Prologue
“Where is Rowland?”
The butler hesitated. “I do not know, my lord.”
James nodded, saying nothing and then making his way into the dining room. His father, mother and sister were already seated, waiting for him but James did not go to his seat. Worry was already forming a knot in his stomach, telling him that all was not well.
“Do be seated,” his father said, gesturing to the empty chair. “We must dine, the food is ready and our guests are due to arrive very soon.”
“Where is Rowland?” James asked the very same question to his father, the Duke of Harrington, but the man only shrugged. “Does that not concern you, father?”
With a snort, the Duke shrugged and turned his gaze away. “You seem to think that my concern will do something as regards my wayward son. Do you not think that I have already spoken with him about his prolonged absences, the whispers I hear about him?”
James, glancing to his mother, felt his heart twist. The Duchess was looking down at her hands, her face white and her eyes heavy. Perhaps he ought not to have mentioned his brother in her company. “I did not mean to suggest that you have done nothing,” he answered, lowering his voice. “Forgive me for that.”
With a nod, his father jerked his head in the direction of James’ chair. “Please. We are all quite starved, I am sure – Anna especially!” There was a lightness in his tone now, his words directed towards James’ sister who, being the youngest, was not yet out. She smiled back at her father then glanced at James, waiting for him to do as he was asked. Reluctantly, James moved to sit down but his thoughts and his worry continued to linger on his younger brother.
As the meal was served, James ate but tasted very little, choosing not to join in with the conversation. The moment this was finished, he fully intended to take his horse and ride off into the night, determined to find Rowland. These last two months, ever since Rowland’s somewhat disgraced return from Eton, there had been nothing but trial and difficulty when it came to him. Rowland had not done well at Eton, had proven himself time and again to be without diligence and otherwise lazy, pursuing his own pleasures instead of dedicating himself to study. James had found that an embarrassment, had tried to speak to his brother about upholding the family name and respecting the standing upon which he stood but Rowland had always either merely dismissed him or mocked him. Returning home had brought no change. Rowland continued to be a rogue, to act just as he pleased and to do whatever it was he wished, which was causing not only James but also his mother and father, a good deal of distress. It was clear that Rowland cared for no-one but himself, had not even given a single thought to Anna and her situation. She was still to make her come out and whilst being the daughter of a Duke did improve her changes of a suitable match, there was still the risk of shame and disgrace by the actions of her younger brother. It frustrated James that his brother had not thought of such a thing or if he had, that he gave it no consideration.
“You are not eating, my son.”
James looked up at his mother, then shoved a forkful of food into his mouth. Swallowing quickly, he picked up another forkful. “Yes, I am.”
“You are much too concerned about Rowland,” the Duke interrupted, before the Duchess could say anything else. “Yes, he is foolish but he is not at Eton any longer. At least here, his choice of behaviour will not have such a great effect.”
“That is no excuse,” James answered, garnering him a frown from his father. “I do not mean to speak disdainfully but I do not think that permitting Rowland to do just as he pleases is of any good.”
“He is a grown man,” his mother countered, gently. “I am not pleased by what he does, of course, but I recognise there is nothing I can do, save but pray for a change of heart.”
Which you will not ever see, James thought, despondently. He is becoming worse and worse; I am sure of it.
A silence formed around the table as the dessert was served.
“When are we to expect Lord and Lady Rushforth?” the Duchess asked, as the Duke turned his head to look at the clock on the mantlepiece. “It is very soon, is it not?”
The Duke nodded whilst James struggled to raise even an ounce of enthusiasm. Lord and Lady Rushforth were dear friends to his own father and mother and James had known them near most of his life. The difficulty was, however, that they also brought with them their two daughters and while it had not been said explicitly, James knew all too well that the hope and expectation was that he might choose one of them to marry. Indeed, he was of age but he had no intention of marrying as yet – and when he did, it would be a lady of his own choosing.
“Within the hour or two, I should think,” the Duke said, rising from his seat. “Come now, my dear. I will have wine in the drawing room with you, so that Anna and you will not drink your tea without my company.” Taking his wife’s hand so as to lift her from her chair, he smiled into her eyes, making James’ heart flood with happiness. It was clear to him that his mother and father cared deeply for each other and that, he had to admit, was something he hoped for himself also.
“I should very much like that,” the Duchess murmured, as she took her husband’s arm. “Anna?”
“I am coming, Mama.” His sister cast him a glance. “You are not intending to join us, I think.”
James managed a small, wry smile. “You are always perceptive, are you not?” Seeing his mother and father stop at the door and look back at him, he shook his head. “No, I do not intend to join you. I want to go and find Rowland.”
His mother’s eyes fixed to his, a look of relief growing in her expression but his father only sighed.
“I think it a foolish venture,” he said, as James got to his feet. “But you will not be dissuaded, I know.”
“I shall not,” James agreed. “I hope to return with him, no matter how much of the night it takes me.”
With a nod and a small sigh of resignation, the Duke led his wife out of the room and to the drawing room, with Anna following after. Relieved that his father had not berated him nor encouraged him to desist, James made his way out of the room and went out to the stables, determined to find his wayward brother.
***
This is futile.
James was tired and sore. The late summer evening was not particularly dark but having been riding for some time without sight or sound of his brother, he felt his spirits beginning to sink low. He had seen the relief in his mother’s expression when he had spoken of going to find Rowland but now, as the night drew in, he feared he might have to disappoint her.
“Mayhap he knew that I was coming in pursuit of him,” he muttered to his horse, patting his side before turning him back in the direction of the road that would lead to his father’s estate. “Mayhap he has gone far afield, hopeful that I will not discover him.”
