Chapter 34
Ronan jerked awake, reaching for something.
He stopped. His hand came down. He didn’t know what was happening.
Sitting up, he glanced around in confusion. He was on a handful of cushions beside a sofa that didn’t belong to him. Shelves and a desk proved it was a study.
Then he noted curly gold hair. Someone slept at the desk. Grabbing the smallest of the pillows, Ronan threw it at the head.
Cursing, Julian blearily looked up. “Why am I not in bed?”
“A most excellent question,” chirped a cheery voice too loud for Ronan’s liking. He groaned at the sight of Genevieve who brought forth a loaded tray of bread and tea.
He slowly pieced together the last day. Julian’s arrival at his estate had him questioning Isla’s departure. So they had sought to speak with her, but she wasn’t at home. They’d learned rumors at the club and returned… A glance at his pocket watch proved it was only four hours ago.
“Why are we awake?” He grumbled as the platter was placed noisily at the desk.
“My dearest, best wife, I must agree with his sentiment. Can you not give us a few more hours?”
Genevieve sniffed as she straightened, putting her hands on her hips. “Certainly. I doubt you would be interested in anything I have to learn about the MacLaren family anyways. Sleep well.”
That had Ronan shooting up, swaying and holding onto the sofa for support. “What? What did you learn?”
“More particularly, how?” Julian asked as he folded his arms. “You were at a dinner party last night and should have come straight home. What did you do?”
Genevieve smirked. “I’ll pour the tea, then.”
She served them politely while explaining she had indeed attended the party… with Isla. Seeing the way Isla had practically jumped from a moving carriage––a sickly image that had Ronan needing to take a seat to keep breathing––had made Genevieve curious enough to follow and ask at the back door.
“I didn’t have to ask the servants. Another daughter was there. Margaret. She was attempting the courage to go seek Ronan out, though she didn’t know how she might do that,” Genevieve explained.
So Genevieve had been there at the perfect time.
Because Margaret knew a family secret: their father had left behind debts under forged names, a secret he had whispered when she was young, thinking she might never remember.
Only it had haunted her and now she worried it had something to do with her sister’s strange behavior.
Julian and Ronan stared at one another in amazement.
“What if… What if Dunn knew about them?” Ronan finally asked aloud.
“It would surely tempt her to do something drastic to protect the family,” Julian said in reply. “Would she leave you to protect them?”
He recalled her hard words when she left him. His own cruel tone. And he recalled the day she had rescued his nephew from a horse, protecting him with her whole body. “Yes. She would do anything for them.”
“She said she was leaving you?” Genevieve asked in alarm, not having known the whole of the story.
Draining the last of his tea, Ronan climbed to his feet. He found his cravat and looped it around his neck as a plan formed. For the first time in days, he felt a small inkling of hope. And for once, he didn’t deny it.
He announced, “I need a horse. Now.”
“I’ll come with you,” Julian said.
“No. I need you to do something else, actually.”
Within the hour, Ronan was back in the saddle.
His body was tired still from yesterday’s strenuous activity.
But it didn’t matter. He could fix this problem once and for all.
He didn’t have to turn Isla away, and she didn’t have to leave him.
They had other matters to sort out. But if they could overcome this, couldn’t they overcome anything else? When he loved her that much––
He tightened his hands on the reins. He did love Isla. He had for some time. And he wasn’t going to let her go.
This bolstered Ronan on the ride through town to Lord Dunn’s estate. It was still an early hour, nearly nine, when he arrived. Sliding from the saddle, he looped the reins near the front door and strode up.
“Er, I’m sorry, we’re not receiving at this hour––oho! Good sir! We are not!” The butler stammered when Ronan elbowed his way through the door and stormed down the hall.
He would not be stopped. The house was unfamiliar, but it was smaller than his and would have fewer rooms. “Where is Dunn? I need to see the master of the house. Immediately! Dunn! Where are you?”
The third doorway led to a drawing room where the older man was lounging with a plate on his lap. Ronan rammed inside.
Dunn staggered up in surprise, the porcelain breaking about his feet. “What is the meaning of this? How dare you?”
“No, how dare you?” Ronan shoved him back down. The man fumbled back into his seat but forced himself back up as he went on. “Where is she? Where is my wife?”
