Duchess Decadence (22 page)

“Treason,” Harrison whispered.

Wynchester tapped his fingers on the table. “You were not imprisoned by accident. Your incorruptibility was well known.”

“Damn!” was Harrison’s succinct reply.

“You’ve been seeking a way to prove Eustace acted as Kasai, enemy of the Company, when you should have been seeking to prove Eustace, friend of the Company, acted as Kasai.”

Harrison whistled. “How do you know? Do you have names?”

Wynchester withdrew the packet of letters from the lining of his great coat. “The letters were in code, but have been translated. I trust you will do your best to uncover the rest.”

Harrison gave him a hard look. “And you? What will you be doing?”

“Eustace’s conspirators believed he was acting against the King in my name.” Wynchester set back in his chair. “You will be evicted, but not by me. I will be tried for treason, Harrison. The crown will take everything I own.”

“That will not happen,” Harrison replied.

“Eustace has made attempts on my life. I stumbled across his connection to the Nurse—but how many others do as he bids? It’s my death or his. I must move against him first.”

“Randolph and I have been working with the Company, the Privy Council, and a number of trained associates—including Sir Bronward Layton, nephew to the man Eustace blamed for his actions…the missing Under Secretary. With these,” he touched the papers, “and what we already know, perhaps we can prove your innocence. There is still some chance the Under Secretary will be found, as well.”

“And what if he is found and
is
one of the conspirators? Eustace
said
he acted in my name.”

“Give me time,” Harrison said.

“I wish I could,” Wynchester replied. “If I die, Eustace becomes duke.”

“And if you murder him, you will be hung.” Harrison leaned forward. “Think what
that
would do to the duchess.”

“I
am
thinking of the duchess,” Wynchester said through his teeth.

As soon as the words had left his lips, the truth burned his blood. He had failed the duchess—
his
duchess—in every way. He had kept her at a distance. When she had spoken highly of Emma, the dowager duchess, he’d scoffed—when Emma could have told him more about the father he had not truly understood at all. When London was burning, he’d chosen the royal family over her. And when proper care may have saved their child, he’d given her the widow’s poison.

He’d trusted the wrong people. He’d made the wrong assumptions. What were his pithy gestures—a piano, a rose garden, repaired folly—to those wretched facts?

He had one last chance to do something that would truly protect her, and he would not fail again.

He fixed Harrison with a gaze of terrible resolve. “I will confront Eustace tomorrow night. And I am trusting
you
to ensure my duchess and the dowager safe passage to the continent.”

“The duchess will not leave you.” Harrison’s expression was equally certain.

Wynchester took a long draught. Thea Marie had used the same words…
I will not leave you.
And then, she’d added,
I love you.

St. Swithin
, he loved her, too. He loved her more than his title, his earthly goods…his very life. He had not told her, had he? He’d lived for the song in her voice. The light in her eyes. The comfort in her touch. …But she would never know.

Too late
. He’d lost his chance. He’d opened the door and told her to do what she did best. Run.

“You think the duchess will not leave me?” He only wished Harrison’s folly was true. “I assure you, she is already gone.”

…

Once the Doctors’ Smith heard the duchess intended to go to London, they insisted she not go alone. Using postillion horses to pull his light but stable carriage, the younger Dr. Smith transported Thea and Polly. Night traffic was sparse. Thea carried an affidavit reporting the worst of Eustace’s early crimes, signed by the elder Dr. Smith. She could not say it would help, but she was determined to use every resource.

The elder Dr. Smith had attempted the Nurse’s arrest, but when they arrived, they found she had taken her own life—poison, of course. Beside her feet, the box where she had kept her letters lay open and empty.

When the carriage slowed to a stop outside Lord and Lady Randolph’s home, the silver light of night had turned to dawn’s misty gray. Sophia received them, despite the early hour. The doctor accepted Randolph’s offer for a room where he could rest. Polly and Thea and Sophia settled into the front sitting room and Randolph firmly closed the door.