The horse, finding its way to the road, seemed to recognize where it was going and moved with a little more energy. Clearly it was also ready to return home, back to the comfort of the stables. James grimaced, wishing that he had been able to find his brother and bring him home.
A sudden shriek rent the air, making James snatch in a breath, pulling his horse to a stop. The creature stopped at once, letting out a quiet whinny, perhaps a little spooked by the sound. There came a dark laugh, another loud exclamation and, after a moment, what sounded to James to be the crack of a pistol.
With his heart in his throat, he jumped down from his horse and began to walk along the road, his eyes now accustomed to the gloom. The road was familiar to him and, rounding the corner carefully, he came to a stop.
“I have already warned you!” a voice cried, as James shivered. “Give me all you have and hold nothing back!”
I know that voice!
“You blaggard!” cried another, as James slowly began to make his way forward. “You think to rob us? My wife has given you all of her jewels save for this one ring, a ring that is precious to her. It was given to her by her late mother and…”
“I care not! Give it to me, now!”
James’ legs began to tremble, a thick cloud suffocating his senses. Surely it could not be!
“I will not.” The man’s voice was loud and determined, the cries of the lady beside him not drowning him out. “I have given you all save that. I shall give you nothing more.”
“I have already warned you what will happen if you do not.”
Blindly, tugging his horse along with him, James began to stumble forward, afraid of what he would find, of what he would discover.
“Can you not see that… ahhh!”
The sound of a pistol ricocheted through the air. James could hear nothing but that, oblivious to the cries that followed. Coming to the scene, he emerged out of the darkness and into the flickering lights surrounding the carriage, seeing only one person standing tall, a pistol in his hand.
Without warning, he reached up and ripped the black mask from the man’s face, staring into the panicked eyes of his brother.
“Rowland,” he whispered, as his brother dropped the pistol to the ground, his eyes staring past James, over his shoulder. “What did you do?”
“I… did not mean to shoot him,” Rowland whispered, his hands shaking as the cries of the lady behind him tore into the space between James and his brother. “It was a threat only.”
“What are you doing?” James asked again, gripping his brother’s lapels and shaking him, hard. “Why would you do such a thing as this?”
Rowland closed his eyes and swayed. “I had no choice,” he whispered, brokenly. “I owe them money and…”
“Owe who?”
A sudden, sharp pain tore through his shoulder and James stumbled back, one hand going to his arm. His brother let out a shout but James could not hear him clearly, his heart pounding, his arm pouring with pain.
“I have what you need!” Rowland cried, as two men came closer, both of them holding a pistol with one pointing at James. “It is all here, do you see? Everything that is needed.”
The first man chuckled darkly as he first eyed James who, somehow, had managed to remain standing. “Is that what you think? That this trifle will pay all your debts? You may be a Duke’s son but that does not mean I shall treat you any differently from the rest.”
“I know it will,” Rowland answered, his voice high pitched now. “This is all they have and…”
“I will decide whether it is enough,” the man answered, gesturing to the second man who bent to wrap up all that had been dropped at Rowland’s feet. “I shall come to see you soon.”
Without warning, they disappeared back into the darkness, leaving James to stand by the carriage, gasping for breath. As the haze of pain slowly faded, he could hear a lady crying, turning his head to see her kneeling by the gentleman his brother had shot.
“Is he…?” Bending down, despite the pain in his arm, he looked at the man, putting one hand out to his chest. Feeling the man breathe still, James closed his eyes with relief, his mind whirring.
“Come.” Turning his head, he gestured to his brother. “We must get them back in the carriage. Where is the coachman?”
Rowland swayed lightly, seemingly too distraught and upset to answer him. James made to speak to the lady but she only cowered back from him, her eyes wide and staring. Getting to his feet, James forced himself to walk steadily around the carriage, relieved that the horses were still accounted for. His eyes flared at the sight of the coachman, tied to the carriage wheel by his hands. With a loud exclamation, he dropped to his knees and with one hand, began to untie the knots. Frustrated with his lack of strength, he bellowed for his brother to come and join him and, much to James’ relief, he came.
“Now,” he told the coachman, once he was freed, “tell me where you are going.”
The man rubbed at his wrists. “To the Duke of Harrington’s estate.” He did not look at James, keeping his head low. “We were set upon, however…”
“Wait.” Rubbing one hand over his eyes, shock began to send a cold chill all through him. “Do you mean to say that this is Lord and Lady Rushforth?”
“Indeed, that is correct.”
Letting out a low groan, James tried to gather his thoughts. Not only had his brother attempted to rob a carriage as it drove along, he had now shot and injured Lord Rushforth, their father and mother’s dear friends. “I need you to take them to the estate, just as quickly as you can,” he said, dropping his hand and looking back at the coachman. “Have the butler send for the physician just as soon as you arrive. Go. Now.”
The man scrambled up into his seat, leaving James to hurry back around so he might help the gentleman and the lady back into the carriage. To his surprise, his brother had done that very thing, so that the lady was now sitting inside, her husband’s head on her lap. The gentleman had his eyes closed but from what James could see, he was speaking to his wife.
“Go.” Rapping on the side of the carriage, James watched as it pulled away, leaving both Rowland and himself to stand in the moonlight. Letting out a long breath, he lowered his head and squeezed his eyes closed, shoving one hand through his hair as he fought for clarity.
“What am I to do, brother?” Rowland’s voice quaked and James’ heart hammered, hating that his brother had been both so foolish and selfish. “I did not mean to shoot him. It was meant to be a threat only but…”
“Who are those men?” Lifting his head, James pinned his brother with his gaze, seeing the way he ran one hand down his face. “The ones who say you owe them money?”
