Forbidden (Regency Lovers 4)

by Carole Mortimer

  “But…?”

  His frown deepened. “There is no but, Clarissa. I have absolutely no quarrel with Harrogate.”

  She snorted. “Is that why the two of you eyed each other like adversaries when you arrived?”

  “You are mistaken,” her father answered her stiffly. “Harrogate and I barely know each other.”

  “I will learn the truth, Papa,” she warned.

  He scowled. “I shall be having words with Sophia when we return home regarding the disrespectful manner in which you continue to speak to your elders, despite her attempts to teach you otherwise.”

  Rissa smiled confidently. “And Sophia will tell you it is not being disrespectful to ask for the truth.”

  He sighed. “No doubt you are right.” He finished the last of his brandy before putting the glass down. “I really must speak with Harrogate now.”

  As dismissals went, it was not particularly pointed or hurtful, but however politely put, Rissa recognized it was, nevertheless, her father’s way of ending their conversation. “Very well, I shall allow you to have your way for the moment. But the subject is not forgot, only delayed,” she warned as she moved up on her tiptoes to kiss her father’s cheek. “Good night, Papa.”

  He pulled her against him for a long hug. “I really cannot express how pleased I am to see you are unharmed, Clarissa.”

  She hugged him back. “But I would not be so if it was not for the quick thinking and heroics of the Earl of Harrogate,” she reminded.

  A small smile curved her father’s lips when he released her. “I take note of your rebuke, my love. Now go to your bedchamber and rest. We have a long day of traveling ahead of us tomorrow.”

  Rissa was very much looking forward to seeing her stepmother and reassuring herself as to the other woman’s well-being.

  Unfortunately, seeing Sophia meant also saying goodbye to Zachary.

  After the kiss they had shared earlier, Rissa did not feel inclined to say goodbye to him at all.

  “You wished to speak with me?” Zachary continued to stand rather than take up occupancy of the chair behind his desk. In part because he felt too restless to sit, but also because he would feel far too much at a disadvantage having the tall and imposing Duke of Weston looking down on him. As it was, Weston still towered over him by two or three inches. “I understand from Ang—Lady Clarissa,” he corrected himself, “that congratulations are in order and that she is shortly to have a brother or a sister,” he added at the other man’s continued silence.

  The duke’s expression softened somewhat. “Thank you.”

  “I had no idea until you arrived that Ang—Clarissa was your daughter.”

  “Once made aware of my destination by Lord Catchpole, I, of course, cannot claim the same ignorance,” Weston drawled. “Would you care to finish the name you have twice been about to call my daughter?” He raised arrogant brows in challenge.

  Would he? No, Zachary damn well would not. But the question was too direct for him to do anything other than answer in the same way. “Angel,” he bit out, having no intention of explaining that, in his mind, at least, he referred to Clarissa as his Angel. “Because that is what she looked like last night, with the flames of the fire behind her when she jumped from the balcony into my arms,” he added as the duke continued to look at him.

  Humor twitched at the corners of Weston’s stern mouth. “Clarissa is far from being an angel, I assure you.”

  He nodded. “As I have since discovered.”

  The duke’s humor faded. “Indeed?”

  Zachary gave an impatient sigh. “I am not about to discuss Clarissa, even with her father, when she is not in the room.” He moved to pick up the brandy decanter. “Would you care for more?” he offered as he poured some of the amber liquid into a glass for himself.

  “Thank you.” Weston accepted the refill. “I cannot thank you enough for saving Clarissa’s life.”

  Zachary gave a hard smile. “I would have done the same for anyone.”

  “I am sure you would have.” The duke nodded. “But it just so happens that it was my daughter you rescued.”

  “A fact that must rankle.”

  “Not at all.” Weston moved to lower himself wearily onto the chaise by the window. “I am getting too old to be riding hell for leather through the day and night.”

  Zachary snorted. The other man might be approaching forty, but his physique was still that of a much young man. Fit as he was, Zachary did not fancy his own chances if the two of them were ever to face each other as physical adversaries.

