by Royal, Emily
“So, you did take her child away from her.”
“I did not…”
“Come, come,” Dexter said. “You’ve as good as confessed. You profess to be a man of honor—why not do the honorable thing and tell me the truth?”
“The truth!” Alderley scoffed. “Why should I give the likes of you such favor?”
Dexter folded his arms. “I shan’t leave until I have satisfaction,” he said. “If you don’t tell me what I want to hear, I shall return tomorrow and the day after—and the day after that, until you do.”
“Is everything all right, sir?” The footman appeared in the doorway. Alderley glanced from him to Dexter, then his shoulders slumped, and he sighed.
“Yes, Wilkes,” he said. “Now, leave us.”
Dexter waited until the footman had closed the door behind him, then he raised his eyebrows and waited.
“I gave the child to the cook,” he said. “She had a sister in the next county, who took it off my hands. At considerable expense to myself, I might add, but it paid for her silence. And a waste of money it was, too, for the cook told me the brat died shortly afterward.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Bloody bastard cost me a fortune from the day she was born.”
Dexter gritted his teeth. Was that all Alderley had seen Meggie as—a financial burden? And her child—a waste of money?
“What did the child die of?” he asked.
“Damned if I know. Does it matter?”
“It matters to his mother.”
“That disobedient little slut!” Alderley spat. “After all I did for her, she spread her legs for the first man who came along.”
“And you took Meggie’s child as punishment for her disobedience?”
“It was my right!” Alderley said. “She was bought and paid for—by me.”
“Why did you pay for Meggie’s upkeep if you hate her so much?”
“Her slut of a mother threatened to tell my wife if I didn’t pay for her upkeep,” Alderley said. “Then she ran off with the next man she took a fancy to and left me with the brat. But I’d made a promise, and so I stuck to it. I’m a man of honor, Hart. I keep my word.”
“A man of honor!” Dexter scoffed. “You’ll use the letter of the law—and a contract—to suit your purposes. You twist promises you make to deceive and betray. There’s a difference, Alderley, between sticking to your word and sticking to your principles.”
“Spare me the lecture on morals,” Alderley said. “You’ve had your answer. Now go, before I ask Wilkes to throw you out.”
Dexter laughed. “I’m no longer the helpless child who you beat, and neither are you the man wielding the whip. You get your thugs to do your dirty work for you.”
“And what about you, Hart?” Alderley asked. “How did you make your fortune so quickly? By offering the hand of friendship to desperate men in the form of a loan, then profiteering from their misfortune by seizing their assets when they cannot pay the interest?”
He rose to his feet, leaning on his cane.
“Tell me, Hart, are we so different? Or are we just two sides of the same coin? Like black and white on a chessboard, identical in every respect except for how we’re perceived. We both use our pieces to secure an advantage over our opponent. Haven’t you used your subordinates like pawns? Didn’t you intend to use my daughter Elizabeth to suit your ends by marrying a title? In giving you my bastard instead, I did what any other man would do. If you were in my position, you’d have done the same.”
“The difference between us is that I no longer see Meggie as a piece to wield against an enemy,” Dexter said. “I had thought she was my queen—the most powerful piece on the board. But she’s not. She’s the king. The one piece I’d sacrifice everything to protect. The one piece, who, without her, the game is lost.”
He moved toward Alderley until they were almost touching, chest-to-chest. “That night at cards,” he said, “the night you tricked me. You thought you’d sacrificed a pawn, a worthless piece to gain a strategic advantage over your enemy. But you were wrong, Alderley—so wrong. In giving her to me, you conceded the game.”
He looked into the eyes of his old enemy and saw nothing but a pathetic man who would never find peace. The hatred he’d harbored for Alderley for so many years had been extinguished.
Now, all he felt was pity.
He offered his hand. Alderley’s eyes widened, then he took it. His skin was paper-thin and translucent, blue veins visible beneath. Brown liver spots adorned the back of his hand, which shook with age.
