His knees buckled and his head sagged forward as all the tension seemed to leave his body. He withdrew from her with a sigh, throwing himself down on the bed beside her so he could touch her face, his tongue tracing a lazy pattern at the base of her neck which gave her one final shudder of pleasure.
‘Lady Margaret Bethune,’ he whispered into her ear, ‘have I told you how much I love you?’
‘Do you really?’ she said, snuggling against him.
‘Do not sound so surprised,’ he answered, nipping her throat in pleasant punishment. ‘I adore you.’
‘No one has ever said that to me before,’ she said, still amazed.
‘If you stay with me, you will hear it every hour of every day,’ he said in a fervent tone, letting his lips rest on her skin. He reached into his pocket to check his watch, then began fastening his breeches. ‘It is getting late. Or should I say, it is getting early. If we are to get you home before sunrise, we do not have time to dawdle.’
She sat up, alarmed, reaching for the watch so she might see.
He patted her hand. ‘Do not worry. I will not let us be discovered. You are safe with me, always. But we had best get buttoned and laced and finish the last room.’
Safe. She did not feel that way. She felt dangerous and wild and reckless. Worse yet, she loved the feeling and did not want to lose it, even as his steady hands were returning everything to normal, helping her back into her gown, lacing the front and buttoning the panel, smoothing her skirts back down until they fell to her ankles.
He dropped a kiss on to the bare skin of her shoulder before doing up the last button. ‘The next time we do this, I will make sure we have time to linger. I want to see all of you, next time.’
‘The next time,’ she said with a dazed smile. He seemed so certain that there would be a next time. And the way this search was going, she was equally sure. There had been no conclusive evidence that her brother had done any of the things David accused him of. Soon, he would see that an exposé would be impossible. Once he had given up on the idea of punishing Hugh, they would be able to speak of the future. Then she would see if his talk of for ever was truth.
They went to the only room left, a small sitting room that appeared to share the duties of a library and office. David went through the writing desk, pulling out a stack of ladylike stationary and quills, as well as a larger pile of heavier paper, topped with the Scofield crest. ‘It is clear he does some of his correspondence here,’ David announced, holding up a quill. ‘He has a very distinct shape when cutting his pen nibs. I recognise it from the study at the town house.’
‘I wonder who he writes to that he would not want to include in the house post,’ she said. ‘It does not seem proper to come to one’s mistress’s house to write love letters to another woman.’
‘It was not particularly proper for Sterling to be courting both your sister and Miss Devereaux,’ he replied. ‘Yet it happened.’
Peg shrugged. ‘I have much to learn about men.’
‘And I sincerely hope you never learn it,’ he said, grinning and touching his hand to his forehead. ‘You are far too quick a study already.’
She laughed. ‘You did not seem to mind a few minutes ago.’ Her laughter faded as she turned her attention to the books stacked on the shelves in a dark corner of the room. ‘Oh, dear,’ she said, looking at the titles.
‘What have you found?’
She pulled out a book and handed it to him. ‘Medical Enquiries and Observations, Upon the Diseases of the Mind.’
‘Interesting subject matter,’ he said, opening the book and looking through it.
‘And there are others,’ she said, frowning. ‘The Pathology of the Lunatic. The Anatomy of Melancholy. A History of Bethlehem Hospital. Care and Treatment of the Mad.’ She stared back at David, feeling real fear for the first time in their investigation. ‘What was he trying to learn?’
David looked back at her, his eyes bright with discovery. ‘Perhaps he was trying to find a cure for a personal problem.’
‘No,’ she said with a disbelieving laugh. ‘No. That could not be right.’ It was almost easier to believe Hugh a premeditated murderer than a madman.
‘Can you think of what else it might be?’ he prompted, giving her the chance to locate a defence. But, for the first time, she could not immediately come up with an answer. Then, a letter fluttered out from between the pages of the book that David was holding. He picked it up with a frown and read.
From the Head Keeper at the Hospital for Lunatics at Newcastle upon Tyne.
Salutations to His Grace, the Duke of Scofield.
We are honoured by your interest in our hospital and more than willing to answer the questions you have posited in your recent letter.
If the problem with your friend were of a simpler nature, we might be able to recommend a medicine that would minimise the uncontrollable mania and mitigate the episodes of rage. Large doses of laudanum might help, in conjunction with regular bleeding and cold water baths.
Unfortunately, when the problem has progressed to the level you describe and multiple deaths have occurred, it is too late for moderate treatment. If the law is not to be involved, then I recommend permanent residence in our hospital, where the patient can be restrained from harming themselves or others.
If you are interested, a tour of our facility can be arranged. It is also possible for us to come directly to London to collect the patient and take them under our care. If you require anything from us, you have but to write and I will be,
Your obedient servant,
Phineas Dial, Physician
The room seemed to be filled with a strange sound. Or perhaps it was her own hearing that was failing her and the roaring was in her ears. It was probably just the pounding of her heart, or the desperate struggle to take air into lungs that could not seem to function normally. It occurred to her that she might be about to faint, which was ridiculous for she had never been the sort of girl to fall into a swoon when shocked.
