The Dangerous Love of a Rogue

by Jane Lark

  “Still I bet it had the man shocked.”

  “I doubt it. I think my name is a swear word in Pembroke’s house. But regardless I am glad of your help. I’d rather work for you than borrow from you again. I need to do something with my life. If she wants a divorce I’ll let her have it but I’ll not marry again. I’m done with the parson’s noose and I’m done with women. I shall happily bury myself in the country with your horses.”

  “You’ve an eye for them and a skill. I am doing myself a favour not you, Fram. When you take over the stud, I’ll have the best racers out there.”

  “Your faith may be misplaced,”

  “Let me be the judge of that,” Peter whispered their final aside as they crossed the threshold into the bright light of the ballroom.

  Drew surveyed the room, looking for Marlow but only to find Mary. They were not there. But the Wiltshires, the Bradfords and the Barringtons were. He’d seen them all twice before. He’d not seen Pembroke or Marlow at all.

  The Duke of Wiltshire gave Drew a bitter stare.

  Drew’s gut turned over. What had Mary said to them?

  They’d hated him before. They must despise him now. If any of them carried daggers, they’d be in his back.

  Wiltshire turned his back, in a cutting gesture. It was nothing to a man whose own mother refused to acknowledge his existence.

  Speaking of that, she was here too, with the Marquis and Drew’s eldest brother and his wife. They probably credited his ill-fate to themselves for making Mary see that he was a pathetic, worthless bastard.

  “Not here,” Peter said. Drew knew he meant Mary. “But Kilbride is,” Peter concluded. “And so is my sister, come on, she’ll tell us any rumours that are circulating.”

  Even though Wiltshire had turned his back, Drew sensed the man’s gaze follow him. He was getting used it.

  “Hayley,” Peter kissed his sister’s cheek. “Spill, what are we missing, what is going on tonight?”

  She held out her hand to Drew. He’d known her since she was a child. Drew gripped her fingers and bowed over them, then lifted them to his lips for an instant. She smiled as he straightened. “You are the gossip, Drew. Since that announcement. I believe your wife has left town. Certainly both Pembroke and Marlow have gone. You men, you do as you like and leave us women to suffer.”

  “She left me.” Belligerence burned in Drew’s voice. He had not expected them to announce the separation. “I thought their announcement made that clear.” He schooled his voice, he did not want the world to know how hurt he was.

  Hayley’s fan tapped at his upper arm. “And you are entirely innocent I suppose, she left you for no reason at all…”

  “None that I can think of.” His tone was dry now.

  Hayley’s gaze passed over his shoulder and her eyes widened. Her fingers gripped at his sleeve. “Have you some grievance with the Marquis of Kilbride? He is coming this way with a look of thunder on his face.”

  “The jig is already up then.” Peter said.

  “Lord Framlington!” the Marquis of Kilbride’s bellow rang about the high ceilinged hall, bouncing off the mirrors and the glass, echoing over the music which played on, and the conversation which then ceased.

  Damn it, Drew had known this scene would come, but he’d thought Kilbride would challenge him in private; he had not expected him to do so at a ball, and certainly not before Mary’s kin. This would add even more fuel to their fire.

  Setting a twisted be-damned smile on his lips, Drew turned. Perhaps having this out in public was preferential. In private Kilbride would have brought his thugs and probably dumped Drew’s broken body in a back alley. Still he’d made a will in case and left everything to Caro, so even if Kilbride did get him, he would not win. She would have her cottage, and all she needed to survive.

  Guilt hit him.

  Mary’s money had bought the cottage; if he died, it ought to go to Mary but he could not leave Caro unprotected.

  As Kilbride neared, Drew stiffened his spine, stretching up the two inches he had over his brother-in-law. “Is there something you wish to say to me?”

  “You know there is!” Kilbride bellowed at full pitch as though he was speaking to the House of Lords, even though he now stood immediately before Drew.

  “Forgive me, but, no. You have me at a disadvantage…” Drew let the smirk on his lips slide into his voice and took pleasure in watching Kilbride’s anger rise.

  Let him hit a man for a change, it would give Drew the chance to hit him back.

