“Nothing to say, sir?” Dev said, his tone brittle as he took a step towards Ogden.
Mr Ogden swallowed and took a step back.
“I-I can’t account for it, my lord. I must have misplaced it and can only apologise. There h-has been so much happening in your absence, the sale and… and….”
“Ah yes, back to the sale,” Dev said, interrupting his stuttering explanation. “Tell me, Ogden,” he said, advancing on the man as he spoke. “Why did you suggest Brasted Farm ought to be sold?”
He kept his voice light, but he had no doubt Ogden could see the anger blazing in his eyes.
“B-But I didn’t…. I—”
“Yes, you did,” Dev growled, remembering the meeting with clarity.
He’d spent a deal of time mulling it over, remembering the regretful look on Ogden’s face as he suggested it might meet Dev’s need to sell something. It had been him who had reminded Dev of Thompson’s interest in the land and the farm.
“I took the liberty of studying the ledgers and maps pertaining to my property,” Dev said, growing angrier as he spoke. “Something I fully admit I ought to have done many years ago. I also read all the correspondence between you and Squire Thompson. Brasted Farm was one of two properties he was interested in buying. The other is empty as the tenants died but has hundreds of acres of good grazing land, which is what he’s after. His interest in it was marked and his offer for it more than generous. Better, in fact, than the offer for Miss Kendall’s farm.”
Ogden had turned a sickly shade of alabaster with just a hint of green, though two high spots of colour blazed on his cheeks.
“Are you quite well, Mr Ogden?” Dev demanded, folding his arms as the man stared at him in horror. “You look rather ill. But then I suppose putting Miss Kendall in a position where she had no choice but to marry you to save her family would make a fellow feel rather nauseated.” He was all but snarling now as Ogden sweated before him. “I know it makes me sick to my stomach.”
“You didn’t care!” Ogden snapped, his temper rising now he’d been cornered like the rat he was. “I told you all about her, all about her family’s troubles. You could have stopped it, but you didn’t give a damn. You were only interested in saving your own worthless skin, so you could carry on destroying your father’s legacy.”
“I know exactly what I’m guilty of, you miserable little prig,” Dev shouted, advancing on him. The punch landed with a satisfying crunch and Dev hoped he’d broken the bastard’s nose. It had certainly been his intention. Ogden flailed backwards, arms wind milling as he slipped on the polished marble floor. He landed in an undignified heap, blood pouring from his nose as he sought to find his feet and only slipped down again. Dev stood over him, daring the man to stand. He was only too willing to knock him down again.
“My part in this despicable affair is a cross I must bear,” he said, as Ogden stared up at him in terror. “And one I will do my utmost to make amends for. You, however, will leave my employment as of this moment, and I will be studying my finances over the past years with the greatest of interest. If I find so much as a farthing more than was your due has found its way into your pocket, you can be assured I will be informing your new employer to be on his guard.” Dev took a step back, his fists clenched as his desire to make the man suffer further demanded retribution. “Now get out,” he said, knowing if he had to look at the wretched man any longer his temper would get the better of him. “You may send someone to collect your belongings on your behalf, but I want you gone. Now!”
Ogden didn’t need telling twice. He scrambled to his feet and ran for the door.
Dev stood in the great hall and tried to calm himself. After the stress, anxiety, and lack of sleep of the past days he felt raw, unable to think. He could not see Charity in this state. He needed time to clear his head. Perhaps a cool bath and something to eat would settle him down? Though he didn’t want to waste any time, he didn’t want to run to Charity unprepared for what he knew would be an emotional confrontation. He wasn’t fool enough to think he wouldn’t face her wrath. His hopes hinged on his ability to make her see he’d changed. A clear head would be required for that though.
As he crossed the hall and put a foot on the staircase a feminine exclamation of surprise reached him from outside the doors of his home.
What the devil?
