Lord of Legends

by Susan Krinard

  Anger pierced the veil of distress. “Leave without defending myself—or Ash? No. I did that before, and it made everything worse. I will not do so again.”

  “Your detractors will not be persuaded otherwise now,” he said.

  She rose and walked across the tiny expanse of unobstructed floor, pacing from the narrow bed to the washstand and back again. “I won’t run away.”

  “You must.”

  Ash stood in the doorway, his expression twice as forbidding as Sinjin’s.

  Sinjin got up. “Get out of here, Cornell.”

  Ash ignored him. “I know what has happened,” he said to Mariah. “I will make these humans see that they are wrong.”

  Mariah shivered. Humans? “You can’t help, Ash. The others blame it on me, not you. You might win back their favor, but I—”

  “Their favor is of no interest to me.” He stared at Sinjin. “Take her back. Protect her.”

  “That’s exactly what I intend to do.” Sinjin strode across the room until he stood toe-to-toe with Ash. “There is something you should know about this man, Mariah. He attempted…he made advances on Lady Westlake.”

  His full meaning didn’t penetrate Mariah’s consciousness all at once. She put the words “advances” and “Lady Westlake” together as if they were pieces of a difficult puzzle that she had just begun to solve.

  “Pamela?” she said stupidly. “Ash?”

  “She told me,” Sinjin said, his mouth curled in disgust.

  “And you believed her?”

  “Cornell did not deny it.”

  She stared at Ash, her body going numb with shock. “Ash?”

  He wouldn’t look at her. “Yes,” he said, “it is true.”

  The numbness spread to Mariah’s legs. She sat down carefully.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Does it matter?” Sinjin said.

  But she thought she knew why. She’d denied Ash her body. She had behaved like the worst sort of hussy by allowing him to reach a point of arousal that must have far exceeded her own. And Pamela was a born seductress. How could Mariah blame anyone but herself for what Ash had done?

  “There is clearly no reason for you to stay now,” Sinjin said, turning toward her again. “You can have nothing to gain except further suffering.”

  Perhaps that was exactly what she deserved. She and Ash had been lovers in every way that mattered. She had been a hypocrite in disapproving of Lady Strickland and those like her. She ought to pay for her hypocrisy…and her foolish belief that Ash couldn’t want anyone but her.

  But the strength to face her accusers seemed to have drained out of her. She’d been no less than honest when she’d said that Ash could win back the favor of the guests where she could not. He was a man, and the standards of behavior were different for men and women. The scandal would eventually blow over. For him.

  But not if she remained to keep the flames burning.

  “Mariah,” Sinjin said, sitting beside her and taking her hands. “If you still have any doubts…” He cleared his throat again. “The prince asked me to attend him this morning. He also thinks it best that you return to Donbridge with as little fuss as possible.”

  Of course. Even the Prince of Wales, for all his tolerance, could not appear to approve open scandal in his own residence.

  “I see,” she said. “I see very clearly. I will return to home immediately.”

  He squeezed her hands. “I will take you myself.”

  She was very careful not to look in Ash’s direction. “I never belonged here, Sinjin.”

  “I should have discouraged you from coming.”

  “But I had to come, you see. Ash—” She stopped and looked toward the door. Ash was gone.

  Sinjin released her hands. “You really do love him, don’t you?”

  With all my heart. For the rest of my life.

  “Our association has been nothing but disaster since he met the dowager,” she said. “It is best that we part. I will be packed and ready to leave by this evening.”

  There was no more to be said. Sinjin left her alone. Nola reappeared just in time to help her pack her things. Sinjin’s carriage was awaiting her at the appointed time. Hostile onlookers watched as her trunks were being loaded, each one containing a ragged piece of her soul.

  Sinjin led her toward the brougham’s door and offered his hand, but the rattle of an arriving carriage made her pause.

  “My God,” Sinjin said.