  “I know you have her! You have stolen my wife! You have been bedding her for years. You incestuous bastard!” Kilbride’s words echoed and now even the music had stopped.

  Drew’s fists balled and his vision tainted red.

  “It is no wonder your wife has deserted you! She knew you for a wretch! She caught you in bed with my wife, your sister!”

  Drew’s control cracked, his anger flaring into rage. He lunged at Kilbride, grabbing his lapel and striking with a fist. He hit bone, probably breaking his brother-in-law’s nose.

  The noise about him was a vague sound as his fist struck again, hitting Kilbride’s jaw. Kilbride threw a fist in return, but Drew dodged so it merely struck his shoulder with no weight.

  One voice rose above the others, speaking into his ear, “You’ll kill him and it will be you who hangs.” Peter gripped his arm.

  The words pulled Drew back to his senses and the red mist faded. He thrust Kilbride away so he fell to the floor.

  “I’ll see you swing for this and I’ll find her!” Kilbride growled.

  Drew dropped to his haunches, and gripped Kilbride’s arm, as if to help him up but instead he held him down. “Do it, and I’ll find a dozen witnesses who’ll swear they’ve seen you beat her. Then everyone will know the truth, and you’ll make yourself look the fool.”

  Drew stood up and yanked Kilbride to his feet too. “Do it if you dare!” A hundred faces swum about him as Drew let Kilbride’s arm go and turned away.

  Women came forward to console Kilbride, while men with clenched fists glared at Drew, and at the front of them, Wiltshire, and beside him Barrington and Bradford.

  Drew cursed aloud and then a woman actually spat at him.

  His eyes caught those of his mother’s among the crowd. She turned away. While his brother was looking down his nose as though he smelt horse dung.

  “Incestuous.” Drew heard the outraged word on someone’s lips. It repeated on a wave of sound, rippling through the crowd.

  The music and dancing had ceased. He’d become the entertainment.

  “For God sake move, get out of here,” Peter whispered, his hand gripping Drew’s arm.

  Drew’s other arm was grasped in a harder hold. Wiltshire. “You’ve shamed my niece. If this is true…God help me… I will kill you myself if you’ve entangled Mary in this.”

  Drew pulled his arms loose.

  “Let us have music!” Barrington shouted from beyond Wiltshire, gesturing to the orchestra as Bradford spoke with Kilbride, No doubt Kilbride was pouring poison into Bradford’s ear. Devil take it… Why did Mary’s family association have to be so broad?

  “Go back to your dancing!” Barrington shouted at the observers who hovered.

  Drew could see himself accused and found guilty in Wiltshire’s eyes. Mary would know of this by the morning. But he’d lost her days ago anyway.

  “Go to hell, Wiltshire,” Drew hissed through his teeth in a low cutting voice, and then he spun on his heel and walked out with a lengthened stride.

  Peter followed. “Expect to be called out by a dozen men in the morning. I would not go anywhere near White’s or any of the clubs…” People moved out of their way, looking at Drew as though he really was the devil, before turning their backs.

  “It’ll do no good,” Drew answered as they reached the hall. “They know where I live.”

  “Then for God sake, leave London.” There was a lack of humour in Peter’s voice.

 
A footman opened the door and they stepped out into the night, a lynch mob had not yet formed. But Peter was probably right, it would come tomorrow, when they’d had time to plan.

  Drew glanced at Peter “They may do what they like. I have a will.”

  “So now you have a death wish.”

  Drew did not answer as they descended the steps and turned to look for Peter’s carriage among the line of those waiting.

  “Drew?”

  Drew cast Peter a devil may care grin. It hardly mattered what the outcome was. If Mary’s family wanted to have their revenge and call him out, he would not fight; he’d delope and fire into the air.

  If they shot him, if Kilbride shot him, they would do him a favour. He could not imagine living the rest of his life bearing this much inner pain.

  He’d freed Caroline, she was secure. What happened to him did not matter.