“Perhaps, now, we understand each other,” Dexter said. “We’ll never part as friends, but perhaps it’s time to draw a line under the past and declare a truce.”
Alderley nodded and squeezed his hand.
“I’ll see myself out,” Dexter said. “Rest assured, I won’t visit again. Neither will my wife.”
As he approached the main doors, Dexter heard voices coming from across the hallway. A door opened, and two people walked out—Elizabeth and a man he never expected to see at Alderley Hall again.
George bloody Hanson.
Elizabeth gave a small gasp, but Hanson smiled, with the same look of satisfaction on his lips the day Dexter had confronted him about Daisy. Elizabeth patted her hair, but she could not conceal her disheveled state, nor the flush of female satisfaction.
“Dexter!” she cried. “What are you doing?”
“I could ask you the same,” Dexter replied. “Hanson—what a coincidence you’re here also. I had wondered why Fate kept drawing us together, but…” He glanced at Elizabeth, “I suspect there’s a mortal hand on the tiller.”
The answer to the riddles was sliding into place.
“Tell me, Hanson, what persuaded you to seduce Meggie?” Dexter asked. “Or, should I ask who?”
Elizabeth paled and gave Hanson a sharp frown.
Dexter laughed. “How long have you been her creature, Hanson? Eight years?” He turned to Elizabeth. “Tell me, woman, how long had you known you had a sister? Were you jealous of her? Even though she was tucked away in obscurity whereas you were the pampered lady, wanting for nothing? Did you see her as a rival for your father’s attention and set out to destroy her?”
She glanced at Hanson, fear in her eyes.
“Let me guess,” Dexter continued, “you persuaded Hanson to seduce her so that Alderley would send her away, is that it?”
“She was a slut—a bastard!” Elizabeth cried, “a disgrace to our name! I couldn’t have her tainting our reputation. Papa was a fool, spending time and money, which was mine and my brother’s!”
“Your brother left for the army as soon as he was of age,” Dexter said. “I doubt he’d care.”
“But I do!” she cried. “And I’ll do anything to get what I want. Just like you.”
“I don’t set out to destroy lives,” Dexter said, “nor cheat my way into getting what I want. Was the ruination of an innocent worth it for a few extra jewels?”
“Of course it was!” she cried. “It’s a small price to pay if I get what I want.”
Dear God—Daisy!
“And my sister?” Dexter asked. “Was she in your way also?”
Hanson shuffled on his feet, the guilt in the air so thick, Dexter could almost taste it.
“Why the devil would you be jealous of Daisy?” Dexter asked. “What was she to you?”
“She was your sister,” Elizabeth said. “You were inseparable. You wouldn’t look twice at anyone else with her around, and I wanted you for myself. When you rejected me, I had to do something.”
“Rejected you?”
“At the harvest festival,” she said. “Don’t you remember? I asked you to dance, and you rejected me in favor of your sister.”
Dexter shook his head. He’d rejected the advances of countless women almost as soon as he’d left boyhood. Had one long-forgotten rejection given rise to such catastrophic revenge?
“Is it true?” a voice said.
Alderley
stood in the hall, accompanied by a woman in a plain gray dress with a white apron and a bunch of keys hanging from her waist.
“Elizabeth?” Alderley shook his head. “Dear God, girl, I gave you everything you wanted, and more! Why the devil would you do such a thing?”
“Because I was always second best,” she said, “your second daughter…” She pointed at Dexter, “his second choice.”
“It’s time I left,” Dexter said. “Alderley, you have enough trouble on your hands without me adding to them.”
“Dexter…” Elizabeth pleaded.
“No,” Dexter said. “You’ve no right to call me by my name, Miss Alderley. I daresay Hanson here will accommodate your wishes. I hear he’s willing to do anything for a price. But have a care—your father’s funds are unlikely to run to a seventh season.”
He turned to Alderley. “I pity you, sir. Your problems are considerably greater than mine. I shall leave you to resolve them.”
