The Duchess Hunt

by Jennifer Haymore

  Last night, Simon had decided that he would take this opportunity away from the presence of the Stanleys to tell his brothers the secret that had been weighing on him. He was glad they would all be together in the privacy of the carriage, and he was especially glad for Luke’s arrival. Having Luke remain the only brother in ignorance seemed wrong.

  So as the rattling carriage progressed in a northerly direction, Simon told his brothers everything. About how Stanley had come to him and suggested marriage. About how he’d refused, and about how Stanley had pretended to be regretful about “being forced” to give him this information.

  He told Mark and Theo that they were the result of an affair between their father and Fiona Atwood, who now dwelt outside London. Mark and Theo stared at Simon in stunned amazement as he told them how he and Sam had gone to see the woman and she’d corroborated Stanley’s story.

  Theo swallowed hard. “Does… does she look like us?”

  Simon looked away, sighing. “She is an old woman now, clearly one who has led a difficult life.”

  “There was a near-empty decanter of gin on her table, and she reeked of the stuff,” Sam added flatly. Their oldest brother was never one to mince words. “She was jaundiced and generally unhealthy in appearance.”

  Theo cast an alarmed look at Mark, who still hadn’t moved.

  Simon winced. “She doesn’t look like you, per se, but she does share features with you both.”

  Theo stared at him.

  “You are still my brothers,” Simon said. “That will never change.”

  “But we…” Theo breathed. “We aren’t… We aren’t legitimate.” He looked terrified, like the thought of losing the “lord” in front of his name would be akin to ripping off a limb.

  Mark finally spoke. “Mama never treated us as anything less than her own, Trent. How do you explain that? If we weren’t hers, she should have shunned us, not spent so many years with us practically tied to her skirts.”

  “Our mother is still our mother. She took you in and made you her sons. And we must take something away from that.”

  Luke snorted. “What’s that?”

  “That we are all members of this family. That we all carry the Hawkins name. That we are brothers, and shall remain so until the day we die.”

  Luke leveled a cold blue gaze on Simon. “That’s not all of it, is it, Trent?”

  Simon slid a glance to Sam, who sat beside Luke. But this was Simon’s responsibility. He was the head of this family, which meant it was his duty to tell his family members news that they didn’t want to hear. News that could devastate them.

  “You are illegitimate as well, Luke,” he said quietly. “I am sorry.”

  “Let me guess – I am the son of some other whore our father yanked out of a London gutter.”

  “No,” Sam said.

  “You’re not our father’s son at all,” Simon said. “You’re the offspring of our mother and Lord Stanley.”

  The silence was instant and thick, the only sounds the rattle and groan of the carriage and the clomp of the horses’ hooves as they traveled down the road, the air the brothers shared in the carriage redolent of shock and dismay. Simon watched Luke take in the information. His face was stony, impossible to read, but his eyes – so much like Stanley’s – glimmered ice blue in the dim light.

  Finally, Luke licked his lips. When he spoke, his voice was raw and jagged, like his throat was coated with shards of glass. “You’d best bloody tell me that you are joking.”

  “He’s not joking,” Sam said quietly.

  Luke bent his head forward and laughed. It was the bitterest sound Simon had ever heard. “So first I have one bastard for a father, and now I have another. And not only that, but I am now officially a bastard as well.” He looked up. “How validating. I’ll bet you weren’t surprised, were you?”

  “I was deeply surprised,” Simon said truthfully. “I still am.”

  Luke gave another one of those bitter laughs. Simon glanced up at Sam. “Will you tell them about Esme?”

  Sam did, his voice even and low. Their brothers listened. And then Simon explained Stanley’s plan to extort marriage from him. Finally, he told them how Sarah had learned about Bertram Stanley.

  An hour later, as they walked along the path that led to the front door of the looming gothic structure, Theo and Mark still looked pale and shocked – stumbling and weaving in their steps as if Simon were to tap them on the shoulder, they might tumble over. It would take time for them to absorb what they’d learned this morning.