  Peter’s hand settled on Drew’s shoulder. “I’m not ready to part with you, my friend. Do not do anything foolish, and tonight I would suggest you get very drunk, and as your best friend I’m willing to help you achieve it. Let us find Mark and Harry, they’ll willingly help you too, and then you’re sleeping at mine. I’m not letting anyone shoot you. And believe me I shall be telling everyone tomorrow you are not an incestuous man.”

  “You think they will believe you…” Drew laughed, but it was a broken sound.

  Chapter 33

  “Good God. That bastard!”

  Mary and Kate both looked up at John’s words.

  “John,” Kate whispered a rebuff for his foul language.

  He was reading his letters at the breakfast table.

  Setting her chocolate down, Mary met John’s hard gaze as it shifted from the letter he was reading to her. Something had made him angry – something to do with her…

  His gaze changed to a look of regret, “I’m sorry, Mary.”

  She had only suffered a slight nausea in the mornings, she had never been physically ill, but now she felt as if she would be sick.

  John’s gaze span around the footmen waiting about the table. “Leave us, please.” They bowed deeply then filed out. “You too, Finch.” John prompted the butler, in a dry voice.

  Mary had never known him send the servants from the room.

  A hand pressed to her stomach, a sense of panic flaring. John stood.

  She did too. “Do not tell me, I do not wish to know if he’s been seen with her. Don’t tell me. Please.”

  “Mary,” John breathed walking closer. “You have to know this. The letter is from Richard. You must hear it from me, or you’ll hear it by another route. It’s worse than that, far worse.”

  Fingers touched Mary’s arm.

  Kate’s.

  “Sit down again,” John said gently.

  Mary must have paled. She did sit, her thoughts scrambling in a ball of mixed up threads. What had happened? What could be so bad?

  “John, please simply speak?” Even Kate’s voice shook.

  John’s gaze softened. “There’s no easy way to tell you this. Richard saw Lord Framlington at Sheffield’s ball last night. Uncle Robert was there too and Uncle James. Lord Framlington was involved in another brawl and an accusation was thrown, which everyone heard.”

  “Over this woman? Is she married?” One of Mary’s hands pressed over her stomach.

  “She is.” He looked sorrowful as he sat in the seat beside her. “It is the Duchess of Kilbride, his sister Caroline. He’s been accused of incest by his brother-in-law and his sister has disappeared. It is said that he’s keeping her. That they’ve been having an affair for years.”

  “Good Lord.” Kate’s fingers gripped Mary’s shoulder.

  But it was not true. It is not true…

  “No,” Mary shook her head. Her throat had dried. She felt as though someone had stripped out every nerve from her body she was so numb. “John, it is not true. He would not.”

  Kate’s fingers pressed Mary’s shoulder more firmly. “You told me his family have cut him. They also cut the Duchess of Kilbride. This would explain it, Mary. If their family knew…”

  Mary looked up to Kate, as John gripped Mary’s hands.

  “It is not true! He would not do such a thing. I saw him speaking with the Duchess of Kilbride once, before we wed. It was when Papa saw me approach him, they’d been outside.”

  “Is that not added proof,” John said in quiet understanding, as though he thought she simply did not wish to hear the truth.

  Her gaze swung back and caught John’s. “No.” Her voice grew in strength. “Andrew told me Kilbride beat her, and all he could do was offer comfort. He was the only person she trusted. I saw bruises on her neck once after that; with my own eyes, and they looked like finger marks.”

  Mary looked back up at Kate. Suddenly everything made sense. “Oh Kate! The woman in the draper’s was her!”

  Mary stood. The breakfast room spinning about her. She gripped Kate’s hands. “What I heard that night. He’d bought a house for her. He said, Caro. His sister. I did not make the connection. He did not have a mistress. Oh Kate, he made love to me and said he was sorry, that he would try to prove himself to me, and I left him. He was not lying.”

  Mary turned to John, who was now standing again too. She clutched his morning coat. “John, you have to take me back. I must go to him. Please?”

  John’s gaze became uncertain. “You cannot, Mary. There are a dozen men all prepared to kill him. Kilbride wants him hanged. Although as far as I know there’s no charge against him yet. But he’s disappeared.”

