With a temper that had gone from a simmer to a boil with every jostling bump from his London home, Colin jerked to a halt, ironically in front of his father’s portrait, and swung around to demand the butler leave him be. Drops of perspiration slid down the man’s forehead as he puffed out short, gasping breaths. Colin clamped his mouth shut and heaved a sigh. He could feel his father’s gaze on him and hear his father’s words of wisdom. It was not this man’s fault that Mother’s idea of a business meeting with the solicitor had nothing to do with actual estate business and everything to do with her pleasure. Consequences be damned, as always.
Determined to tread in his father’s unusual footsteps and treat the servants exactly as he would want to be treated, Colin clamped a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I promise you, Fletcher, I will ensure my mother understands I barged past you and there was no stopping me. You will suffer no consequences of failing to announce me, but if you feel you do, I will bring you to my home and make you head of all my servants there. Is this acceptable to you?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Thank you.”
Colin nodded, and with a sideways glance at his father’s portrait, he continued down the hall, leaving the problem of the butler behind him but not the hollowness he still felt from losing his father. Colin dismissed those emotions as he walked and focused on the strategy he’d use with his mother. He needed to get on the road to Norfolk to stop Harthorne from marrying Lady Mary, and the best way to cut through his mother’s lies in an efficient manner was to catch her in her lover’s arms. His gut twisted at the thought. He paused outside the closed parlor door and said a silent prayer that both parties were fully clothed. The last thing he wanted to do was find his mother in the nude―again―with yet another man. Once was enough.
Carefully easing the door open, he stepped into the gold-and-green parlor. His chest tightened, and a surge of disappointment filled him. He wasn’t sure why, since he had expected the scene, but seeing his mother with her forehead pressed against Mr. Nilbury’s chest made Colin want to cross the room, rip them apart, and remind the man he had a wife at home. Damn it all.
Long ago, he’d given up hope that she might change, but the sharp ache in his chest was unmistakably familiar to the pains that had plagued him when he had first learned of his mother’s dalliances.
“It’s always so nice to see you, Mother,” he called while striding through the room toward her.
She jerked her head up and swiveled to face him while Mr. Nilbury stumbled back a step, a deep flush covering his fat face as he gaped. Colin stopped in front of his mother and took in her appearance. Not a hint of a blush tinged her skin. At least Mr. Nilbury had the decency to look embarrassed. “I see you are up to your old habits again.”
Finally, a flush stained her cheeks. “I’m not, darling. I swear it.”
The endearment caused him to pause. He could not recall his mother ever calling him anything but Nortingham and then Aversley upon his father’s death. Nothing resembling love had ever been part of their relationship. What the devil was she up to?
“I have somewhere important I need to be. I simply came here to tell you to cease carrying on with Mr. Nilbury unless you want to once again become the talk of the ton.”
“Your Grace,” Mr. Nilbury rushed out, “you’ve the wrong of it. This is not what it appears and whoever has told you otherwise is mistaken. I’m a married man.”
Colin flicked his gaze to his solicitor. “I’m glad to hear you’ve remembered it. You’ll forgive me, though, if I find it hard to believe you, given my mother’s past history and the fact that I walked in on such a cozy scene.”
Mr. Nilbury’s face deepened in color. “I was only comforting her.”
This was exactly the sort of thing Colin did not have the time or the patience for. “Give up the ruse,” he snapped. “You two were seen together in public by someone other than me, and it must have been quite a sight for my informant is convinced you are lovers.”
“We are no such thing,” Mr. Nilbury retorted. “Whoever this informant of yours is he or she is incorrect. Two weeks ago, I was on my way to deliver a letter to your mother that she was to deliver to you once she read it. She happened to come upon me in town and insisted on reading it immediately. The contents made her upset, and I do recall offering her comfort as anyone would.”
“A convenient excuse,” Colin said. He had heard his mother’s lovers spout ridiculous lies many times before, but he had somehow expected more of Mr. Nilbury. He had respected and trusted the man.