“Oh dearest,” Sophia said soothingly. “What’s happened?”

Thea recounted the events of the past twelve hours, while Polly filled in details. When they finished, Randolph’s expression had darkened and Sophia’s face was stark with strain.

“If what Wynchester told you is true, no wonder we could not unmask Eustace as Kasai. We were looking for Company enemies—not conspirators from within.”

Randolph’s butler knocked on the door. “Mr. Maximilian Harrison and Lady Vaile.”

“Quite a morning for visitors,” Sophia remarked.

“Quite,” the butler replied.

Harrison unsurprised gaze fell to Thea as he entered with Lavinia securely at his side. “Wynchester assured me you would be preparing to leave.”

“Did you believe him?” she asked.

“No,” Harrison said. “But he is certain. He’s trusting me to deliver you and the dowager to a packet because he has challenged his brother to a duel, tonight.”

“A duel?” Sophia asked.

“Yes,” Harrison replied. “To be held in the ballroom of the old Wynchester mansion, using Worthington ancestor foils.”

“
Now
he chooses sentiment above reason,” Thea said derisively. “Must he be thief taker, judge, and jury all on his own? How are we to save him from himself?”

“How much,” Harrison asked, “did he tell you?”

“Everything,” Thea said. “I think.”

“What was in those letters…” Harrison’s voice faded as Lavinia put her hand on his arm.

“Baneham,” Randolph interjected, “talked of conspiracy. This fits what he described—elements within the Company, plotting to overthrow the crown.”

Harrison set his elbows on his knees. “There is one thing I do not understand. Baneham was murdered in 1781, and the sapphires lost until last month. But, according to those letters, Eustace used the sapphires to buy into company influence—influence he believes he still has.”

Randolph drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Eustace does not know they had come into Baneham’s possession, then.”

“What is in those letters,” Sophia said, “is what Eustace
believes
—not, necessarily, what is true.”

“Parliament,” Randolph said, “formed a second secret and select committee that year to look into Company abuse.”

“Since then,” Harrison said, “Parliamentary leadership has been in a constant state of flux, North, Rockingham, Shelburne, then the Fox-North coalition, now Pitt the younger…”

“Baneham,” Randolph said, “was not working alone.”

“Not surprising,” Sophia added, “he always worked for the highest bidder.”

Randolph looked at Harrison. “Has Sir Bronward turned up anything in his search for his uncle?”

“No,” Harrison said.

“Bronward,” Randolph said derisively. “What use has he been?”

Polly began to cough and they all turned to stare.

“I think,” Polly said, “Mr. Pitt can help.”

“The leader of the House of Commons?” Sophia asked.

“You said you worked for the Under Secretary.” Lavinia frowned. “What do you know?”

Polly bit her lip. “I know Sir Bronward is nobler than he seems. And Mr. Pitt will help, I promise.”

“Miss Jakes,” Randolph said darkly, “I would like a word.”

Randolph pulled the maid aside and spoke quietly to her in the corner. While they conversed, Lavinia reseated herself beside Thea.

“There is something else in those papers,” Lavinia said.

The pity in both their expressions brought Thea’s hand to her bodice. “What is it?”

“The letters discuss the loss of your babe,” Lavinia voice was barely above a whisper. “Eustace’s nurse gave you juniper—which can cause a miscarriage.”

Sounds in the room faded to silence. Thea’s hand fell—irrationally, yet instinctively—to her stomach. The draught given her by the widow Norton—the
draught
had caused the loss of her child?

It was almost as if she could hear the slow beat of her heart in her ears.

The event that had crushed her to ash—left her scattered and weak and hopeless—had been orchestrated by
Eustace
? Never mind a duel. She would kill him herself. Shoot him through the chest where his heart should have existed.

“Thea…” Lavinia called.

She blinked until Lavinia came into focus. She became aware of a greater threat than her own pain.

“Oh God,” she said.

“You will survive this,” Lavinia assured.

