Chapter Ten
Denham Hall
Near Bedfordshire,
England
“What the devil does this mean?” Wallace Denham frowned as the butler brought the day’s post on a silver salver into the drawing room. “So many letters.”
“So it seems, Your Grace,” the other man said without emotion in his face as he offered them to him. “I hope none of them herald objectional or urgent news. It has been good having you and Her Grace here.”
“I agree.” After collecting the small stack of envelopes, he sighed. “I’ll find out momentarily.”
“Very good, Your Grace. Ring if you should need something else.” Then the butler quit the room, leaving Wallace to contemplate the envelopes.
“Well, will you not open them?” Abigail asked with a glance up from her embroidery work. “Best not to put it off.”
“At least if I don’t open them, I won’t know any bad news.
” Yet that wasn’t a healthy way of looking at life.
He thumbed through the envelopes. “There is one here from Ravenhurst as well as correspondence from Averly and Steppingford.” Each seal was different from the other, and each letter thickness was different as well.
“Shall we discover what the men have been up to?”
“Yes, of course. I’m anxious to see what has caused at least three of your friends to write you here at the same time.
” After setting aside her handiwork in a small willow basket, she rose and then relocated to where he sat near one of the windows.
“If we’re fortunate, they are merely writing to provide entertainment, not worry. ”
He nodded as he broke the seal of the first letter. “Here’s hoping.”
Twenty minutes passed in congenial silence while he skimmed through the missives. Finally, as shock ricocheted through his mind, he peered at Abigail. “Good God, what a mess.”
“What’s happened?” Perched on a chair near his, she brightened the gloom in the room dressed as she was in a bright pink frock. “Are the men in good health? Are their wives all right?”
“Yes, yes. It’s nothing like that.” As he spoke, he passed the letters to her so she could read for herself. “The gist of the matter is that everyone is concerned about the Duke of Darkemore.”
“What happened?” A frown tugged at the corners of her lips while she took up the first letter. “Oh, dear.”
“Indeed.” Wallace nodded. “I knew something like this would occur.” How the hell did everything go so wrong so quickly?
“It seems that Darkemore met a lady at a ballroom over a week ago. Well, ‘met’ is a bit of a misnomer, for he’d wished for an introduction to her because is connected to a man he has history with. ”
“From his days as a spy?”
“Yes.” Wallace nodded. “He failed in a mission—his last one, actually—and during that time, he received injuries that had nearly killed him, given to him at the hand of Viscount Echerson.”
Abigail gasped. “Why?”
He shrugged. “From when I last spoke to Darkemore about it, he suspected Echerson was the spy known as the Jackal, who is a Napoleon supporter. Apparently, he’s been trying to garner followers as well as coin to help fund a resurrection of France’s armies.
” He rubbed a hand along the side of his face.
“In order to get close to the viscount, he wished to use Lady Evangeline, for Echerson was the best friend to her husband.”
“Ravenhurst mentioned some sort of scandal at a ball.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Darkemore and the lady were found in quite a compromising situation in their host’s library. Apparently, when Steppingford came into the room with a few other guests who wished to look at a complete works of Shakespeare, Darkemore’s prick was on display and fully engaged.”
“Oh, dear.” A hint of a blush colored Abigail’s cheeks, and he adored that she was still embarrassed by scandal like that, even though he and she often indulged in it. “I suppose he put forth the notion that they were engaged to head off rumors?”
“Oh, he did. According to Steppingford, Darkemore didn’t even hesitate to bandy that bit of gossip about. The lady more reluctantly agreed, and that’s where the story has taken an odd turn.”
“Meaning?” She shuffled through the letters, pausing every now and again to read.
“Meaning that the men at the club thought Darkemore would leave the engagement at that while pursuing his quarry. Until a handful of days ago, when he suddenly married Lady Evangeline.”
“What?” Shock reflected in his wife’s eyes. “Darkemore wed her?”
“So it seems.”
“What did he promise her? I recognize Lady Evangeline’ name. She was married to the Marquess of Marklesfield, who was quite a bounder and beat her. I can’t imagine she was willing to marry a man who might be the same to her.”
“It’s a puzzle, to be sure. From what Ravenhurst said—and he gleaned this information from his wife who’d spoken to the lady—Darkemore has set aside a rather generous settlement for her, complete with one of his unentailed properties.”
“Is the union in name only? Of convenience?”
