by Kate Pearce
“There is no need for you to worry in that respect, my lady. A man cannot marry his stepmother, can he?” Margaret held her gaze. “If you had only waited for Alistair to come home, then you could have held my position, but you didn’t, and he’s mine now, and I’d appreciate it if you remembered that.”
“You know nothing about why I married his father.” Frederica pressed a hand to her bosom and her eyes filled with tears. “I had no choice! Alistair had abandoned me and gone back to India, and I was with child! What would you have done in such circumstances, your grace?”
Margaret felt as if someone had pulled the mat out from under her and she was now hurtling down a long, dark mineshaft. She wasn’t sure what hurt the most, the thought that Alistair had bedded Frederica, or the idea of him having a child he didn’t know about.
“Didn’t he mention that? Oh dear, I did try and tell you that you would never know him as well as I do.” Frederica rose to her feet, her expression triumphant. “Good evening, your grace.” She pushed past Lottie and walked over to the door, head held high, her smile in place as Margaret’s world crumbled around her.
“Are you all right?” Lottie took Margaret’s hands in hers.
Margaret could only shake her head.
Lottie urged her to her feet. “Let’s go and get our cloaks. I’ll say our goodbyes to Lady Thule, don’t you worry about a thing.”
Margaret was sitting in the carriage and almost back at the house before she finally managed to speak. “I… don’t want to see Alistair.”
“Then you can sleep in my bed with me.”
“Thank you.”
Lottie nodded, her expression unusually grim. “Was that the infamous Lady Hellion who was talking to you?”
“Yes.” Margaret shuddered. “She said—”
Lottie patted her shoulder. “Tell me when we’re safe inside, and then we’ll decide what to do about it.”
Alistair woke up to find Margaret missing from his bed. He got up and walked into the dressing room where Clarkson was whistling away and folding his shirts.
“Did her grace already arise?”
“How would I know?” Clarkson gave him an aggrieved look. “I don’t spend my time worrying about what goes on in your bed, your grace, now, do I?”
“Has Eileen been here?”
“Haven’t seen her.” Clarkson laid a coat over the back of the chair. “Is this one all right? The brown matches your surly expression.”
“It’s fine.” Alistair washed hurriedly, dressed, and put on his coat, sitting down to pull on his boots. He’d drunk rather too much brandy after Francis had left him in his study last night. Not only did he have a headache, but he had slept in.
He needed to make things right with his wife. Even a day of her stepping back from him had been painful. He didn’t want a lifetime of politeness and deference to his wishes; he liked her just the way she was.
His heart lightened as he heard female voices in the breakfast room. Perhaps she had simply woken before him, after all. He paused at the doorway, his gaze shifting from Lottie to his sister Phoebe, who was looking very pleased with herself.
“Good Lord.” Alistair smiled at her. “Look who’s here!”
“Dr. Nash told me to attempt to join you for breakfast. I’m not sure how long I can stand the excitement, but it is good to be part of things once more.”
“Indeed.” Alistair helped himself to some food and sat down next to her. He encouraged her to talk to him even while his glance kept sliding over to the door.
Eventually, when Phoebe was talking to the butler, he managed to look across the table at Lottie.
“Have you seen Margaret this morning?”
She eyed him steadily. “Yes, I have.”
“Ah, has she gone out?”
“She went for a walk. She asked me to say that she would like to speak with you in your study at ten if that is convenient.”
“There’s no need for such formality. She could just barge in like she normally does.” Alistair hid the stab of hurt beneath his attempt at humor. “But, please tell her I will await her there.”
By ten o’clock, he was as nervous as a new foal and twice as wary. He sat at his desk and pretended to sort through the monthly accounts, but his heart wasn’t in it. When the door opened precisely at ten, he forced himself not to jump to his feet and throw himself on her mercy.
“Duchess, what can I do for you this fine morning?”
“Good morning, your grace.”