The miffed expression immediately gave way to a sly smirk that had Ronan balling his hands into fists. “Oh, your little duchess? Surely she told you. She’s done with the likes of you. She knows who has the real power here, Your Grace,” he added snidely.
Ronan had lectured himself on the way that he would be polite or at least respectful. To be the gentleman his family had wanted him to be.
Instead, he grabbed Dunn by the collar and slammed him against the nearest wall. “She is still my wife, and she will remain my wife for the rest of our days,” he barked.
“Then why isn’t she with you?” Ronan didn’t have an answer for that and Dunn knew it. The older man laughed and the sniffed. “It matters not. She’ll do anything to protect her sister.”
That was new to him. “Margaret? Lacey?”
Anger surged through him. Because they were Isla’s sisters and now his family. He would fight for them just as much as she did. He would do anything to protect them. And to hear that a cruel, snivelly-sort of man like Dunn dared to threaten his family was unacceptable.
“I said I would marry one of them. Her mother shook on it. Hardly a lady, I know, but it still stands. And if Isla backs down…” Dunn tutted with a dramatic pout.
The whole of the matter came together. Ronan’s jaw tightened.
Rage soared through him. He could see it now.
Dunn finding Isla, cornering her some place at the ball.
Making his threats to marry Margaret and reveal the truth about their debts.
Maybe he had toyed with them in a way that had Isla feeling like she had no choice, that no one could help her.
I didn’t help her, did I? I didn’t do what I should have as her husband. I shouldn’t have let her left. I should have figured out what was really happening. If only I had paid better attention.
There was much Ronan wanted to amend with his wife. And he would, he determined, the moment he was done with this man.
“You won’t have her,” Ronan announced. “In fact, you will never see, speak to, let alone touch a single MacLaren lady for the rest of your pathetic life, Dunn. Do you hear me? Never. Because you may think you have some secrets, but I have some of my own. Or should I say, yours.”
Dunn’s smirk slowly slid off his face. His eyes narrowed. “You don’t know anything.”
Technically, Ronan didn’t. He knew this. Julian knew this, which was why he was back at the clubs already to focus more on Dunn’s past partnerships and friendships amongst society. If Dunn wasn’t afraid to manipulate a duchess, then he was surely causing trouble elsewhere.
But Dunn doesn’t have to know a thing.
“This isn’t your first foray into blackmail, is it?
Only someone like you would know about forged documents,” Ronan blustered with confidence.
“You’ve always had eyes watching you, Dunn, and I’ll bring them to the front now.
No one will ever invite you to another function.
No one will ever do business with you again.
You’ve made too many bad investments. What happens when people start connecting your name everywhere?
The banks will close their doors and lenders will avoid you like the plague until you have nothing. ”
Please, lord, make this work.
“No. No, you can’t. You couldn’t,” Dunn choked out, the fear growing in his eyes.
Ronan could hardly believe it. He almost laughed in relief.
But he tightened his grip on the man instead.
“I can and I will. You had no right interfering in my marriage, Dunn, and no right to trouble the MacLarens. I will destroy you publicly and legally until you no longer dare to set foot in London. Maybe even England.”
“No, no, I can make this right. I can fix this. I’ll give you back the documents from the MacLaren family too,” Dunn offered.
That made Ronan let go. “Where are they?”
He was walking out of the house five minutes later, his hands wrapped around a folder, and he was practically whistling. It couldn’t have gone any better.
The relief coursing through his body was practically pleasurable. Riding back toward town, he made quick work in finding Julian.
“You came back with the papers?” His friend asked in amazement. “How did you make that happen? I knew you could be fearsome, but I didn’t think you’d be so successful at it.”
Ronan explained all that had happened, the two of them enjoying a short laugh of relief. Because whilst he had been with Dunn, Julian had uncovered three more blackmail schemes that included forged contracts and more corruption.
They just needed the proof.
The morning was spent for the two of them traveling around to the houses and families of those caught up in the schemes. It was difficult to convince the lords to be honest, but when they learned they might finally be free, the benefit became worth the risk.
“Here we are,” Julian announced over a desk they’d taken up at their club in the early afternoon while they wrote out everything they knew. “I want to send these to Lord Aberforth and Williams. The Prince Regent as well, of course.”