“But this is not the place for such talk,” Lucy continued. “Come now, we’ll accompany Brenna back to Rosemoor House. Henry, please...”
“Of course. Come, Rosemoor. Perhaps a drink or two in my study will settle you down.”
Chapter 18
Brenna watched as Lord Mandeville led Colin away, a knot in the pit of her stomach. She reached for Jane’s arm with trembling hands. Her heart was beating erratically, her breath coming dangerously fast. She knew that Lord Barclay was an important man, an influential man. An acquaintance of Lord Danville’s. She’d been welcomed into his drawing room in Mayfair on more than one occasion, and yet today he’d looked right through her as if she didn’t exist.
Truly, she didn’t give a fig what Lord Barclay thought of her; she did not require his approval. Such things meant very little to her. And while Colin had been anxious to restore his honor, and rightfully so, he hadn’t seemed to have minded terribly that he’d been cast from polite society. Yet she’d never before seen him so angry, so bitter. Did her own acceptance by the ton matter so much to him? ‘Twould seem that it did.
Walking beside her, Lucy patted her arm sympathetically. “Oh, Brenna, I know it’s dreadful. But please, try not to take it to heart. There are still some who will believe the accusations against him, but, well... With Colin married now, things will surely begin to change. If only...” She trailed off, shaking her head.
“Please, go on,” Brenna urged.
“If only he’d try a bit harder,” Jane supplied. “Stubborn fool. After the disaster at White’s, Mandeville offered to use his influence to have him restored there. But no, Colin just thumbed his nose at the efforts. Instead of White’s, he simply turned his attention to undesirable gaming hells, places where his name wasn’t so sullied. It’s a shame, really. But we thought perhaps now...now that he’s married, he would settle down and try to set things to rights.”
Lady Rosemoor nodded her head. “The ton just needs a bit more time, more distance. Another scandal will surely come along soon enough, and all will be forgotten. By next Season, I’m sure everything will be as it ought.”
Brenna wasn’t so certain. Colin should face the accusations directly, allow her to make her statement to the club’s manager and expose Hugh and Sinclair for what they were. “Colin is a proud man,” she said at last. “’Twould seem he wishes to restore his honor himself, without the aid of others.”
“Hmm, I suppose you’re right,” Jane said, nodding. “But how? I know that despicable Lord Thomas Sinclair is behind this.”
Brenna turned sharply toward Jane. “’Tis true. I...I know for certain because I overheard Sinclair boast about it to...to his accomplice. He arranged to have the card planted in Colin’s pocket himself.”
“Does Colin know this?” Lucy asked, a heated flush suddenly staining her cheeks.
“Aye. ‘Twas why I had gone to his lodgings that day, to tell him. I went to Rosemoor House, looking for Jane, and was told she had gone to pay a call on Colin.”
“So that’s why...never mind.” Jane blushed furiously. “And to think, here I’d thought you’d actually taken my silly advice and tried to...well...Oh, I’m such a fool, Brenna. How will you ever forgive me?”
“Goodness, Jane,” Lucy said, pausing on the walk. “Whatever did you do? You didn’t tell Colin that you had suggested that Brenna...well, attempt to entrap him, did you?”
Jane raised one gloved hand to cover her mouth, looking stricken.
Brenna’s heart began to pound. Had she? Dear lord, no wonder Colin had thought she’d manipulated him into marriage.
“Well,” Jane mumbled, tears threatening the corners of her eyes, “I didn’t specifically suggest Colin. I think I might have put forward several eligible Scotsmen instead.”
A bubble of laughter welled in Brenna’s breast. “Dear Jane,” she said, laughing aloud. “Please, dinna fash about it. I only wish Colin would let me expose Sinclair and”—she swallowed hard—“and his accomplice.” She was embarrassed to admit to Hugh’s part in the scheme. Her brother, of all people.
Lucy shook her head. “But they’d only think you supplied the story in order to clear your husband’s name. It’s no secret there is no love lost between Colin and Sinclair. No, I fear it wouldn’t help at all. It would only expose you to criticism.”