  She followed his gaze. At first she thought that the man descending from the carriage was Ash, but even before she realized that was impossible, she saw the sweep of black hair and the fresh scar across his cheek.

  Donnington.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SINJIN WAS MOVING BEFORE Mariah could catch her breath.

  “Donnington!” he said, offering his hand to his elder brother. “For God’s sake, man, where have you been?”

  The earl offered no embrace, and his manner was stiff. He had not yet noticed Mariah. As the men exchanged a few brief words, Mariah was keenly aware that the men and women awaiting her departure had noticed Donnington’s arrival. If he hadn’t yet heard of the scandal surrounding his new wife, he soon would.

  Mariah braced herself and walked toward Donnington’s carriage. He saw her immediately.

  “Mariah!” he said, striding toward her. She expected him to seize her arm, but instead he stopped and glared at her from his dark, penetrating eyes.

  “I went to Donbridge,” he said, “and my mother informed me that you were here. What mad whim drove you to come to Marlborough House by yourself?” He continued speaking before she could answer. “By God, Mariah, I ought to—”

  “It was my doing, Donnington,” Sinjin said, stepping between them. “I felt she was too much alone at Donbridge and a change would do her good.”

  “You felt?” Donnington gave a sharp laugh. “As I seem to recall, Mariah is my wife.”

  “Whom you left without explanation.” Recognizing that several guests were drawing closer, Sinjin lowered his voice. “What did you expect her to do? Wither at Donbridge for months on end?”

  “I expected her to behave as a countess should,” Donnington said, obviously struggling with his fury. He signaled to his footmen. “See that Lady Donnington’s luggage is transferred to my carriage. We shall be leaving immediately.”

  “I was already leaving for Donbridge,” Mariah said as calmly as she could.

  “Were you?” His gaze swept around the growing audience as if he sought one face in particular and couldn’t find it.

  Ash, Mariah thought. He’s looking for Ash. How much had the dowager told him? Did he know that his “cousin” had left Donbridge at the same time as Mariah?

  She prayed that Ash would stay away, but God was in no mood to answer her prayers.

  “Donnington!”

  The voice was more growl than speech. The people observing the little drama made way for the tall, well-formed man with white hair, black eyes and Donnington’s features.

  Donnington raised his head. For an almost incalculable second his face went slack. Then it hardened again, and he stared as if he were as astonished as the guests watching the two nearly identical men come face-to-face.

  “You dare to return?” Ash said, his words and voice once again what Mariah had come to expect of him since their meeting in Donnington’s library.

  “Who is this man?” Donnington asked the crowd with a gesture of perplexity.

  “His name is Ashton Cornell,” Sinjin said coldly. “He is our American cousin.”

  “Our cousin?”

  “Why are you so surprised, Donnington? Have you not seen him before?”

  “No. How should I have done?” The earl stared at Ash as if reassessing his first judgment. “Ashton Cornell,” he said. He made no move to offer his hand. “Perhaps I ought to welcome you to England.”

  “You bastard,” Ash said quietly. “You are a coward and a traitor. You betrayed your wife a
nd imprisoned me, and I will have satisfaction.”

  Murmurs of surprise rose from the observers, many of whom shook their heads in disbelief. Someone laughed.

  “Imprisoned you?” Donnington said in a subtly mocking tone. “What is this man talking about, Sinjin? Is he mad?”

  Sinjin gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw flexing. “I think we had better discuss this privately.”

  “No, no. Let the poor man have his say.” Donnington briefly met Mariah’s eyes. “Do you know this Mr. Cornell, my dear?”

  “Come away,” Mariah begged him. “Let us return to Donbridge.”

  But Ash was having none of it. He advanced on Donnington.

  “You are a villain,” he said. “You believed that you had everything arranged to your satisfaction, but it did not turn out as you wished.”

  “He is mad,” Donnington said. “Someone call for a doctor.”