Rowland shook his head. “Men I should never have become involved with. I have been bored, wanting to entertain myself and instead…”
“Instead, you threw away your coin,” James muttered, suspecting that his brother had not only gambled but had wasted his money on other pleasures with far too great a frequency. “You will not gain your full fortune until our father dies so you cannot surely be expecting to hold on until then? That could be many years from now!”
“I…” Rowland groaned aloud, throwing his head back as he stared up at the sky. “I have not been thinking clearly.”
“No, it is not that,” James answered, becoming angry now. “You have been selfish and inconsiderate, foolish and proud. You have thrown aside your responsibilities and have sought out momentary pleasures instead. And now look where this has brought you!” He threw up his hands. “If Lord Rushforth dies, then…”
“They cannot know it was me.”
James swallowed his next retort, understanding the fear but refusing to accept it. “This requires honesty, Rowland.”
“No.” His brother swept one hand through his hair. “No, I cannot. I will go instead to the continent.”
James’ mouth fell open.
“Our father has holdings there. I shall go there at once and escape this dreadful place.”
And escape any consequences also.
As far as James was aware, Lord Rushforth’s son would have every right to call Rowland out for what he had done, should it become known. There would be a duel, perhaps even a death but that was what ought to occur. As much as James wanted to protect his brother, he could not hold him back from the consequences of his actions.
“I think you should stay,” he said, taking a step closer to his brother. “It may not be as you fear. Lord Rushforth might recover and you need not say a word.”
His brother swallowed, then shook his head. “No.”
James, growing frustrated with his brother and pained still by the wound to his arm, took a step closer but Rowland was shaking his head, backing away.
“I know you will try to convince me to stay but I cannot. I will not,” he declared, turning to his left and, before James could do anything, hurrying towards James’ horse. “I will write to you, brother. I will write to you so you may know all is well.”
“Rowland!” James ran towards his brother, seeing him mounting the horse. “Henry, please! Stop!”
Using his brother’s Christian name did not give the man pause. Instead, he rode directly past James, leaving nothing but the wind to brush across James’ cheek as he watched helplessly.
Anger slowly slid into his core, sending a streak of fire up into James’ heart but the pain from his own bullet wound stole some of its vehemence away. Instead, ever so slowly, despair began to creep into James’ being. He felt no upset, no anger, no frustration. Now all there was within him was disappointment. Rowland had not changed. In fact, he had become a good deal worse, leaving James behind and refusing to accept any consequences for his wrongdoing. He had shot at Lord Rushforth, had injured the fellow and now James would be forced to deal with the matter alone.
And I am many miles away from home.
There was nothing for it but for James to make his way back to the estate on foot. The air was a little colder now and, with the pain in his arm and the blood on his sleeve, James began to feel chilled. Trudging forward, he set his feet in the direction of home, sorrow and agony in every step.
***
“James!”
It was not like his mother to use his Christian name but, given what James knew would be waiting for him at the estate, it did not come as a surprise. “Mother.” He took her hand and pressed it. “Are you well?”
“I cannot believe what has happened this night!” she exclaimed, her face white and her eyes fixed to his. “The carriage with Lord and Lady Rushforth came as expected but, as you know, Lord Rushforth lay injured within!”
James nodded and sank down into a chair in the parlor. “The physician is with him?”
His mother, who had still not released his hand, sat down beside him. “Yes, he is. Lady Rushforth has gone to lie down but she is to be roused the moment the physician is finished.”
“And father?”
“I am here.” The door opened just as James finished speaking, revealing his father. There seemed to be a heavy weight upon his shoulders given how he stooped, the grey in his eyes darker than usual. “The physician has finished with Lord Rushforth. Now, he is waiting for you.”
James glanced at his arm. “I thank you, I…” He stopped short, realizing something. Looking first at his mother and then to his father, he caught his breath. “You mean to say that Lord and Lady Rushforth recognised me? I did not think, in all the confusion, that they would have.”
“They did not.” The Duke came into the room a little more and stood in front of James and his mother. She quickly began to sob, her hand releasing from his and covering her face instead. “They were told of your presence, however.”
Not understanding why his mother appeared so distressed and his father so grave, James looked from one to the other. The Duke let out a wearied sigh and came to stand beside his wife, offering her his handkerchief and setting one comforting hand to her shoulder.
“Rowland told them, then?” James asked, as his father’s eyebrows dropped low over his eyes. “I presume…”
“Lady Rushforth told us that a kind gentleman, their rescuer, came to her aid,” his father interrupted, firmly. “He lifted first her and then Lord Rushforth into the carriage. He promised that he would negotiate with their captor for their freedom, that nothing more would occur.”
James began to shake uncontrollably, recalling how his brother had been speaking to Lady Rushforth once James had come back from speaking with the coachman.
“The thief, she was told, was none other than the eldest son of the Duke of Harington,” the Duke continued, his eyes closing, his voice wobbling now. “I have not had the heart to tell her that she is mistaken. Not yet.”
“Then, you believe it was not I who did such a thing?”
His mother’s eyes flew to his. “Of course, we do not! You are the most respectable, upstanding and amiable son.”
Relief began to settle on James’ heart, settling his trembling. “It was not me who stole from them,” he said, his words coming out slowly. “I came upon Rowland.”
With a sniff, the Duchess pressed her handkerchief to her eyes.
“I suspected it would be Rowland,” the Duke muttered, rubbing one hand over his eyes. “You found him, then. You found him trying to steal from Lord and Lady Rushforth.”
James nodded. “I did.” Realizing what his brother had done, the shaking returned with an even greater strength than before. “Rowland betrayed me.” His voice cracked. “He betrayed me utterly, blaming me for what was done when he is the one who has wound himself up with the very worst of men!”
His parents both looked at him and James saw the pain in their expressions. He wanted to reach out, to say something of comfort, but no words would come. He was in agony, both in body and in mind. How could his brother have done such a dreadful thing? Why had he thought to lie and place James’ name upon his own guilt? There had been no need to do so, surely?