“Lucy’s right,” Lady Rosemoor said, her brow furrowed. “We cannot subject you to such scrutiny, not even to clear Colin’s name. If it is true that Sinclair arranged to have the card planted in Colin’s pocket, then that information must come from a source outside the family. Otherwise, it won’t help matters in the least.”
Brenna nodded. “Colin has said as much. Perhaps you’re right. Still, it angers me to know he’s been falsely accused and that I canna do anything to help him.”
“You’re a fine woman, Brenna.” Lady Rosemoor patted her on the cheek. “I’m honored to call you daughter.”
Brenna smiled warmly at her. “’Tis an honor to be part of your family, Lady Rosemoor,” she answered, surprised to realize that she meant it with all her heart.
“Oh, come now.” Jane dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “You’re both making me cry.”
Lucy sniffled her agreement. “Aren’t I weepy enough already these days? No more, or my eyes shall be red and swollen.”
Their party continued on in companionable silence, their boots clicking rhythmically against the walk. At last back at Grosvenor Square, Brenna stepped inside the front hall of Rosemoor House and removed her shawl and bonnet.
The butler entered carrying a silver tray laden with the day’s correspondence. “The post, my lady,” he said to Lady Rosemoor, bowing stiffly before laying down the tray on the sideboard and disappearing from whence he had come.
“Thank you, Penwick,” Lady Rosemoor trilled, thumbing through the stack of thick cards. “Oh, the gossip page.” She pulled out a long sheet and unfolded it. “I’m finding it more and more unpalatable these days. Nothing but malicious supposition and innuendo. I declare, the author takes great pleasure in ruining reputations on a daily basis. Only fit for the fire, if you ask me.” She set it down on the sideboard and headed down the hall toward the drawing room. “Shall I ring for tea?” she called out over her shoulder, Lucy close on her heels.
“Yes, Mama. We’ll be right in,” Jane answered, then tapped the discarded page with a frown. “I wonder whose reputation has been ruined today?”
With a sudden lurch of trepidation, Brenna reached for it and smoothed the page flat. “Only one way to find out,” she said, and handed it to Jane who began to read aloud.
“It has been noted that the former Lady M— has now been relegated to the unenviable position of Mrs. R—. How heartbroken her poor parents must be! It has been rumored, of course, that the pair was forced to wed after being discovered in a compromising situation. So, gentle reader, one can only surmise that innocent appearances can be misleading and that even the best families have their bad seeds, particularly when such a seed has been cultivated in inferior soil.”
Jane’s voice trailed off, her cheeks stained an angry red.
“Aye, I suppose that answers your question,” Brenna said, her voice a mere whisper. “Mine.”
***
Hours later, Colin stumbled up the front steps of Rosemoor House. Blasted expensive brandy, he thought, reaching up a hand to his aching head. He’d meant to refuse the snifter Mandeville had slid across the table toward him, but dammit, he’d needed a taste. Desperately. One draught of the forbidden liquid had led to several, and, before he’d known it, he’d been nearly drunk. Now he would pay the price, tonight of all nights. He’d yet to bed his bride, and now another day would pass without accomplishing it. He’d drunk nearly an entire pot of coffee, wishing to sober up before returning home, yet it was all for naught, as Brenna had no doubt long since retired.
As he entered the front hall, he noted a light from his father’s study. He fished out his watch and flipped op
en the case. It was well past midnight. Curious, as his father usually retired at ten. What was he doing up so late?
As Colin stood there pondering the question, a door creaked open and a masculine voice called out to him. “There you are, Colin. I’d like a word with you before you retire.”
“Of course, sir.” With a grimace, he headed toward the study, returning the watch to his pocket.
His father stood in the doorway with a cheroot, motioning for him to take a seat. “I’ve been trying to get a private word with you ever since the wedding, but it’s near enough impossible to drag you away from all those hens flapping about you.”
“I suppose,” Colin muttered noncommittally.
“My solicitors were here today, and the Henrietta Street town house and Kent estate are all settled now, in your name.”
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your generosity.” Inwardly, he chafed at the charity, but what choice had he? He had a wife now to think of.