  “There is no animosity between the two of us, Harrogate.” The duke seemed to pick up on some of Zachary’s thoughts.

  “Only awkwardness,” he allowed.

  Weston took a sip of his brandy before answering. “You were wrongly accused, and now your name has been cleared.”

  “And yet I still feel the eyes of accusation upon me whenever I go about in company.”

  A frown appeared between those dark gray eyes so like his daughter’s. “If that is so, then I am sorry for it. Sophia and I did everything we could during Royston’s trial last year to demonstrate our belief you were as wronged by him all those years ago as Sophia was.”

  Zachary breathed deeply. “I am aware of it. Unfortunately, some members of Society still choose to believe—excuse the reference—there is no smoke without fire.”

  Weston shook his head. “Then they are all fools.”

  A true statement which was of absolutely no help to Zachary. “I have the impression Rissa knows nothing of the events of eleven years ago.”

  The duke’s mouth thinned. “There is no reason why she should have been informed. Nor will I have her relationship with Sophia damaged by learning of it now.”

  Zachary did not miss the warning in Weston’s tone. “I have no intention of telling her.” He could not bear to have Rissa look at him with the same doubt and disgust as others in Society did.

  The duke placed his glass on the side table next to the chaise. “I am obviously here because of Clarissa.” He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “But I would have had to seek you out in the next few days in any case.”

  Zachary tensed. “Why?”

  Weston rose restlessly to his feet. “Because five days ago, someone broke into Weston Park. The nursery Sophia had taken such pleasure in preparing for the baby was destroyed. Sophia unfortunately caught her foot on one of the broken pieces of furniture and fell.”

  Zachary felt a jolt in his chest. He did not know Sophia Spencer well, but he knew enough to admire the woman for her fortitude and grace. “Good God, is she all right?”

  “A little shaken, as much by the break-in and damage to the nursery as from the fall. The doctor has ordered bed rest for a week.” His smile was rueful. “Something Sophia is not at all pleased about.”

  No, Zachary could not imagine the self-assured and independent Duchess of Weston would be anything but irritated by the inconvenience of the doctor’s dictate. “As much as I am concerned for the duchess’s health, I do not see what connection this incident has to me.” His jaw tightened. “I assure you, I was in London five days ago visiting with my lawyer. Something I am sure he would be willing to substantiate—”

  “Good God, Harrogate, I was not accusing you of being involved in the destruction of the nursery or Sophia’s fall.” Weston eyed him impatiently. “Has it occurred to you that it might be your own continued defensive attitude and distrust of people that is responsible for you feeling some in Society still hold you accountable for what happened to Sophia?”

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Zachary demanded, his hands clenched at his sides. “Well, we both know you are the powerful Duke of Weston,” he scorned. “But that does not give you the right to come into my home and lecture me as if I am no older than your daughter!”

  Weston’s brows rose at the verbal attack. “I apologize if that is what you think I am doing. It is only that I know, from the many scandals
surrounding my first wife before her death, that the only way to hold your head up in Society is to ignore their pitying or suspicious glances. Sophia has made a fine art of it this past year,” he added with obvious admiration for his wife.

  “She was the victim, not the supposed aggressor. Besides,” Zachary continued firmly as the duke would have spoken, “no one would dare to criticize her within your hearing.”

  “They are under pain of death if they attempt to do so, yes,” Weston confirmed in a hard voice. “But we are shifting away from my previous conversation,” he continued firmly as Zachary would have spoken. “How confident are you that the fire at Catchpole Manor was an accident?”

  “I— What?” Zachary was completely thrown at the suddenness of what seemed to be a total change of subject.

  The duke sighed heavily. “I have received word that seven days ago, Royston…left the asylum to which he was sentenced for his crime against Sophia and you and his attempt to murder me.”

  “Left?” Zachary echoed sharply. “How is that even possible?”

