Vanessa tried to intervene once more. "Please, Jonathan, think what you're doing to yourself, and to this poor girl. Don't act with such haste! With such cruelty!"
His expression closed up completely. "I'm sorry. It's for the best."
Chapter Twenty-three
The carriage pulled up in front of the townhouse in the Royal Crescent. Jonathan espied the Duke just seeing his wife in the door. He flung open the carriage window and called, "Thomas, I need to speak with you!"
His friend stared at him. "Yes, of course. But let us at least see the ladies safely out of the coach and into the house first."
Thomas moved forward and took Pamela's hand. She grasped it and thanked him. As soon as her feet were once more on terra firma, she tearfully bolted past Jonathan in through the door and straight up the stairs.
Jonathan looked at Thomas resignedly, and went upstairs to his own chamber to pack.
"Oh, dear, it's like that, is it?" he said to Vanessa.
"Worse. He has told her he can never love her. That there are too many impediments."
Thomas frowned. "This is too bad."
"You will speak with him, won't you?"
"I've tried, but he remains obdurate. He knows it's impossible. I'll never let them marry, for his own protection. But he won't consider marrying anyone else either."
"He still loves Jane so much then, even though it's hopeless?"
"I cannot tell. Perhaps he does? Love often hopes foolishly for that which it cannot have. Or perhaps he no longer loves my sister, but simply feels guilty. He blames himself. Thinks he should have been there. Or that perhaps this is the price he had to pay for the miracle that he begged for on the battlefield. The miracle which brought back Clifford and myself from the brink of death."
"For which I thank God every day, as you well know. But you Rakehells always have to take everything to such extremes. Your nobility is almost a curse at times. You try so desperately to be fair and decent to everyone, you put yourselves through Hell."
Thomas opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but Vanessa pressed on, following him into the inner sanctum of his study to continue their discussion.
"You and Charlotte went through Hell because you didn't want to tell her just how dreadful that man Herbert Paxton really was. You almost lost her over a cliff when he kidnapped her! Clifford nearly lost me because he didn't want to expose my brother as a notorious highwayman and murderer for fear of what the revelation would do to me. Don't think I'm not haunted every day of my life by what nearly happened, and the bitter regret I feel for having mistrusted Clifford so badly.
"Now Jonathan is doing the same thing. Tell him he is a free man! Tell him you will take the responsibility you should have done, and the consequences. Unless of course Charlotte..."
The Duke frowned. "We believe she's pregnant at last. It's very early days yet. I would not have her take on too much responsibility at this time."
Vanessa smiled. "I'm so pleased, and wish you both well. I understand, really, and I don't blame you. But there's no longer any danger from Paxton, is there? He's dead and buried. And you are after all a Radical politician. If you really cared what other people thought of you, you would play it canny, be a Whig or even a Tory. It has been selfish of you to let Jonathan take responsibility for Jane for so long. Not when you know they can never possibly marry."
Thomas sighed. "Well, what would you have me do then? Forbid him to see Jane and Sophie?"
She shrugged. "It is for you to decide. Perhaps an institution where she will be kindly treated? Where all of her needs will be met by trained people who understand her medical condition? Blake Sanderson recommended a number of excellent colleagues."
"And what about Sophie? She loves Jonathan."
"She can love you, too. You're her uncle, after all. Jonathan is no relation to her. And living in a madhouse, however luxurious a one, is no place for a child. Let go of the past, Thomas. You've done your duty. But as long as you harbor hatred and resentment of Paxton, he will still have power over you. You will never be free of him if you seek to sweep it all under the carpet.
"You're a Duke, for Heaven's sake! Better equipped than most people to ride out any storm of scandal. Jonathan is not so well equipped. This could ruin him. Ruin the career he's sought so hard to forge for himself ever since that fateful day on the battlefield in Spain."
Thomas nodded. "True. I hadn't thought--"
"But there should be no scandal. None of you have done anything wrong, other than been too trusting of a man who deserved nothing but contempt. And been too overprotective towards the women you love."
"She's right," Charlotte said from the doorway. "You've sought to protect me. Not spoken of your sister more than strictly necessary, nor let me visit but the once. Jane is no danger to me. She's a simple wounded soul. But you didn't want me to see anything so disturbing. And you don't think I should be forced to see every day the child of the man who tried to rape and murder me. But it wasn't their fault. We've all been paying for Paxton's crimes, yet we're blameless. It's about time it stopped."
"But Charlotte--"
His wife pressed on with her argument. "Jonathan has paid most of all. It's time for all of this to come out. All of the lies of omission have to stop. I love you, Thomas, you know that. I'll do anything to make you happy. Jonathan is my friend, and Pamela has become my friend. Let us please help them, even if it means telling the whole world your sister was raped and abused most cruelly by Paxton, and treated in a most deplorable manner until you rescued her."
Vanessa agreed. "No one likes to tie one's garters in public, but silence can often do more harm than good. I hate to say it, but we have no idea how many people Paxton preyed upon whilst you kept mum."