  “No!” Mariah clutched at his arm. “He is only confused. Once we are gone—”

  “Have you some interest in this fellow, Mariah?” Donnington asked without looking at her. “Is that why you defend him?”

  “He is your cousin. We have become acquainted since his arrival in England.”

  “‘Acquainted’?”

  “I understand that he has been through a great deal,” she said. “You are just arrived home. This argument can be resolved at a later time.”

  “It will be resolved here,” Ash said. He removed one of the gloves he was wearing and threw it at Donnington’s feet. “I challenge you, Earl of Donbridge.”

  Murmurs rose to cries of disbelief. “What have we here?” Donnington asked. “Have we returned to the days of chivalry? How very quaint.” He played to his audience. “Will someone fetch me a pistol? Or perhaps it ought to be swords at dawn?”

  He laughed, and others joined in his laughter, though there was a thread of unease running through the mingled voices. Donnington gestured to the footmen, who began to transfer Mariah’s boxes to his carriage.

  For a moment it seemed as if Ash might back down, recognizing the futility of his challenge. But then he closed the distance between himself and Donnington in a few strides and struck the earl in the face with the full weight of his fist.

  Donnington fell, hard. He scrambled to his feet immediately, blood flowing from one of his nostrils.

  “By God,” he swore under his breath, rubbing at his face. “You’ll pay for that.” In a louder voice, he said, “Someone restrain this man!”

  Mariah flung herself between them, gazing into Ash’s eyes, begging him to think.

  But he was well beyond rational thought. He set her aside and lunged at Donnington, seizing the shoulders of the earl’s jacket. “You will pay,” he snarled. “You will never hunt me. And you will not keep her.”

  A pair of men from among the onlookers grabbed Ash’s arms. He nearly knocked them down, but a third man joined them, and together they held Ash tightly. Mariah had no doubt that he could fight them all off, but he subsided, sudden weariness and confusion in his face. He never so much as glanced in her direction.

  “This man is clearly ill,” Donnington said, dabbing at his nose with a handkerchief. “I will not press charges if he is seen to properly.”

  Everyone fell silent. Another man in the crowd turned and walked briskly toward the door to the house, doubtless to call for a doctor as the earl had demanded.

  Mariah could barely control her trembling. She hated Donnington then, with the same vehemence she’d felt when she’d first heard Ash’s accusations. Time, and Ash’s encouraging progress, had tempered her feelings and given her hope that Ash’s returning memory might somehow absolve Donnington of his crime.

  Now she was all but certain of his guilt. But if she defended Ash, any hope of getting the truth from Donnington would be lost.

  She pretended to stagger, as if the events of the past few minutes had overwhelmed her.

  “Please, Donnington,” she whispered. “I would like to go home.”

  He stared at her through narrowed eyes and finally helped her into his carriage. The men holding Ash simply waited, as if debating what to do with their prisoner.

  They will let him go. They will see that he isn’t really mad. He’ll make them see.

  If he could overcome his rage at Donnington…if he could be again the man who had moved so easily through Marlborough House, before the visions…

  She would have given ten years of her life to let Ash know that she was with him, if only in spirit. But he didn’t look up, and her attention was caught by another coming to greet Donnington with a pretty moue of sympathy.

  Lady Westlake. Sinjin went stiff, only his head moving as he watched Pamela offer her hand to the earl.

  Mariah couldn’t hear what they said to one another. The conversation seemed light enough, as it must be in the presence of others, but she could almost feel the heat between them—at least from Lady Westlake’s side.

  Sinjin must have felt the same. But he stood by the carriage door until the conversation ended and Donnington was watching Pamela return to the house. The earl cast a dark glance in Mariah’s direction and strode after Lady Westlake. The men holding Ash followed him.

  The velvet seat squeaked as Sinjin climbed in and sat opposite Mariah.

  “You did the right thing by not interfering,” he said in a grim voice.

  “Did I?”

  “You need my brother’s trust, at least for the time being. We all want the truth.”

