Jacquie D’Alessandro - Whirlwind Affair

Michael shot him an undecipherable look. "Yes, most men would be quite stymied by that, but not Nigel. No, he decided that he did indeed have an option. He realized that this marriage with the duke's daughter would have to take place quickly-before her father entertained other offers for her. There would be no time to arrange an annulment of his marriage to Brianne, and even if there was time, he had no grounds. And of course, divorce was out of the question. But…" Michael paused, his expression harsh. "No one in England knew he was already married."

They stared at each other in utter silence for several seconds. Robert shook his head. "You cannot mean-no, it's impossible."

"If only it were, my friend."

Geoffrey forced himself to take deep, calming breaths to stem the panic threatening to overwhelm him. Blinding pain thumped behind his eyes, and it took every ounce of his will to concentrate on guiding the horse through the woods.

Her words beat through his mind. I gave the note to a language translator. Relief surged through him. If the note was indeed written in a foreign language, the chances of other people being able to read it were lessened. But was Alberta telling the truth? Or just attempting to save herself? His jaw clenched. He'd find out soon enough.

They moved swiftly, deeper into the woods, farther away from the house. After a quarter hour, he spied a clearing surrounding a small lake. An outcropping of large rocks surrounded the area. Perfect. Just the sort of place he could claim the same ruffian who'd killed Redfern had set upon them in their attempt to escape the scoundrel. Far enough from the house to do what he had to do. Drawing the horse to a halt, he slid from the saddle.

"Get down," he said.

She silently complied, and the gelding immediately moved toward the water to drink. Alberta faced him squarely. "What do you intend to do now?" she asked.

He considered for a moment. How to best determine if she'd lied? How to get what he wanted from her? An idea popped into his mind and he inwardly smiled. Ah, yes… appeal to her feminine sympathies.

Feigning a sheepish expression, he said, "Actually, I want to apologize for brandishing a firearm in your presence. It was imperative we departed, and I sensed I would not have had your quick cooperation without… incentive. However, I want to assure you I have no wish to harm you. All I want is the note from the ring box. It belongs to me."

Wariness crossed her features. He could almost see her brain working inside her pretty head, trying to figure out how to escape him. Grudging admiration filled him. There was no doubt she was brave. And clever. Indeed, under other circumstances, Alberta and her quick mind and luscious form could have appealed to him very much.

"I've told you, I do not have it."

"Tell me, Alberta, what sort of man is your father?"

A mixture of surprise and suspicion filled her eyes at the abrupt question. "A very fine man. Kind. Hardworking."

"Do you have siblings?"

"Two brothers and a sister."

He nodded. "I grew up an only child. Many people ask me if my lack of siblings proved lonely, but I always enjoyed not having to share my possessions, or my father's affection, with anyone. I worshipped my father as a boy. Of course, I did not see him often. Mother and I lived on the Cornwall estate, while Father spent most of his time in London. Those precious few weeks every summer when he visited were the highlights of my childhood."

A flicker of what might have been pity flashed in her eyes, filling him with unexpected warmth. Perhaps he really could make her understand. What his life had been like… until that day. He quickly continued, "As the heir to the earldom, my life, my existence, my identity was defined from the day of my birth. Every lesson, every thought, was focused on preparing me for my future role, which I would step into upon my father's death. It was a role for which I was well prepared. It was his death that I could not accept."

He paused to draw a breath, and hatred, hot and fierce, rippled through him, for the man he'd worshipped. The man who'd betrayed him in the most unforgivable of ways.

"Actually, it was more his deathbed confession that I could not accept," he said in a voice he could not quite keep steady. Reaching out, he grasped her hands, his gaze intent upon hers, willing her to see the depth of his pain. The magnitude of his need for that note. "Do you know what my father told me on his deathbed, Alberta?"

"How could I possibly know such a thing?"

"So you haven't read the note?"

"No. I told you, it was written in a foreign language." She tried to pull away from him, but his grip tightened. "Please let go of my hands. You're hurting me."

He ignored her plea. "He confessed to me that he had another son. An older son. By another woman. Another wife." A bitter laugh escaped him. "My noble, proper father had married some trollop he'd met in Ireland on his Grand Tour. He was a bigamist, which meant, of course, that I was not legally his heir. Then, to add insult to this grievous injury, Father had the gall, the temerity, to request that I find this missing half brother and make certain he was financially taken care of." A bark of outraged incredulity pushed past his lips. "I could not fathom that my father would ask such a thing. I'd worshipped him my entire life, believing him to be the epitome of strength, but he was nothing but a weak fool. And if there is one thing I cannot abide, it is a fool."

He looked deep into her eyes. "Do you understand what this man's existence means? If word of this got out, he could legally lay claim to everything that is mine. Take everything away from me. My home. My title. My birthright. My very existence. According to my father, the note contains proof that this other marriage took place-and that a son was born from the union. Do you not see that I must have that note, Alberta? I must. My very life depends upon it."

She licked her lips. "I understand. And given the circumstances you've described, I would gladly give it to you if I had it. But as I already told you, it is not in my possession. I swear it."

He studied her. It appeared that she was telling the truth. A roar of frustration boiled up inside him, and he clenched his jaw to keep it contained. Damn it, now he was going to have to find this bloody Edward Smythe person. And kill him, too. Would this nightmare never end?

"That man, Mr. Redfern," she said. "He caused the accidents on board the Seaward Lady. He was the person who abducted me and robbed the Bradford town house. All to get that note and ring… for you."

"It was the note that was most important, but I wanted my father's ring as well. As a physical reminder to never become the weak fool he was. Unfortunately, circumstances continually thwarted Redfern, who sadly did not prove as clever as I'd hoped. Certainly he was not as clever as your husband, whose intelligence and lack of morals I sadly underestimated." He made a tsking noise. "You just cannot trust anyone anymore."

"So that is how David had the ring. I was certain he'd stolen it. That was why I came to England -to return the ring to its rightful owner."

"He stole it from the Irish whore my father married. I hired David to find her and her son. Unfortunately, when he located her, the son did not live with her. Still, being the clever crook, David took it upon himself to relieve her of several pieces of jewelry, one of which was my father's coat-of-arms ring. David found the note hidden in the box's false bottom. He demanded an outrageous sum in exchange for the ring, the note, and his silence. I agreed to his terms, but he did not keep his end of the bargain. He escaped with the money and the ring." A muscle ticked in his jaw.