Oh.
A groan broke from his lips as he dropped his head into his hands. “He knew that I would tell you, and possibly Lord and Lady Rushforth, that he was responsible,” he said, brokenly. “To prevent that, or to cast doubt upon my words, he told them my name before I could say anything.”
“I think that must have been his thinking,” the Duke replied, his grave expression remaining fixed. “I must tell you, my son, I am not certain I will be able to convince them that it is not true.”
A jolt passed through James’ frame. “What do you mean?”
The Duke looked at the Duchess and then back to James. “Lady Rushforth is quite convinced that the way things were told to her is what occurred. She is weak with shock and fright but will not be dissuaded. I cannot say that Lord Rushforth will be any better, for he is also injured and I would be surprised if he recalls things clearly.”
James swallowed hard. “Do you mean to say that they believe my brother was their savior? That he somehow shot me in an attempt to prevent me from injuring them any further? That I was the one who shot Lord Rushforth?”
His father did nothing but close his eyes and draw in a shuddering breath, telling James that all he had just said was true. Raking both hands through his hair, he stared down at the floor, his stomach in knots, his heart pounding and fear driving through him.
“What is to be done?” he asked, hoarsely as his mother broke down all over again. “How can I save myself from this?”
After a long moment, his father shook his head and looked at him gravely. “I do not know, my son,” he said, as darkness began to descend upon James, shrouding him from any light. “We must get your wound seen to and pray, thereafter, that Lord Rushforth makes a swift recovery. I cannot say for certain that it will be as I fear. Things may change, the truth may still become known and you may be quite safe.”
James tried to take heed to that, tried to hold onto the hope that his father offered him but his heart refused to listen. Instead, he felt himself sinking into a mire, his feet tied to the muck and the mire beneath him. Rowland had taken everything from him, he feared, and with only a few words to Lady Rushforth, had set James on a path that led towards nothing but darkness.
Chapter One
Two years later
“Theodora?”
The moment Lord Brackhurst’s familiar voice filtered through the door, Theodora’s lips rose in a smile as she got to her feet, her embroidery quickly set aside. Lord Brackhurst was handsome, amiable and good natured and she always enjoyed being in his company. With time, she was sure, her heart would begin to feel something more than mere appreciation for him.
“There you are.” The door to the drawing room opened and Lord Brackhurst stepped inside, bowing his head to her. “And alone, I see.”
“Yes, I should call for my maid.” Theodora, glad to see her betrothed, walked quickly to the other side of the room to ring the bell. “My brother is at home also, I think.”
Lord Brackhurst nodded. “Yes, he is. I have just finished speaking with him.”
“Oh?”
Her betrothed shrugged. “It was only to discuss the small matter of the dowry. The banns too. I have also assured him of my devotion to you, of my singular gaze that shall remain fixed on you.”
Ignoring the latter, Theodora looked back at him in surprise in hearing about the banns. “That has all been arranged, has it not?” They had only been betrothed for a fortnight – a betrothal arranged by her brother but accepted by Theodora – but she had thought her brother already involved with organizing of the banns.
With a wave of his hand as if to dismiss her concerns, Lord Brackhurst sat down, just as the maid came scurrying into the room, rushing to sit in the corner of it with her back to Theodora. “I have asked for there to be a fortnight between now and the calling of the first banns.”
This made Theodora’s stomach dip. “For what purpose?”
“I have some improvements at the estate which will not be completed in time otherwise,” Lord Brackhurst replied, an easy smile on his face, his blue eyes holding to hers. “When we step into the house as man and wife, I want it all to be ready for us.”
“Oh.” The nervousness within her began to fade. “I understand.” She tilted her head. “What improvements are there to be?”
Lord Brackhurst beamed at her as if to say that this question was one of the most delightful things she had ever said to him. “My study, my bedchamber and my stables are all to be improved. I have also asked for your chambers to be cleaned and prepared for you.”
Theodora blinked. “I see.”
“I hope you appreciate my thoughtfulness?”
This made Theodora frown. The one thing about Lord Brackhurst that she did not truly appreciate was his arrogance and his need for her to compliment him. It was as if he wanted her to heap praise upon him whenever she could, and whilst he certainly deserved her appreciation in some things, this was certainly not one of them. He was thinking only of his rooms and requirements, it seemed. “I am sure you have made the best decision,” she said, hoping that would suffice. “I look forward to seeing your estate for the first time.”
“It is quite wonderful,” Lord Brackhurst informed her, leaning back in his chair, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankle, his arms spread out across the top of the couch on which he sat. “I may only be an Earl but I can assure you, I have one of the finest manor houses in all of England!” Without stopping for breath, he began to speak at length about his house and all that he possessed. Theodora listened with only half an ear, not in the least bit interested. Lord Brackhurst often spoke of all he possessed and Theodora, understanding that many gentlemen were inclined to do so, always let him speak without interruption. She herself did not particularly care whether he had this painting or that vase; rather she wanted only to know of a gentleman’s character. Thus far, to her relief, Lord Brackhurst had proven himself to be amiable and kind and thus, even with his desire for praise and the like, she thought well of him.
“You are to be at the ball this evening, yes?”
Theodora looked back at him. “Yes, of course.”
“Then,” Lord Brackhurst said swiftly, rising to his feet and coming towards her, “might I have your cotillion and your waltz?”
A gentle warmth touched Theodora’s cheeks as he took her hand and pressed it to his lips, surprised by the curl of heat that seared her stomach. “Why yes, I think that would be acceptable, Lord Brackhurst.”
“Good.” His eyes glowed with something unfathomable and Theodora shivered lightly, a little disappointed and, at the same time, a little relieved when he took his hand from hers. “Then I shall take my leave and look forward to seeing you again this evening.”