“Mrs. Gordon,” Alderley addressed the woman next to him. “Please see our guest out. He’ll not be returning.”
“There’s no need,” Dexter said. He turned his back on them and exited the building. As he stepped onto the drive outside, the gravel crunching under his feet, he breathed in the fresh air as if to dissipate the evil from the atmosphere. Footsteps crunched behind him as the housekeeper followed him to the carriage.
“There’s no need to see me off,” Dexter said. “I’m going.”
“I must speak with you,” the housekeeper said. She lowered her voice. “It’s about the child.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“About wee Billy,” she said, “the child the master took.”
“How do you know about the child?” Dexter asked.
“From Mrs. Dawkins—the cook,” she said. “She passed last winter, God rest her soul, but in her final days, she told me about a child her sister took in and the secret she kept. She felt that sorry for that poor girl, but she was too frightened of the master to tell anyone the truth until she knew she had nothing to lose—not even her life.”
“I don’t understand, woman,” Dexter said. “What are you saying?”
“I dared not ask who the child was, but I knew it was something to do with the young woman the master brought onto the estate—the woman who married you, sir. I’d seen her with Mr. Arnold years before, then she disappeared. But then, she returned last winter, and I wondered who she was and why the master had hidden her away again. But then, he gave instructions for a party, and I saw her again when she came into the house. That was with you, sir, and I told Betty that I’d seen her before, but Betty said I couldn’t have because Mistress Elizabeth had told her that…”
“Have mercy!” Dexter cried. “Spare my ears. Can you not cease your prattle and speak plain English? What do you know of the child?”
“That he’s alive.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
No matter how many times Meggie read the note in her hand, she couldn’t will it to say more.
Meggie Dearest,
Forgive me, I must remain absent for a while longer. I shall return as soon as I can.
Trust me,
Dexter
She threw a log on the fire, which flared and crackled. Summer was over. Yesterday, as she’d walked Titan in the park, Meggie had felt the crunch of the first frosts underfoot.
Now, with a mug of coca on the table beside her and the little dog snoring in a basket at her feet, her thoughts turned once more to her husband.
Where was he?
When he’d sent her to the country, she’d relished the solitude and dreaded his arrival. But now, she found herself craving him. His silent, brooding presence gave her reassurance; his strong hands made her feel protected. And at night…
At night, his body gave her pleasure.
She glanced at the wall clock—almost time for supper. The smell of ragout had been permeating throughout the house all day. It seemed odd, eating on her own at a table big enough for twenty, in a room bigger than the house she grew up in, but she maintained the ritual. She was a lady now.
A door opened and shut below. Most likely Charles on an errand for Mrs. Draper. He’d said something about needing more logs for the fire, and the basket in the parlor was almost empty.
She heard three sharp knocks on the door.
“Come in!”
The door swung open. A man filled the doorway. His jacket was rumpled as if he’d been traveling for hours. Hair tousled, brow creased, he looked exhausted. But those intense blue eyes focused on her with their clear gaze.
“Dexter!” She jumped to her feet, almost tripping over Titan’s basket.
He held his hand up. Tempered by the expression on his face, she stopped.
“What’s the matter?”
He moved toward her and took her face in his hands, then brushed his lips against hers. She tasted salt on his skin and breathed in his aroma—woody spices mingled with the scent of dust from the road.
“I have something for you,” he said.
“A gift?”
“If you like.” He hesitated. “I trust I’ve done the right thing.”
He held out his hand, and she took it. His fingers curled round hers in a tight, desperate grip, as if seeking reassurance. If she didn’t know him better, she’d have thought he looked afraid—like a child, uncertain whether he was about to be punished.
He called out. “You can come in now.”
A woman appeared in the doorway. She wore a plain dress of black wool and a simple cap on her head where gray curls peeked out. Beside her, gripping her hand, was a young boy with a head of thick, brown hair. He stared at Meggie out of wide, expressive brown eyes, and Meggie felt a shock of familiarity. In his free hand, he held a small posy of flowers. They looked the worse for wear—withered and drooping as if he’d been clutching them for hours.
