Shayla Black (38 page)

Any reconciliation he could affect would benefit everyone.

To Brock’s surprise, the butler returned, stoic as ever, and led him directly to the duke’s study.

Cropthorne stood by the far window, sunlight at his back. The disapproving scowl he had worn Saturday night had not left his face. Brock braced himself to take the blame for Maddie’s fall from innocence in the barn years ago. He deserved it, really. He’d been twenty-one, Maddie a mere seventeen. But the day Aimee had been conceived, he had only thought to seal the special bond he’d believed he and Maddie shared. Yes, he’d understood the possibilities. He simply had not believed they would come to fruition.

He was furious with Maddie for all the years he had lost with Aimee, for marrying Sedgewick without saying a word to him.

Brock sighed as Cropthorne glared at him across the room. “Your grace.”

“
I should have refused you,” Cropthorne said. “I will not tolerate any hint of scandal. If the truth makes its way to the ton, you’ll both be ruined. And Aimee will be forever tainted.”

“
I want to avoid that at all costs.” Brock pulled on the lapels of his coat and straightened his shoulders. “Maddie and I will marry tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. I think it would please her, as well as lend credence, if you attended.”

Cropthorne hesitated, mulling over his options. “It will be a quiet wedding?”

Though the duke’s reply came as a question, Brock understood he meant it as a command. He agreed his marriage to Maddie would raise less notice if they wed with a few witnesses and an even smaller party. Perhaps only a handful of people would make note of the event. Doubtful, but he could hope...

“
Only her aunt, Mrs. Bickham’s companion, and my father will attend.”

“
I will be there,” Cropthorne said finally. “You understand I’m hardly eager to welcome you into the family. I do not regard you as trustworthy, Mr. Taylor.”

How should he answer that? He hated like hell having to explain himself to “his betters,” to always justify his actions, his very existence. But the railroad was too important. Any chance—no matter how remote—of Cropthorne returning as his partner was too valuable to lose because of anger and pride.

“
I did not intend to ruin Maddie before her come out.”

Cropthorne raised a black brow in contempt. “You were older, ostensibly wiser.”

“
Yes.” Brock conceded with a nod. “But I had never been in love.”

“
Do you imagine that will excuse your behavior?”

From the duke’s tone, Brock knew it would not.

“
Have you ever been in love, your grace?”

“
Thankfully, no. If it impairs one’s judgment, as you imply, I hope never to find myself in such a wretched state.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Brock had to suppress a smile. “Love will drive a man to reckless acts, all in the name of claiming his lady.”

Brock knew his words sounded terribly romantic...but they were true.

Cropthorne’s black brows slashed down in a scowl. “Marrying her, even eloping, would have been a far more proper way to go about that.”

Brock paced. How much should he say? How much of his soul should he have to bare to a man he did not know well? Perhaps a better question was, how badly did he want the wealth and prestige that would be his if the railroad was completed and successful?

Far, far too badly to remain silent.

“
I wanted to marry her, but allow that, at the time, I had nothing to offer her. I would never have title or position, but I also had no money, no land, no home. Hell, I worked for her father.”

“
If you had nothing, you should have done the honorable thing and walked away, man! Why take her innocence—”

“
It wasn’t as if I bloody planned it!” Brock pinched the bridge of his nose. “I went to say goodbye, assure her I would make enough money in London to return for her soon so we could marry, even if her father disapproved. She held me so tight, I could not let go.”

“
A man of integrity would have let go long before he breeched her maidenhead.”

Cropthorne’s insult zinged through the charged air, hitting Brock square in the chest. Still, he had never really regretted the fact he’d made love to Maddie in a barn that rainy day.

At least not until he learned he’d lost more than four years of sharing his daughter’s life.

“
Probably so,” Brock conceded. “I can only say, in that moment, Maddie was the best part of my life. I knew I could not take her with me to London to live in poverty, yet I did not want to be parted from her, particularly knowing her father sought to marry her off to some blue-blooded sop she would likely despise. Maddie was...sweet and earnest, her heart so pure.”

Or so he’d thought. The other night, after Belwick’s announcement, he wondered if he’d ever known Maddie at all. Perhaps the girl he’d fallen in love with had been a myth, like fairies and sprites, elusive like the mist. That girl would
never
have kept such a terrible secret from him or implied he did not deserve his own daughter, with or without her father’s coercion.

It was his misfortune that girl, if she’d ever existed, had died. Tomorrow, Brock would wed the deceitful, complex, seductive woman who had replaced her.

“
So you took her?” Disapproval still ruled Cropthorne’s visage.

Actually, Maddie had offered, but the semantics hardly mattered now. “Yes.”

The disapproving line of Cropthorne’s mouth cracked into a small smile. “You don’t lack temerity, do you?”

“
My brashness earned me a way out of the slums and allowed me to make a fortune so I could look titled men in the eye. I understand you dislike the thought of your young cousin being ruined by her stable hand—”

Cropthorne waved his words away. “You’re past your serving days now. To me, that is no longer of primary interest. The sooner you cease resenting your past, the sooner everyone will forget it.”

Spoken like someone who had always known superiority and wore it like a fine coat, Brock thought cynically. Not everyone was so modern in their thinking. Lady Litchfield proved that.

The duke went on, “Financially, you will be able to care for Maddie better than she can care for herself, I daresay. It is your lack of restraint and morals that give me pause. Men of power should possess self-control, Mr. Taylor.”