But then, she had never had a shock quite so large.
She barely felt David’s hand as it took her by the elbow and led her to a bench by the window before she could fall.
‘You understand what this means,’ he said gently, then waited for her answer.
‘No,’ she insisted, not wanting to deal with the truth.
‘You brother has been researching his personal demons, trying to find a way to control them,’ David said, in a tone that could not be ignored.
‘No,’ she said again. But she could not seem to find the conviction to make herself believe the word.
‘He has even gone as far as to consider permanent commitment,’ David reminded her. ‘No one writing about a “friend” ever truly has one.’
To this, she could not manage a single word of argument.
He continued. ‘Even if you were to persuade me that there was a friend, Scofield clearly knows the identity of the murderer and has been complicit in hiding it from the public.’
She could not seem to control her breathing, which still came in short, shocked gasps as her mind raced over the events of the last few minutes. Had she been wrong, all this time? Was her brother really a madman who could not control his actions? Was she living with someone that might snap at any moment and take another life?
David had said he would help her get away before that happened. And after what they had done, she had assumed that, when this investigation was over, they would be together. But then, she had assumed that Hugh was innocent.
‘Are you still going to publish?’ she said, marshalling her panic and trying to see him as a reporter and not a lover.
‘How could I not?’ he said with a smile. ‘This is the piece of information I was looking for. I am sure, after I speak to this Phineas Dial, I will have even more details. Perhaps even the letter that your brother sent, admitting that his supp
osed friend is a dangerous killer who might need to be incarcerated.’
‘Then we are ruined,’ Peg said, wrapping her arms around herself.
He sat down beside her, reaching for her hand. ‘I warned you from the first that this was coming.’
She inched away from him with a shudder. She had been so sure that it would not happen, she’d ignored his warnings and befriended her destroyer. Worse yet, she’d loved him. And now, if she went to him before or after the publication of his article, the world would see her as the fool who had betrayed her brother. ‘He is sick,’ she said at last. ‘If he did what you think he did, he could not stop himself.’
‘He is dangerous,’ David corrected. ‘You and your sister cannot stay with him. I will talk with Alister and we will get you both away from him.’
‘But we cannot leave him,’ she insisted, horrified. ‘If he is ill, he will need us now, more than ever.’
He held out a hand to her. ‘It would be better if you come away with me now, before things become difficult. The longer you stay, the harder it will be for you to leave,’ he said. ‘Once my article is published, all of London will know you as the sister of a murderer.’
‘That is how they think of me now,’ she said, rising and moving away from him. ‘But I will not have them thinking that I aided in his downfall and then gave myself to his destroyer.’
She was surprised to see that he looked stricken. ‘But I thought—’
‘That there was a way to keep your original plan and have me, as well?’ she interrupted. It had been almost as foolish as her plan, to turn him away from vengeance. Or the idea that she could lie with him once and not see the happy memory destroyed by reality.
‘You said that my profession did not bother you,’ he replied.
‘Do not try to make this about your inferior birth,’ she snapped. ‘I do not care that you have to work for a living. But that does not mean that I can look away as you use your glib writing against my family,’ she replied. ‘If you want me...if you love me, you will have to choose.’
‘And if you loved me, you would not make me choose,’ he replied. ‘Scofield is a madman who murdered my best friend. He must pay for that.’
The room seemed to grow cold around her as she realised the magnitude of the mistake she had made. She had given her heart and her body to a man who would never want her as much as he wanted to see her brother hang. She moved as far away from him as she was able. ‘It seems we are at an impasse. You must do as you must do and so must I. That means that what we have shared is over.’
‘You cannot mean that,’ he said with a disbelieving laugh. ‘Only a few minutes ago, you swore you were mine for ever.’
‘A few minutes ago, my world was very different than it is now,’ she said, trying not to think of the letter and the promises she had made before seeing it.
‘Your world is just the same,’ he said softly. ‘It is only your understanding of it that has changed.’
Perhaps he was right. When she was sure Hugh was innocent, she’d had hope. Now, it was gone, replaced by the bleak truth of what her future was likely to be. ‘Then it is good that I know the truth. It will keep me from having any more foolish dreams about things...or people that I can never have,’ she said, staring at him and reminding herself that she had promised herself memories, not regrets. ‘Now, please, send for the coach that will take me home.’ Because, despite all that she had done to help David Castell ruin it, home was where she belonged.
Chapter Thirteen
He wanted to argue. He wanted to scream at the unfairness of it and throw every word of love she had spoken back into her face until she acknowledged his pain. Instead, he did as she asked and summoned the carriage. He escorted her to the door and helped her up to her seat. When he went to climb in after, she stiffened and said, ‘That will not be necessary. I can find my own way.’