“I will,” Thea breathed. “But Wynchester…
he
thinks he is avenging me!” She shifted in her seat. “Polly, are you certain Mr. Pitt can help?”

“Yes,” Polly said.

“I cannot waste a minute,” Thea said. “Let us go!
Now
.”

Chapter Fifteen

Pitt entered his sitting room, his clear, intelligent gaze setting briefly on Polly before he addressed Lord Randolph.

“I am here,” Randolph explained, “at the Duchess’s insistence. And against my own inclination.”

“Well then,” Pitt turned to Thea, “how may I be of service, Your Grace?”

Thea took a deep breath. “I have heard it said, Mr. Pitt, you do not trust women.”

Pitt lifted an imperious brow. “You have been misinformed. I may have no wife, but my passion is politics and politics are a demanding enough mistress.”

“Politics,” Thea repeated. “The word holds a taint of insincerity and dirty dealings.”

“Do you think so?” Pitt said with a half-smile. “I believe love of country is the noblest love.
Someone
must watch Mother England so her people can…” his amused gaze settled on Randolph and Sophia, “…propagate.”

Thea cleared her throat. “Last April you challenged Fox to bring forth a bill that would regulate the East India Company.”

“I did,” he confirmed.

“And,” she narrowed her eyes, “you have benefitted from Fox’s failure.”

“Like the rest of the country, I was stunned by the precipitous fall of the Fox-North coalition. Just what do you imply?”

“You are,” Sophia spoke, “barely twenty-four and already leader of Parliament by invitation from the King.”

“And,” Thea added, “that was the second time the King offered the position, was it not? The first was last year, just before you challenged Fox. And before Fox’s bill failed, you had secret meetings with a man swaying votes on the King’s behalf.”

At this, Randolph gave a little nod, acknowledging he was the source of that information.

“I urged Fox caution. He did not listen.” Pitt sighed heavily. “The question of the Government’s role and responsibility for the East India Company has dogged Parliament for more than a decade. Now, as I said,” Pitt looked rather bored, “love of country is my motivation. If I can see clearly how others are blundering, is it not my duty to step in?”

The Furies gave no answer.

Pitt continued, “Allow me to guess why you are here. Certain directors and proprietors intended government seizure of Company assets.”

Randolph stepped forward. “How long have you known?”

“Lord Randolph, there is no shame in failing to see the whole when you’ve only been intrusted with a piece. Baneham uncovered the plot, but before he could coerce, intimidate, or destroy all players, Baneham—very
in
conveniently—died. The Under Secretary continued Baneham’s work. Kasai had bribed key players—but no one could identify him.”

“Lord Eustace Worthington,” Thea said, “has been playing the part of Kasai.”

“I know, thanks to the Furies.” Pitt actually smiled. “When the East India Company’s chief negotiator is murdered,” Pitt turned his gaze on Sophia, “and his daughter turns his home into a gaming hell, I made it my business to notice.” He set back in his chair. “Randolph, I have had the records you were hired to procure.”

“How?” Randolph asked.

“Since Helena Baneham and I came to an accord,” his gaze returned to Sophia. “My condolences. Your sister was unpredictable, but an excellent negotiator, and was persuaded to side with her country’s good…in the end.” He folded his hands behind his back. “The conspirators, with the exception of Eustace, are no longer a threat.”

Thea stepped forward. “Wynchester believes he will be tried for treason.”

“I was not certain if he was involved,” Pitt said, “which is why Lord Randolph and Mr. Harrison were asked to keep him in the dark.” Pitt turned to Thea. “You Furies have been most helpful—along with a trusted friend and,” Pitt’s gaze fell on Polly, “his future wife.”

“But who—?” Thea frowned.

“Sir Bronward Layton,” Pitt said.

“Of course,” Lavinia cried. “Sir Bronward has been at every Fury Soiree from the start. He was there the night Mr. Harrison first attended and the night you lost your wager to Lord Randolph. He was there the night Wynchester arrived drunk.”

“So,” Randolph said ruefully, “not so incompetent after all.”