Theodora watched him depart, smiling back at him when he cast her a glance over his shoulder. Her brother had chosen well, she thought, for Lord Brackhurst was a decent fellow and would be able to provide for her very well indeed. She knew as well that her brother would also feel a good deal of relief that he was no longer responsible for her! He would be able to concentrate on his own wife, Joceline, who Theodora was very dear friends with, and his own future. That was very important indeed, Theodora thought to herself, as she reached again for her embroidery. Samuel, her brother, was a good sort and he had been concerned for her – but no longer! She would be wed and contented very soon, and all would be well.
***
“He is a good fellow, is he not?” The Countess Ashworth leaned into Theodora as they walked, arm in arm, through the ballroom. “Your brother, I mean.”
Theodora laughed. “My dear Joceline, you say so because you are married to him and adore him utterly! Given that I have a sisterly affection for him, I am bound to agree with you, am I not?”
Joceline laughed softly, the glow in her eyes lingering. She had only just finished dancing the cotillion with her husband, whilst Theodora had danced it with Lord Brackhurst and it had been a most enjoyable dance for them all. It was clear to Theodora that Joceline adored Samuel and that brought her a good deal of happiness to see such love between them.
“My brother has always done things well,” Theodora continued, meandering through the crowd. “When our father became unwell, he was there with me as I tended to him. When he died, he took on all the responsibilities for the funeral without hesitation, even when I could tell that the pain and grief that was upon his shoulders sat very heavily indeed.” She smiled sadly, recalling how much they had shared together in that time. “He has always cared for me so very well. He promised me that he would find me a good husband, ignored my fears that I was to be considered a spinster and told me that there was nothing for me to worry about. And it seems he has been proven correct!”
“Of course, there is nothing to be concerned with,” Joceline said, firmly. “Your brother wants you to be happy, Theodora. If you were not contented with Lord Brackhurst, then I know he would set him aside and find another.”
“But I am contented,” Theodora promised. “Lord Brackhurst may be a little arrogant but he is kind and good natured.” Her cheeks flushed. “And handsome too, I shall admit it.”
This made Joceline laugh, her hand pressing Theodora’s arm. “It is always good to find one’s husband handsome, I think.”
Smiling at this, Theodora looked back at her sister-in-law. “You have been very good to me too, Joceline. You have set aside your honeymoon so that I might have a Season.” Her brother had only been introduced to Joceline some six months ago but they had been wed within six weeks. Samuel had fretted over Theodora’s Season, worrying that his wedding would overshadow her chances of going back to London but Theodora had refused to permit him to hold back from it. Indeed, she had already missed three Seasons – two, due to her father’s long standing ill health and the third because of her mourning period – but she had refused to let that stand in the way of her brother’s happiness. In the end, Samuel and Joceline had wed but they had refused to go on their honeymoon until Theodora had enjoyed her Season and, with any hope, made a match. Theodora had been touched by just how willing Joceline had been to set aside such happiness for her sake. It had told her just how much of a treasure the lady was.
“Nonsense.” Joceline tossed her head. “Honeymoons take such a long time and I was quite determined to spend some time here in London before we took a great adventure.” She smiled at Theodora. “Besides, you are my sister now and I have a responsibility to you, just as Ashworth does.”
Touched, Theodora put her hand to her heart. “I think of you the same way. I must say, however, I am glad that I made my come out some years ago, before father’s ill health. I do not know if I would have the courage to do it now, especially when there are so many debutantes this Season! I…”
Her gaze went over Joceline’s shoulder, her attention caught by a familiar face. Seeing Lord Brackhurst, her lips caught in a smile, only to fade away as she watched the young lady he spoke with set her hand on his arm.
“Theodora?” Joceline caught her attention, pulling her back from the scene. “Are you quite all right?”
“There.” Theodora nodded in Lord Brackhurst’s direction and Joceline turned. “I must say, I understand that Lord Brackhurst appreciates the notice and attention that so many young ladies give him but I do think there ought to be some level of propriety, surely?”
Joceline sighed. “I did say this to Ashworth. Lord Brackhurst is arrogant, as you yourself have noticed and I do not like to see the way he flirts with some of the young ladies.” She offered Theodora a sympathetic smile. “That will lessen with time, I am sure. Once he is wed, then…”
“Wait.” Theodora clasped her hands tightly in front of her, gripping them together so tightly, it was painful. “This is more than mere flirtation, Joceline.” A dull ache settled over her heart as she watched Lord Brackhurst lean down to whisper something in the young lady’s ear. The lady herself had both hands on his arm, holding him near to her but he did nothing to remove her presence from him. This was not a gentleman who was aware of his present situation as a betrothed gentleman! This was someone delighting in flirtation, in jesting and the like! Whilst Theodora knew Lord Brackhurst a little, she had never expected to see this sort of behavior from him!
“He is taken with the attention, that is all,” Joceline said swiftly, with Theodora catching the note of concern in her sister in law’s voice. “You yourself said that he was a little arrogant, did you not?”
“I did but…” Theodora’s response faded to nothingness as she watched Lord Brackhurst, now clasping the young lady’s hand, walking away from them and from the other guests at the ballroom. Her eyes followed after him, her feet beginning to hurry in the same direction when he went almost out of sight.
“Theodora,” Joceline exclaimed, rushing to catch up with her. “This will do no good!”
Theodora did not listen to her, did not stop even when Joceline’s hand caught her arm. Her heart began to pound, fear crawling up her spine as she watched him push open a door; a door that led to a quiet hallway. It was not the main entrance to the ballroom, was not a place where guests were permitted, as far as she was aware, and thus, her anxiety began to increase all the more.