He reached the doors just as Jennings opened them. Charity looked up, a battered Mr Ogden at her side, and Dev’s heart clenched with fear as recognition dawned on her face.
For a moment she just stared at him.
She’d been standing on the steps that led to the front doors and Ogden’s hand rested on her arm. No doubt she’d been on her way to tear him off a strip for his mistreatment of his steward.
Now she stumbled backwards, the shock raw as she tried to breathe.
“Charity,” Dev said, his worst fears realised.
He moved forward but she held out her hand, shaking her head, her eyes filling with tears.
“No. No. Don’t.”
She walked away, and he could hear her breath catch with the effort not to cry.
“Charity!” he said, rushing after her now. He took the steps two at a time and found herself at his side, taking her arm, forcing her to look at him.
Charity yanked her hand free, wrenching away from him like he was the devil himself trying to drag her down to hell.
“Don’t touch me!” she cried, the words near hysterical. “Don’t you dare!”
Dev dropped his hand as she put more distance between them.
“You’re him. You’re Lord Devlin.”
It wasn’t a question and Dev could do nothing but give her his answer.
“Yes,” he said. His heart raced in his chest, and he knew that he stood on a knife edge. Of all the worst ways to discover who he was… this had to be the most brutal. “Please, love, let me explain.”
She gave a laugh, though it was a terrible sound, raw and tinged with panic.
“Explain?” she repeated, looking dazed and pale, and like she might faint with the shock of it at any moment. Except Charity would never do something as weak as faint. She was far too strong for that. “Yes please, my lord, could you explain why you decided to turn us out of our home? Oh, and why, when we cared for you, took you into the home you would steal from us and made you welcome, why you never told us the truth? Can you explain that, David?” She was shouting now, though her voice quavered as tears tracked down her face. “My God,” she said, paling further, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And I… I…. actually thought we might have a future, that you really cared.”
She sobbed and turned away, running to the cart where Mr Baxter sat. The old man staring at him in astonishment.
“Charity, wait, please. I’m begging you.” Dev ran after her, snatching at her hand, which she pulled from his grasp as she fled from him.
“Leave me alone!” she shouted, her rage incandescent. “Don’t you come near me! Don’t you come near me or my family ever again!”
Mr Baxter stood, whip in hand and gave him a hard look. “I’d do as Miss Kendall says, my lord,” he said, his tone hard and cold. “I don’t want no trouble with you.”
Dev stood still, chest heaving, knowing it was useless to remonstrate with her when her temper was up. She’d not listen to him in this state. Not that he could blame her for her rage after all he’d done. He’d have to let her go, allow her to calm herself a little. Perhaps then he could reason with her.
“Charity,” he said, watching helplessly as she clambered into the cart and stared straight ahead, tears falling down her cheeks unchecked. “Charity, I love you.”
Mr Baxter sent him a dark look and snapped the reins, urging the horse to take them away as fast as possible.
Watching Mr Baxter leave with Charity was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he bore it. He would give her time to breathe, time for her anger to dissipate, and then… then he would try to explain.
Chapter 17<
br />
“Wherein hopes are swept away by the storm, but not entirely extinguished.”
Dev waited three days.
Three days of utter misery.
He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, could not even settle to go over his accounts and see if things were as black as Ogden had led him to believe.
Three days of watching the horizon, praying he would see her coming up the drive, even if it was only to tell him what a despicable human being he was.
He was ready to agree with her.
He could only hope three days was enough to have calmed her a little. Enough so she might see him, at least. Yet he knew what fiery, stubborn creatures the Kendall family were. It was their strength and their weakness, and he was by no means optimistic at what his reception would be.
Dev dressed with care, choosing to look his best but avoiding anything that would highlight the differences in their station any more than he had to. They all knew people would think he’d married far beneath him if Charity ever consented to be his wife. Such a thing would only stick in her throat, proud and independent creature that she was. Even if she deigned to forgive him—something of which he had no great expectation—he didn’t expect her to fall into his arms. He’d have to fight for her.