She came and sat on the chair in front of his desk, her hands folded in her lap, her hair drawn back into a plaited coronet on top of her head. She looked composed but desperately tired, and his heart clenched at the sight of her.
“I had a letter from my sister-in-law, Emily, asking me to return to Millcastle with all haste. She is expecting another child and is currently bedridden with nausea.”
Alistair blinked at her. “Why do you have to go and not Lottie?”
“Lottie isn’t married yet. I think Emily will be more comfortable with my help.”
“When are you hoping to leave?” Alistair thought about his own plans. Pritchard might be turning up to see him today, and he’d arranged a meeting with his solicitor about Phoebe being poisoned and who to engage as a barrister if such a thing became necessary. He couldn’t walk away from any of it yet.
“Today.” She looked him right in the eye. “I think it would be for the best.”
“Best for whom?”
“Both of us?” She studied her clasped hands. “We are married, we both want the dukedom to succeed, and perhaps we can be more successful apart than together.”
“What does that have to do with Emily Blackthorn needing your help?” Alistair asked, but she didn’t reply.
He considered her, the silence lengthening as his mind ran in endless, pointless circles. He couldn’t leave right now—not that she’d even suggested it.
“I don’t understand your haste,” he said slowly. “Can you not wait a few more days?”
“I’ve already arranged to leave today.”
“What do you wish me to do?” Alistair asked. “How can I stop you from leaving? And how can you leave, anyway? Phoebe needs your chaperonage.”
“Lottie has offered to stay with Phoebe until she is well enough to travel up to Hellsdown.”
Alistair was aware of anger stirring somewhere in his chest. “You promised me honesty when we married. Tell me what is wrong and how I can fix it.”
“Nothing is wrong.” She smiled at him. “I have to help Emily, and I just need some time to…” For the first time her voice faltered. “To myself.”
God, that hurt. He let out a long breath. “Am I so objectionable?”
She didn’t answer, and he fiddled with the pens on his desk. Obviously, he was. It was an opinion that many of the people who were supposed to care about him had already expressed. Perhaps he really was that unlovable.
He made one last effort to put off the inevitable. “Is there anything I can say to persuade you to stay and tell me why you are intent on running away? This is not like you.”
“I know.” She managed a small smile that almost broke his heart. “I don’t want to fight with you over this.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t think I can win.” She looked up at him. “May I go back to Millcastle, please?”
“You don’t need my permission.” He shrugged. “I’m not going to lock you in your room and keep you here if you don’t want to stay.”
“Thank you.” She rose from her seat. “Will you… come back to Hellsdown at some point?”
“If you want me, you know how to find me, otherwise I will leave you in peace.” He stood as well, aware that she was about to leave him, and that, as usual, he had somehow been found wanting. “Let me know when you are safely home.”
“I will.” She stayed where she was as if she were memorizing every inch of him and then turned to the door. “Goodbye, then.”
“You don’t have to go, you know.” He reached her in three quick strides. “I… don’t want you to go.”
Tears started in her eyes, and she shook her head. He hated seeing her so defeated.
She left his study, and he stood there like a fool, feeling as if someone had ripped out his heart. How had their disagreement over her plan to deal with Pritchard by herself escalated so badly that she was for all intents and purposes leaving him?
She was gone within an hour, her bags loaded into the carriage, Eileen alongside her. Alistair played his part, handed her into the carriage after kissing her averted cheek, tried to pretend that all was well even as the future he had started to believe in came crashing down around him. All he had to do was beg her to stay and yet the words stuck in his throat. What would he do if she refused again? He’d become a coward in matters of the heart, and he damn well knew it.
He turned back to the house and went in, his jaw clenched so hard from smiling that his teeth hurt, and he had the beginnings of a headache. He paused to speak to the butler.
“If a Mr. Pritchard calls, please show him straight into my study.”
“Yes, your grace.”
