GypsyDukeEpub (36 page)

No one knew. They were foot-soldiers who'd been ordered to retreat.

Luckily, this was the only type of soldier they met for a while.

When they reached a gap in the road, John called a halt. He left Kitty in the coach, but she stuck her head out the window to listen.

"It is insane to proceed this way. Eventually, we will come upon officers who will ask questions. I cannot risk Kitty any further, and although the bleeding has stopped, I fear Ardaix is not for such a long journey. It would be better if they returned to England now. Newport
and I will continue to Wellington."

How dare he? She'd just found him again, and he wanted her to leave? Well, she wouldn't do it.

But the others agreed with him.

They made plans around Kitty as if she wasn't there. No one listened to her objections, least of all John. He acted as though he'd transformed into a different person during her wild ride with Mr. Newport. It hurt so deeply she finally retired to the coach. At least there, she could not experience his indifference.

Chapter 16

When John had arranged everything to his satisfaction, he walked to the coach to confront Kitty. He didn't look forward to the audience he must have with her, but she must be made to understand. Her life mattered more to him than anything.

When he opened the door, he was struck by the calm picture she presented. She sat on the seat, hands in her lap, hair neatly in place, a testimony to women of Quality. Even rumpled and soiled, there was no mistaking her regal bearing.

With a sharp pang, it brought home his own lack. He was a bastard, a gypsy, and a spy. Not one of those characters held any honor. Kitty was better off without him.

He stepped into the coach. Her face lifted toward his with such hope it pierced his heart, but he forced himself to focus on the situation.

He sat across from her. "I want you to leave. Go back to Somerset Park. There is nothing more you can do here."

"All right."

What did she have planned now? He looked at her suspiciously. "What are you plotting, Kitty?"

"Nothing. I realize my presence distracts you. If I am safe, you will come home more quickly."

That had gone more easily than he supposed, but now he had something else to argue. How best to put it?

"There's something you should know. Whilst you were separated from us, I learned something." He sighed. There was no easy way to put this. He blurted it out quickly. "The duke wasn't my father. I am a bastard gypsy. Ardaix is my father."

"I do not understand…"

Her eyes were wide with shock, and he longed to take her into his arms, but it was better to act now as they would go on. He kept his hands firmly at his sides. "Neither do I, but it is the truth. The inheritance from the duke is not mine. He was never my father."

Kitty held her arms out wide in a placating manner. "John, a father is not just the man that gives you life. It is the man who cares for you, who raises you to be the person you are."

"Then mayhap I have no father, for both men who claimed that honor treated me with harsh words or indifference."

"I know it will be difficult to hear, but there is a Father who has cared for you since before your birth and watched over all the bitter experiences you suffer with his arms held wide."

"Of what do you speak, Kitty? I feel not the need for riddles."

"Plainly put, God loves you. Everything you have experienced has made you stronger, not destroyed you. His hand is on your life, leading, guiding, and yes, loving you. And if you let him, he can take away the bitterness you feel. You can find forgiveness."

"Why do you believe this?" He had never understood her faith.

"Because I have asked him each day to keep you and show you Who he is. Your life has been one big rescue attempt on his part. You need his Son, the greatest rescue of all."

That was no answer. John shook his head, moving to the door.

"I need no one. Goodbye, Kitty. I give you leave to do whatever you wish with your life."

"I wish to wait for you. Come home." Tears filled her eyes and cascaded down her face.

"There are no words of love or poetry that can change what I am."

She put her arms around him, gripping him tightly. "I need them not when I have you."

If only that were so, but he'd never been enough for anyone. His entire life had been lived as a lie. He shrugged out of her clasp. "Start your life over, Kitty. You will be better off."

He opened the door to climb out of the coach. He heard Kitty move to come after him, so he shut the door firmly and turned away.

"John!"

He knew he should keep walking, but he couldn't ignore the plaintive sound of her voice. When he looked back at her, she was leaning her head out the window. Wisps of fair hair waxed golden in the sun as they blew about her face. She brushed at them then held out her hand.

"I love you. Can you tell me that does not matter? That you do not care for me?"

Could he deny he loved her, even for her own good?

"It matters not, Lady Katherine. Go back where you belong."

If her pain had been hard to bear, the death of all emotion from her face was far worse. Her voice came as a whisper, but he heard every damning word.

"So be it." She withdrew from the window and from his life.

If she'd shot him, she couldn't have struck his heart more surely. He'd gotten exactly what he'd asked, her acceptance, and yet he felt like dying. It was worse than his uncle trying to kill him. It was worse than finding out he wasn't the duke's son. It was worse than anything he'd ever known, and he'd done it himself.

He walked to the men waiting at the horses. They didn't need to know what had happened. He wasn't sure he could even speak when Newport approached him.

"There is another group of soldiers coming this way. We must get the coach away."

John barely tipped his head in acknowledgment. He looked toward the gypsies without meeting their eyes.

"Remember the plan. If anyone speaks to you, answer as Roma. At least, you won't be taken for English. Ardaix?"

Ardaix took a step toward John. Now that the bleeding had stopped and they'd gotten some wine down his throat, he looked much better.

Ardaix waited for him to speak. There were many things John wanted to know, many things he wanted to say, but they wouldn't come. "Do not let anything happen to her."