“Don’t bother trying to persuade him of the truth,” Colin’s mother said with a sigh. She turned on her heel and strode toward her escritoire while still talking. “All he has ever known is me at my worst.” Wood sliding against wood filled the quiet room as his mother opened a drawer, rummaged through some papers, by the sound of it, and then shut the drawer with a click before facing him. She grasped an envelope in her hand that she slowly held out as she advanced and finally stopped before him.
“Your father instructed Mr. Nilbury to give this to you on your twenty-fifth birthday, after allowing me to read it.”
Shock slammed into him. “What?”
His mother cocked her head. “We were just discussing how to tell you, but I suppose the best way is simply for you to read it.”
He struggled to control the emotions suddenly coursing through him. A letter from his father. It was an unbelievable gift.
He glanced at his mother and stilled. She was nibbling on her lip, and a frown puckered her brow. Uneasiness curled inside him. He’d never seen her act concerned about a thing in her life, and she truly did seem anxious now. With his heartbeat thumping in his ears, Colin unfolded the foolscap and glanced down at his father’s scribbled handwriting:
Dear Colin,
Since you are reading this letter, it means you are now twenty-five, still unmarried and, I fear, as jaded about women as the day I died. I know this attitude stems from the problems your mother and I faced, but what you do not know is that I was the cause of your mother’s heartache. As for you, my son, I wish for your happiness, which I know you cannot attain on your current path. You might be surprised to learn that I truly believe only a marriage of love will bring you contentment. I want you to take the next year to let go of your anger and find the sort of love I always held for your mother. Since I know you will refute this wish, I am making it a demand with a steep stipulation. If you are not married within one year’s time of reading this letter―and your mother must deem the marriage one of love―then I have instructed Mr. Nilbury to strip you of all my unentailed land, which effectively means you will be penniless since the entailed estate, unfortunately, has never been profitable. The only advice I have to give you is to be careful of your wording when you give a vow to God.
My love is with you,
Father
Staring down at the foolscap, Colin swallowed hard and folded the letter while fighting to slow his speeding pulse. What the devil did he mean by being careful of his wording when giving a vow to God? What vow? His pulse jumped another notch. He took a deep breath. Becoming angry would not help. How could his father think he could force Colin to fall in love?
Colin curled his fingers around the letter, the paper crunching in his hand and stabbing at his flesh. He would never be so stupid as to allow himself to become like his father, but he was not foolish. He was not going to lose everything by refusing to take a wife. Colin stared at his hands. His mother was to judge whether his marriage was one of love? He choked back a laugh. His father must have been delirious near the end.
“Colin, are you all right?”
His mother’s soft words, so filled with what sounded like concern, made him frown. He glanced up from the letter and met her soft brown gaze. Her eyes held a look of sorrow he had never seen before, or maybe he had simply never noticed it. Foreign guilt stabbed him. Had he grossly misjudged her? His mind rebelled against the possibility. Whatever his father thought he had done, C
olin could not comprehend what sort of deed would drive his mother into the arms of other men if she loved his father.
He swallowed again, feeling as if someone had filled his mouth with sand. Trailing his gaze to the fidgeting Mr. Nilbury, Colin cleared his throat. “I’d like to speak with my mother alone.”
Mr. Nilbury nodded his head vigorously. “Yes, of course. If you wish to talk about the legality of the letter―though I assure you it’s all very legal―you know where to find me.”
Colin nodded and motioned his mother toward the green velvet settee as Mr. Nilbury showed himself out. Once seated, Colin faced her. “I cannot be forced to fall in love. You above everyone should know that.”
“I do,” she said, her voice trembling.
Colin was at a loss for what else to say. He drummed his fingers on his thigh as the silence in the room grew. A sideways glance at his mother confirmed what he suspected. She was just as uncomfortable as he was, or else she was supremely unhappy with the dress she was wearing because she appeared to be trying to rip it by the way she was twisting it. He let out a sigh. He and his mother never talked about anything personal. Really, they rarely spoke at all.