He went up the stairs and into his dressing room where half the cupboards now stood empty. Clarkson was busy cleaning out the shelves and repositioning Alistair’s clothing. He glanced over at his employer, but didn’t speak.
Alistair leaned back against a chest of drawers, arms folded over his chest, and glared at him. “Go on, then, tell me what a fool I am.”
“Don’t need to tell you what you already know, gov.”
“I thought you’d be pleased. You never liked her anyway.”
Clarkson raised his eyebrows. “My, you are in a snit, your nibs, aren’t you? If I were a betting man, I’d say you’ll be chasing after her in a day or so, begging her to come back to you.”
“I’ve already begged.” Alistair blew out a breath.
“Well, then you’d best forget about her.” Clarkson slammed a drawer shut. “Plenty more fish in the sea, especially for a duke.”
“What if I only wanted that particular fish?”
“Bit late to work that out, isn’t it, seeing as she’s up and left you?”
Alistair straightened up. “Thank you for your continuing support.”
“You’re welcome, your grace.” Clarkson stared at Alistair. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind getting out of my way, I’d get things done a lot faster.”
As he had no wish to stare at the emptiness around him, Alistair took himself off. Francis had taken Lottie out to the park on some slim pretext, after telling Alistair to sort matters out with Margaret. He decided to go and see Phoebe who had returned to her bed.
When he knocked and was admitted, he found her seated in a chair by the fire, a blanket over her knees and a book in her hand. She put the book face down on her knee and waited for him to come and sit opposite her.
“Is it true that Margaret has gone?” Phoebe asked.
“Yes, she had an urgent letter from her sister-in-law asking for her assistance.”
“Oh, well then, I assume she will come back at some point?”
“I think she intends to travel onward to Hellsdown Park to supervise the work that is going on there.”
Phoebe frowned. “She didn’t mention it to me yesterday.”
“I believe the letter only arrived this morning. She asked me to send you her love, and that she looked forward to seeing you as soon as you were well enough to travel up north.”
“I like her very much, Alistair,” Phoebe said. “She has been far kinder to me in the last weeks than Frederica ever was. And, she loves you far more than that woman ever did.” She hesitated. “Although I was quite young when you left to join the army, I was well aware that she continued to flirt with every available gentleman, including our father at every opportunity.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Alistair said dryly. “I was a romantic fool where our stepmother was concerned.”
“Margaret thinks you still care for Frederica.”
“I know she does.” He tried to find a smile. “But I really don’t.”
Phoebe looked as if she wanted to contradict him, but held her tongue, and it was Alistair who impatiently filled the silence.
“Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”
“Alistair, you think she might have been poisoning me, and yet you are still giving her the benefit of the doubt!” Phoebe blurted out.
“I am merely trying to make sure that we have all the evidence and the facts before I confront her.”
“Dr. Nash said that he and Mr. Marsh are willing to testify against her. What else do you need to know?”
“Whether it was her or Dr. McNeil? Have you considered that?”
“Yes, I have.” Phoebe grabbed his hand and stared into his eyes. “Even if he did administer the poison, we all know who was behind it. I know.”
“I do not wish you to be caught up in this mess. Your reputation will suffer.”
“I don’t care about that! I just want that woman to pay for what she has done to our family and not allow her to keep inflicting further pain!” Phoebe’s color was now hectic, and she started to cough.
Alistair found her some barley water and waited until she was composed again. What was wrong with him? When had he decided that it was easier to laugh everything off and never take a stand? Margaret had pointed out the same thing and he hadn’t attended to her either, which was why he was in his current sorry state.
He took Phoebe’s hand. “I promise I will sort everything out. Will you try and believe that?”
“If I must.”
He left her room and continued on down to his study. There was still no sign of Lottie or Francis. He worked on his morning correspondence with Joseph and instructed him to cancel Margaret’s social events. He ate a solitary lunch at his desk and wondered how he was going to fill the rest of the day with no duchess to entertain.