‘On the contrary,’ he replied. ‘Someone must pay the driver after.’ In truth, there was no way he would allow a lady to travel unescorted so late at night. He needed to see her safely to the garden gate, at least. But he doubted she would be impressed by a show of chivalry now that she’d decided to cut out his heart.
Her lips pinched in an expression of distaste, but she made no further objections. They travelled in silence back to the neighbourhood of the Scofield town house.
* * *
The coachman stopped on the corner and David opened the door and let down the step, taking her hand to help her to the ground. He could still feel the gentle caresses that hand had given him in the bedroom, but now it was stiff as a marble statue inside her glove.
Then, she was walking away from him, down the street and disappearing through the gate without even a look back at him.
My God, what had he done? He had never laid himself bare before a woman as he had done for Peg Bethune. He had even told her that he loved her, though she’d given him no answering declaration. Instead, she had thrown his devotion back in his face and made him feel like a lovesick fool.
Yet he could not stop thinking about her. Perhaps she was right that she could not ally herself with the man who was going to ruin her brother. But it was not as if he was persecuting the family for no reason. What was happening now was the inevitable result of Scofield’s actions. He must have known that the truth would come out eventually and it would destroy his family.
If the Duke cared for his sisters as much as Peg claimed he did, he should have taken actions to protect them, when this moment came. He should never have refused the offers for the older girl and should have allowed Peg a Season to find proper suitors of her own. Now, he would be gone, leaving the girls to fend for themselves.
When that happened, Peg would need him.
For a moment, he allowed himself a fantasy of rescue. He would save her and she would be grateful. They would marry, just as he’d hoped. And then reality returned. He might have to rescue her, but she would never forget that he was both the cause of and the solution to her problems. She would grow to hate him for it, if she did not hate him already.
All the same, she could not be serious about ending with him now, without some kind of plan in place. They had lain together. That act, to him, meant a permanent commitment to stay with each other. At least he could not retract his promises until he was sure that no child was going to result from their intimacy. He had vowed to himself that he would never abandon a woman in the position his mother had been left in, to raise a baby without a name.
The upper classes were different. At least, the men were, judging by the example of his father, who seemed neither surprised nor embarrassed by having a son who did not share his surname. But David had thought that a woman like Peg would have been more concerned with the possible consequences than she had been. Could she really be that naive?
Perhaps she had made the decision to lie with him on an incomplete understanding of what was to come, just as she had when deciding to stand by her brother. She might think she could help him through the coming storm. But David was not even sure if ladies were allowed to visit the inmates of Newgate. If they were, they would attract all the wrong sorts of attention.
She was a beautiful young woman and would be fair game for predatory young men who offered help and protection, only to leave her no better than the lovely Miss Devereaux. If she turned out to be enceinte and unmarried, she would have even less protection from scoundrels.
The thought of what awaited her horrified him, as did the knowledge that he had made it even worse by taking her maidenhead. Her dismissal of him had been humiliating, but he would have time to lick those wounds in private at a later date. She might not want him as a lover, but he was not going to allow her to rid herself of him as a friend until he was sure she would be safe alone.
* * *
So, with the first light of day, he had sent a letter to the Scofield house, announcing that Mr Castellano had
recovered from his illness and would be returning for their next lesson.
Later that morning, he arrived at the front door, pomaded and smiling, fully invested in his old disguise. A servant took him to the music room, where, a short time later, a yawning Peg arrived, obviously still exhausted from the night’s activities.
He grinned at her and bowed, every bit the clown that he had pretended to be when he had taken the job.
She glared back at him and whispered, ‘Why are you here?’
‘We are not through with our lessons yet,’ he reminded her. ‘I cannot simply disappear without an explanation.’
‘Then I will dismiss you,’ she said, pointing towards the door.
‘Since you did not hire me, I think that action must be left to your brother,’ he replied.
‘And what action would that be?’ They both turned at the interruption to see the Duke standing in the doorway. Lady Olivia was at his side, trying not to look panicked that her usual escape plan might be uncovered.
‘Your Grace,’ David said with a subservient bow, trying to remember his accent.
‘Hugh,’ Peg said with an artificially bright smile as if there were no one else she would rather see. ‘Why are you not in Parliament?’
‘And why were you not in your bed at three o’clock in the morning?’ he replied.
For a moment, the Duke was the only one in the room who was not shocked to silence. Then, Peg put her hands on her hips and an outraged expression on her face. ‘Are you in the habit of checking our beds at night to see if we occupy them? If so, you have far surpassed normal levels of brotherly concern.’
Scofield laughed. ‘I do not have to check your bed when my reading is disturbed by the sound of my little sister sneaking through the kitchen at dawn after returning from God knows where.’ He turned to David. ‘It strikes me as odd that such spectacular disobedience has only begun since the arrival of our friend the dancing master.’
David responded with an owlish look of confusion, putting his hand to his breast in silent denial.
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