“Just don’t muck it up, Colin. That’s all I ask. I’ve settled most of your debts, but I won’t bail you out again, mark my words. You’ve got a chance now to start anew, and I suggest you make the most of it.”
Colin could only nod, his chest uncomfortably tight.
“Well now, son. What do you have to say for yourself, a married man? You’ve done quite well, haven’t you?” His smile was one of smug satisfaction. He reached across the table, the cheroot in his outstretched hand.
Colin leaned forward and took the cheroot, wincing as his head throbbed painfully. “I suppose so, Father. Though I’m certain Brenna might not think so highly of the bargain.”
“Well, when one plays with fire...” He waggled his brows suggestively.
“What do you mean by that?” Colin straightened sharply, groaning aloud as his stomach began to churn.
His father chuckled. “Your mother told me just what state she found you in with your future bride. A bold little chit, I must say. Going alone, unchaperoned, to your bachelor lodgings. A brilliant plan. I’m glad to see you heeded the siren’s call.”
“I’ll have you know it wasn’t like that at all,” Colin bit out through clenched teeth. “She did not come to my lodgings intent on seduction. Instead, she came to deliver some important information, information that I had requested. Furthermore, I can assure you she was not compromised, despite the state in which we were discovered. I agreed to marry her because it was the honorable thing to do, given the circumstances.”
“Hmm, quite a speech there, son. You’ll do well in Parliament one day, won’t you? Well, no matter. The long and short of it is you managed to snare quite a catch. Largest dowry this Season I’m told, with a generous inheritance of her own from those Scots who raised her.”
“Fat lot of good it does me,” Colin mumbled under his breath.
“I suppose you’ll also be in need of a town house in Trevor Square in which to set up a mistress?”
“Why would I want such a thing? As you’ve mentioned, I’m a married man now.”
“Married, son. Not dead. Often a man has needs that go beyond the marital bed. No shame in slaking them with a woman of your choosing, so long as you’re discreet.”
Colin’s face grew hot. He rose from his seat and leaned against his father’s desk, eyeing him coldly. “Are you suggesting I ‘slake my needs’ with some cheap tart, Father? Or do you only suggest dallying with one’s wife’s dearest friend, as you did? Were you so discreet with Lucy’s mother?”
His father’s face turned scarlet, his jowls wobbling in indignation. “I told you I would never again speak of that business, Colin, and I meant what I said.”
“That business? Is that what you call it? Lucy is your daughter,” Colin spat out. “Did you ever think what that business might have done to Sarah’s life if Oliver Abbington hadn’t married her? What would have become of Lucy? Have you ever considered how Mother would feel were she to find out? You betrayed her in the worst way, you bastard, and you sit there telling me—”
His father rose to face him, his face merely inches from Colin’s. “How dare you?” he bellowed, pounding one fist on the desk. “How dare you speak to me this way?”
Two full years of outrage sputtered to the surface, brimming over the precipice of Colin’s tightly guarded control. “How dare you put such a burden on our family? You think I carry around this knowledge with pleasure? I can barely stand to look my own mother in the eye, keeping such a secret from her. And Lucy—”
“Lucy does not know, nor will she.” His father’s eyes glittered coldly as they met Colin’s.
“Of course she knows,” Colin retorted before he thought better of it. “And it near enough killed her to learn such a horrible truth about the mother she remembered so dearly.”
The color drained from his father’s face. “Goddamn you, Colin. Told her, did you?”
“I hadn’t a choice.”
His father looked near apoplectic as he shook a fist at his son. “I ought to—”
“To what, Father?” Colin taunted. “Disown me? Disinherit me? If I correctly understand the laws of primogeniture, you can do nothing. I am your heir, and there’s nothing you can do to alter that fact. I am your only son, besides. At least your only legitimate son. Are there any other clandestine correspondences of yours I should be privy to? More packets of letters awaiting me at your solicitor’s office? Any other children born on the wrong side of the blanket who did not fare so well as Lucy did?”
“Get out of my sight, Colin.” He pointed to the door, his arm visibly quaking. “Go, until you can speak to me with the respect a father deserves from his son.”