The woman dipped into a curtsey.
“Dexter, who are these people?” Meggie asked.
Dexter nodded to the woman. “Go on.”
“My name is Mrs. Goode, ma’am.” The woman nudged the child. “Introduce yourself, lad, as I told you.”
The child bowed. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. My name is William Goode.”
Dexter drew in a sharp breath.
“Did I do it right, sir?” he asked. “Isn’t that my name?”
He looked up at Dexter, fear and awe in his expression. Dexter must look terrifying to a small child with his powerful physique, dark features, and arresting blue eyes. Meggie pulled her hand free of her husband’s grasp and beckoned to the child.
“Come here,” she said. The boy glanced at the woman, who nodded.
“Go on, lad. You must do as she says now.”
Meggie crouched until she was at the child’s eye-level and held out her hand.
The boy moved forward and took it.
“How cold you are, sweetheart!” she cried. “How long have you been on the road?”
“We left this morning, missus. Just after sunrise.”
“That was hours ago!” Meggie said. “Would you like some hot chocolate? It’s perfect for warming you up when you’ve been outside.” She nodded to Titan, who slept in his basket. “I took my dog for a walk today, and it was so cold, I couldn’t feel my hands! But after a cup of chocolate, they’re as warm as toast, now. What do you think?”
“You’ve got nice hands,” the boy said.
Meggie laughed. “You’re a gallant little gentleman!”
The boy held out the posy of flowers. “These are for you.”
“Why, thank you,” Meggie said, taking them. “They’re beautiful. You know how to woo a lady.”
She looked up and saw Dexter and the woman—Mrs. Goode—both staring at her. Dexter’s eyes shone with pride, but Mrs. Goode’s eyes were wet with tears, and she let out a small sob.
Dexter placed his hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Mrs. Goode, remember my promise. You’ll not be parted from William.”
“Dexter, what’s going on?” Meggie asked.
Dexter stood behind the boy. “Don’t you know, my love?”
The boy craned his neck to look up at Dexter. “Did I do right with the flowers—Papa?”
“He’s your son?” Meggie asked.
“No,” Dexter said. “He’s yours.”
“M-mine?”
“Look at him, my love,” Dexter said. “Look at his eyes. The shape of his nose. That stubborn little chin.”
Recognition slid into place, and her heart leaped with hope, pumping blood through her veins, rushing through her ears. Her chest constricted, and she fought for breath as the world slipped out of focus.
“Meggie.”
Her husband’s voice drew her back, like a lighthouse in the fog, anchoring her to reality, and she focused on the child—the boy who stared at her with the same eyes she saw in the mirror every day.
“Billy…” she gasped, lifting her hand to her mouth. “My Billy?” She shook her head. “No, this can’t be real. He said you’d died.”
She looked up at her husband. “Is this a trick?” she cried. “Why have you done this!”
Dexter grasped her hands. “It’s no trick, Meggie,” he said. “I went to Alderley Hall in search of the truth about your son. Alderley had manipulated you all your life to control you. So I wanted to know for sure whether the boy…” he broke off, glancing at the child.
Whether he lived or died.
“My search led me to Mrs. Goode.”
A tide of hope swelled inside Meggie, but fear tempered her faith. She didn’t know if she could withstand any more heartbreak.
“Your husband speaks the truth, Mrs. Hart,” the woman said. “My sister was the cook at Alderley Hall. The master there had Billy sent to me, where I looked after him as if he were my own. Begging your pardon, ma’am, but we told Lord Alderley that he…” she hesitated and glanced at the boy, “We did it to protect the little mite, so he’d be left alone. He’s a sweet boy, ma’am, and he’ll give you no trouble.”
“Y-you looked after him?” Meggie asked.
“I always told him he had a mama who loved him and missed him.” She wiped her face, and the back of her hand glistened with tears. “My dearest wish was that you be reunited when it was safe. A child needs his mother.”
