A Tempting Ruin (GreenFord Waters #3)

by Kristin Vayden

  "Chin up, darling," Lady Southridge murmured as she exited the carriage.

  Taking a deep breath, Beatrix followed and continued toward the entrance of the duke's London residence then ascended the various steps. Boxwoods lined the front, and the scent of rain and smoke hanging in the air reminded her that they were no longer in the country.

  But in London.

  Where everything had started, and now, hopefully, everything would end.

  A familiar figure opened the door, causing her heart to do a little skip. "Murray!"

  "Miss Beatrix? Is it truly you?" The old butler's face lit up from its usual stoic façade, and a wide smile caused his already-aged face to wrinkle further. Beatrix giggled and enveloped the old man in a hug, squeezing him tighter when he simply stood there. A moment later, she felt him return the embrace.

  "You are truly a sight for sore eyes," he whispered hoarsely.

  "Murray, you aren't crying?" Beatrix leaned back and studied the old man.

  "No, no, of course not, Miss Beatrix." Shaking his head, he wiped away a tattling tear. "Your sister will be so very thrilled you are home. She's been a bit… out of sorts."

  "Heavens above."

  "And all the saints," Murray replied, a wink adding to his amused grin.

  "Is she here? I swear if that's not Beatrix, I'll—" Berty's voice was interrupted.

  "You'll do nothing. Am I understood?" Carlotta, Duchess of Clairmont, interrupted in her strictest tone.

  She might be a duchess now, but she was originally Beatrix and her sister's governess, and, judging by the tone she used, Beatrix could only assume that she would never deviate from that role in their lives.

  And Beatrix wouldn't have it any other way.

  Carlotta had become their constant. She offered a comfort that helped heal the hole their parent's had left when they passed.

  "Beatrix!" Berty ran down the stairs, a flurry of skirt and ribbon. She leaped from the third stair from the bottom and slid along the marbled floor. "You're home!"

  "Berty! How many times have I told you that ladies—"

  "Don't jump, slide… or do anything of a diverting nature at all!" Berty called back with a more than disgruntled expression clouding her deep brown eyes, so alike to their older sister, Bethanny.

  "Ladies do have fun," Carlotta called, grinning as she descended the stairs as well. Her delicate condition was far more pronounced than when Beatrix had left. "Beatrix!" Her expression was warm and welcoming, melting the icy fear that still tried to cinch around Beatrix's heart.

  "Dry it up, Murray! No tears! Heavens above, and to think I once believed butlers didn't have emotions." Berty rolled her eyes but gave the butler a quick side hug before launching herself at Beatrix.

  "I've missed you so much! Are you back to stay? Are you? Please say yes, and if you're not, I might simply kidnap you and tie you up, and I do believe that Murray will—"

  "Yes, I'm back to stay, there will be no need to tie up anyone." Beatrix squeezed her sister, inhaling the familiar scent of lilac. "You've grown!"

  "I have! Carlotta says I might even grow taller than you! Can you imagine? Me? The tallest of us all?" Berty released her sister, practically bouncing as she spoke.

  "Yes, you might indeed." Beatrix grasped one of her youngest sister's braids and ran her fingers lovingly along the bumps.

  "I do believe you're even lovelier than when you left." Carlotta reached out and pulled her into a gentle embrace.

  The scent of rosewater clung to her skin, and Beatrix closed her eyes, remembering the comfort of Carlotta's genuine affection for her and her sisters. "You're too kind," Beatrix replied as Carlotta released her. "May I?" She glanced to her belly.

  Carlotta nodded, a few blond curls bouncing with the motion. Her green eyes glowed with contentment and delight as she guided Beatrix's hands to settle over her precious bump.

  "Astonishing," Beatrix whispered reverently as she held back a squeal of delight at the slight kick to her palm.

  "Every day is a wonder," Carlotta replied, an awed lilt to her voice.

  "Is he still in a panic?" Beatrix asked as she glanced behind Carlotta and down the hall toward the duke's study.

  "Worse than ever." Carlotta rolled her eyes.