For the first time in his life, though, he had something to fight for.
He’d never cared for the title, not beyond the fact it could get him what he wanted when he wanted it. What people thought about him was something he’d never lost any sleep over, and he wasn’t about to start now. He’d marry Charity if it was the last thing he did. If it took him years of begging for forgiveness. Anyone with an opinion on the matter could go to the devil for all he cared.
When he crested the brow of the hill and saw Brasted Farm glowering at him in the morning light, the ache in his chest only intensified. They’d all be up by now. The milking would have been done by this time, the animals fed, and eggs collected. Mr Baxter would be sweeping the yard, Charity heading out to gather whatever was ready in the garden. In half an hour or so, they’d all return to the kitchen for breakfast.
The longing to join them struck at his heart.
He’d realised now, he’d been lonely his whole life, but never had it hurt this much. It had been normal, something he’d learned to endure, never aware how debilitating the pain was as he’d never known any different. Now, he understood how hollow it made him, as if his heart had been carved out until it rang like a bell, tolling his emptiness to the world. He’d not known how different life could be then but now he did, and the loss of it clawed at his throat.
“Courage, man,” he muttered, gathering up the reins and urging his horse on.
When he saw Mrs Baxter, John, and Jane sitting on a stile waiting for him a good mile from the house, he knew he’d not see her. Not today. His heart dropped but he mustered a cautious smile, wondering what reception awaited him.
They stood as he drew nearer, and he saw Jane take Mrs Baxter’s hand. The worry in the little girl’s eyes only made his heart ache harder.
“Lord Devlin,” Mrs Baxter said, her tone so formal he wanted to howl.
“Please, don’t call me that, Batty,” he said, wondering how he got the words past the tightness in his throat.
She snorted and gave him a hard look. “And what am I to call you then?”
Dev shrugged, not knowing how to reply. “My friends call me Dev.”
Mrs Baxter raised an eyebrow at him and he swallowed. He dismounted and walked towards them.
“Hello, Jane,” he said, wondering if she hated him too now.
“Hello, Mr Da—” she began, and then blushed, hiding against Mrs Baxter’s skirts.
“Hello, John.”
John stared at him, his jaw rigid, his expression one of contained misery.
“She’ll not see you,” Mrs Baxter said, her tone weary now. “I saw you riding up and… well, I came to tell you to steer clear. Kit’s fit to be tied. The temper he’s in right now I wouldn’t put it past him to shoot you. I’ve never seen him so angry in all my days, and that’s the truth.”
Dev nodded, unable to speak. There was something clogging his throat and anything he might have said, any message he might have asked her to convey, would remain unspoken as he dared not open his mouth. Instead he reached into his pocket and took out the letter he’d stowed there. In fact, it wasn’t a letter at all, but he’d hoped it might mean more to Charity than anything he could say. He’d also hoped to put it in her hands but… At least Mrs Baxter would see she got it.
She took it from him and nodded. Dev turned back to his horse, needing to go before his composure crumbled before them.
He was reaching for the reins when John ran up to him and threw his arms around his waist. Dev got to his knees, holding the boy tight as Jane joined him, her little arms thrown about his neck as she cried. He hugged them both to him, wondering how his heart could stand it, how he could survive the guilt of the damage he’d wrought.
“I’m sorry, I’m so terribly sorry,” Dev said, unable to stop his own tears spilling over in the face of the hurt he’d caused.
“I told them you weren’t a bad man,” Jane said through her tears. “I told them, but they said I was too little, that I didn’t understand, but I do.” She stamped her foot and Dev could only feel humbled by her defence of him. He certainly didn’t deserve it. “You’re not a bad man.” She looked up, trepidation in dark eyes so like her sister’s. “Are you?”
Dev wondered how in God’s name he could answer that with any truth. He glanced up at Mrs Baxter, who was watching him, her expression intent.