  As for Luke, he looked angry. But he also looked bemused. He definitely seemed the least surprised of the three of them. And as they’d climbed down from the carriage, he’d made a sneering remark about gaining another idiotic brother today and that he was looking forward to meeting Bertram Stanley.

  A half an hour later, they sat in a Spartan private receiving room drinking tea. There were no decorations on the walls and no furniture save the chairs they were seated on and two plain, square wooden tables. Once the master of the place, a Quaker named Mr. Mills, had learned Simon’s identity, he’d been more than accommodating. He told him that James was already here visiting his mother, and he’d send him in immediately.

  A few minutes later, James himself opened the door and entered the room. When he saw the five brothers gazing at him from all angles, he stopped short, his mouth falling open.

  “Close the door, James,” Simon said quietly.

  James turned, fumbled with shaking hands to close the door, then he turned back to face them. “Y-your Grace. I… er… I didn’t expect to… see you here.”

  “I imagine not,” Luke said dryly.

  “We have some questions for you,” Simon said.

  James glanced furtively from one brother to the next. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

  “Just bloody tell us where our mother is, if you please.”

  Simon cast a surprised look at Mark. He was always the most lighthearted of the brothers, and Simon couldn’t remember ever hearing him swear. But right now, he stood tall and squared his shoulders, and his expression was black.

  She wasn’t even his mother. Not really.

  But she was his mother in spirit. Always had been. And while Mark must be angry with her for a lifetime of lies, Simon knew he still loved her.

  “Er.” James swallowed again. “I… uh… don’t know.”

  “You disappeared the same night she did,” Simon said. “You never came to us to give us any information regarding her whereabouts. Indeed, you remained hidden despite the fact that we’ve been searching for you for almost four months.”

  “Perhaps you murdered her,” Luke said, his voice as sly and wicked as a snake’s. “Perhaps it was you who stole her jewels, and then you killed Binnie as well. That’s a rather fine coat you’re wearing today, James.”

  “No!” James gulped in a breath. “She paid me…”

  Sam had been standing in the corner, but now he stepped forward.

  “Stop this nonsense,” he told them all. His gaze narrowed in on James. “Tell us everything. From the night the three of you disappeared. Spare no detail. We need to know why you left Ironwood Park, what happened, and where the duchess is now.”

  James shook his head. “I might not be able to —”

  Sam raised his hand, cutting the man off. He gestured to a chair that faced the brothers. “Sit there. Start at the beginning, if you please. The night you left Ironwood Park.”

  “Very well.” James wrung his hands as he lowered himself into the chair. “Er, well…” He looked at each of them, then down again. He cleared his throat. “Well, her Grace was preparing for bed that night, and a stranger arrived at the dower house. I wasn’t sure if he was a gentleman, or someone pretending to be one. He was quite intent upon speaking to Her Grace. She agreed to see him in the upstairs drawing room.”

  “What was his name?”

  “He introduced himself as Mr. Morton,” James said. “R
oger Morton.” He took a breath. “After a while, they began to argue. The duchess grew very angry. Binnie and I went to see what was the matter, but she commanded us to go. We didn’t know what to do. When she finally returned downstairs, she told us we were leaving; we were all going on a long journey. Binnie and I packed quickly, and we left at around two o’clock in the morning.

  “We traveled through the night and the next day, heading west, into Wales. Her Grace and Mr. Morton hardly spoke. Neither Binnie nor I understood what was happening; why we were leaving Ironwood Park. Truly…” He gave Simon a frightened look. “Her Grace seemed resigned and worried, but she also seemed to be in control. She would order Mr. Morton about, and he would obey. I didn’t understand it.

  “We came to Cardiff, where the duchess secured lodgings in a house. We remained there for almost a month – the duchess never venturing outdoors – and then, one night, Her Grace brought us into her room. She handed a bag of jewels as payment to Binnie and another to me, and she said we must leave that very evening. That we must go to London and sell the jewels, but we must never return to Ironwood Park or show our faces to any of her family. She made us promise to never reveal ourselves to anyone associated with the Hawkinses.”

  “Good Lord,” Simon muttered.