  “It is believed he escaped with the help of my former sister-in-law, Lady Susan Hampton,” Weston bit out.

  “I… But…Where are they now?”

  “No one knows as yet. But I have a man investigating the situation,” the duke assured grimly. “So far, he has managed to learn that Lady Susan has been a regular visitor of Royston’s these past five months, which is why I suspect her of being involved in his escape from that institution. Coincidentally, her visits there began not long after she learned Sophia is with child.” His eyes glittered with the anger not revealed by the evenness of his tone.

  Zachary gave a dazed shake of his head. “I fail to see the connection.”

  The older man sighed. “Shortly after Sophia and I met, she told me that she believed my sister-in-law had designs upon taking her dead sister’s place by becoming my wife and the next Duchess of Weston.” He grimaced at the very thought of it. “I have to admit to having been blind to the fact,” he added self-disgustedly. “But I trust Sophia, and her opinion, implicitly and have kept my former sister-in-law at a distance this past year. Susan’s visits to Royston, his escape from the asylum a week ago, along with the incident at Weston Park five days ago, and now the fire at the Catchpoles’ home where my daughter was a guest, all seem far too much of a coincidence for them not to be connected.”

  Zachary’s thoughts were racing. “If that is the case, I am surprised at your having left the duchess alone at Weston Park.”

  A nerve pulsed in the duke’s tightly clenched jaw. “Sophia insisted I come myself and collect Clarissa. And my wife is not alone,” he added. “I have placed guards both inside and outside the house and estate to ensure that Sophia is protected at all times.”

  Zachary’s gaze sharpened. “But you are saying you believe the fire at Catchpole manor was started deliberately, and that Clarissa is in danger of there being more such ‘accidents’?”

  The duke sighed. “Sophia and I discussed the matter as soon as news of the fire reached us. Taking into account these other circumstances, we both believe it to be a possibility, yes.”

  Zachary made his decision quickly. “When you and Clarissa leave tomorrow, I wish to accompany you.”

  The older man eyed him sharply. “What?”

  “I am coming back to Weston Park with you,” Zachary stated. “As long as you do not think my presence there will upset the duchess?”

  “I have already told you, Sophia and I believe you to have been just as much of a victim eleven years ago as Sophia was. Indeed, I am sure she would welcome the opportunity to thank you in person for having rescued Clarissa.”

  Zachary nodded. “Then, with your agreement, I should like to return to Weston Park with you.”

  “And if I do not give it?”

  “Then I shall find an inn nearby so I might add my presence as added protection.”

  “As I thought. Very well, Harrogate.” Weston nodded. “I owe you a debt I can never repay for saving Clarissa’s life. As such, you are more than welcome to accompany us to Weston Park and stay as long as you wish.”

  Which would be for as long as Zachary’s Angel was in danger.

  Chapter 5

  Rissa was heartily relieved that, once her father gave her permission to visit with Sophia, her stepmother, although propped up against the pillows in the ducal bed at Weston Park, did not look any the worse for her fall the previous week. There was warmth in her stepmother’s eyes, color bloomed in her cheeks, and her body was ripe with the child she carried.

  A ripeness that made it difficult for Rissa to hug the other woman. “Has my brother or sister been behaving?” she prompted affectionately as she sat on the side of the bed to hold her stepmother’s hand.

  “I believe my kidneys are a little battered and bruised from being kicked when I try to sleep at night, but otherwise, yes.” Sophia chuckled. “But I have to admit to being mightily intrigued that the handsome Earl of Harrogate decided to accompany you here?” she added speculatively.

  Rissa felt the warmth creeping into her own cheeks. After the way her father and Zachary had behaved toward each other at Harrogate Park, she had been beyond surprised to learn that the earl was to accompany them back to Weston Park.

  But there had been no opportunity for her to ask Zachary or her father as to why he was.

  Deliberately so?

  Rissa believed that was a possibility, yes.