"I had every reason to think he would harm them, or at the very least use his own daughter as a pawn against me."
"But Paxton is dead now. Vanessa is right. He can't hurt us any more unless we let him. The skeletons in the closet will only keep rattling if we leave them there. Take them out, and bury them."
Thomas hugged his wife to him. "I'm so sorry. I never stopped to think what I was doing to you all. I shall speak with Jonathan. Try to get him to see reason. I'll do my best to make this right."
Chapter Twenty-four
In the solitude of her room, Pamela paced up and down, floods of tears streaming down her face and onto her fine gown unheeded. She had to leave, NOW. She had made a complete fool of herself in front of the man she loved, and half of Bath after her performance at the Upper Rooms that evening. Her behavior in the coach had been her final supreme act of folly. Jonathan would do nothing but view her with contempt now. If he had not already thought her a light-skirt, the fact that she had allowed him so many liberties had to be the last straw.
She went over to her wardrobe and took down her valise and boxes, not bothering to wait for any servants to come help her pack. Her friend Abigail in London was not expecting her for a fortnight, true, but she could always say that she had mistaken the date.
Her Aunt Susan would not be so easy to convince. But the offer of more fashionable additions to her wardrobe ought to be sufficient to persuade her of the prudence of leaving early, in order to be able to take advantage of the small Season and discern exactly what was what and who was who.
She had little doubt she would never see Jonathan again. With any luck, by the time she returned home, he would be long gone. She might have pointed out to him the absurdity of his uprooting himself when in all likelihood she would seldom be in the neighborhood again once she wed.
Yet the last thing on her mind was another suitor. Not when her heart was breaking. She would be polite to all her past acquaintances if she ever ran into them, but would not by any means try to cultivate them. Only the Earl of Ferncliffe was really what her aunt would describe as worth knowing anyway. At least he had improved upon acquaintance. She had behaved so foolishly. She would make sure that she did not embarrass herself in so de classe a manner
again.
The only flaw she saw in her plan was transportation. She could not travel in the Duke's coach. It would be far too presumptuous to make the request at such short notice, especially when he had been so hospitable already. She could also not send for her own very easily at this late hour.
She knew Vanessa had intended to go down to Lyme to see about some details regarding her deceased aunt's estate and its final sale. Was it possible that she could prevail upon her to give her the use of it instead? At least she knew what had transpired in the coach. She would know why she was asking, without betraying her discomfiture to everyone in the household. She had made a fool of herself, true. The fewer people who knew about it the better.
Another idea popped into her head. The Earl was supposed to be going up to town the very next morning. They could prevail upon him to provide transport and escort them.
She rang the bell, and dashed off a note whilst she awaited the maid.
A tap at the door heralded her arrival. "Please send this around to the North Parade, and then come back to help my aunt and myself pack."
"Very good, Miss."
As Pamela had predicted, her aunt was agog with curiosity when she announced their sudden departure. But the opportunity to head up to London with no less than an Earl was too good to miss. Pamela knew she would never hear the end of it once they were alone together in London. For the moment, she had achieved her aim of getting away from Jonathan, and the embarrassing predicament she had allowed herself to get into.
She stuffed her clothes into her boxes haphazardly, then sat down with a sigh, and began again. She would need to master her emotions if she was to pull this off. No one could ever suspect that she had fallen in love with Jonathan Deveril. No one.
She could imagine them all laughing at her if the word ever got out. But she was not to be made a mockery of. She was beautiful Pamela Ashton, wealthy heiress, considered a good catch. Well, she would make a good catch herself. Jonathan Deveril would be just a childish flight of fancy and a distant memory by the time she was finished.
Chapter Twenty-five
A message came back from the Earl of Ferncliffe almost immediately. He would be only too pleased to take Pamela and her Aunt Susan up to London, and make all the arrangements necessary for their comfort on the journey. He would also be delighted to escort them around London. They would ride post up to Town, and be there inside three days barring any bad weather or difficulties along the way.
There remained then only to finish packing, and to say goodbye to everyone before leaving. In that too the Earl had been helpful, for he had stipulated dawn. Pamela and her aunt did not get a wink of sleep, but her aunt only remarked, "I daresay we can sleep in the coach. To London, with the Earl no less. I'm not sure how you managed it, or what you're up to exactly. So long as any child of yours is not born within seven months of the marriage, no one will talk."
"Aunt, really!" she hissed, looking up from her small writing desk reproachfully.
The older woman gave a knowing smirk that revolted Pamela. "I don't care what the thing is, only what it looks like. So mind your manners a little longer, and you shall have all you ever dreamt of, and more."
Pamela did not wish to argue with her aunt. But to think her guardian had turned out to be so unworldly, and so ungodly too. It seemed every person in the world was a hypocrite except the mans she loved, and his noble friends.
