Marguerite Kaye - Regency Surrender - Scandal And Deception

‘I’d have killed him,’ she said, vehemently. ‘I’d have struck him down with the same poker he used on you, before I let him touch me. And I would not have let him hurt Justine, ever again. But she would not tell me the truth. She is not like me. She thinks of no one but herself, she never complains and she will not ask for help, no matter how much she needs it. She thinks she must be the strong one.’

He remembered her, in this very room, stroking his arm in the dark, kissing the scar as though the brand he bore was a mark of honour. It had been after the strange dream where she had demanded to be left alone. She had all but admitted the truth to him, talking of her difficult life.

At the time, he had been full of sympathy for her. He had vowed that he would keep her safe. But today, when she needed him, he had walked away as though she did not matter to him. Even after she had announced that she was willing to go to the gallows if it might spare him the risk of a duel, he had refused to trust her.

He took Margot by the hand and pulled her up from the mattress, walking her towards the door. ‘Do not fear, little one. That time is over. From now on, I will be her strength.’

‘Fine words,’ she said, almost spitting them back at him. ‘I have heard similarly vague promises from Mr Montague himself. But know, Lord Felkirk, that I will not allow you to treat my sister as he has done. She is not some pretty bauble to be used and discarded when you are bored with her.’

‘That was never my intention,’ he said softly.

‘Intentions mean nothing,’ she said, with a dismissive wave, ‘if they are undone by one’s actions. You claimed to love her. And yet, at the first sign of real trouble, you mean to cast her out.’ She turned to glare at him. ‘You will forgive me if I think my sister has suffered enough at the hands of men. In short, my lord, if you do not want her, do not think you can send her back to Montague with a clear conscience. It would be better to have her arrested and let her take her chances with the courts than to return her to the suffering she has endured from that monster.’ And with that, she was gone, slamming the door so hard that even the stone walls seemed to shake.

Chapter Nineteen

‘Justine.’

She woke with a start to find Will standing over her bed, a dim outline in the darkness. For a moment, she hoped that he had changed his mind and would gather her in his arms to assure her that it had all been a horrible dream. When he did not speak, the hope changed to fear. As she did with Montague, she lay perfectly still, feigning sleep and hoping that he would pass her by, just once.

‘There is no point in pretending any more. I know you are awake,’ he said, taking a taper from the bedside and lighting it with the last coals of the fire. ‘Dress and come with me. There is something I must show you, before tomorrow.’ Then he removed himself from her room, as though allowing the privacy to prepare herself.

Come back , she wanted to whisper. Come back to me. There was no need to be so distant. What had they not shared with each other, these last weeks? Could they not have one last hour together? Even if he did nothing but sit silently in a chair while she dressed, it would be better than being alone.

But their time to be together had passed and the distance between them was more than just the space between their rooms. She had cried herself to sleep worrying about what was likely to happen when morning came. But not before writing a full account of what had happened in Bath, so she might give it to the duke. If Will brought a second, there would be no other man he might choose. Perhaps, if she delivered a full confession before the fight began, Bellston might call a halt to it and save Will’s life.

She pulled on a gown and found stockings and shoes, wishing she had asked what it was that was expected. When she had seen him just now, he’d been fully dressed. But since it was the same coat he had worn in the afternoon, she suspected he had not gone to bed.

He should be resting. If he meant to carry out his foolish plan, dawn would come soon enough and he must be ready for it. Perhaps the duel was worrying him more than he let on. Perhaps he meant to run away with her. That was too much to hope for. There was something funereal in his demeanour that was far more frightening than his anger had been.

When she was finished dressing, she found him waiting in the hall for her, a candle in his hand to light their way. He preceded her down the steps and through the servant-less corridors to the main floor. The house was still asleep. The hall clock chimed three as they passed it, on their way to the back of the house.

From there, they went to the servants’ stairs, down again, through the kitchens and beyond, down another flight of steps to a part of the house she had never seen. She could feel the cool air rising from the brick walls and see the racks upon racks of bottles. The wine cellar? ‘Where are we going?’ she finally raised the nerve to ask.

‘To get you what you wanted, from the first moment you arrived here.’

For a moment, she could not think what that might be. Then she remembered.

The diamonds.

He had told the truth, in Bath, when he had claimed to know where they were. Their location had come back to him, with the rest of his memories. Then it would have been better had they stayed lost. ‘It does not matter,’ she said.

‘Does it not?’ He stared back at her. ‘The stones I very nearly lost my life for have no value to you. I should think, given the things you were willing to do for them...’

‘Stop!’ If this was the last time she would be alone with him, she did not want to be reminded of what had happed. ‘You know it has been more than that, for some time,’ she said. There was no bitterness in her comment. It was too late for that.

If he knew, he did not want to admit it. There was a ghost of his old smile on his face, as though it had all been a huge joke. But the joke was over now, the memory fading. ‘Well, in any case, if I have guessed rightly in their location, you shall have them.’ His expression changed, yet again, to something different, solemn but peaceful. ‘Should something happen this morning...to me, I mean...I want to make sure that you have what you have wanted from the first: your freedom. If there is trouble, you are to take them and your sister, and go.’

He turned back to focus on the way they were taking, turning left, then right between the racks to go deeper into the room. Justine followed in silence, her mind racing. At one time, what he’d offered would have been more than enough to satisfy her. She would not be punished for what had happened in Bath. She would not have to return to Montague. Her sister would be safe.

But the preface that had come before it was unbearable. He meant for her to have the jewels if he died. She could have said the same of her father, she supposed. It was likely his wife and daughters he had thought of, as he hid them from Montague. She was to have them at last. But if they cost her lover his life, it was far too high a price to pay for them.

They had come to a corner, to a heavy wooden door with an iron ring for a handle. He turned back to her, explaining. ‘This part of the house is very old, hundreds of years, in fact. At that time, the place was more of a fortress than a home.’ He pulled on the ring and the door, which looked so solid, swung easily open, revealing an arched stone hallway, stretching forward further than the light from the candle could reach. But from what she could see of it, it was swept clean and free of cobwebs. The gentle breeze coming from it was cold and fresh.

‘This is the one thing that my mother wished she could have taken with her, when they built Bellston Court,’ Will said, with a proud smile. ‘After all this time, it is still dead useful. But not practical to replicate.’ He led the way down the corridor and they walked for some minutes, until she was sure that they must have passed beyond the walls of the house. Not a corridor, then. It was a tunnel under the yard and it led in the direction of the woods.