throat.

  "I followed a false trail all morning," said Castlebury, and he took another gulp from his tankard. "But at the third hostelry, I determined it could not have been Miss Englefield, or the duke, so I returned."

  "You're quite sure?"

  Castlebury nodded. "Quite certain. They didn't go north."

  "Nothing at all going west," said Bibury. "I even asked about a man alone. He might be riding, but what might he have done with her? Reggie, you don't think he's already done something with her, do you? He's a singularly odd fellow."

  "He's not that odd," Reggie replied, bristling. "Any word from St. James?"

  "Not yet," Castlebury said.

  Reggie set down the tankard and rested his head in his hands for a moment before he straightened again. "On the Portsmouth Road, there was a coach with a man and young lady. But I caught up with them and found a cit with his daughter. Well, I'm for a bit of supper. Let us join Miss Hawarth, and see if she has learned anything."

  Bibury had arranged rooms for the night, and seen supper ordered. Miss Hawarth joined them in a private dining room.

  "Lord Reginald," she said, bustling in, "Lord St. James has sent a private post. You were right. Your father has persuaded Lord Cottingham to release the twins into his custody."

  "Devil it!" shouted Castlebury. "What would he want with them?"

  Reggie blew out a weary breath. "Power," he said. "As I said, if we are to win, we must pay attention to how he thinks. It would take more than the threat of arrest to make Chloe bend to his wishes. But he would find out what would work, and gain control over it. In this case, it is her sisters."