Love's Promise (38 page)

If you’d never had anything to lose, how could you know what you were missing?

He thought about Fanny, and he worried about how she was doing. Phillip would watch over her, so Michael didn’t need to fret, but still, he couldn’t help it. He was so glad their baby was all right, and he wondered if it would be a boy or a girl, if Fanny had picked a name for it.

Anne was probably with Phillip, too. How was it that Phillip had wound up caring for the only two women Michael had ever loved? How was it that everything had gone so wrong?

In hindsight, his quarrel with Phillip seemed so senseless. He’d been so angry, but he couldn’t remember why. There wasn’t a reason good enough to explain why he’d shot Phillip, and he would be eternally ashamed to recall that he’d fired his pistol, but Phillip had not.

If he could, he’d turn back the clock and fix his mistakes, would say that he was sorry over and over until they started to believe him.

A door opened behind him, the sounds of the supper party wafting out, and he glanced over to see Rebecca approaching.

With Anne having fled, Rebecca had assumed her place as hostess, as if she’d been hovering in the background and waiting for Anne to leave. Her competent usurping of Anne’s role left a bad taste in his mouth. It was too calculated, too sly.

He’d already learned—to his perpetual detriment—that she would butt her nose into any situation, and he shuddered to imagine the battles they would wage in future years.

Since the duel, their few conversations had been terse and tense, and he kept telling himself that their relationship would calm after the wedding, that he would find a way to tolerate her. It was only that so much had transpired in such a short time. He was laying too many sins at her door, when his own house was crumbling from the weight of his transgressions.

They would have to muddle through, despite the fact that he was desperately in love with another woman and probably always would be.

“Michael,” she said, “I need you to come inside and lead us in to supper. The housekeeper advises me that everything is prepared.”

“Marvelous,” he replied, her tone setting his teeth on edge. “Hasn’t anyone noticed that Anne’s not here? Not even the housekeeper?”

“If Anne wishes to shirk her duty to your father, I am happy to assist him in her stead.”

“Anne didn’t
shirk
anything. She finally got sick of him. You haven’t discovered what he’s truly like, but you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“The Duke is a fine man,” she insisted.

“No he’s not. He’s a rude, offensive ass.”

He was sipping a brandy, and just to spite her, he tossed down the contents, then childishly, he pitched the glass over his shoulder, and it smashed on the stones of the terrace below.

He offered his arm. “Shall we?”

She was trembling with fury, her lips pursed in a fashion that was terribly unattractive.

“I don’t care what you do,” she fumed. “I don’t care how you act. You won’t change my mind. You’re marrying me, so you might as well get used to the notion.”

“Oh, I’m used to it. Are we going in or not?”

She glared at him. “We will go in when I have composed myself. You’ve given everyone sufficient theatrics, and I won’t have them snickering at us.”

“If you’re so miserable, you don’t have to wed me. Let’s walk into the parlor and announce that we’re calling it quits. No one will be shocked. I’ll take all the blame. You can say any appalling thing about me that tickles your fancy. It will most likely be true, so I won’t argue with any allegation.”

“You think I would call it off?” She sputtered with indignation. “After what I’ve endured, you think I would refuse to proceed? If that’s what you suppose, then you don’t know me at all. Besides, you have to marry me. You have no choice.”

“I don’t?”

“No. I’ve learned about your financial troubles. The rumors have spread across the city. Did you actually imagine you could keep it a secret?”

“
My
financial troubles?”

“Yes.”

How typical that gossip was circulating, but it was all wrong. People automatically presumed
he
was the one with the problem.
His
clerks and solicitors had been the ones trying to shore up the Duke’s pecuniary dam. The Duke had done nothing, assuming that Michael would rescue him.

“You need my money,” she pointed out, “which means you need me. So I have no idea why you’re making this so difficult. You ought to be down on you knees; you ought to be thanking me.”

He scoffed with derision. “You recognize that I’ll constantly have affairs, don’t you? I have neither the desire nor the ability to be faithful.”

“I don’t expect any better conduct than what I’ve already witnessed, and so long as you’re not involved with Miss Carrington, your philandering won’t bother me in the least.”

