An American Duchess (13 page)

* * *

The next morning, Nigel received a telegram, and he took the train to London, then a taxi to an address in Whitechapel. The row house in front of him was one of a Victorian tenement, with blackened and crumbling brick. He went up to the front door and knocked. He saw faces peering at him through the first-floor window. Finally, the door opened.

It had taken a year for his investigators to hunt down Lily Bell. He stood face-to-face with a thin girl with her hair chopped in an untidy bob. A blue dress hung on her. She held a small child on her hip—one of her siblings.

“Are you Miss Lily Bell?” he asked. “I am the Duke of Langford.”

“You! What do you want? What’re you going to do—set the law on me over the letters I wrote? It was all true. You killed my brother.”

She was the twin sister of a young man who had been in his division. “May I come inside, Miss Bell? I want to speak to you. I have come—” To apologize? How could he express his sorrow and regret and anger over what had happened to her brother? “I have come to try to help your family. To make things right.”

“Right? Me brother is gone for good. He was a good lad. And he was no coward! There’s not a thing you can do to make things right.”

“Lily, what is the to-do about?” The door opened wide. A woman stood on the threshold, glaring. She was an older version of Lily, wearing a dirty flowered pinafore and a brown dress.

“I am the Duke of Langford. I came to speak to Miss Bell. She has been writing me letters about her brother. I was Ernie Bell’s commanding officer in the War.”

“You were,” Mrs. Bell said. She went pale.
“You.”

“And I am very sorry for the tragedy that took place.” Since Mrs. Bell showed no sign of moving back and allowing him inside, Nigel continued, “Ernie was a good boy. He was young and he was frightened—”

“Our Ernie was a brave lad. He volunteered to fight for king and country. The rest of what they say... That was lies. I don’t believe a word of it. I won’t—”

“I have come here with the aim of helping you and your family. I would like to give you an amount to help you with your expenses. Paid each month—”

“We don’t want your charity,” Lily Bell said. “We don’t want nothing from you. You killed Ernie. That’s what you did. I’ll never forgive you for that! That’s why I sent the letters. How are we supposed to live without Ernie?”

“Quiet, Lily! You can’t say such things to a duke.” Mrs. Bell gave Lily a gentle push back into the house. She turned back to him, anguish on her face. “I don’t want charity. But there’s five of them—so many mouths. And there’s no work now. The eldest boys can’t find anything. The girls were in service, but they were told to come home. There wasn’t money to pay them.”

“I want to help you, Mrs. Bell. Ernie gave the ultimate sacrifice for his country.”

The woman opened the door so he could come inside.

He stepped into a house with sagging walls and tilted floors. A stale smell of sour milk, cabbage and strong lye soap made him struggle for breath. Lily Bell stood in the shadow of a narrow hallway. The look she gave him was filled with venom.

For it was true—no matter what he did, he could not bring her brother back.

After taking leave of the Bells with more promises of help, he went to his man of business with a heavy heart to make the arrangements. And learned Charles Fortescue had shot himself because he had been embezzling from Brideswell’s accounts.

There was nothing left. Nigel was facing complete ruination.

* * *

The rowboat glided across the rippling water of Brideswell’s decorative lake, the surface gilded by the low afternoon sun as Zoe watched from shore.

Zoe shaded her eyes. Captain Ransome was rowing and Sebastian leaned back in the boat, his hand trailing in the water. He looked casual, careless, but his gaze was locked on Ransome’s handsome face.

An ache wrapped around her heart. They looked so happy. They were obviously in love. At a moment like this, when they were alone, they could be a little more open about it.

She wanted love. And Nigel saw marrying her as a
punishment
for making love.

That horrible marriage proposal had made it plain that he didn’t love her. He wanted to wed her for duty. She would never do that—never trap herself for a lifetime with a man who saw her as an obligation.

And if she married Sebastian, she could not wed Nigel, not for a long, long time.

Sebastian lifted his hand and shouted, “Zoe, hello! Wait there.” He leaned to Captain Ransome, who was arching back as he rowed, murmured something, and Ransome looked over his shoulder and directed the boat toward her.