“With pleasure,” Colin said, turning away from the man so violently that a wave of nausea washed over him. “And you can keep your town house and estate in Kent. I’ll make my own way, thank you.” On shaking legs, he stormed to the door.
Just as he reached for the handle, an oddly strangled, choking sound behind him forced Colin to turn back toward his father, who was as white as a specter and clutching frantically at his chest. His blue-tinged mouth was grotesquely agape as he struggled desperately for a breath.
At once it seemed as if the earth stood still. “Father!” Colin cried out, his voice muffled to his own ears. He lunged across the room and reached for his father’s sleeve, just as the man slumped to the floor, his eyes staring, unseeing, at the ceiling above him.
He knew in an instant that his father was dead. A cry of anguish rent through the night as Colin sank to his knees beside his father’s crumpled form. He’d killed him, as surely as if he’d run a blade through his heart.
Chapter 19
“Have the solicitors left?” Brenna asked as Jane stepped into the drawing room, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen.
With a nod, Jane hastened to Brenna’s side and took a seat beside her on the sofa, reaching for her hand. Brenna was grateful for Jane’s warm, soothing touch. She attempted a weak smile as Jane gave her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
“They left more than an hour ago, yet Colin remains in my fath—” She choked on the word. “In the study. He hasn’t eaten anything all day. I had Mrs. Millington send in a tray, but he sent it away, untouched.” Jane’s chestnut brows drew together.
“And how is your mother?” Brenna asked. “Will she get any rest tonight?”
“She’s doing as well as can be expected. She’s a strong woman. She finally accepted the laudanum the physician ordered, so she will sleep well tonight, at least.”
“I’m verra glad to hear it. And Susanna?”
“Susanna is in a bit of a state. She, too, is now enjoying the effects of the laudanum.”
Brenna nodded. “Mr. Merrill seemed verra worried for her.”
“Like Lucy, Susanna is increasing. I vow, her husband acts as if she’s the first woman to find herself in such a condition. I have no doubt she’ll get through this well enough, as her disposition is naturally cheerful.”
“And ye, Jane, how are ye faring?”
“Well enough. I sometimes wish I could allow myself to cry and carry on like Susanna does. But, alas, it’s not in my nature I’m afraid.”
“Nor mine,” Brenna said, remembering the sorrowful months that followed the Maclachlans’ deaths. “Holding back the tears is surely more painful than allowing them to fall freely. But we must each grieve in our own way.”
Jane nodded. “If only my brother didn’t worry me so. I hate to see him in such a state as this. Did you hear him bellowing at the solicitors when they first arrived? Saying he refuses my father’s title?” Jane shook her head, her eyes so full of sadness that Brenna’s breath hitched in her chest. “He’s convinced that Papa’s death was his fault, and he won’t be persuaded otherwise.”
“Och, ‘tis dreadful.”
“Isn’t it? Have you tried to speak with him since he shut himself away? Perhaps you can talk some sense into him.”
“Nay, but I thought I saw Lucy go to him.” Brenna’s stomach lurched uncomfortably at the thought.
“Lucy tried her best, but he sent her away.” Jane dropped her gaze to her lap. “I’ve never seen him so despaired, so broken. To be quite frank, my brother has a...well, a propensity for engaging in self-destructive behavior. Someone must save him from himself at a time like this. I know you’re only newly wedded, but still...Someone must try to get it through that thick skull of his that he’s not to blame for Papa’s death.”
Brenna nodded her assent, her throat aching. Poor Colin. “I canna promise anything, Jane, but I will do my best. He should not suffer through this alone.”
Both women rose. “I’ll go to him now,” Brenna said with a nod, then headed toward the study on wobbly legs.
Seconds later, she stood in front of the heavily carved door, her heart pounding in trepidation. Would he turn her away? And even if he did not, could she bring him a measure of comfort? She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She’d promised Jane she would try, and she owed it to her husband, besides. Without allowing herself to think upon it further, she rapped on the door.
Undressed (Undone by Love) Page 21