“And you’re aware that I’ll behave exactly as I please. Even if it mortifies you, even if it enrages you.”

“It can’t possibly get any worse than it’s been, and I’ve survived.”

“You might be surprised at what I’ll do.”

“Trust me: I won’t be surprised.”

“Considering how you detest me,” he said, “I can’t see what you’re hoping to prove.”

“I don’t detest you.” Her eyes burned with animosity. “Now then, may we go in?”

“Yes, we may.”

He knew he should cry off and save them both from tragedy, but a gentleman wasn’t allowed to retract a proposal, and he couldn’t bring himself to fret overly much about what happened. He had to marry, and if he couldn’t have Fanny, what did it matter who he wed? It could be Rebecca or any woman.

She would be wretched forever, but she didn’t seem concerned, or it could be that she was too young to grasp the consequences of her decision.

He sighed with resignation. He’d given her a chance to break off with some amount of grace. He’d warned her and threatened her and tried to reason with her, but she was determined to forge ahead to catastrophe.

So be it. By Wednesday afternoon, he would be a married man.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“Where is Thomas?”

The Duke glanced up from the papers on his desk and scowled at Michael.

“I beg your pardon? Were you addressing
me
?”

Michael stormed into the room. “Yes, you bastard. Where is Thomas?”

The Duke was innocence itself. “Why? Is he missing?”

“I just rode to Wainwright Manor to bring him back for the wedding tomorrow, and he’s not there. What have you done with him?”

The Duke bit down a grimace. Michael had been so distressed and preoccupied by events that the Duke had hoped weeks—or even months—might pass before he realized the boy had disappeared.

“Why on earth”—the Duke was stalling for time—“would you want Thomas to attend the wedding?”

“Because I want him there. Need I another reason?”

“We’re having a small, private family gathering. It’s hardly the place for a child of Thomas’s position.”

“And what
position
would that be? He is John’s son and my nephew.”

“You see?” the Duke said. “He’s barely related on both counts.”

The Duke was being combative, which was the worst attitude to take with Michael, but he was too furious to be circumspect.

Anne had only been gone for two days, and Phillip Sinclair already had lawyers demanding that some sort of dowry be paid. Phillip knew that the Duke didn’t have one to hand over, yet he’d proceeded anyway, and the fact that Anne had run off with the half-blood, illegitimate wastrel was the most heinous insult she could have delivered.

“What is wrong with you?” Michael was nagging. “When will you cease to harangue about Thomas’s parentage?”

“Never. I will never stop. Lineage is all that matters, and Thomas hasn’t any of consequence. That pesky detail can never be changed. He’s a bastard, and as such, he will never enjoy the same advantages as respectable people. I don’t care how idiotic John chose to be when he wrote his will. Thomas will not benefit. Not as long as I draw a breath.”

“You’ve met Thomas. You’re aware of what a wonderful boy he is. How can you say that?”

“Ancestry is the bedrock of society, the foundation of how civilizations carry on. I will not sit at your wedding and pretend that our station has no value. I will not pretend that Thomas is welcome with his betters.”

“Fine then, you don’t need to come. We’ll hold the ceremony without you.” Michael leaned in, both palms on the desktop. “Where is he?”

The Duke recollected how awful the past few weeks had been, how much he had detested being a father. He’d done everything for Michael and Anne, yet they were a pair of ingrates.

When the Duke didn’t answer Michael’s question, Michael roared, “Where is he?”

The Duke smirked. “I’ve sent him away to school.”

“To school...” Michael repeated the words as if he didn’t comprehend their meaning.

“Yes, and it’s quite far from London. There’s no way you’ll be able to get him here in time for the ceremony.”

“You made the decision with no input from me.”

“No, none at all.”

“Who is his guardian, Father?”

“You are, Michael.”

“Then by what authority would you take such a step?”

“Authority!” the Duke sputtered. He rose to his full height, and he was so angry that little red circles formed at the edge of his vision. “I am Duke of Clarendon, and you will remember to whom you are speaking! If I want to send that boy to school, if I want to conscript him into the Navy, if I want to beat him, or starve him, or drown him in the Thames, I will, and you will not gainsay me!”