  Beatrix withdrew her hands and glanced to Berty, who chimed in her opinion. "He's worse than a mother hen, or a grandmother goose, or a—"

  "We get the picture, dear," Carlotta interrupted. Then to Beatrix she whispered, "How I regret her learning about metaphors."

  "Where is Charles?" Lady Southridge bustled into the foyer, a determined sound to her stride as her genteel heels clipped along the marbled floor.

  "Lady Southridge!" Berty exclaimed and promptly launched herself at the old woman.

  "Ah, pet!" Lady Southridge squeezed Berty. "You're certainly taller than last I saw you!"

  "Either that or your shrinking, Lady Southridge."

  "Berty!" Carlotta scolded.

  "It's true." Berty shrugged as she stepped back from the embrace.

  "That's right. It is true, Berty. Though I'd be inclined to believe it's because you're taller." The older woman winked at Beatrix.

  "I hope so. If you start shrinking, you'll be—"

  "Berty," Carlotta clipped.

  With a beleaguered sigh, Berty halted her thought mid-sentence.

  "Impressive," Beatrix whispered to Carlotta. It wasn't common for Berty to actually not finish a thought.

  "We've been working hard on that." Carlotta raised an eyebrow.

  "Now, if I may ask again, where is Charles?"

  Beatrix glanced to Carlotta. Charles was the Christian name of His Grace, the Duke of Clairmont. However, since Lady Southridge had contributed in large part to his upbringing, she had always simply called him Charles. The duke's parents passed when he was quite young so Lady Southridge felt compelled to step in. This only fostered the friendship between the young duke and Lady Southridge's much younger brother, Lord Graham.

  However, as Beatrix had heard the story from both Lady Southridge's and the duke's perspectives, the duke would claim that the correct term was not step in, but meddle.

  And based on the most recent history to which Beatrix could attest, meddle was probably the most accurate of the two descriptive words.

  Carlotta's voice broke through her musings. "Yes, he is simply in his study. Murray?"

  The butler snapped to attention at the call of his mistress.

  "Would you please notify the duke that he has callers?"

  "Indeed, my lady." With a crisp bow, Murray walked off, but not before he gave a quick wink to Beatrix.

  "Now, the duke had mentioned a missive that arrived yesterday, but he'd not give us any other details other than you're immediate plans to arrive. What is exactly taking place?" Carlotta's pleased expression had melted into a concerned frown as she studied Beatrix.

  "I do believe it will be easier if we discuss it with the duke so the situation doesn't require repetition," Lady Southridge answered, almost apologetically.

  "I understand, I just… it's just that we had to send you off so quickly, and now you're back, thank heavens, but truly we are still concerned about your safety. That's the whole reason we created the ruse in the beginning… to protect you."

  "I do believe our Beatrix has found quite the protector," Lady Southridge answered in her direct manner.

  Beatrix gasped as her gaze shot to Lady Southridge, who appeared to be enjoying the moment.

  "Protector?" Carlotta asked warily.

  "Indeed." Lady Southridge raised an eyebrow as she met Beatrix's gaze.

  "Finally! I say, how long have you ladies been out in the foyer standing about? You do realize we have parlors and such?" The Duke of Clairmont strode out, his dark hair and clear blue eyes a welcoming sight. As usual, his gaze settled on his wife before bouncing about to the other occupants of the foyer then quickly returning to Carlotta, who blushed under his regard.

  "It's no wonder she's a
lready expecting an heir." Lady Southridge shook her head, a wide smile stretching across her face.

  "Lady Southridge! You cannot be so… direct. We have ladies we are trying to educate in the social graces… not the social underworld," the duke scolded.

  "Never did I think I'd see the day he'd turn into such a turnip," Lady Southridge whispered to Beatrix. However, it was loud enough that everyone could easily overhear.

  "I'm not a—"

  "Dear?" Carlotta interrupted, no doubt saving them all from a futile debate. "Surely they are famished after their journey. Why don't we take a late tea in your study? Or the library perhaps?" Carlotta placed her hand on his arm, and he covered it immediately with his hand.

  "Of course. Murray? Please send for tea and a late luncheon. And for any other callers, I'm not at home." He held Murray's gaze for a moment longer than was necessary, than was usual.

