Duchess Decadence (20 page)

The truth dawned on him like a battle-scarred morning.

“You knew,” he accused. “You
knew
this was coming.”

“I knew nothing,” she said, with a regal lift of her chin. “I only
suspected
Eustace of crime.”

“Crime?”

He steadied himself with a hand to the wall, and rose.
Everything
he was—the manor, the robes and the signet, the leadership in Lords, the neat ledger lines, the stewardship of tenants and livestock and land—all of it would be stripped. Not just his life, but his honor…a fate infinitely more horrid. Then there was Eustace’s most vile crime. Harm had come to Thea Marie—and their child. He would kill Eustace. He must.

“Tell me what you’ve learned.” Her voice was suspiciously soothing.

He’d grown accustomed to her low, throaty tone, it ran like a stream through his heart’s ache. Tempting to take some comfort in the familiar sound, but she did not know what was coming. No matter what she suspected, it could not be as bad as the whole.

“Come,” she urged. “Sit with me.”

She swung her legs off the bed, but did not rise. He could not resist moving toward her—one small conciliation to take with him to his grim fate.

His knees brushed hers. She took him by the hand and drew him up onto the bed. Lying back against the headboard, she gathered him against her chest and her arm closed around him like straps. The pressure of her breasts against his back was warming and her breath drifted across his ear. They were entwined together—breathing and beating as one. He let her hold him…hold him as if the feel of her heartbeat could possibly be of consequence, as if her embrace could possibly change what must come.

He pulled one of her hands from his chest and examined her fingers. Her perfect fingers. Though she did not know it, she had held his heart in those hands. He had relinquished it back when he was Haddon, and had been moving about without one ever since. He foolishly hoped she’d know and remember after he was gone.

“What’s happened, Wyn?”

“I told you—treason.”

“Yes, but who? How? Why?”

“The Doctors’ Smith brought me records, their own and letters taken from the home of Widow Norton.”

“Widow Norton, Eustace’s nurse?”

“Yes. She and Eustace have corresponded.”

“How extraordinary.”

“Not so,” Wynchester said. “They corresponded when he was in London. They continued to correspond when he was in India. Among other things, they shared an interest in poisons.”

Thea gasped.

“My father’s diaries filled in missing pieces.” Pride had cost him most in this. “If I had read them after his death, I would have known he was deeply concerned about Eustace’s ambitions.” He closed his eyes. “Between the doctor’s records and my father’s notes, there would have been enough for any chancery judge to declare Eustace mad—before he stole the sapphires.”

Thea’s arms tightened briefly at the mention of sapphires, but he continued before she had time to interrupt.

“The widow’s letters, however, reveal a much darker plot.”

“Eustace is not mad,” she said. “But he
is
without conscience.”

After piecing the puzzle together, Wynchester was inclined to believe both.

“Eustace experienced what the doctor referred to as
episodes
. My father resorted to sedation—and to the payment of annuities for the injured. He’d promised Eustace a commission, but withdrew when Eustace was caught beating a child in the village. In the end, my father was pondering chancery, but was concerned,” Wynchester paused for a mirthless chuckle, “how
I
would take the blow to the family name.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “If the dowager had not been with my father the night he died, I’d wonder if Eustace and the widow had hastened his death in addition to all the other crimes.”

Thea was silent.

He turned in her arms. “Tell me I am mad to suggest such a thing.”

She stared at him with those silent, searching eyes.

“Tell me,” he said, this time louder.

“I cannot,” she whispered.

He snorted. “What’s patricide to treason,
hum
?”

“You keep saying treason—just what was in that correspondence?”

“Eustace, in league with key East India proprietors, plotted to obtain control of Company resources through Parliament.”

“Through Parliament? But how—and why?”

“Because Parliament alone can revoke the Company’s charter. Those in league with Eustace intended to take over control, kill the King, and use the East India Company armies, and Eustace’s contacts in France, to begin a revolution.”

“My God!?” Thea’s hand moved—presumably to her mouth. “They never would have succeeded.”

“They came exceptionally close. Although unaware of the plot, Burke and Fox wrote a bill that would have given Parliament the power to seize Company resources. The bill passed Commons, and would have passed Lords, but for the influence of Company directors and of Pitt and the King himself.”

“The reason behind the recent elections,” Thea breathed. “They failed, you say?”

“Yes. But it does not matter. Eustace has made it appear as if I was in league with the conspirators.”

“You? But how?”

“Eustace acted in my name. He convinced his conspirators that in working with them, they were working with me.”

Her brow furrowed. “But surely you can prove you were not aware!”

“Don’t you understand? A bill giving Parliament control of the Company led to the recall of the King’s ministers and the elections this past March. And against the King’s warning,
I
voted in favor of the bill. A protest vote against the misuse of the Kings power—but in retrospect, a nail in my coffin.”

“Do not talk that way,” she cried. “Eustace and his conspirators have been outwitted—the bill did not pass.”

“Which is part of the reason Eustace returned,” Wynchester sighed. “He lost his supporters in France, the larger conspiracy failed, and so he came back to work mischief from within. His original intent was to gain Company stock by a marriage. But that plan was thwarted.”

“Sophia,” she said.