  The three of them had breakfasted with the Catchpoles this morning before then going out onto the driveway to wave that family goodbye when they departed for the home of Lord Harold’s sister. As Lady Janet Banford’s home was only five miles away from Weston Park, the two young ladies had agreed to meet up again once they were both settled and recovered from the fire.

  With the luggage safely stowed on Rissa’s carriage, Zachary had chosen to ride his horse to Weston Park beside her father. Thus leaving Rissa to travel in the carriage with only her maid and so giving her no opportunity to speak with him or her father during the journey home.

  Her father claimed to have invited the earl to visit with them so that Sophia might add her own thank-you to the earl for having rescued Rissa from the fire. An explanation which did not quite ring true to Rissa after the awkwardness between the two men the previous night.

  It was, Rissa decided, very frustrating to be aged eighteen and without the same gravitas as Sophia with which to demand answers to her questions. “Papa invited him.” She shrugged.

  Laughter danced in Sophia’s deep blue eyes. “It is my understanding the earl gave him little choice in the matter. Do you have an opinion as to why that might be?”

  Rissa felt the color warm her cheeks as she released her stepmother’s hand before rising to her feet. “I believe the earl feels a certain…responsibility for my continued good health since rescuing me from the fire.” Was there not a saying that if one saved a life, then that life belonged to you?

  Rissa felt a delicious shiver run the length of her spine at the thought of belonging to Zachary.

  Sophia gave a shudder. “And very grateful your father and I are that he was able to do so.” She tilted her head. “Magnus tells me that the earl refers to you as Angel?”

  As far as Rissa was concerned, her father had been altogether too vocal during the ten minutes or so he had spent alone with Sophia before allowing Rissa to visit with her stepmother. “I thought him the angel of death come to take me when I saw him standing on the gravel beneath my balcony.” She evasively answered a different question than the one she had been asked.

  Sophia frowned. “Thank goodness he was not.”

  “Yes.”

  “Clarissa—”

  “Do you have any idea as to the reason Society treated the earl so shabbily eleven years ago and he still seems resentful toward them for it?”

  Sophia’s cheeks paled. “Did you ask the earl this same question?”

  “I did.”

  “And?�
�

  “He avoided answering me.” Something Rissa realized Sophia, with her many questions, was also doing. “Papa did too, when I asked him.” She frowned.

  Sophia attempted a smile. “Perhaps that is because it is a subject best left in the past.”

  She shook her head. “I do not see how it can be when it has resulted in the earl living such a lonely existence all these years.”

  Her stepmother frowned. “You like him?”

  “I do.”

  “How much?”

  Rissa’s cheeks blazed with color. “He is…unlike any other gentleman I have ever met. And please do not say I have not met many.” She rolled her eyes. “I had met enough of them to realize that Zachary Noble is different. Special,” she added with another blush.

  Sophia nodded. “Then I shall try talking to him on the subject of the past when I thank him for rescuing you.”

  Rissa’s eyes lit up. “You would do that?”

  “I said I would try,” Sophia reminded. “But it will then be up to the earl whether or not he chooses to discuss the subject any further with you,” she warned.

  Rissa nodded, knowing she would have to settle for that answer.

  For now.

  “I believed you had retired for the night?” Zachary eyed Rissa warily as she quietly let herself back into the dining room, where he sat alone, drinking a glass of the duke’s brandy. His tension increased when she closed the door behind her. “You cannot be alone with me in here,” he rasped in alarm as he surged to his feet.

  The duke had dined with his daughter and Zachary, no doubt for propriety’s sake, but then immediately excused himself the moment the meal was over so that he might go upstairs and spend the rest of the evening with his wife. Rissa had left the dining room when her father did. Only to have now returned.

  Rissa seemed unperturbed by his warning as she stepped farther into the room. “I decided it was very rude of us to both leave you here on your own.”

  Zachary was not fooled for a moment by that look of innocence on Rissa’s face. “I do not think your father, or Society, would agree with you.”