  A shiver of foreboding tickled Beatrix's spine.

  They made their way to the library, but, much to Berty's dismay, she was unable to join them. The duke had insisted she finish her studies, but Beatrix was rather certain it was because their forthcoming discussion wasn't for her ears.

  As lovely as it was to age, there was something to be said for the ignorance of youth.

  "Now, I assume you've heard the news of Sir Kirby and the case he is trying to present to the regent?" The duke dove into the heart of the matter as soon as the tea had arrived and the servants had been dismissed.

  Carlotta was pouring tea and missed the cup slightly, telling of her own anxiety of the situation.

  "We have been told about the allegations he has brought, stating he is the rightful heir of my family's fortune," Beatrix replied. "The difficult issue is that I don't remember him or the uncle that he mentioned. The question of his validity is a great one. Since upon my parents' death they couldn't find a next of kin, thus why we were given to you for guardianship."

  "Indeed, I've considered the same. Do you remember any uncles, relatives of any sort? Perhaps he was born on the wrong side of the blanket? Which would not help his cause." The duke asked.

  Beatrix shook her head. "Have you spoken with Bethanny?"

  "Bethanny and Graham were here earlier and will be here tomorrow as well. She isn't familiar with Sir Kirby, which makes the fact that he's come this far with his allegations quite strange."

  "So there's something we're missing." Lady Southridge nodded over her teacup, her eyes trained on the duke.

  "I believe so. Lord Neville sent me a missive I received just yesterday," the duke started.

  Beatrix heart hammered as the duke mentioned Lord Neville's name. For a few blessed moments, she had been able to push his memory to the back of her mind, but at the discussion of his name, all the emotion, the longing even the very scent of him was brought to the forefront of her mind.

  "He was quite direct in his missive, possessive almost. Beatrix?" The duke speared her with his bright blue gaze.

  She swallowed.

  "Is there something we need to know?" he asked in a deceptively calm tone.

  "Ha! Pardon. I shouldn't laugh, but if you two had been privy to all that I've been around the past week or so…" Lady Southridge shook her head, amusement thick in her expression.

  "What do you mean?" the duke asked darkly.

  "Don't get yourself into a lather. She's perfectly whole, if you gather my meaning."

  "Heavens above, I'm so thankful Berty isn't here. I can just imagine what she'd start asking!" Carlotta remarked as she shook her head.

  "I'm not in a lather, but it is my responsibility to protect—"

  "The protector you spoke of… it's Neville?" Carlotta interrupted, her green eyes bright and excited.

  "Protector? You certainly do not mean—"

  "Would I let her become a man's mistress? Honestly, Charles, have a little faith in me!" Lady Southridge shook her head and sipped her tea in a haughty fashion.

  "I know you too well to have faith in your schemes—"

  "Oh, this wasn't in my plan. Well… I shouldn't say that. I rather wasn't certain if that part of my plan would work out, so it was more of a happy circumstance that worked out beautifully, don't you think?"

  "How exactly, is it working out?" the duke ground out.

  "Well, to be honest, he had taken quite extreme lengths to be assured of her hand—"

  "What!" the duke roared.

  "Sit down, Charles." Lady Southridge flicked a crumb off her skirt. "As I was saying…" She shot a glare to the duke who was slowly sitting, all while glaring daggers at the woman across from him. "…he was quite brilliant, actually, but with the whole mess with Sir Kirby, his… intentions… are now compromised. But I foresee that becoming a boon for the whole conundrum." She nodded.

  "So, if I'm understanding this correctly… Lord Neville, who has not approached me in any way—"

  "To be fair, he's been out searching for Beatrix, with your blessing, I might add. Even though you knew the entire time where Beatrix was—"

  "I'm bloo — blasted aware of where she was, but we needed it to look authentic! Just in case whoever was searching for her started to get wise to the idea. He was the perfect scapegoat."

  "Indeed, he was."

  "You made me forget my place, damn it all." He scratched his head.

  "You were talking about Neville's lack of communication concerning his intentions," Carlotta informed him, her green eyes darting between Lady Southridge and her husband.