“Theodora, where are you going?” Joceline caught her elbow, just as Theodora pushed open the door, following after Lord Brackhurst. “This can do no good.”
Her eyes followed Lord Brackhurst as he stepped into another room, the young lady still giggling along beside him. The door closed and her heart with it, closing itself to any possibility of future happiness. She already knew what Lord Brackhurst was doing, for there was no other reason for a gentleman to sneak away from the ballroom with a lady on his arm!
“I must know, Joceline.” Turning, she looked straight into her sister in law’s eyes. “I cannot marry him, not if he is as I suspect.”
Joceline closed her eyes. “Let me,” she said, after a long moment. “This is not something that you need to see.”
Theodora lifted her chin, trying to present herself as steady and considered when inwardly, she was shaking and afraid; afraid of what this would mean and how little hope she would have left. “I must do this, Joceline. He must be able to see that he has been well and truly discovered.”
Her sister-in-law opened her mouth to protest, to hold Theodora back but she did not listen nor hesitate any longer. There was no time, there could be no further delay. With a deep fear beginning to swell in her heart, she stepped towards the door and, without a second of hesitation, pushed it open.
The scene before her was one that tore open her chest and flung out her heart. Lord Brackhurst had the young lady in his arms and such was the lady’s seeming delight, she did not notice for some moments that Theodora had stepped into the room. When she did, an audible gasp filled the room as she quickly disentangled herself from Lord Brackhurst, who immediately began to speak but Theodora could not make out anything he was saying, such was the buzzing in her ears. She held his gaze, seeing his white face, his hands held out towards her but did not move an inch.
Joceline stepped beside her, a heaviness in the arm that went around Theodora’s shoulders. Both of them had known what would be contained within this room but Theodora had not expected it to cause her so much distress. It was not as if she was in love with Lord Brackhurst and it was not as if she had declared her heart to belong to him and he to her, but all the same, he had promised her not only his loyalty but also his devotion.
“Lady Howat and I…”
“You have no need to speak with Theodora at this moment, Lord Brackhurst.” Joceline’s voice was high pitched, her words clipped. “You have chosen poorly and I can assure you that this betrothal will no longer continue.”
“It was only a moment of foolishness!” Lord Brackhurst exclaimed, reaching to take Theodora’s hand but she pulled herself backwards at once, not in the least bit inclined towards him now. There was nothing but disgust for him lingering in her heart, nothing but sorrow and anger at his actions towards her; his disrespect shown so clearly.
“Lady Howat,” Joceline continued, turning her attention now to the lady in question. “Might you take your leave of us? I do not think that we require your presence here. Your husband will be looking for you.”
I did not recognize her until this moment, Theodora thought to herself, as the young lady put one hand over her mouth and then hurried out of the room. She is only newly married, I think.
“Theodora.” Lord Brackhurst reached for her again but Theodora stepped back, Joceline’s hand still on her shoulder. “It was only a moment of foolishness, as I said.” His voice was steady but his eyes darted from one side of her face to the next. “Lady Howat and I have known each other for a long time and I can assure you, such a thing will never happen again.”
A chill ran over Theodora’s skin as she gazed back at the gentleman she had thought to marry. The gentleman that her brother had believed would be a good match for her, that she had believed in also. He had clearly hidden a good deal of his character from them all and for that, she could only think poorly.
“I do not trust you, Lord Brackhurst,” she said clearly, relieved when her voice did not wobble. “Nor do I believe you. You have betrayed me, betrayed my family and I can no longer think well of you. Excuse me.”
With that, and feeling Joceline behind her, Theodora stalked from the room just as calmly as she could, opening the door and stepping out into the hallway. Her eyes were burning with tears as she blindly walked up the hallway rather than returning to the ballroom, her face hot and mortification shaming her. It was not that she felt herself responsible for anything that had taken place, of course, but still there was something in her that felt shame at being set aside so easily. Had she truly meant so little? Was their betrothal worth nothing?
“Theodora.” Joceline caught her arm, guiding her to a quieter corner of the hallway, away from anyone who might see them. “We shall return home this instant.” She searched Theodora’s face. “You need not linger. Your brother must know of this at once and…”
“I am to be a spinster for the rest of my days.” Hopeless, Theodora dropped her head, tears falling to her cheeks.
“Whatever do you mean?” Joceline grasped Theodora’s hands now, squeezing lightly. “Just because Lord Brackhurst has behaved despicably does not mean that the ton will turn against you.”
Theodora sniffed and looked up at her sister-in-law, her body trembling still. “I know all too well that Lord Brackhurst was my last opportunity. I am too old to be considered by many a gentleman, especially not in the light of the debutantes here in London.” She sniffed and shook her head. “I am sure that part of the reason Lord Brackhurst agreed to marry me was because of my brother’s generous dowry but with that gone and society then aware of what has taken place, what chance do I have of finding someone new?”
“You must not give up hope. “Joceline’s voice was wobbling but she gazed steadfastly into Theodora’s eyes. “You cannot let yourself turn away from such a hope.”
I fear I already have.
Tears began in earnest as Theodora let go of Joceline’s hands, putting her head in her hands as she sobbed. Everything was gone, broken now and discarded utterly by the selfish actions of Lord Brackhurst. There was nothing left for her now, nothing but dust and ashes.
Her future was gone. Her happiness shattered. She would be a spinster now, forgotten by all and a burden to her brother. Lord Brackhurst had taken it all from her.
Chapter Two
James scowled at the letter, wanting to tear it into tiny pieces and discard it out of the window so that the wind would capture it and pull it away. Instead, he forced himself to read it again, wondering if his mother had encouraged Anna to write with such begging, sorrow filled words.