Those cold blue gypsy eyes softened for a moment. "She will be safe. The coast is close. The boat is waiting."

When Ardaix looked as if he would say more, John nodded and walked to his horse. There was no putting this off any longer.

In a matter of seconds, the coach was rolling down the road, and he was riding in the opposite direction. He'd lost the only thing in his life worth having, and it wasn't the duchy.

"Care to explain what just happened?" asked Newport.

Not bloody likely. He wasn't even sure he liked Newport. He wasn't about to bare his soul. "Let's leave the main roads. I'd prefer not to speak with soldiers."

He led the way across a field with Newport following behind with the prisoner in tow. That was becoming more and more of a nuisance. John
almost wished he'd let Rasvan kill the traitor. The gentle feelings Kitty brought out in him were a waste.

Kitty slumped in the corner of the coach, completely disheartened. What a waste! Her entire life wasted, waiting for a man who didn't know how to be a man, not a godly man like she wanted.

She couldn't cry. She couldn't scream. Not with Ardaix seated across from her. His penetrating eyes saw too much. And she wouldn't let anyone see how John's latest abandonment hurt her.

Under the gypsy's watchful eyes, she couldn't even pray. If only she could throw him out of the coach, but she feared for his health if she did something that heartless.

His weak voice startled her. "Would you like to speak?"

She glared at him. She was angry with all things gypsy at the moment.

"To what end?"

"Understanding, perhaps." He lifted that careless gypsy shoulder of his, but the movement clearly gave him pain.

"I think I understood him quite well. No further elucidation is necessary."

"As you wish, but circumstances are not always as they appear."

Kitty clenched her hands into fists. He would dare to lecture her after practically ruining everything in her life?

"You could not keep your secrets to yourself, could you? Could not leave well enough alone. I hope you're happy. He's not coming back for me, or the duchy, or his mother, or even you. He's not coming back!"

She'd shocked him. But surely he knew already. Pain registered on his face, and he seemed to age before her very eyes. The grayness returned to his skin, and he looked ill once again.

"I'm truly sorry," he said.

He meant it, but that wasn't enough.

She stared out the window at the same barren fields they'd passed earlier, rolling past weary soldiers, some too tired to move out of the way. If she put her hand out the window, she could touch them. If only she could touch John.

John rode beside Newport in silence for the better part of an hour, hating what he'd done to Kitty, hating himself. His attitude would never do for a meeting with Wellington. He was almost past caring. Almost. He'd like to bring about the downfall of his uncle and Sir James. And only Newport could help him do that.

"We should come to an understanding."

Newport looked across at him. He'd been unusually taciturn while they rode.

"I agree. What have you in mind?"

"We begin at the beginning."

And they did. By comparing their experiences and reasoning out the results, they came to an understanding of how John and the gypsies had been made to look the guilty parties.

His uncle must have contacted Sir James. How, they didn't know. Perhaps they'd known one another for years. That association was the irrefutable conclusion for everything that followed.

What if his uncle never meant to kill him at all, just drive him to the gypsies? Where else would his mother send him, but to his real father? And once John left the estate, his death couldn't be laid at his uncle's feet.

Only his uncle could have set the chain of events in motion. They used the lure of Csinka's other son rotting away in the Conciergerie to ensure the assistance of Dago. A trail of evidence that led right back to the gypsies and incriminated John. Though he'd agreed to work for the Home Office, who would say that John had been on the right side or just a convenient plant of the French?

Sir James had acted as John's sole contact in the government. Newport had been led to believe that John was guilty of switching information, of giving vital information to the enemy. Sir James could say that John had duped him, and then he'd be free to retire to the country and live off John's smaller country estates, undoubtedly his pay-off from John's uncle. A nice profit for a lord who had no property of his own.

With John out of the way, either killed by Newport or another operative, or hung for treason, the duchy would be clear for his uncle to assume. All the traitors got what they wanted.

Unless Kitty was with child and he had sent her home to face them alone.

The enormity of the danger he'd put her in came crashing in on him.

He reined in his horse. "If my uncle finds out I married Kitty, he will kill her. He will not wait to find out if she's with child."

"Without the proof, there's nothing you can do to stop him. She's under guard now. Let us continue to Wellington, get the orders from him that will condemn Sir James then have both men arrested. It is the only way to ensure her safety."

Perhaps it was the best solution. Once he returned to England with Newport, it would be an easy thing to prove that his uncle and Sir James had defrauded him of his estates.

That evidence, along with the charges of treason for both men, should bring them a hanging.

Within two days, John held the evidence he needed. Wellington had forced a statement from the prisoner concerning the involvement of Sir James and John's uncle. He'd even signed the document himself as witness so that John and Newport would have no problems when they reached England. Then Newport had asked Wellington to sign an affidavit that he'd never bought or sold John's estates and had no knowledge of such transactions.

The evidence was sent on its way to the proper authorities. John needed only to travel to the coast, find another boat, and sail to England.

For most of the day, Newport remained quiet, which suited John.

"I cannot go with you."

In the face of hours of silence, the blunt statement stunned him.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I have decided to go after Westley. He'll never get into the Paris prison on his own...or out again."

John reined in. He'd been worried about Robert, too, but he supposed that Robert knew his business. He had contacts in Paris.

"He said there was a network in place who could help him. Are you saying it isn't true?"