  "Right, and so this gentleman, who thinks he has some right to be possessive of my ward, who hasn't spoken to me regarding his intentions—"

  "You already mentioned that," Lady Southridge interrupted.

  "So help me, if you interrupt once more, I shall gag you," he threatened.

  "Empty threats. Charles, you've—"

  "I'd not push him this time," Carlotta whispered.

  "Ah, very well." Lady Southridge made a lock-and-key motion with her hand.

  "If only," the duke mumbled, glancing heavenward.

  "Ha!" Lady Southridge burst then covered her mouth delicately at the duke's glare.

  "I missed this," Beatrix interjected, sighing.

  "You're daft, but that's beside the point. And that point being, you are not spoken for. You are still under my authority, and I will not have you thinking yourself connected to this man in any way until the mentioned gentleman approaches me!" The duke nodded, seemingly quite satisfied with himself.

  "Aren't you even the slightest bit concerned with Sir Kirby's intentions regarding myself? Here we are arguing about Lord Neville, and he's not the threat!" Beatrix shouted, standing and walking toward the low-burning fire.

  "Sir Kirby is a windbag trying to make noise. He has no leg to stand on with his allegations," the duke huffed.

  "Are we certain of that? Mr. Sheppard and Lord Neville seemed to be under the impression that he could possibly have some leverage or truth to his intention." Beatrix glanced behind her, watching the duke's reaction.

  "We shall see, but I do know that you are in my care, under my guardianship, and to get to you Sir Kirby will have to go through me," he replied darkly.

  "Well said!" Lady Southridge thrust her fist into the air.

  "It is quite impossible for you to remain silent for any stretch of time, isn't it?" the duke asked, a surprisingly tolerant tone to his voice.

  "It's part of my charm." She grinned. "However we must still tread carefully. As Neville had stated earlier, if he were to press his personal suit, it would only aggravate Sir Kirby, and we are not entirely certain he wasn't behind the original threat, so we must be ever vigilant."

  "I'll not be expecting Lord Neville to be expressing his intentions anytime soon?" the duke asked.

  "No, I expect not. Rather, I must amend that statement. I'm not quite sure what Lord Neville will do. He's been rather… surprising, I must say."

  "Why do I get the feeling I will not approve of—"

  "Because you're an old stick
," Lady Southridge shot back.

  "Can we please get back to the issue at hand?" Carlotta spoke in a commanding tone though amusement danced in her eyes.

  "Here is the plan. I'll contact Lord Neville, request he inform me of his own findings regarding this blackguard, and we will determine how to move forward from there."

  "Excellent," Lady Southridge approved.

  "Agreed," Beatrix replied as well, feeling the need to at least say something since the whole sordid mess was about her.

  "I do have one question," Beatrix pondered as silence descended on the usually loud group. "Has Sir Kirby approached you at all, Your Grace?"

  The duke shared a glance with his wife. "It is of no consequence."

  "Yes, I believe it is," Beatrix assured and turned to fully face the group. The heat from the fire warmed her back, keeping the chill of dread at bay.

  The duke studied her for a moment then answered. "Yes, he has sought an audience with me."

  "And?" Beatrix asked, letting her tone linger.

  "And after I stated my opinion, he was told to never darken the door of my residence," the duke finished smoothly.

  Too smoothly.

  "He's continued to seek an audience with you, hasn't he?" Beatrix asked, though she was certain she knew the answer.

  "Murray will not allow him entrance. You have no need to feel threatened."

  Beatrix nodded, unsure as to how to continue.

  "One thing is for certain. This Kirby fellow is not who he claims to be, this much we've already determined. However, you must never underestimate the desperate, and his actions speak of desperation. We must keep watch. And for that reason, Beatrix, you will not be allowed outside of the residence unless I am with you."

  "I understand." Beatrix nodded.

  "Now, I suggest we all take some time to freshen before dinner." The duke stood and extended his hand to his wife, gently lifting her hand to assist her.

  "Come, Beatrix. I'll accompany you to your room." Carlotta smiled at Beatrix then glanced to her husband, squeezing his hand and withdrawing hers.