“That was the assumption. However, Steppingford believes that Darkemore has already bedded her a few times. In fact, he acted the arse on his wedding morning and shuttled his new wife into a room that adjoined the drawing room. Of course, prior to that, he’d had a verbal argument with Viscount Echerson.
Needless to say, he fucked his new bride right there where anyone could overhear. ”
“It is adorable that you are shocked by that, Eggleton.” Her giggle went straight to his stones. “Apparently you’ve forgotten some of the scandals you and I have gotten up to over the years.” She shrugged as amusement danced in her eyes. “When the urge calls, there is naught one can do about that.”
“This is so, but we’re talking about Darkemore! The man is a recluse and one of little words. What the devil possessed him to do any of this?” He just didn’t understand.
“Words aren’t needed for sexual congress.
” She sent him a wink. “Also, you well know what possessed him. Desire and lust.” Her expression didn’t convey too much concern.
“What I wish to know is why he married a woman he’d literally only met?
Attraction aside, that is a chance I’m surprised a man like Darkemore would take.
” Slowly, she shook her head. “At that point, they wouldn’t have even known Christian names let alone anything else about each other. ”
“I couldn’t say, but knowing Darkemore, there is an ulterior motive, and I fear it will destroy Lady Evangeline when everything is said and done.”
Abigail’s eyes widened. “You don’t believe he’ll abuse her, do you? She doesn’t deserve that a second time.”
“I’d like to hope not, but he has a temper, a need for control, and he’s kept everything that’s happened to him to himself. That must fester after years.” Wallace frowned. “I honestly fear for her, Abigail. Darkemore just isn’t the marrying kind.”
“Some men project that image and attitude, but once they’re forced to dig deep, perhaps that changes.”
He waved a hand. “Perhaps.” The whole situation was concerning, and his chest was tight from worry.
“Are you going back to Town? To monitor him and keep him under control?”
“Ha.” A chuckle that was without mirth escaped him.
“As if anyone could control Darkemore.” For several moments, he regarded his wife, the woman who had always been his anchor, his True North.
“Actually, no. I’m not leaving, but I do want to see how this goes.
If I feel that Lady Evangeline is in true danger from him, I’ll return at that point, but perhaps she will prove exactly what he needs. ”
Abigail nodded. “Do you hope she’ll prove a calming influence?”
“That or a guiding light. I don’t know. We’ll need to wait and see, and I hope to God he’s not using her as a pawn in a game birthed from when he was a spy.” Though, that was exactly what he suspected. If it was true, he might return to London merely to take Darkemore to task.
His wife carefully folded the letters. “Well, they can’t possibly be in love after one meeting, so there’s that. And if he’s given her a settlement, at least he’s doing the honorable thing by looking after her future.”
There was that. It made Darkemore a decent sort, but only just. “Yes, but marriage is forever. She’ll be trapped if he proves an arse.”
“Yes… unless he’s not planning on that being a long time investment.”
“What?” Surprise cycled through his chest. “You assume he’s too far gone in his mind that he won’t remain on this mortal coil once he completes his mission?” If he did.
“It’s difficult to say, for I don’t know him that well.
But some men aren’t good at sharing the things that bother them, and I know for a fact that Darkemore can’t—or won’t—show his emotions.
It could prove a stumbling block, especially if Lady Evangeline somehow manages to fall for him.
She’ll want more from him, she’ll want a husband in all the ways that matter, and I fear he won’t give her that, because he can’t. His past beat the hell out of him.”
“Let us not panic just yet.” Once she’d stacked the letters, she returned them into his care. “Sometimes, the worst situations can unravel themselves, especially if Darkemore discovers he likes his wife more than he ought.”
“Why are you so optimistic about this?”
The smile she gave him could rival the sun…
if it would ever come out from the copious and perpetual cloud cover.
“Because that is what happened with us, Wallace.” Reaching out, she laid her hand on his.
“And what occurred with many members of your club. Hope is never truly lost, and where that is present, there may also be love.”
“Sometimes loves doesn’t smooth away everything.”
“No, it doesn’t, but it can make life… softer around the edges.”
“What if Darkemore is too far gone? What if no matter what Lady Evangeline does, he simply doesn’t wish to change or be saved?”
“Then he won’t, and he’ll need to live with that.
” She squeezed his fingers. “Look, love might not happen immediately, but it might happen for Darkemore and his wife. There is a chance, and that is good enough for me. The human spirit can do much with a small sliver of a chance. Keep the faith, Wallace.”
Perhaps that was all he could do, but still, knots of worry pulled in his gut.
Don’t do anything stupid, my friend.