“He was working with you?” Lavinia asked Harrison.

Harrison nodded.

Laughing, Sophia glanced to Polly. “The future Lady Layton, I presume.”

“I am sorry, Lady Randolph.” Polly turned her gaze to Randolph. “My part in this was not intended. I met Lady Randolph quite by accident when I was fleeing my position at the Under Secretary’s madhouse. I,” she blushed, “did not think Sir Bronward could be persuaded to marry me.” Her blush deepened. “He found me, however. And offered for my hand. I wouldn’t have said yes, but for you ladies. You made me believe I could better myself.”

“And the Under Secretary?” Randolph asked.

“He went into hiding at my request,” Pitt said. “I couldn’t have a loyal agent charged on Eustace’s word, could I?”

“Does he work for you or the King?” Randolph asked.

Pitt shrugged as if there was very little difference. “Our interests are united. Eustace could have been a
serious
nuisance, but for the Furies.” He looked at Lavinia. “Lady Vaile and Mr. Harrison kept Eustace from uncovering records of my meetings with the company.” He looked at Randolph and Sophia. “Lord and Lady Randolph thwarted his plan to gain Baneham’s Company shares.” His gaze fell at last to Thea. “Your reconciliation allowed my agents to finally uncover the truth.”

“Wynchester will not be tried for treason?” Thea asked.

“No,” Pitt replied. He cleared his throat. “I have put together a bill, with input from King, Company, and opposition alike. Compromise is a violent beast, but on occasion she must be fed. When
my
East India Company bill comes to vote, may I count on your husband’s support?”

Thea turned to Harrison. “We have to stop the duel!”

“By all means,” Pitt said, “stop the duel, but remind your husband to vote.”

…

To Thea, it seemed impossible a duel to the death could take place inside a stately mansion situated on the corner of a beautiful, tree-lined square, but as soon as she saw the grim features on the older Mr. Bates, Thea knew the duel had already begun.

When a clog of horses and carriages and carts had slowed the carriage carrying the Furies, Mr. Harrison, and Lord Randolph, Thea had leapt out, refusing to listen to her friends’ protests. Now, out of breath and haggard, she wished she had at least one of the men by her side—
they
could get by an obstinate Bates.

The butler crossed his arms over his chest. “His Grace gave orders. I am not to let you in.”

“I cannot be too late,” said Thea.

“Thea!” she heard Lavinia call from behind, her breath coming fast, as if she had followed Thea on foot. “Emma!”

Thea understood Lavinia’s intention at once—
the secret passage from the dowager’s house
.

She lifted her skirts and rushed from the old Wynchester mansion to its neighbor. Emma’s butler was holding open the door, and Thea followed Lavinia up the stairs and into the room containing the swiveling bookcase that created a passage between a bedchamber in the dowager’s to a bedchamber in the Wynchester mansion. Lavinia used the latch to open the passage and Thea rushed through. From there, she followed the terrible sound of raised voices and metal clashing against metal toward the old ballroom.

“Face the truth, dear brother,” Eustace yelled. “I will make a better duke.”

“You,” Wynchester sneered, “who care for nothing but your own gain?”

“You,” Eustace said, “are a slave to your passions.”

A clink. And then another.

“Better a slave to passion than to greed.”

“A Duke is born to privilege,” Eustace’s voice grew louder, “with a responsibility to lead.” He spoke his mother’s words, punctuated by terrible silences. “He is no mere citizen to be a slave,” another silence, then a terrible screeching-steel sound, “to something as mercurial…as sentiment.”

“Lead,” Wynchester said, “yes, lead. Lead with the greatest good,” a clink then silence, “always in mind. Lead with a love of his
country
.”

“Just,” Eustace said with a wild thrust, “admit Duchess Decadence made you weak.”

“Thea Marie made me strong,” Wynchester replied. “And I will kill you for the loss you caused.”

“I could not allow another heir,” Eustace replied in a tone of dark triumph.