“Yes,” Wynchester said. “When that failed, he resorted to a final plan, much simpler plan. My death—and if so convenient—yours. Eustace brought the dogs that frightened the horses to the Widow. Not that he knew exactly when or how they could be used, but the widow had already proven herself a loyal ally.”

He turned to her, pressing his mouth into a somber line. He could not tell her what the widow had done—he could not. Wasn’t it enough that he’d be haunted to the end of his days? His days numbered few; he would not leave her with the burden of the truth.

“I may be about to be ruined,” he changed the subject, “but, if you leave I can still keep you safe.”

“I will not leave you.” Her lip quivered. “I
love
you.”

Sharp pain stabbed, anger followed. “How is love supposed to help?”

She blinked. Sparkling wetness seeped between her lashes. “It’s not.”

“Treason,” he said through his teeth, hating himself all-the-while. “Treason and murder.”

She drew in a shuddering breath. “I love you and it does not make things better. It is, however, the reason I have acted as I have.”

“The reason”—he put distance between them—“
for what
?”

“Eustace is
our
problem.” Her voice trembled. “
Our
, do you understand, Wynchester? You are not without help nor without friends.”

“No. Eustace is
my
problem.”

“
Please
do not push me away. Eustace—Kasai—whatever his crimes, we’ll survive them.”

Ice slithered down through his veins. “I made no mention of Kasai.”

“You’ve uncovered what Lord Randolph and Mr. Harrison have been trying to piece together for months.”

“Harrison? And Randolph?” He reeled as if he’d been hit. “What part have they played in this? What have you done?”

“Don’t look at me that way!” She grabbed his arm. “You cannot think me part of Eustace’s deception. Harrison came to me seeking my help.”

He tore out of her clutch. “When?! When did he come to you?”

Her words rushed out. “Soon after you and he brought the militia to Lavinia’s. Sophia had run away that morning. He had seen and recognized Eustace. He did not understand how Eustace had survived when he had seen Eustace murdered. He suspected Eustace was involved in a larger plot and would seek your protection. He and Randolph only recently realized Eustace could have been playing the part of Kasai.”

“Why did he go to you?”

She blinked. “No one else could get close enough to protect you.”

Individual chunks of ice joined together within his veins. What had she told him the night of the wager?
I was drilled in duty, history, and practice until my greater loyalty belonged to the Worthington name.

“The wager? Was that real?”

She bit her bottom lip.

“Good
God
!” She hadn’t come back on a wager, hopeful of a second chance. She’d come back with deliberate intention, to fulfill a duty.

“I asked you not to look at me that way. Please.
Please
understand. Everything I’ve said since has been true. Everything we’ve shared, everything we’ve done—”

“True, was it?” he paced to the door and back. “A public wager. Return for the summer…or discuss a Parliamentary divorce. You never intended to stay, not if I no longer needed
protection
.”

She bit both lips this time.

“
St. Swithin
!”

“I hate when you say St. Swithin,” she said. “If you must swear, why not with a more common oath?”

He ignored her irrational plea. “How did you win the game?”

“False,” she hiccupped, “dice.”

“Thea Marie.” His jaw hadn’t opened.

“Stop!” She put her hand to her mouth. “I was
protecting
you. I do not deserve your wrath.”

“Did it
ever
occur to you to come to me with the truth?”

“Not in the beginning. I
knew
Eustace was a lying bastard. He—he drove a wedge between us before. I did not take those sapphires—you know now I did not. But then…then you were not sure. You—
you
forbid
everyone
from speaking with me.”

Wynchester stepped back. “I sent Eustace away.
For you
.”

“You chose my part over Eustace because in him you had only one heir, but in me you could have had many—”

“What,” he exploded, “kind of an inhuman
ass
do you think I am?”

“I do not think that at all.” She swallowed a sob. “Harrison said—”

“Harrison,” he interrupted derisively, “You take
Harrison’s
council and no doubt the whole lot of the Furies. But do you ever listen to me?”

“Harrison would have told you…
I
would have told you, but the Privy Council did not wish to prejudice you against—”

“The
Privy Council
is looking into Eustace’s dealings?”

She nodded.

Too much
. Far, far too much. If he’d had any hope he could clear his name, it bled from his body. He had even less time than he’d thought.

“The Privy Council,” he repeated, defeated.

A whirlwind of dates and times and places—snippets of conversation, heads put together at different parties—all laid out across a checkered board. The East India Company. The fall of the Fox-North Commission. William Pitt. The recall of Ministers. The collapse of the government. Eustace. Kasai. The Under Secretary.

Eustace’s plots had been stalled, but who knew how high the conspirators ranked? Only he could put a definitive stop to his brother’s treachery. Eustace had played him for a fool. He’d been as predictable as his father—so blinded by sentiment he’d missed the conspiracy beneath his nose. Even if Thea Marie had returned for all the wrong reasons, he could not let Eustace’s crimes against her go unavenged.

“Wyn,” Thea Marie cried brokenly, reaching out with one shaking hand.

He should have cast aside her hand, but he did not. She’d only confirmed what he should have known, after all. Deep down, she had never been his of her own volition… Which should have made ordering her to leave easier.

It did not.

He’d wanted to see her in his bed just once. All the splendor that might have been his—and the reason he must not lose his resolve. How could he resist her outstretched hand, now? In repetition of their very first meeting, he took her perfect hand in his over-large and awkward fingers.