She clamped her mouth shut rather than argue with her aunt, and finished dashing off a note of farewell to Elizabeth. She had already written to the Duke and Duchess, Vanessa, and Sarah. Each simply thanked them for their kindness, and said she hoped to see them in London or back at Brimley.
Once the coach was loaded, and the women finally settled, Pamela nearly allowed herself to give way to hysterical tears. But that would never do. She had to put on a brave face in front of her aunt, in front of everyone in London, even though inside her heart was breaking.
Some hours later, Jonathan was beside himself when he discovered Pamela gone. He was even more furious when he found out who she had left with.
"Well, go after them, then!" the Duke urged.
He shook his head mournfully. "No, I can't. I must keep my word. It's all that's left to me, small consolation though it is."
"I release you! Really, Jonathan, this is too bad. If there were a hope of Jane-"
"No, don't say it! There's always hope!" Jonathan growled.
"But Jonathan, I know you! I love you like a brother. I know that as much as you ever loved my sister, you love Pamela Ashton far more! Yes, LOVE her. My guess is that your feelings for Jane are the product of a boyhood devotion. A habit. A fairy-tale fantasy of your youth.
"I was there too, my friend, when we were growing up. I watched it all. I remember how it was, Jonathan. You were always her hero. She was your darling little princess from the time she was born. What man wouldn't adore a girl who made him feel like a prince?
"But gradually you both grew up. You grew in separate directions. She stayed sheltered at Eltham Castle. You went out into the world and experienced all life had to offer. And you clung to the childhood ideal of a pure little angel as you realized just how cold and cruel the world could be.
"But answer one question honestly, old friend. Could you really have been happy with Jane for the rest of both your lives? Not just content, but happy? Passionately, blissfully happy?"
Jonathan shook his head. "I don't know. Fate has a part to play in everyone's lives, Providence too. But I damned well would have tried my best. For both our sakes."
"And possibly made both of you miserable in the process," Thomas argued. "Loving and being in love with someone are two entirely different things. I think you know that now, after meeting Pamela. I love my sister Jane. She was the best of women, but she had her failings like everyone else. So does Miss Ashton. But Pamela is your soul mate, I'm sure of it. She has spirit, brains when she uses them, and it's clear she loves you.
"There is no sin in loving honorably. What you feel for her is the real thing, love body and soul, raw passion in your gut and loins. I've seen the way you look at her! It's the way I'm sure I look at my wife. Are you just going to let that remarkable young woman fall into the hands of Ferncliffe, knowing him as we do? And with our suspicions as to how he came to inherit?" Thomas argued passionately.
"Damn it, Thomas, that's enough!" Jonathan roared. "You presume too much. I only have to account to myself for the state of my heart. As for Ferncliffe, just because we dislike the man does not make him a murderer, or a criminal. We have no proof."
Thomas stood up and stormed out. "I'll get proof. He cannot harm Pamela physically, not with her aunt and half of London keeping an eye on them. But he can lure her into compromising herself so that you'll lose your chance. I shall not allow that to happen. She deserves better than to be lied to and moved about like a pawn on a chessboard."
"I never-"
Thomas gazed at his friend coolly. "Did you not?" he demanded with an infuriating quirk of one fine dark brow. "All the time you spent with her, loving her as you did? Trying to improve her, educate her? You manipulated her, lied to her too. In some senses you're no better than Ferncliffe."
Jonathan balled up his fists, and had to struggle for several moments not to smash the smug look from his friend's face. Instead he shoved his hands in his pockets and paced up and down in front of the Duke's desk, seething. "You go too far, sir. I love her heart and soul. Long for her with every part of me. I would never-"
"Hah!" Thomas exclaimed in triumph. "I knew it! So bloody well go after her, man."
Jonathan slumped into a wing-backed chair, emotionally spent. "It's too late. I can't. After the way I behaved last night, the things I said to her, I'm sure she never wants to see me again as long as she lives."
"I'm equally certain that can't be true," Thomas said mildly. "She's hurt and embarrassed, confused that you always withdraw from her the moment you start getting close. But she loves you, I'm
sure of it."
"Then why did she go off with Ferncliffe?"
"Because she needed transport, he happened to be going to London, and she has no idea she that she is being manipulated constantly by a man who isn't what he appears to be at all."
Jonathan stood up at that reminder of how Ferncliffe conducted all of his affairs.
The Duke's hopes rose, only to be dashed down in an instant by his friend's next words.
"Thomas, I've always loved you as a brother too. But please, for both of our sakes, never speak to me of my foolishness regarding Miss Ashton again."
He stormed out of the room before Thomas could utter another word. His emerald eyes following him, pained beyond measure.
But Thomas was not the Duke of Ellesmere for nothing. He was a man used to getting his way if a principle were at stake. In this case it was the future happiness of one of his dearest friends, and an innocent girl even more unsuspecting than his own dear wife had been. He just had to help, even if Jonathan never forgave him from trying to interfere. The question was, what could he do?
The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1 Page 90
