The Wickedest Lord Alive (30 page)

“What?”
She searched his face for some clue to his thoughts, but as usual, his expression gave her not the slightest hint of them.

“It was all a sham, cooked up by my mother to dupe your father. Only, she omitted to inform the people most concerned. All this time, we thought we were bound together when in fact, we were not.”

Stunned, she simply stared at him. The concept was too thorny and difficult to wrap her mind around.

“Not married,” she said. “And yet you and I have … We have acted as man and wife.”

His grip on her hand tightened. “It doesn’t change anything, Lizzie, not really. We will still be married as soon as may be.”

“Doesn’t change anything?” She pulled away from him and stood up. “Oh, dear Heaven, how can you say so?” A tumult of emotion roiled through her mind. “I—I can’t take it in. Are you certain she didn’t make a mistake?”

“As certain as I can be. It all fits. And it’s so
very
like her.”

The bewildering truth of it made her head spin. “Then I need not have come here. I need not have left Mr. Allbright. I could have married someone else years ago, had babies by now. A family to call my own.”

“You can have all that with me,” said Xavier.

She looked at him now, and her eyes were glazed with tears. “Can I have a man I love, Xavier? And does that man love me?”

His expression gave him away before he even opened his mouth.

“No!” she said, warding him off with an outstretched palm. “I don’t want to hear it. You said you don’t love me. You don’t believe in love at all. Why should that have changed in the space of a day?”

His shoulders seemed stiff and set; his face stony as the marble statues in the fountain behind them. The soft drip of a spigot broke the silence.

“I think perhaps it is as well this has ended now,” she said with difficulty. “Before we found ourselves once again without a choice.”

He made no answer. She didn’t expect one. There was nothing more to say.

“I shall be packed and gone as soon as may be. Tom will escort me home. Or perhaps Mr. Huntley.” The hurt, spoiled child inside her made her lash out like that. She wanted him to feel something, experience one small fraction of her pain.

“You came to my bedchamber last night,” she said, forcing the words through a throat that ached with suppressed sobs. “You made love to me even though you knew it was wrong.” Her voice rasped. “Why did you do that, Xavier? Why did you take advantage of me?”

“I came to tell you the truth,” he said, frowning down at his hands. “But then you turned to me and kissed me so sweetly. I—regret that I wasn’t gentleman enough to walk away.”

“So it was lust, then,” she said dully. What had he said that night at the ball? “Love had nothing to do with it.”

He made no answer, and that was answer enough.

Like an automaton, she pointed her body in the direction of the house and slowly walked away.

*   *   *

She’d left him. As he’d known she would. He didn’t try to stop her, even though his honor, that part of him that was bred into Westruther men, demanded he make reparation for the injury he’d caused her.

If a babe had resulted from their secret couplings … He found himself hoping for it, even though he knew a child would not solve the problems between them. Lizzie deserved the honest love of an honest man, not the desire and … affection of a pleasure-loving rake.

Lizzie had taken her retinue of Little Thurstonians with her. It had been the work of a day to be ready. They had set off this morning, a subdued cavalcade.

Xavier had promised to think of some tale to tell Montford to explain their sudden departure. In the end, he told the duke and Lydgate the truth, though carefully omitting any details that would put Lizzie to the blush.

His Grace listened to the tale impassively, then said, “I see.”

“Good Lord!” said Lydgate. “You’ve made an absolute mull of the business, dear fellow. Never thought I’d live to see the day.” He cocked an eyebrow at the duke. “Do you know what this means?”

“Of course,” said the duke, maddeningly tranquil.

“Pray, enlighten me,” said Xavier.

“You are in love,” said Lydgate triumphantly.

Xavier ground his teeth. “Haven’t I just told you that’s the problem? I
don’t
love her, and she won’t have me unless I do.”

“But—,” began Lydgate, but Montford held up a hand to silence him.

Good, thought Xavier. Now they would hear good sense.

“Why don’t you lie to her?” said the duke.

“Eh?” said Lydgate.

“You tell her you love her.” Montford spread his hands. “She falls into your arms and agrees to marry you. Your honor is satisfied. It is really quite simple.”

