Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 03] (38 page)

“Perhaps
you
think so, but friendship means more to me than watching a friend suffer. Before I left for Kent, Elena was happy. Now she is not. Oh, she pretends that she’s enjoying herself but the only time I see her smile is when she is watching Mia have fun. I have not seen her look like this since the first months after Signor Verano’s death.”

“I am sorry to hear that.” Meryon made himself relax his fist. He was the person who deserved to be punched. “If you see Signora Verano, please do give her my regards. She and Miss Castellano performed beautifully together last night.”

“Did Mia do well?” Lord William asked, forgetting his anger. “I hoped to be back but the weather slowed me. That new song, the old ballad for which Elena wrote new music?”

Meryon nodded. It was not a song he would ever forget.

“It was a very important piece for Elena,” William went on. “She told me that it was dedicated to the two men who had broken her heart. I know who one of them is but was not sure of the second. Now I can guess.”

“Thank you for twisting the knife, Lord William. Though your willingness to inflict pain makes it easier for me to do the same to you.”

The viscount’s expression turned guarded. “Is this about Mia’s flirtation with Lord Halston’s son?”

“No, it is not. I would hardly call you here to discuss
an innocent flirtation. You have been spending too much time with The Gossips.”

“All right.” The man actually relaxed a little. “I suppose this is about my grandfather.”

If Lord William meant to annoy Meryon with his tone of taxed patience, he succeeded.

“Yes, your grandfather; the lying, cheating, conniving Duke of Bendas is why you’re here.”

Lord William narrowed his eyes and picked up his gloves again.

Calm down
, Meryon reminded himself. He sat down in his chair and thought before he spoke again. “For almost two years, my goal has been to bring your grandfather to justice, not to destroy the dukedom itself. You understand that, I know you do.”

Lord William pursed his lips and moved his head as if agreement was being forced out of him.

“I wanted to prove Bendas so twisted with hate that he is mentally incapable of managing the estate. I wanted your father to petition the Regent and Parliament to allow him, as Bendas’s heir, to assume control of the entailed estate and his seat in Parliament.”

“Bad business judgment is hardly a proof of incompetence.” William sat forward as he spoke. “You are a cold-hearted puzzle, Meryon.”

“Coldhearted, perhaps, but everything I have done is legal.” Meryon paused a moment. “The same cannot be said for your grandfather. I found out this morning that your grandfather, with the help of his faithful fool, Rogers, has made three attempts on my life.”

Lord William was so astounded he could say only one word. “Rogers?”

“Yes. And what is worse, my informant was told that if Signora Verano were to die in the accident it would be worth even more to the duke.”

“That cannot be.” Lord William’s face lost some of its color. “I don’t believe you.”

“You may not want to believe it, but you can. Remember, your grandfather is the man who had Olivia kidnapped.” Meryon relaxed his fist but his anger did not fade. “Then the Duke of Bendas killed another man when he meant to kill me. It is not much of a step at all for him to hire someone to do what he failed at. And to crush, as if it were a small bug, the life of an innocent like Signora Verano.”

“But you don’t understand.” William paused. “This is beyond belief. Bendas
must
be mad.” William stopped talking and had some sort of internal debate before he said, “Your Grace, Elena is his daughter.”

Meryon thought he had come to terms with that possibility. But from the way he felt his body tense at the viscount’s words, he had not. “I thought she might be a relative. She made some comment once that led me to believe it.”

“I was the one who told her not to tell you the truth. It was early in your friendship and I was afraid you would use it to discredit Bendas.”

“I am not like your grandfather.” Meryon’s words were sharp and insistent. “I would never wish her ill. On the other hand, as Bendas’s illegitimate child, whom he never
acknowledged, it is clear Elena is no more than a potential embarrassment to him.”

“Illegitimate?” Now it was William who spoke sharply and with insistence. “You are wrong, Meryon. Elena was born Ellen Bendasbrook. Her mother was the duchess.”

Meryon could not hide his confusion. Bendas’s legal daughter. Then he remembered the story Elena told him of being sent away at fourteen. “The story of his disinheriting a daughter is true, then. He put her out because she sang a song he did not like.”

“Yes,” William said, smart enough not to embellish the one-word truth.

“Her mother did nothing to stop it?”

“She had died the year before. According to my father, Elena and Bendas were always at odds. In fact, Elena disowned the family as completely as Bendas disinherited her. I would not listen to either one of them and have been her friend for these last ten years.”

“My God, Bendas arranged for us to meet that night,” Meryon realized.

“No, no, I was the one who told her what room to use. I knew you were there. I knew you both had lost someone and still grieved. I thought that you might be able to comfort each other.”

“And introducing us in a more conventional way was not nearly as interesting.” God, that was so like the little troublemaker. William might not be vindictive like his grandfather, but he did have the inclination to play with people’s lives. “The single reason I am at all inclined to believe you is that Bendas never tried to use my friendship
with the Signora to embarrass either one of us.” Meryon had managed to do that without anyone else’s help.

“But this latest discovery has exhausted my limited store of patience, Lord William. I will go to the chancery; I will contact the trustees of all the old duke’s holdings. Bendas will be publicly stripped of his title, and no one with the name of Bendasbrook will ever be received by anyone for as long as the rest of his pathetic life lasts. Rogers will suffer with him.”

“Let me handle this, Your Grace.” William was not begging. Not quite. “I will write to my father today. I will go see the trustees who are here in London and find out what constitutes a valid reason to,” he shook his head, “to do whatever must be done.”

“It’s too late.” Meryon sat down. “My wife’s death gave you months to act. But your father was too used to playing peacemaker or was too much of a coward. A man died because of it.”