“I’ve done some bad things, Jane,” he said, his voice thick. “Things that have hurt your family very much but… but I’m trying my best to make amends. I… I want to change, more than anything.” He looked up at Mrs Baxter as he spoke. “I’d do anything to put things right. It’s the only thing I want. The only thing that matters.”
Mrs Baxter nodded her understanding and he hoped perhaps she realised he meant it with all his heart.
“Come along, children,” she said, her voice soft. “Lord Devlin must go now, and I have to get the breakfast done.”
Jane kissed his cheek and let go of him with reluctance. “Will we ever see you again?” she asked, her voice trembling as Dev’s throat threatened to close completely it ached so much.
“I hope so, Jane,” he said, forcing the words out. “More than anything.”
She gave a forlorn nod and moved to take the hand Mrs Baxter held out to her.
Only John remained at his side, white faced with the effort not to cry.
“Chin up, John,” he said, trying to take his own advice. “Down but not out, eh, lad?”
John gave a taut nod and held his hand out to him. Dev shook it, knowing he wanted to behave like a young man, but his own emotions were too raw, too close to the surface and he pulled him back for a hug.
“Look after your sister for me,” he said, before letting the boy go, pretending he didn’t see the tears that were staining his cheeks.
“Run back to the house now,” Mrs Baxter urged them. “I’ll be along in just a moment.”
She waited until they were out of earshot before turning back to him, giving Dev a moment to compose himself before he faced her again.
“You love her,” she said, watching his face, looking at him as though she could ferret out his darkest secrets if she only stared hard enough.
Dev nodded. “I do, with all my heart.”
Mrs Baxter sucked in a breath and then let it out, shaking her head. “What a tangled web we weave,” she muttered giving him a dark look.
He returned a weak smile, at a loss for anything further to say.
“You’d marry her?” she demanded, folding her arms, eyes narrowed as she continued to scrutinise him.
“In a heartbeat. If she’d have me.”
He watched as she pursed her lips and then gave a decisive nod. “Right you are, then.”
&nbs
p; She turned to walk away, and Dev felt his heart kick in his chest.
“What do you mean?” he demanded, striding after her.
She turned back to him and gave him a tut of impatience. “I’ll do what I can, is what I mean,” she said, warmth in her eyes despite the tartness of her words.
“You will?” Dev replied, stunned and incredulous that she would take his side.
He held his breath as she reached out and patted his cheek. “I always did have a soft spot for a rogue,” she said, smiling at him with something that looked almost like fondness in her expression. “But don’t hold your breath,” she warned, her words severe now. “There was never a more stubborn family to walk the earth than the Kendalls, I tell you now. I’ll talk her around if it takes me till my dying breath, but I don’t say it won’t.”
Dev gave a startled laugh and before he could think about it he put his arms around her and hugged her. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
He received a brief hug in return and let her go to see the astonishing sight of Mrs Baxter blushing. “Hmph,” she said, fussing with her apron and giving him a haughty sniff. “Don’t thank me yet, you devil. But don’t give up either, eh?”
Dev nodded, more grateful to her than to anyone in his life before.
“Never,” he said, meaning it.
Mrs Baxter smiled at him and made a shooing motion, so he mounted up and rode away, pausing for one last look at the farm before he turned his back and headed back to the hall.
***
Charity sighed, staring at the rain pattering against the kitchen window. The weather had turned as though her misery had chased the sun from the skies and would never shine again.
It was almost a month since her discovery of David’s identity.
Her jaw clenched, though her anger had long since dissipated. Her pride still smarted and her heart… she could not begin to speak of her heart. Suffice to say it was raw and bloody, cowering in a dark corner like a wounded creature, snarling at anyone who got close.
“Are you going to shell those beans or try to frighten them out of their pods?” Mrs Baxter demanded as Charity looked up.
Charity and The Devil (Rogues and Gentlemen Book 11) Page 16