As they got closer, she picked her way down to the water’s edge, where reeds grew and ducks paddled in the shallows. “I need to talk to you.” She guessed there wasn’t any need to be circumspect in front of Ransome. “It’s about the engagement. Sebastian, it’s off.”

Now she knew what she was going to do. Because she couldn’t go through with it. That was the crazy thing. Despite his attitude, she couldn’t lose Nigel forever.

The oars splashed and the boat rocked as Sebastian half rose to his feet. He sat abruptly, hands on the gunwales. “Zoe, you cannot do that. My heart is torn in two and will never mend.”

“Oh, stuff it,” she called, using one of Julia’s expressions. “I know the truth.”

Sebastian pried the oars from Ransome, who was staring at her over his shoulder, and rowed hard, hauling the boat to shore. He jumped out, misjudged and sank up to his knees in murky water, ruining his light-colored trousers.

But he sloshed out as fast as he could. He clasped her hands, staring deeply into her eyes. “But I’m madly in love with you.”

“Do you really think I’m that gullible?” Lowering her voice, she said, “I know you’re in love with Captain Ransome.”

“Let me give you my side first,” Sebastian pleaded. “We’ll go somewhere and talk about this. I need a bloody drink. Have you got your motorcar about?”

“In the garage. But I’d rather just talk here.”

“They don’t serve drinks here and I’ve emptied my flask.” Sebastian took a silver flask from the breast pocket of his jacket, opened it and turned it upside down with a mournful air. “If you are going to dash all my romantic hopes, I need to be on my way to getting foxed first.”

“You never give up, do you? We both know I’m not dashing your romantic hopes.”

Like Father had taught her to do, she was looking at the cold, hard facts. Sebastian would be set up for life with his settlement from his marriage to her, and then he could pursue a love affair with Ransome. Of course, he had been planning to do that while
still
married to her. That made her mad. If he’d been honest with her and had wanted to go along with a sham marriage, she could forgive him.

But she couldn’t forgive him for being so damn selfish he didn’t care about breaking her heart.

Sebastian looked like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and she said coolly, “Okay, Sebastian, we’ll go and talk.”

She collected her car from the garage. With Sebastian in the passenger seat, she took off through the Brideswell gates, spewing gravel. She took the winding road at top speed, swerving around sheep, and she was satisfied to see Sebastian go pale.

“There! Stop there, Zoe!”

She slowed. Sebastian had the door swinging open before she parked, and she had to swerve so he didn’t lose the door to a light pole. He ran around and opened her door jauntily, sweeping her a bow. Then he offered her arm. People were watching.

Sebastian had tried to break her heart—and Nigel was succeeding in doing it. She’d been right all along. Being independent was the best thing.

But she didn’t want a scandal. Not that she cared about it, but now she thought of how it would hurt Julia, and Isobel and Sebastian’s frail mother, Maria.

Sebastian led her to a Tudor house—she recognized it since there were many rambling, fake Tudor mansions housing American millionaires. A sign creaked overhead.

She lifted her brow at Sebastian. “You want to talk privately in the village pub?” Then she realized she was arching her brow, just like Nigel did.

Sebastian didn’t seem to notice. “We had many a private conversation in New York speakeasies.”

“That’s different. Even when you’re shouting over the music, most people are too drunk to understand what you’re saying. No one remembers a thing.”

Sebastian led her to a table in the corner, then went up to the bar and ordered a pint and two gin and tonics. It was obvious why he’d ordered three drinks when he drained one gin himself, then sipped the beer. “Why would you want to break our engagement, Zoe?”

She had better get talking fast, before he was hammered. “The fact that you’ve been lying to me? Trying to make me fall in love with you, when you don’t care about me?”

Sebastian squirmed and took another drink. “It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”

“No, just to use me.” She had intended to be tough and pragmatic. But to her shock, a tear welled in her eye and dripped to her cheek. She brushed it away. She’d come to Brideswell looking to obtain freedom—control of her finances and her life. Why was she now wishing she could have love?

“I am sorry, Zoe. I’ve hurt you badly—”

“You aren’t making me cry,” she declared with pride. “It’s just...”

“What?” Sebastian’s green eyes held hers. “You spent a lot of time with Langy. He hasn’t put you up to this, has he? Breaking off the engagement. Is he the one who told you—?”