He opened his drawer to find a new sheet of writing paper and stared down at the letter and parcel that Margaret had left on his desk a few days before. He took both items out and studied them before using his knife to cut open the seal on the letter.
He read through the legalese that presumably Adam Blackthorn had concocted with his solicitor, appreciating the tightly worded sentences that left no room for error if Pritchard decided to break the terms of the agreement. There was even a clause against future demands, which was stringent enough to have made even Pritchard pay attention.
Alistair opened the package and studied the pile of bank notes, his gaze stopping on the third one down. He retrieved his magnifying glass and focused in on the details of the engraving, a smile emerging as he realized exactly what Margaret and Adam had intended to deliver to Pritchard.
“Forged notes,” Alistair murmured.
No wonder Margaret had specifically asked for her brother’s help. He must have received them at some point, and kept them for future use. Alistair returned to the letter, noting how specific it was about the cash payment. He guessed that as soon as Pritchard had taken the bribe, Adam Blackthorn would have alerted all the banks in the country as to the forgeries, and Pritchard would’ve had an impossible time using them.
“Clever.” Alistair sat back and found himself smiling. No wonder Margaret had been annoyed with him for ruining her scheme. It was remarkably well thought out. If Pritchard had been caught consistently using forged notes of high value, his reputation would have suffered and no one would want to engage in a financial transaction with him. A fitting revenge on a blackmailer, indeed.
Joseph came in with the letters he had prepared and placed them on the desk. “Captain Grafton and Miss Blackthorn have just returned, your grace.”
“Good, would you ask Miss Blackthorn if she could spare me a moment of her time?” Alistair asked.
When Lottie came in to his study, he could immediately tell that he was in for a battle. Lottie might be beautiful, but she
was as stubborn and forthright as her older sister.
“What do you want, your grace?” Lottie asked suspiciously.
Alistair gestured at the chair in front of his desk. “I suspect there are many things you wish to speak to me about, but can we suspend hostilities until we have dealt with the matter of Mr. Pritchard?”
Lottie, who hadn’t taken the seat he offered, frowned. “You are the person who stopped us from completing our scheme, why would you want my help now?”
“Because I can’t fool Pritchard. I was hoping that you might see him instead?” Lottie just stared at him so he continued speaking. “I’m sure Margaret would approve of your involvement.”
“You want me to give the forged money and letter to Mr. Pritchard?”
“Exactly. He is supposed to turn up here today. I suggest that you waylay him in the hall, offer him the money, and get him to sign the letter on behalf of your sister. Then you can write to her and your brother so that the rest of the scheme can unfold as planned.”
“You guessed what Adam intends to do? Report the forgeries?”
Alistair shrugged. “It seemed obvious once I thought it through.”
Lottie came forward and took the letter and package. “It’s a shame you didn’t think it through earlier!”
“I’m not going to argue with you about that.” Alistair went to open the door for her. “I’ll make myself scarce, and tell the butler to direct Mr. Pritchard toward you.”
She paused in the doorway to look up at him. “When I have obliged you in this matter, you will oblige me by explaining exactly why Lady Hellion upset my sister!”
“When?” Alistair frowned.
“At Lady Thule’s.”
He blinked at her. “I have no idea what you are talking about, but I’m fairly certain you are going to tell me.”
“Oh, you can count on that, your grace,” Lottie said grimly. “Let me just get rid of our blackmailer first.”
Eileen turned the covers of the bed down and smoothed the sheets.
“At least the linen is well-aired, your grace, seeing as we didn’t have time to bring our own.”
“It’s very pleasant here, indeed.”
Margaret had been bowed into the largest bedchamber by the landlord and lady and promised the best dinner the inn could provide. She was currently sitting by the fire in her stockinged feet enjoying a cup of tea. Traveling as a duchess was so far removed from her previous experiences that she might as well enjoy it.