Brother, it read, I must beg of you to find it in your heart to consider me. If I am to make my come out then I must go to London but your stubborn heart refuses to permit me. You will not give me help; it seems. You have sat in your chambers or your study and have refused to grant me any consideration and that even when my heart is already very heavy indeed. Can you not see that the pain caused by the loss of our father has only increased by your absence, by your lack of consideration?
“Pah.” James’ lip curled as he rose to his feet, walking across the room to pick up his glass of brandy. His sister had seemingly forgotten that he was no longer accepted by any of the ton and that, therefore, told him that he could not make his way to London. Had she quite forgotten that? Had she been unable to remember how all of society had turned on him? How, even at his father’s funeral, there had been whispers and sidelong glances and even the cut direct?
A knock came at the door and James turned, a little surprised that one of the servants would come to speak with him when it was such a late hour, only for his mother to step into the room.
With a grimace, James turned away.
“You have received your sister’s letter, then.”
“It is quite ridiculous that she felt the need to write to me when she lives in the very same house as I.”
The Duchess smiled sadly. “Might that not be an example to you of how your present demeanour is affecting her?”
“No.” James did not so much as glance back at her. “It is a testimony to just how ridiculous she can be.”
“Do not say such things.”
The sharpness of his mother’s voice made him turn his head, looking back at her.
“She is broken, just as you are, albeit for very different reasons.”
“Forgive me, Mother, but I will not accept that.” Throwing back his brandy, James wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, heedless to just how uncouth such an action might be. “Anna was not the one blamed for the shooting of Lord Rushforth. She was not the one dragged through society’s lips, lies being spread about her with such great vehemence and venom.”
“That is true enough.” The Duchess tilted her head. “You know very well, however, that your father and I both did our utmost to tell the truth.”
James hung his head, his lips pulling flat. That much was true, he had had to accept that, but the damage had already been done. Lord and Lady Rushforth had believed what James’ brother had told them, had refused to accept anything other than that and had even told James that the only reason his mother and father were saying such a thing was because he was the heir and could not be badly thought of. What had followed had been months of ever-increasing misery. The Duke and Duchess had done their best to get the truth out and for that, James had been grateful. His parents had been willing to let society think badly of Rowland, to let them know the truth of their son’s character but it had not been enough to save James. Because he had been present, because he was simply there rather than on the continent, the ton had chosen to believe Lord and Lady Rushforth. He had been rejected, even within his own estate, and that had brought him only pain and anger. They had even attempted a small outing to Bath but that had gone dreadfully. To have been given the cut direct had torn at James’ heart and, from that moment on, he had chosen to step away from society – from everyone, near enough. The loss of his father some six months later had sent an agony into his heart that he had still never truly recovered from but at least now, he had his solitude. He did not have to face the ton, did not have to step into society any longer.
“In spite of all that you have endured, you must still surely recognise that you have a responsibility to your sister,” his mother continued, when James said nothing. “Come now, Harrington, she has written you a letter because she is barely able to see you! And when she does, she is not able to speak with you because of your lack of willingness to even exchange a few words.”
“I will not take Anna to London.” James gestured to his mother. “You can take her yourself.”
The Duchess frowned. “You know that I am unwell, Harrington.”
James bit back his first, sharp response. His mother had certainly not been in her full strength during the last year but she had obviously improved the last few months. There was more vigor in her step, a brightness in her smile and a slow returning confidence and determination, which he had not seen since before his father had passed away. To his mind, his mother was not in the least bit incapable of bringing and chaperoning Anna around London. She was only saying such a thing so that he would go to London also.
“You may think that I have improved and whilst that is true, I do not and I cannot think that I am well enough to make my way to London alone and do all that is required of me.”
Heaving a sigh, a sigh which he hoped might encourage his mother to give in to what he wanted, James threw her a quick look but the lady only lifted an eyebrow in his direction.
“I will not go to London,” he said, unequivocally, unwilling to show her that even the thought of it sent fear racing through his veins. “I cannot.”
“You can.” She took a step closer to him. “You are the Duke of Harrington! You cannot step back from this! You ought to be in amongst society, ought to be respected as an upstanding gentleman! If you will not battle these rumours, then who will?”
James’ lip curled. “No-one will, Mother. Have we not already established that it is all quite without hope? Lord and Lady Rushforth are still telling their friends and acquaintances of what happened and blame me for it all. My dear brother is on the continent with no chance of returning and I am left here, near enough alone and without any prospect of happiness.” A snort broke through his lips. “I do not think I will be able to produce the heir for you, Mother. My brother will have to suffice. Whether or not he will ever settle down enough to wed, however, I cannot imagine.”
The Duchess shook her head. “No, Harrington! You cannot let Rowland take the title.” She pinned him with her gaze. “This is the greatest responsibility you have, is it not?”
Feeling as if they were moving from the topic of conversation which, until this moment, had been about Anna, James frowned, hard. “You told me only a moment ago that my responsibility was to Anna.”
“It is, but you also have a duty, a greater duty to the title.” Coming closer to him still, one hand on his arm, his mother pressed it lightly. “You know that you are innocent of all wrongdoing, I know that you are without fault and Anna does also. You have become a recluse, James. You have turned away from family and from friendship, feeling yourself beaten and broken by these lies.”
Hearing him speak his Christian name brought a tightness to James’ throat but he fought hard so she could not see even a hint of the emotion that threatened to hold sway over him.
“I am sure you will be able to find someone to marry you,” she continued, as James’ heart squeezed painfully. “There will be many young ladies eager to wed a Duke!”
“A Duke who dressed up as a highwayman, stole from his father’s close friends and put a bullet into a gentleman’s shoulder?” James cast a look towards his mother, seeing her sinking just a little. “You cannot believe that I shall easily be able to find someone, surely?”