“Now, hold on a minute,” said Lydgate.

“No,” said Xavier. Everything inside him revolted at the idea.

“Why not?” said Montford. “You don’t believe in the existence of romantic love. You’ve said so yourself on any number of occasions. You have dishonored this young lady—several times, if I’m any judge of the matter—and the only way you can make reparation is to marry her. Tell her what she wants to hear and she’s yours.”

The duke sighed. “I believe emotion must be clouding your judgment, Xavier. Your thinking is usually so much clearer.”

Obstinate, Xavier shook his head. He couldn’t do that to her. She deserved better than that. But when he pictured the alternatives—marriage to Huntley, or another man from her village, or maybe even young Tom—a possessive ferocity powered through him. A primitive part of him snarled,
Mine,
and snapped at any notion of another man having his Lizzie.

“I’ll think of something,” said Xavier, “but I’m not going to tell her pretty lies, and that’s final.”

Lydgate gave a hoot of laughter. “You’re in love, man, admit it! It’s as plain as the nose on your face. You ought to pour all those
feelings
of yours out to Cyprian. Get him to write a poem about it.”

Still chortling, Lydgate ducked as Xavier picked up a paperweight from Montford’s desk and threw it at his head.

When Xavier returned to his bedchamber to dress for dinner, his majordomo was waiting for him.

Xavier saw at once that Martin was mud-splashed and weary, as if he’d ridden a long distance. More than that, he displayed unwonted agitation. His face was pallid, his movements jerky.

“What news?” said Xavier, pouring the man a large brandy and pressing it into his grasp.

Martin’s hand shook. He tossed back the brandy in one swallow. Hoarse with the liquor, he said, “My lord, it’s Miss Drysdale.”

An image of his former mistress as he’d last seen her took shape in his mind, the striking features twisted in a mask of hatred as she taunted him.

Then, realization hit and Xavier’s head jerked back, as if receiving a blow. “Oh, Christ, no.”

Because his manservant seemed unable to speak further, Xavier said the words for him.

“Miss Drysdale is dead.”

*   *   *

The heady scents of roses and honeysuckle hit Lizzie full force as she strolled through the vicarage garden. Her senses swam a little, and she was obliged to take a deep, unsteady breath before continuing around the path to greet Mr. Allbright.

“Lizzie!” The pleasure on the vicar’s face as he looked up from his gardening warmed Lizzie’s heart. He threw down his trowel and got to his feet. Removing his gardening gloves, he took her hands in his.

The cleric looked well, more robust than before she’d left Little Thurston, which was undoubtedly due to the persistence of his sister.

Lizzie ducked under the brim of his straw hat to kiss his cheek and then nodded to Mr. Allbright’s sister. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Payne. How do you do?”

Mrs. Payne greeted her with a touch more warmth than she was wont to show her before her departure. “I’ll go in and order us some tea.”

The good lady was all compliance, now that she was assured Lizzie would remain with Clare while in Little Thurston

“That would be lovely. Thank you, ma’am,” said Lizzie.

Mr. Allbright placed her hand on his arm and patted it, walking with her as they discussed her doings and the small, day-to-day occurrences in Little Thurston.

She’d been away for less than the predicted month, but the eight years she’d spent in Little Thurston seemed to belong to another life. After the vastness of Harcourt, everything in Little Thurston appeared to be in miniature. The troubles of its inhabitants no longer filled Lizzie’s thoughts. Unfortunately, she had too many troubles of her own.

One thing had not changed, and that was Lizzie’s deep affection for Mr. Allbright. As ever, he was her rock in the midst of a stormy sea. She longed for Xavier with every breath she took. But longing for him did not change the fact that he simply could not return her love.

When Lizzie and Mr. Allbright entered the parlor, there was a gentleman standing there with his back to them.

A tall, black-haired gentleman … “Oh!”

Xavier turned and crossed to her, the gravity of his expression lightening a fraction as he took her hands.

The door closed quietly behind Mr. Allbright.