  “We obeyed her, Your Grace. She was our mistress, our employer, and she’d compensated us well. We traveled to London, but…” He looked down at his lap. “In the stagecoach, Binnie was showing off the jewels Her Grace had given her. Said she was going to sell them in London and she was going to be a fine, rich lady. Just outside London, we stopped at a coaching inn for the night. The next morning, she was gone.”

  He stopped talking, rubbing his hands up and down over his thighs, sweat gleaming on his brow.

  “What did you do?” Sam asked.

  “I looked for Binnie that morning, but I couldn’t find her. I figured after all that showing off, something bad had happened, and I feared that whoever’d got Binnie was after me, too. I was too afraid to continue on to London, so I turned around and went to Birmingham. I sold the jewels there.” He glanced over his shoulder at the door. “I knew I could not return to Ironwood Park, but I wanted to remain close to my mother,” he said awkwardly.

  Simon leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands in front of his chin. “Where is the duchess now?”

  “Cardiff? I’m not sure. Binnie and I left her there. She and Morton – well, I had the feeling they were waiting for someone, or perhaps something to happen. But I didn’t know who or what – Binnie and I just performed our duties, and they never shared that kind of information with us.”

  “So you left her with this man, Morton,” Luke said dangerously. “With no help or protection?”

  James cast a nervous glance in Luke’s direction. “She ordered us to go,” he said in a voice not much louder than a whisper.

  “Do you believe Morton had evil intentions toward her?” Sam asked.

  “I…” James shook his head. “I couldn’t be sure, but no, sir. He deferred to her.”

  “Could it have been a master plot to kidnap her?” Theo mused. “This Morton fellow was working for someone else?”

  “I could not say,” James said. “Her Grace’s behavior was… odd. Angry one minute and smiling the next. Binnie and I didn’t know at all what to think.”

  The brothers continued to question James, but they weren’t able to get much more out of him. Finally, they had him give them his address in Birmingham in case they needed to find him again, then they dismissed him.

  When Mills’s wife came in to offer them more tea, Luke rose. “I should like to see Bertram Stanley now, madam.”

  Simon said, “He means Bertram Smith, of course. Please forgive the error.”

  “Of course.” Mrs. Mills gave a shaky smile. “Friend Bertram isn’t expecting visitors.”

  “We’ll just be a moment,” Simon told her.

  She looked from one brother to the other, all of them poised to follow her to Bertram Stanley, and then she gave a firm shake of her head. She didn’t question why they wanted to see him; instead she said, “I fear facing such a great number of men will agitate him. One of thee may visit with him, but no more. And I shall be present as an observer.”

  Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll go.” He cast Simon a daring look, but Simon didn’t challenge him. If Luke wanted to be the one to see Bertram Stanley, Simon wasn’t going to stop him.

  Luke was the man’s brother, after all.

  During the return drive to Ironwood Park, the brothers discussed what they’d learned from James. Thanks to Sarah, they’d received the most important clue they’d been given since their mother’s disappearance. She was alive, or had been until late May, and she’d last been seen in Wales.

  “I’ll be traveling to Cardiff,” Luke announced.

  Luke had been quiet and contemplative since he’d returned from seeing Bertram Stanley. He told the brothers nothing of their meeting save the fact that the man was indeed a Stanley. Most definitely Georgina’s older brother and Lord Stanley’s son.

  Now, hearing Luke’s declaration that he was heading to Wales to find their mother – the first time he’d said much of anything in the past hour – Simon just nodded.

  The rest of the ride home was quiet. It seemed like everything that needed to be said had been said, and now there was nothing left for Simon to do but give each of his brothers time to absorb all that they’d learned.

  And it gave Simon time, too.

  Fantasies about a future with Sarah ran through his mind, a continuous play, scenes repeating themselves. Sarah in his bed. Sarah in his arms, smiling up at him. Sarah comforting him after a long day spent debating in Parliament.

  Sarah gazing with adoration into the tiny face of their newborn son.