  She shook her head. “He won’t hide from them, that is not Andrew. He won’t run. If they’ve accused him he’ll look them in the eye and tell them all to go to hell…rather than hide.”

  John’s lips twitched at one corner. “That is, apparently, what he said to Uncle Richard.”

  “Then Mary is right, John, if she knows him so well.” Kate pressed. “Yet if Mary cannot go to him, then we ought to bring him here. If he loves Mary he’ll come and they will have time away from these rumours to resolve the rift between them, while the gossip dies.”

  Kate’s gaze caught Mary’s. “There is something else you ought to know, which I believe now indicates Lord Framlington’s innocence. John and I discussed it and we thought it better not to tell you before, but now…Your father and your mother know this too and agreed with us. But Mary…” Her fingers gripped Mary’s tightly. “When you came back to us, the same day John received a cheque from Lord Framlington. He returned most of your dowry, with a letter that stated he could not keep it if he did not have you. He said it would only be a bitter reminder of what he’d lost. John thought it just a ploy to win you back, and yet we were not sure because he asked John not to tell you. At the time it made your father and John doubt their judgement and yet knowing he had a mistress, we thought it would just confuse things for you—”

  “Were we wrong, Mary?” John touched her arm.

  “Yes.” She hugged him hard for a moment then let go. He understood at last, his voice and his eyes said so. “Andrew never argued against the things you said, John. I think he thought it lowering to have to defend himself. Yet he told me a dozen times that he loved me, but I did not always believe him, because you told me he was just saying it to win my dowry. If it was not for my dowry, John?”

  “Then it was because he loves you.” Kate concluded, “What you saw and felt was real, Mary, you said he was believable, it was believable because it is true.” She looked a John. “We must bring him here.”

  “I’ll have them ready a carriage.”

  Chapter 34

  Peter threw a paper on to Drew’s lap. “Pembroke is back in town. Apparently he’s turning over every stone in search of you.”

  Drew had not slept, he’d merely sat in Peter’s town house in Mayfair, since two in the morning, figuratively kicking his heels.

  He’d drunk himself sober last night and then Peter had insisted Drew stay and sent a servant to collect so
me of his belongings so Drew could pass a few days here.

  This morning Peter had gone scouting for news of how things stood about the clubs. While Drew had little more to occupy his mind than twiddling his thumbs. He’d tried playing a game of solitaire with a pack of cards but his mind kept slipping in to thoughts of Mary. What would she think when she heard this latest rumour?

  Incest.

  It was no small accusation. It was immoral and illegal.

  If she believed it… He denied the thought as too unbearable. She was the only one whose good opinion he cared for.

  “Pembroke is on a war path. He’s called at every club and every single haunt you favour.” Peter walked over to the decanters, his back turned to Drew. “He’s been demanding to know where you are and if anyone has seen you. While Kilbride has a man, without any livery, standing outside your rooms waiting to inform him if you return, and Wiltshire has put a sum on your head to have you found, he wants you charged. Kilbride, I believe, just wants you dead.”

  “They can hang me if they wish. I really don’t give a damn. Caro is safe, they will not find her.” Even Peter did not know where Caro was, no one knew. Drew had not taken a single risk.

  “I know you don’t care,” Peter turned, holding the neck of a decanter in his hand, lifting it to ask if Drew wished for a glass, “but the rest of us do. I’m not going to let it happen.” He turned to pour their drinks. “I’ve already made it public in White’s that I, who happen to know you very well indeed, believe the whole story is a pile of horse dung. My brother-in-law is speaking for you in Brooke’s and Harry has raised it in Watier’s. Our version will circulate.”

  “Your version?” Drew stood and tossed the paper aside, he did not care to see the slander in there anyway. “You have not said there is any truth in the fact I have her. I do not want Kilbride to know he’s right; let him stew and wonder.”

  A glass in both hands, Peter walked across the room. “We’ve not said anything other than that it’s nonsense. But we’ve more subtly begun the rumour that Kilbride was beating his wife. It will grow like a snowball. People will have guessed it previously but will have been too cowed by Kilbride to say. Wait and see. The truth will out now.”