“I suppose I better be going.”
She stilled her hands then started wringing them again with vigor. “Colin, nothing excuses what I did to your father. I―” She pressed her hands to her face then lowered them slowly. “I loved your father. You must believe me.”
Colin struggled to remain aloof as his blood rushed through his veins. Damn her. After everything she had done to Father, she had the nerve… He ground his teeth together. At least she seemed to recognize that what she had done was inexcusable. That was something new.
He drew a long breath. He was too tired to hate her anymore. “I wish I could believe you,” he said. “Obviously Father wished to believe you loved him, since he blamed himself for your behavior on his deathbed.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. “Devil take it. I’m sorry. That was unpardonably rude.”
“No.” Her voice was a choked whisper. “I knew it was foolish to hope you were ready to hear anything I have to say. It’s no more than I deserve.” His mother’s shoulders sagged a bit. He had the most surprising urge to reach out and pat her on the arm or offer some show of affection. Before he moved, however, she stood.
Looking down at him with the detached expression she’d worn for so many years, she lifted her chin in a defiant gesture he had seen her give many times before. She swiped at her face while staring at him. “I do hope you find someone you love to marry, but I promise to deem your marriage worthy no matter if it’s for love or convenience.”
“How thoughtful of you, Mother,” Colin said. Whatever moment they might have shared was obviously gone. Something deep within him twisted, but he refused to care. Standing, he offered her a smirk in return for her unblinking gaze. “Are you concerned I’m incapable of falling in love and may lose my fortune?”
“I know you’re capable of it by the love and devotion you showed your father. What concerns me is that you will never trust a woman enough to allow such a thing.”
She was positively right. Only a fool would willingly offer his heart only to get it ripped apart. But despite every hurt his mother had ever caused him, he had no desire to torment her with the truth.
“I have to leave, Mother.” He turned on his heel and headed toward the door. As he strode back through the portrait gallery, he paused in front of his father’s portrait once more. “Well played, Father. But you of all people should know that just because two people are married does not mean they are both in love.”
His chest tightened suddenly, in a way that reminded him too much of the soft emotions he worked to keep at bay. He had to get out of here, but even more importantly, he needed to go save Harthorne. There was time enough to find a wife who would want as little to do with him as he would her. And he had to admit, a marriage would certainly settle the problem that had been needling him lately. He needed a legal heir.
Two Days Later
Norfolk, England
Lying atop her bed, Amelia squinted at her novel through the flickering candlelight, her heart racing with the twist of the plot. She finished the page and reached to turn it when a loud knocking came from below.
“Mother,” she yelled with enough volume to wake the servants, if there had been any left in their employment to rouse. Cook was the only help they still employed, and she was away on a trip. “Mother, Philip is home.” She glanced at the longcase clock and laughed merrily. Raising her voice, she called, “I have won the bet! Philip is not so distraught that he stayed out late and imbibed too much! I told you he had more sense than that!”
Blasted Lady Mary. It may not be sensible for her brother to have gone to the inn to drown his sorrows in ale, but Lady Mary breaking their betrothal mere days before their wedding was excuse enough for Philip to act without a lick of sense for one night. At least in Amelia’s book. But sweet Philip was home.
The knock below became louder. Amelia frowned. “Mother, please get the door,” she called, wanting nothing more than to find out what was about to happen to the heroine of the story. She started to look down again but the banging drew her gaze back up. “Mother, can you not hear that Philip has forgotten his key?”
Amelia craned her neck to listen for a reply that never came. She released a disgruntled sigh and set her book down. Once standing, she slipped her feet into her slippers and moved toward the door, catching a glimpse of her unruly hair in the looking glass. She frowned at her reflection. She’d quite imagined she would see long, shining black locks like the heroine’s. Amelia shook her head. It was entirely too bad that reality did not match the fantasy in her mind. With a snort, she descended the steps while struggling to grasp the hair falling in her eyes and obscuring her vision.