With a deep breath, the Duchess tossed her head, seemingly determined to give him her assurance that he would be able to succeed. “I do not think it outside the realm of possibility, Harrington. Indeed, it will be difficult and indeed, it may be a struggle to find someone suitable but there will be someone.”
“Someone who does not care about the dark reputation I have garnered but who only cares for title and fortune.” This made James scowl. “That is not the sort of young lady I could ever think of as a suitable wife.”
“I will find someone.” Squeezing his arm again, the Duchess looked up at him. “Will you come to London, Harrington? Please? You need only chaperone Anna as and when is required, I shall do the rest. And, whilst we are there, I will be able to find the very best young lady for you as your bride. That way, you will have this assurance of happiness, something you have been denied for so very long.”
A flicker of hope burned in James’ heart but it was there for only a moment. It extinguished itself quickly enough, leaving him to grimace, his head falling forward, shoulders rounding as he shook his head.
“No, I do not think so,” he said, a little hoarsely. “Mother, I cannot think that my attending the Season will do any good for Anna. Once the ton realise who she is, they will begin to speak of me, will they not?”
“Yes, they will.”
Throwing up his hands, James made his way to pour another brandy for himself. “Then you can understand why, even when she states I am not considering her, I am, in fact, doing that very thing but stating I will not go to London.”
The Duchess shook her head. “No, Harrington. Your absence will do nothing more than stoke further rumours. Recall that society is already aware of all you supposedly did, that they will be speaking of it regardless of whether you are present or not. If, however, you did show your face, if you were able to state clearly that you were not guilty of all that Lord and Lady Ruthford have placed upon you, then that might help not only Anna but your situation also!”
This did not break into James’ thoughts and encourage him to agree. “Mother, I understand that you think this is best but…”
“Please, Harrington!”
There was desperation in his mother’s voice now, desperation that made James pause. He had not heard her speak in such tones before, had never heard her cry out to him in such a way, not since the day she had learned of her husband’s passing.
“I cannot stay here, not any longer!” she exclaimed, tears sparking in her eyes. “I have been at this estate for over two years, without friend or family save for yourself and Anna. I have borne the shame of hearing my eldest son falsely accused, of hearing him spoken of in a way that has made my heart break, have seen him turned away from by those who ought to have known the truth and I do not think I can bear much more!”
James swallowed tightly, not wanting to give in to her request but at the same time, fighting against the sense of responsibility that tightened like a noose around his neck.
“Anna needs to have her come out, Harrington! Your dear father would have arranged it all, had he not been taken unwell. This year of mourning has been difficult for her, difficult for us all but this is something that cannot be ignored any longer. You must step up to this!”
“She will be shunned because of me!” James rounded on his mother, his brandy swirling and leaping out of his glass. “She will be ignored and given the cut direct, do you not see that?!”
His mother shook her head. “You cannot be sure of that.”
“Yes, I can be. I know the ton, I know society. I know the whispers that will come because of it. I know that the guilt I bear, whether rightly or not, will be pushed onto her and she will be stained because of it.”
The Duchess took in a deep breath, closed her eyes and then, after a moment, looked back at him. “And what else will become of her if you do not do as you ought?”
That was a question that James could not answer. He wanted to give her some quick and clever response, to make it obvious that he had thought of this and would do his best to care for Anna, but nothing came to his mind. With his jaw set, he slumped his shoulders and he shook his head, telling her that he had no reasonable response to offer her.
“This will be your one opportunity to see if it really is as dire as you believe,” his mother said, softly. “And if you wish me to do so, then I will find you a bride. A good, amiable, respectable creature who will suit you very well.”
The edge of James’ lip curled begrudgingly. “You would play matchmaker, then?”
Something like relief shone in the Duchess’ eyes. “If I had to then yes, I would. Of course, I would.”
Am I agreeing to this?
James shook his head to himself but inwardly felt his heart begin to turn towards all that his mother had suggested.
“I will do as much as I can for Anna,” the Duchess said, very softly indeed. “You would need to be there for her presentation to the King but for very little else.”
“I know.” James swallowed hard, closing his eyes, the words from his sister’s letter coming up before him. “Let me consider it all, Mother.”
For a moment, it looked as if his mother would come to embrace him, that she might throw her arms around his neck and declare just how glad she was to hear this. James braced himself, not certain he wanted such a thing, only for her to take a step back, away from him instead.
“I thank you, my son.” Clasping her hands together, she gazed into his eyes, her relief obvious. “I have always known that you are a good man.”
His throat constricting, James could only manage a nod.
“I shall tell Anna.” Her smile was warm. “Good night.”
“Good night,” James replied, a little dully. Somehow, his mother had contrived to persuade him that a return to London would, after all, be a most favorable undertaking, rather than a matter to be dreaded or shunned. His instinct said to step away, to hide from it, to reject society just as he had been doing but his mind told him that he had to be honest with himself about the responsibilities he faced.
If all I must do is present Anna to the King, then mayhap I will be able to sit in London for a time. The idea of stepping into a ball or a soiree was so heavy on his mind, he rejected it at once. Anna needs to find a husband, does she not? I cannot pretend otherwise.
The way his mother had promised vehemently to help him secure a bride, a suitable, amiable and respectable bride, made James smile humorlessly. He did not doubt his mother’s good intention, did not think that she would do anything other than what she had suggested but all the same, he had not even a flicker of hope. If he was to make his way to London, then it would be for Anna and for Anna alone.
Sighing heavily, James threw his head back, closed his eyes and curled his fingers into a tight fist, a hint of pain clearing his thoughts.
Even if I do not wish to, it seems I must do what is asked of me, for her sake.
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What an exciting intro to the novel! I truly look forward to reading the entire story – I’m sure it’s going to be wonderful!