He emphasized his remarks by pounding his fist on the desk, his bellow ringing off the high ceiling, and as always occurred during their quarrels, a woman rushed in, but it wasn’t Anne. It was Rebecca, and on seeing her, the Duke was momentarily confused.

From the morning she had warned him about the duel, she’d been underfoot. Who had given her permission to assume Anne’s duties? How had she usurped so much influence and control?

“What is it?” she asked as Anne always had. “I heard shouting.”

“Rebecca,” the Duke snidely said, “I’m so glad you’ve arrived. Your fiancé wants Thomas Carrington to come to your wedding, and I’ve been explaining to him why he can’t.”

“No, he can’t come,” she concurred. “He’s not invited. I don’t want him there.”

“
You
don’t want him,” Michael murmured.

“No, I don’t.”

“Well,
I
do,” Michael told her.

“It’s the bride’s wedding more than the groom’s, and I’m afraid I have to insist.”

“And why is that?” Michael inquired.

“Because he’s a child, and even if he were an adult, he wouldn’t be a suitable guest.”

“Not suitable? You can actually look me in the eye and tell me that my brother’s only child is not suitable?”

“Yes, I can,” she said. “Besides, he’s in Cornwall.”

The Duke could barely keep from wincing, and he wished he’d gone over and clamped a hand over her mouth before she’d had a chance to blurt it out.

“And how do you know?” Michael seethed.

“Your father and I discussed it, and we agreed that it was the best solution for everyone.”

“
You
discussed it with the Duke?”

“Yes.”

“My, how interesting,” Michael mused.

“I’m about to be his aunt. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t have.”

“There’s just one slight problem.”

“What is that?”

“
I
am Thomas’s guardian. Not you and not my father.
I
had him situated—at Wainwright Manor.”

“But you can’t have considered it seriously. It’s not fitting for him to live at the Manor as if he were the lord, as if it were his property. What would people say?”

The Duke shook his head in disgust. In dealing with Michael, the stupid girl had to learn to be more subtle. She had to go behind his back, had to hide details and cover her tracks.

“You don’t think Thomas should reside in his father’s house?” Michael resembled a cat, toying with a mouse. “The house his father bequeathed to him? You don’t think he should live there?”

“No, I don’t. I think
we
should make it our country home. It’s much more grand than Henley Hall.”

“Rebecca,” Michael said as if talking to a dunce, “I believe we’ve had this conversation before.”

“What conversation is that, Michael?”

“You are not to interfere in my personal business. You are not to make decisions on my behalf. You are not my mother, and you are not yet my wife, and even when you are, you will never meddle in my affairs.”

To her credit, she stood her ground through the tirade.

“I want to live at Wainwright Manor,” she responded, “and I won’t apologize for it.”

“Wainwright Manor will never be yours.”

“What do you mean? Of course it will be. It’s all arranged. I’ve already had some of my belongings shipped there.”

For a wild instant, Michael appeared crazed, as if he might strike her, or as if he might pick her up and bodily toss her out in the street, but he whipped away from her to confront the Duke.

“Where is the school?”

“Why would I tell you?” the Duke queried. “Are you imagining you’ll race off and rescue him?”

“Yes, I’m imagining precisely that.”

Michael stomped around the desk, and the Duke wasn’t nearly as brave as Rebecca. He leapt back, terrified that Michael was about to pummel him, but Michael wasn’t bent on assault. Not yet, anyway.

Instead, he riffled through the Duke’s papers until he found a letter from the headmaster, informing the Duke that Thomas had arrived.

“You contemptible swine,” Michael fumed. “Your cruelty and duplicity never cease to amaze me, but to turn it on an eight-year-old boy! Anne warned me that you hated him, but I wouldn’t listen.”

“Don’t mention your sister to me.”

“You knew about Thomas all along, didn’t you? You prevented John from helping him. How? What did you do?”

The Duke studied Michael, noting his haughty demeanor, his condemning attitude, and his fury spiraled to incalculable heights.