  Now that Sam had opened the floodgates of Simon’s mind to the possibilities, he indulged in them. And as he indulged, certain truths sharpened and became crystal clear in his mind. Sarah Osborne was the only woman who moved him. Who he admired. Who could engage him, body, mind, and spirit.

  He loved her.

  And he wanted it all.

  He daydreamed about going home and calling off the engagement with Georgina. He was somehow going to convince Stanley not to reveal the Hawkins family secrets. When that unpleasant business was done, he’d see the Stanleys out of Ironwood Park and into their carriage back to London, or wherever they wished to go.

  Then, free of the Stanleys forever, he’d go to Sarah.

  He leaned back against the carriage squabs, closing his eyes, rehearsing his words in his mind.

  “I want you in my life forever. I want to make you mine. You’re my life, Sarah. Marry me. Be my duchess.”

  All throughout, bleak warnings nudged at the back of his mind: Stanley is stubborn. Stanley won’t allow you to sever the engagement. Stanley will ruin you.

  He closed his eyes for a long moment, then he looked at his brothers.

  “I can’t marry Georgina Stanley. I’m going to find a way to end our engagement.”

  They all stared at him as if this news, after a day full of revelations, was simply too much to take in.

  “I can’t do it,” he told them.

  “How will you get out of it?” Sam asked, seemingly the only one of Simon’s brothers still capable of speech. “Will you use the existence of Bertram Stanley against them?”

  Simon didn’t want to lower himself to Stanley’s level – to use extortion to fight extortion. And yet he was the head of this family… How far would he go to save his brothers and sister? Far enough to compromise his principles?

  Probably.

  Yes.

  “I don’t know,” he told Sam softly. “Should I?”

  “No!” Theo roared.

  Everyone swiveled to face Theo.

  “Don’t do it, Trent. That kind of coercion is not in your nature. You are the most honest, honorable person I know. I’d rather see the truth about me exposed
than to see you renounce your morals.”

  “So would I,” Mark said, his expression hard.

  Luke stared out the window to avoid meeting Simon’s gaze. “And I. Wouldn’t want to be the cause of you tarnishing your spotless morality, Trent.”

  “I’ve no desire to see Stanley spread rumors about our family,” Simon told them. “But I don’t love Miss Stanley. I never will. I can’t marry her.”

  “Then don’t,” Luke said, as if it were that easy.

  “There’s someone else,” Simon said in a low voice. “Another woman I care deeply for. After I break it off with Miss Stanley, I intend to propose to her.”

  “Really? Who is it?”

  Simon glanced at Theo to see him frowning in confusion.

  He took a deep, steadying breath. Other than Sam, their reactions would be filled with shock, surprise, disbelief. Even Luke’s reaction would be so, given how shallow he believed Simon’s feelings for Sarah were.

  This would be the first set of reactions of many that would come, from everyone he knew and from people he didn’t know as well. He’d deal with them all, starting with his brothers right now. Because he’d changed. He would no longer hesitate to shout his love for her from the rooftops. He wanted everyone to know.

  “Sarah,” he said, his voice steady and firm. “Sarah Osborne.”

  Simon’s confrontation with the Stanleys had to wait due to the ball at their neighbor’s house that night. Canceling their attendance at the ball would have set tongues wagging, and when word got out about the breaking of his betrothal, Simon wanted it to be on his terms.

  Simon could only stomach one dance with Georgina, but that didn’t stop every other gentleman in attendance from dancing with her. Mr. and Mrs. Beardsley were holding a house party this summer, and several men Simon hadn’t seen since he’d left London approached him.

  The Duke of Dunsberg was one of them. Simon had retired to the card room for a brief respite from it all when the older duke approached with a grin on his heavily weathered face.

  “Well, Trent. I’ve just finished dancing with your lovely betrothed. I must congratulate you – she is a rare find indeed, a true diamond of the first water.” Snatching a glass of brandy from the tray of one of the passing servants, Dunsberg settled in the seat beside him and gave him a rueful glance. “Now that you’re joining the ranks of our fellow peers wallowing in connubial bliss, I suppose that’ll leave me as one of the few unattached dukes in the country.”