  Sometimes the truth was almost too hard to bear. “Why didn’t you go after them?”

  “Donnington never listens to me. I could make matters worse.”

  Or perhaps Sinjin was a coward, unwilling to face his brother’s anger.

  She schooled herself to remain calm. “You did not try to speak to Lady Westlake,” she said.

  He closed his eyes. “She was otherwise engaged.”

  “What did she tell you when she accused Ash of…approaching her?” Mariah asked.

  He opened his eyes again. “Don’t torment yourself.”

  “My feelings for Ash haven’t changed,” she said.

  “What could change them, Mariah?”

  His question made her heart drop into her stomach. “What did she say?”

  “She implied that you and Ash have been conspiring to claim some part of the earl’s fortune.”

  Mariah nearly wept but laughed instead, covering her mouth to stifle her laughter. “Conspiring since when? Am I supposed to have imprisoned Ash, only to pretend to find him and help him to cheat my husband?”

  “She doesn’t know anything about the time before Ash came to Donbridge.”

  “She is still a liar.”

  “I am aware of that possibility.”

  “Then why did you accuse Ash—”

  “I wanted you away from here, away from Ash. He can only bring you trouble. His bizarre behavior—”

  “I don’t care about what happens to me as long as Ash is safe.”

  “But you must.” He hesitated, his expression as weary as Ash’s had been. “Could Pamela have been correct in that one matter? Could Ash have arranged in some way to feign imprisonment and win your sympathy, all in order to insinuate himself into—”

  Mariah realized that her laughter was teetering on the edge of hysteria. “Surely you don’t believe that?”

  He dragged his hand across his face. “No. My brother must in some way be responsible. But getting him to admit it—”

  “I shall find a way.” She leaned back in her seat, unable to keep from thinking about what Ash must be enduring. If she heard that he had been confined again, she would tell them the whole story. Let them think her mad.

  “Your ladyship?” Nola said from the carriage doorway.

  The maid’s voice was like a balm. “Nola,” Mariah said, leaning toward the carriage door, “we shall be leaving presently. Is everything stowed?”

  “It is, your ladyship.” Her brow creased in concern. “Ar
e you well, ma’am?”

  “Quite well.”

  “I am glad, your ladyship. But Mr. Cornell—”

  “If you have no other tasks, Nola, you may ride with us.”

  “But won’t it be…won’t it be a little crowded, ma’am?”

  As in answer to her question, Donnington arrived. He pushed Nola aside, his shoulders framed in the doorway.

  “Sinjin,” he said, without looking at his brother, “you and the girl will ride in your carriage. Mariah will ride with me.”

  Mariah said nothing as Sinjin climbed out of Donnington’s carriage and, followed by Nola, entered his own. Once the doors were closed and the carriages were moving, Donnington began his assault.

  “Do you think I don’t know what you’ve been doing?” he asked in a deceptively quiet voice.

  “I have been staying at Marlborough House, under Mr. Ware’s protection,” she said, matching his tone.

  “Sinjin’s protection! Does his idea of ‘protection’ include letting you drag the Donnington name in the mud and have affairs with other men?”

  “What Lady Westlake told you is a lie,” she said. “Mr. Cornell and I were not together near the kitchen, nor did I send the letter condemning Lady Strickland.” She clenched her skirts in her fists. “If you wish to know the origin of those rumors, you might want to question Lady Westlake further.”

  Donnington raised his hand, and she prepared herself for a blow. But he lowered it again, contempt on his face. “I never thought you would leave Donbridge for the pleasures of Marlborough House,” he said. “Our agreement—”

  “Did not include your leaving immediately after our marriage. I am hardly your wife, Donnington. You chose to abandon Donbridge for your own pleasures.”

  “You are my wife.” He seized her arm with the speed of a striking snake. “You are to be obedient, loyal, and appropriate in your behavior at all times.”

  “And you are to have no standards of behavior at all?”