Lord William looked away.

“I should not have waited,” Meryon admitted. “Do you think that Bendas would still have the title if I had died that morning, as he intended?” Meryon emphasized the last three words. Lord William’s expression grew more stony. “Your grandfather missed me, but another man died and Bendas was able to buy his way out of the consequences. Lord William, I will not give up until I have justice.”

“But it will be your definition of justice,” William charged, recovering his mettle.

“So be it. I will take the one thing that matters to him
more than anything else. I want his name heaped with disgrace.”

Lord William stared at him. “You are no better than he is.”

“Spare me your moralizing, Lord William.”

“All right, but if you do as you say, it’s possible you will never see Elena Verano again.”

“Do not threaten me.” Meryon spoke with tightlipped fury. “You are courting her ward. You are not in charge of her life.”

“That is not what I meant,” Lord William shouted, his frustration showing. “Bendas bought the Verano violin and I think he intends to use it to win her over.”

“By your own admission, that will never happen. To use your words, ‘she disowned him.’”

“That may be, but why did she come back to England? Mia would have been welcomed in any court in Europe. Edward’s death made her see that she needed to try at least once to end her feud with her father.”

“She has been here for months.”

“And his purchase of the violin is the first sign that he may be willing. He must see, as The Gossips and most of the ton do, that you and Elena are no longer close. Bendas may well reconcile with Elena to show he can win her over when you have lost her. It will never end.”

“Until one of us is dead.” The thought of Elena as a pawn roused a protective urge that would never die. “I will not use her that way. She will make her own choice.”

“You will not even try to win her back.” The young lord rocked up on his tiptoes and down again. “If you will
not even try, Your Grace, then you and my grandfather have something in common. You are both cowards.”

Lord William picked up his gloves and collected his hat and greatcoat from the chair near the door. “Rest assured, Meryon, I will see that Elena and Mia are kept safe. Protect yourself.”

He left Meryon without farewell, leaving the duke standing in the middle of his office, considering his words.

Elena would be safe—not only because Meryon knew that it was their friendship that had put her in danger in the first place, but also because he could count on Lord William to see to it. Elena was his aunt and good friend. Even without those connections, the viscount would put most anyone’s protection before his own.

No one could ever accuse William Bendasbrook of cowardice.

Meryon was not a coward either. He was respecting Elena’s wishes, that is, to leave her alone. Never see her or call on her again and to be civil when they did meet in public.

They had spoken at the Monksfords’. That was civil.

He had left the Monksfords’ directly after the performance. That was out of consideration for her feelings.

Inspired by her song, he had written a heartfelt apology. That was definitely not cowardice. That was genuine.

He longed for a chance to dance with her again. That might make him seem like a fool or someone who believed in fairy tales. Perhaps he was too patient, too literal in honoring her wish. But not cowardly.

She was a Bendasbrook. Totally and completely. He
sat down and with his elbows on his desk, framed his forehead with his hands. The fact she was Bendas’s daughter did make a difference.

Meryon wanted her as much as ever, and hated her father with equal vehemence. He and Elena were not Romeo and Juliet, so young that such love seemed beyond family feuds. This widened the gap between them. It seemed impossible to cross.

F
OR YEARS THE METCALFES’
ball had been the unofficial opening of the Season. The Verano carriage rolled through Bloomsbury and into Mayfair as Mia fidgeted. “Do you think the Duke of Meryon will be there?” She raised a hand to her hair and then dropped it back in her lap before smoothing her coiffure.

Tina had insisted that a lady never worried about her appearance. It was always perfect, even if she had a tear in her hem. Elena was glad to see that Mia had been listening.

Mia smoothed out her new white gloves instead. “The duke promised to dance with me. Do you remember?”

“Yes, I do, but he did not promise it would be at your first ball. The duke will honor his commitment, I am sure, but you cannot know with certainty he will be at the Metcalfes’.”

“Have you not seen him in all this time?”

“Mia, it has been less than a week since the Monks-fords’ musicale.”

“But you used to see the duke every day.”

“He is busy too. If he comes to half the social engagements we have accepted I will be surprised. But most certainly we will see him a few times over the next months.”

“Months!” Mia was in transports. “Weeks and weeks of fetes, parties, balls, masquerades, theater, opera, musicales, and art exhibits.” She sat back as if already exhausted and straightened as quickly. “Have I left anything out?”

“The occasional picnic and perhaps a trip to Vauxhall.”

“We can go to Vauxhall?”

“If the right party invites us.”

“My governess said that it was filled with dangerous temptations.”

“Cara
, your governess was close to incompetent. Have you ever known a governess who never says no?”

“She did speak four languages.”

“Yes, but somehow all the words of discipline were left out.”

“Except for ‘Oh dear, I’m not sure.’” Mia mimicked the way the governess held her cheeks as she spoke, then laughed. “I loved her. She was too easy.”

“Exactly why she was the worst possible chaperone for you.”

“I no longer need one. I am a young lady about to make her bow to the ton.” She spoke as though it was the beginning of a fairy tale, and Elena hoped it was.

As for herself, Elena was relieved to be relegated to the group who escorted the young ladies. It was the perfect excuse not to dance if she wished to decline.

Though she might consider dancing a reel. One thing she was sure of: She would never dance the waltz again.

The carriage joined the line to the Metcalfes’ front door and Elena assured Mia that this was a test of patience that everyone had to endure.

M
ERYON WAS GREETED
effusively by Earl Metcalfe and was announced, though the words could barely be heard above the din. As he walked into the largest salon he could feel the hum of excitement. Young men and even younger girls were so crammed into the house the term “crush” had a quite literal meaning.