Lizzie’s heart beat hard and fast. She couldn’t imagine why he was here. Had Mr. Allbright told him about the baby? But how would he have known? She only just found out herself, had been agonizing over how to tell Xavier the news without causing him to renew his insistence that they marry.

With a sinking feeling, she realized that even if he did love her, she’d never drag such an admission from him now. He knew he had her where he wanted her. She was trapped into marrying him. She could be carrying his heir this very moment in her womb.

She resisted the urge—a constant one now—to rest her palm on her belly.

“What is it, my lord?” she said. “Do you have news for me?”

His face settled into harsh lines. “Bad news, I am afraid. The very worst.”

She braced herself, wondering what could possibly be worse news than the fact that she wasn’t married after all to the father of her unborn child. That now he would be obliged to marry her without love.

He said, “I told you why it was imperative that I beget an heir.”

“Your uncle.” She nodded. “I cannot help agreeing with you there. And of course, Cyprian is not at all suited to the position he would inherit.”

“You put that more diplomatically than I would,” said Xavier dryly.

“No doubt. But go on, I understand that part.”

His lips pressed together. He strode back to the window, to look out upon the bright sunshine as it glittered on the stream.

“Xavier?” she prompted gently.

He turned to her, and his eyes were bleak. “It will sound fantastical, but I have reason to believe there is a plot to eliminate me from the succession.”

Lizzie felt the heat drain from her face.
“What?”

“I said it was fantastical. I cannot blame you if you don’t believe me.”

Her head felt as if it were floating from her body. “But…” A wave of nausea swept her words away.

Impatiently, he said, “Lizzie, we do not have time to stand about debating it. You need not accept it, but just please, do what I am about to ask you. I never thought…” He bowed his head and kneaded the place between his eyebrows as if it pained him. “It never occurred to me that she would hurt anyone but me. That was stupid. I won’t make that mistake a second time.”

“She?”
Lizzie started. “You don’t mean it’s your
mother
who wants to kill you.”

His smile was bitter. “Oh, yes. She is in this up to her neck. I’ve seen the proof, so you can stop shaking your head at me, my dear.”

He began to pace again, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think someone like you can ever understand the black depths of my mother’s soul.” His head tilted back and he sighed. “The word ‘evil’ sounds so melodramatic, doesn’t it?”

“A woman who is capable of plotting that sham of a wedding must be capable of anything,” she said. “I agree, the notion of murder is shocking enough to be fantastical, but I think you are a man not given to imagining things.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For a long time, I managed to convince myself I
was
imagining things. And even when I finally accepted the truth, I did not realize she might hurt you.”

“But to murder her own child…” She broke off. “I still think of her as that poor creature cowering beneath my father’s whip.”

“Of course,” he said. “You saw her that night, didn’t you? Weeping and thanking me when I saved her from Bute. Saved her! What do you think she was doing there in the first place?”

Lizzie just stood there, staring at him dumbly.

“I married you to satisfy my mother’s gaming debts to your father.” The words pummeled her like fists.

Lizzie flinched. There was no logical reason she should be hurt by this. She’d known at the time he must have been forced into that union. Why, then, did the truth hurt so much?

Xavier went on. “She swore to me that if I went through with the marriage, she would cease all contact with your father. But that night, that very same night, she was back with him again.”

“He … he forced her. Blackmailed her, perhaps.” Still, she could not let go of her hope that Xavier merely misunderstood his mother. Lady Steyne could not be so heartless. No woman could be.

“And that was my error, too,” he said grimly. “Even though I knew what she was capable of, she could still surprise me. I ruined your father in revenge for that night. I bankrupted him, had him hounded out of the country.”

He drew a long breath. “I told myself I did it for you, and perhaps that was part of it. But mostly, I did it for her. I’ve never been able to resist trying to see the best in her. Never been able to hear her maligned or see her hurt without rising like some idiotic knight-errant to her defense.”

“You love her,” Lizzie whispered. “It is the hardest thing to go on loving someone when they cannot stop being cruel to you. But love isn’t like a tap on a barrel of ale. You can’t simply turn it off.”

That haze was over his eyes again. It was a long time before he nodded. One brief jerk of the head in acknowledgment of her words.