Clearly Cropthorne did not allow impulse into his life—ever. He doubted his grace would understand the urgency that had driven Brock to have Maddie beneath him, to claim her in the most elemental way as a silent declaration of his intent to have her forever—physically, emotionally, legally. Trying to make Cropthorne understand was, no doubt, a waste of breath and time.

Brock smiled bitterly. “I only seem to lack restraint and morals where Maddie is concerned. The woman drives me to distraction. But if you prefer to believe that I am false in my business dealings, I doubt I can change your mind.”

Cropthorne hesitated. “For some time, you failed to inform me that you were wooing Maddie for that necessary piece of Warwickshire land.”

Nodding, Brock regarded Cropthorne with a grim gaze. “It seemed foolish to discuss marrying Maddie when the matter was not yet settled. You may allow I’ve been most persistent in bringing Maddie to the altar.”

“
Quite,” drawled Cropthorne.

The man sounded almost...amused. Brock smiled. “Indeed. I confess to keeping silent because I had no notion how you would receive the idea of a former servant marrying your cousin.”

Cropthorne shrugged. “The very first Duke of Cropthorne received this title from Charles II for saving the king’s mistress from drowning in the Thames. My illustrious ancestor tended gardens for his wage. I hardly have room to cast aspersions on your birth.”

A wry smile broke across Brock’s face. Cropthorne had always had a way of making them feel equal. He appreciated that most particularly today.

“
Granted, the notion of you marrying an earl’s daughter will raise some brows, but I care far more about the measure of a man than the lines of his blood.” Cropthorne paused, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “Why do you think I should trust you?”

Brock paced closer, quickly gathering his words. Cropthorne had given him a chance—likely his only chance to redeem himself. He’d best use it wisely.

“
I must work harder, be more honest than someone like Belwick, to succeed because of my birth. While you may not put a great deal of stock in my pedigree, most do.”

Cropthorne nodded, conceding the point.

“
All I have is my reputation as a man of business. I cannot call upon wealthy friends of my father who’ve known me since I wore swaddling clothes. No idle lords at my club will listen to me over cards and brandy; none of the clubs will have me. I’ve made a fortune by being the best and most reliable investment broker. Anything I withheld from you regarded my relationship with your cousin, which I hope you will allow is personal. I never lied about the railroad itself.”

The duke raised a brow, clearly unmoved.

Brock sighed, his frustration swelling like a well after a hard rain. “In the end, you can trust me to do whatever necessary to keep any scandal about Maddie and me quiet while making you a fortune on the railroad—if you choose to return to the project.”

Cropthorne gave no comment, only a long stare, before he turned away, presenting his back. It was all Brock could do to hold in a curse.

“
I make it a point to do business only with men of good ethics, Mr. Taylor. But I also make it a point to avoid scandal in my family.”

So where did that leave him? Cropthorne paused, paced. The man had to know the tension was killing Brock.

“
I will, therefore, return my backing to the railroad, as withdrawing would likely cause people to ask the questions that would drag my cousin’s name—and my own—through a scandal. If it weren’t for that, I hope you understand I would never speak to you again. Now you may leave.”

#

By Tuesday morning at ten-fifteen, Brock stood beside Maddie, sliding a heavy gold band on Maddie’s finger. The minister pronounced them man and wife. Other than speaking her vows, his new wife had yet to say a single word to him.

The fury, fear, and defiance tangled on her face told him today—and the next forty years—were likely to be long and unhappy. The thought depressed him.

At Maddie’s left, Cropthorne stood stiffly, his face without expression. By his side, Lady Litchfield stood, assessing everything with cool blue eyes. Brock understood well why Cropthorne had brought her. The duke may not approve of him as Maddie’s groom, but he would give the appearance of approval for his cousin’s sake. For that, Brock was thankful.

At the back of the room, his father bounced Aimee on his knee. Mrs. Bickham cast them both a doting look. They wore the only smiles in the room.

Finally, he had everything he wanted—a fortune, Maddie as his wife, the
ton’s
most revered hostess to lend credence to his marriage, enough money to see the railroad—his dream—completed, a glittering fortune on the horizon, even a beautiful daughter as a bonus.

Why, then, was he so damned miserable?

The minister closed his book, then gave them an expectant look. “Well, don’t you mean to kiss her?”

For the first time today, Brock turned his stare to Maddie. She’d bought a new gown at his behest, a muted blue dress of quiet flounces that displayed the elegant slope of her shoulders. Her lush auburn hair had been swept atop her head, leaving only a few curls to frame her face, brush the soft skin at her neck. A wreath of orange blossoms lay atop her hair.

Her eyes, though... He could find nothing soft in them. Against her pale skin, the gray orbs seemed to swirl and darken like a storm cloud. He read her trepidation and anger as she glared at him, like she thought him beneath her.

Frustration spewed close to the surface. He had held the woman for months, admitted he loved her even, like some pining swain. And still, she had not seen fit to give him the truth.

Aware that every eye in the room watched him, Brock leaned over, palmed Maddie’s nape, and took possession of her mouth in a quick, fierce kiss designed to intimidate.

When he leaned away, he was gratified to see her face transformed by caution—and awareness. She knew he was angry. She also knew he intended they would consummate this marriage today. No one would question his right to her hand or her land.

During the tense moment, the minister congratulated them and urged them to sign the register. Once done, Mrs. Bickham rushed to their side with a hug for each of them. Vema bowed her head thoughtfully, her yellow sari flowing about her with grace.

“
You will scare Maddie if you don’t stop scowling, my boy,” Aunt Edith whispered.

He mocked a smile for Maddie’s aunt, but at the moment, he was too wound up to change his countenance.