“No, he’s not. I saw you. In the garage.”

Sebastian went beet-red and drained his beer. “Zoe, is—is there something between you and Langy?”

She laughed bitterly. “Yes, Sebastian. Something happened between your brother and me.”

“What kind of something? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” In two long sips, half of Sebastian’s pint disappeared.

“Of course not,” she said impatiently. Then remembered he knew his brother a lot better than she did. “Has he ever hurt a woman before?”

Sebastian took another long sip. He watched her from under his long lashes. As if he were considering what he should say. “Not that I know of,” he said noncommittally.

“If there is something I should know,” she said, “I’d like to hear it.”

“The War changed Langy. Changed him a lot.” Sebastian put his hand to his jaw and winced. “Still hurts, even now, with the bruising gone. Before the War, he never would have punched me. I would push his control to its breaking point and he never lost it. Right now, I would liken him to an unexploded shell on a battlefield. Looks inert, but it’s waiting to go off.”

She pushed him all the time. The only way he’d gone off with her was sexually.

“What happened between you and my brother?” Sebastian asked.

“Something that means I shouldn’t marry you, if we were going to have a real marriage.”

His brows shot up. “I can think of one thing, but I can’t picture it of Langy. Not without clergyman and vows first.”

“It doesn’t matter what happened,” she said brusquely. “I should throw this pint in your face over the con you tried to pull on me. You wanted me to be trapped and unhappy because you wanted to get at all my money. More than just the
very
generous settlement I offered.”

He held up his hand. “Not true. It wasn’t about the money. I need a wife. All I have to do is find a blushing bride and produce one child, and I’ve scotched the rumors for good.”

“God, you’re selfish.”

“So I’ve been told. Nanny noticed it first. Thought it was one of those vices that should be smacked out of a lad. Never did a thing for me, though I did learn the joy of a good spanking.”

She rolled her eyes. Sebastian liked to shock. “I’m not going to marry you, Sebastian.”

He leaned back in his chair, looking grim. In a low voice, he asked, “You’re not planning to marry Langy, are you?”

“He asked me.” She saw Sebastian jolt back and his chair legs scraped the floor. “I said no.”

“You’re not willing to marry and divorce him?”

That hadn’t been what she had in mind at all. Not when she’d thought she was in love...

But was this the answer to her problems? And Langford’s? She would get her money. He would be able to still call himself a gentleman.

“He wouldn’t do it,” she said. “He doesn’t believe in divorce.”

Could she do it? Could she marry the Duke of Langford and then walk away? She could fly airplanes, drive fast. Was she tough enough to leave Nigel?

“I would have said no weeks ago,” Sebastian said. “But when Langy got back from London, he told me Brideswell is now absolutely teetering on the brink of ruin. We won’t last more than a few months before it will have to be sold. This is the modern world—and apparently a family’s fortunes can go from ruin to worse ruin in a little less than a day.”

“It’s gotten worse? How?”

“Father lost most of the money between taxes, gambling and the panic after the War. His death duties almost finished off the estate. Langy struggled with what little capital he could raise. Invested it to try to bring us back. That’s the modest income we’ve limped along on. These estates don’t pull in any money anymore. Most of the farms aren’t pulling their weight. They need modernization. Langy won’t change, of course. He wouldn’t throw out old widowed Mrs. Billings, the one who lost all her sons.”

“I’m surprised you know this much about the estate.”

“Every now and again I’m sober enough to pay attention.”

Beneath every one of Sebastian’s cavalier statements, she heard the brittle undercurrent. She knew Sebastian was unhappy. Just as everyone was at Brideswell.

“What happened was that Langy’s man of business, Charles Fortescue, was embezzling. Speculating. The companies he invested in went bankrupt, so he couldn’t pay back what he stole. He shot himself a few days ago, leaving the Brideswell coffers empty.” Sebastian got up. “Fortunately, this establishment still extends me credit.”

He bought another pint, and her another gin, because in the time it took him to go to the bar, she’d drained the first. It must have been strong. Her head already felt light. She looked up at the man who had charmed her in New York, who had told her, on the first night they’d met, that all was fair when it came to survival.