Thea yanked the doors. The sounds of Randolph and Harrison forcing their way past Bates filtered up the stairs. The sound of metal clattering resumed at a furious pace.

She burst into the hall. “Stop!” Bootfalls stopped somewhere behind.

“Do not move.” Randolph’s voice was deadly and he passed Thea, flintlock raised. “Either of you.”

With his gaze fixed on his brother, Wynchester spoke to his wife. “All is lost, Thea Marie. You must let me have vengeance. I will not fail you…this time.”

“You have never failed me and all is
not
lost.” She brushed aside her tears. “You are cleared. William Pitt has taken your part.”

Wynchester turned slowly. His face was blotchy and red, but hope had dawned in his eyes. Then, it flickered out.

“It’s true!” Thea cried. “You see, you do not need to do this.”

“Kasai,” Harrison said darkly, “will hang for his crimes.”

Eustace cast a soulless glance from Harrison, to Randolph, to Thea, and then to Wynchester. “Have you told her
you
gave her the poison that caused the loss of her child?”

One look at Wynchester’s defeated, pain-filled gaze, and Thea knew that he believed she would leave him again.

“I truly hate you, Eustace.” She spat.

“A sentiment I wholeheartedly return.”

Wynchester lifted his sword.

“No!” Thea threw herself in-between.

“Why shouldn’t I kill him?” Wynchester asked.

“Kill him and you’ll be tried for murder,” Thea said.

“He’s cost me,” Wynchester blinked, “you.”

“No,” she put all her love into her eyes, “he has not. He
could
not.”

Wynchester visibly swallowed. “You only came back out of duty.”

“I came back to save you. Instead, I saved me.” She lowered her voice to a whisper only he could hear. “Spare him, Wyn. Spare him because I want the life we should have had, too. Spare him because I could be carrying your child.”

The fight went out of his shoulders.

“The duchess,” he spoke to Eustace, “wishes to spare your life.”

“No, Wyn. I wish to spare you. End this duel. Choose me.”

“I could never choose another.” Wynchester gave her a crooked smile. “I love you, Thea Marie. I
love
you.”

He could say it again and again and again, and she would never grow weary of the sound. She reached and, out of the corner of her eye, Eustace lunged.

…

The smell of gunpowder filled his nostrils and his ears rang with the terrible crack. Wynchester grabbed Thea, but it was Eustace who fell from mid-air to crumple, and his sword clattered to the ground. Wynchester glanced past Thea. The dowager stood in the doorway, flanked by the constable on one side and her man on the other. He held a smoking flintlock.

“Excellent shot,” the constable said. “Another second and he would have driven his sword through the duchess.”

Wynchester clasped her against his chest, not certain he’d ever be able to let her go. He let Randolph and Harrison take charge of the scene—he did not care what happened, so long as Thea Marie was safe.

The dowager crossed the room to stand at his side.

“Swithin,” she said tenderly. “You’ve finally done your father proud.”

“Swithin!” Thea pushed him away and glared at him through her no-longer-tearing eyes. “Your Christian name is
Swithin
.
Now
I remember! Wynchester! How
could
you use your own name as a curse?”

He shrugged. “Swithin was the Bishop of Winchester and is the patron saint of Winchester Cathedral. Winchester—Wynchester…my father’s joke, I suppose. I hated it.”

“Well,” she said placing her fists on her hips, “you will stop at once. I allow no one to disparage my duke.”

“Ah, Thea Marie.” He half-smiled. “If you forbid it, I must listen. I prefer Wyn—at least from you.”

She wiped a tear from her eye. “I am sorry, Wyn.”

“As am I, Duchess.” He sighed, looking down at his brother. “As am I.”

“He tried to kill you.”

“And I was out for his blood,” Wynchester agreed. “The sight is no less affecting. He was my brother.”

She came forward and took his hand. “Come away, then.”

“Yes,” he allowed his duchess to lead him into the corridor and down to what had once been his father’s receiving room. The dowager followed.

“Your Grace,” he looked at the dowager.

“Emma,” she corrected, “please.”