“Oh, to cut off all this blasted hair,” she muttered, making a big pile on top of her head and then tying it into a knot. She patted the lumpy thing with grin. Mother would roll her eyes the minute she saw the masterpiece.
She rounded down the last of the stairs while busily tightening the knot of hair and then collided with a warm body as she reached the bottom. “Mother,” she gasped, the air swooshing out of her lungs with the force of the collision.
“I’m sorry, dear,” her mother murmured in a distracted voice.
Amelia dropped her hands and frowned at the sight of Lord Huntington standing behind her mother. Each time she saw her father’s one-time friend it rankled all over again how he had called her father a bumbling fool. No matter she had been eavesdropping when he had said the cruel words to her father―it did not change his comment. She would never forgive Lord Huntington, but nevertheless, she dipped into a proper curtsy.
“Lord Huntington, whatever brings you here at such a late hour?” She left the inconvenient part out.
“Amelia!” her mother exclaimed, clutching her arm and drawing her firmly against her side before giving her a hard squeeze. “I’m terribly sorry, Lord Huntington. Even at two and twenty, Amelia still forgets to curb her tongue.”
Lord Huntington roamed his gaze over Amelia. “A lesson you well need learn, Lady Amelia, if you ever expect to catch a husband.”
Catch a husband, indeed! The only husband she would ever want was Charles. Careful to keep her tone neutral and not scathing, she said, “What surprise brings you to us tonight?”
“I happened to be in town and ran into your brother at the Pigeon Inn. He appeared to be well into his cups, and as I know of his recent misfortune, my concern sent me here to inform your mother of his whereabouts after Harthorne refused to leave as I suggested.”
Amelia’s mouth fell open in shock. She whipped her gaze to her mother’s face, noting her eyes seemed a bit too bright and her hands fidgety. Egads! She glanced between her mother and Lord Huntington while a sickening sensation built in her stomach. She could not have been so preoccupied with getting Charles to notice her that she had failed
to notice that her mother was developing a tendre for Lord Huntington. Knots formed in her stomach, and she had to press her hand to her side to stop the sudden ache.
Surely her mother did not care for this man who had refused to write a letter on Father’s behalf to the bank Father had owed a great deal of money. It would have been a simple task for Lord Huntington, as a board member of the bank, to vouch for Father. Amelia swallowed, her throat too dry to speak. Trying to focus on the worry at hand, she frowned. But why else would Mother betray Philip’s privacy by revealing that Lady Mary had broken their betrothal and his heart?
Despite her pounding temples, Amelia cocked her head at her mother and prayed her ability to understand what Amelia was silently asking had not faded. When her mother discreetly shook her head, Amelia breathed out a half-sigh. Why did good news always seem to be followed immediately by bad lately? This turn of events could only mean Philip’s recent disgrace was spreading through town. Amelia bit her lip to stifle a cry. Poor Philip!
She pulled away from her mother, concern for her brother overwhelming her. “I must go to Philip,” she murmured and started for the front door.
“Dearest, no!” The high notes of panic in her mother’s voice caused Amelia to swing around once more.
“Amelia, you cannot go to a pub!”
She stiffened. There was no one else to help Philip but her. Father was gone. And under the stress of the past year’s estate debt, the strong mother she used to know had disappeared before her eyes. “Mother,” she started soothingly, a habit she’d only recently adopted. “I―”
“Certainly, your mother is correct,” Lord Huntington cut in. She faced him, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Something about the way he was ogling her so intently made her uncomfortable.
She moved back a step just as someone banged on the front door. “That has to be Philip!” she cried, her heart pumping with relief. She flew to the door and threw it open, only to have her brother’s name die on her lips.
My Fair Duchess (A Once Upon A Rogue Novel Book 1) Page 4
