Chapter Nine
May 26, 1815
Denham House
St. James Place
Mayfair, England
The Duke of Eggleton grunted as he folded the newspaper. “That can’t end well.”
When his wife came into their shared dressing room with a satin dressing gown wrapped about her form, she frowned. “What is it? Bad news or merely gossip?” In the adjoining bedchamber, maids were pouring heated water into a porcelain tub two footmen had brought up.
“A bit of both, perhaps.” He tossed the paper onto a small, round, ivory-inlaid table. “It seems that Ravenhurst has retreated to his Essex estate, but what is more, he’s arranged the kidnapping of Miss Hardesty, who is the Marquess of Inglehart’s intended.” What the devil was the man thinking? “He’d mentioned the possibility of doing such a mad scheme, but I didn’t think he would go through with it. I just assumed it was ramblings fueled by brandy and angst.”
“What?” Shock lined her face. “Ravenhurst kidnapped a woman?”
“So it seems. The author of that blurb hints at the thing. Additionally, Inglehart sent a constable over to Ravenhurst’s manor, where he interviewed the duke but came away empty- handed.” He could well imagine how that meeting went, and if his friend was as unhinged as he acted, no doubt Ravenhurst lied his arse off, and since he could be convincing, it was no doubt a successful tale.
His wife came close and laid a hand on his arm. “Do you think he truly did this?” Worry shadowed her rounded eyes as he nodded. “For what purpose?”
“Revenge, no doubt, and I fear for the woman’s reputation as well as her faculties. In recent days, Ravenhurst has turned cruel.” Damn, but he hoped that his friend hadn’t resorted to rape or torture to enact his revenge. When Wallace’s wife didn’t comment, he sighed. “I’m afraid he’ll go to Newgate if he’s not careful. The marquess is a powerful man and not to be trifled with, and since the two are pitted enemies, the whole matter will turn ugly fast.”
She turned him so that he fully faced her then she rested a palm on his bare chest. “First off, you and Ravenhurst are dukes and of higher rank than Inglehart, so if you intervene, he will have no choice but to back down. Secondly, don’t forget about fate in this conundrum.”
“Meaning?”
A grin curved her sensuous lips upward. “Meaning, that as morally questionable as Ravenhurst’s choices have been— I don’t believe he would ever be as cruel as to torture an innocent woman—”
“Why?” he couldn’t help but interrupt.
“He has kindness in his eyes beneath the angst.” She winked. “And if he’s doing this to enact revenge upon the marquess—I assume he has good reason for that as well—what if he finds himself in love with Miss Hardesty once he finally returns her to the marquess?”
“Why the devil would he? He’s not the type who believes in fate or even love.” At least, not as long as Wallace had known him.
“Perhaps not, but he is quite intense. Unless I miss my guess, men like that are hurting, deep down, and merely want to be accepted, understood, or somehow given permission that it’s all right to have feelings about what happened to them. Above all, they yearn to be loved despite thinking they are far too broken for any of it.”
In a way, that explanation made sense, but he still couldn’t see that Ravenhurst would break enough to allow himself to care about anything. He had been quite removed from logic the last time they’d spoken, and quite frankly, Wallace worried that he would hurl himself off this mortal coil once everything was finished.
Silence brewed between them while the maids finished in the other room.
Eventually, Wallace stirred himself from his thoughts. “I suppose we have no way to tell, unless we send one of our friends out to his country estate to perhaps glean information.” The more he considered it, the more he would set those plans into motion. “In a few days, he’ll have to bring her back to her brother, for she’s due to wed the marquess, and without knowing all the intimate details of why she’s being made to marry, she will probably go through with the nuptial ceremony.” But he knew enough, and it was chilling. The poor woman had no decent options.
His wife snorted in apparent amusement. “Not if she’s in love with Ravenhurst.”
“After such a short period of time?” He couldn’t keep the incredulity from his tone.
“Oh, Eggleston, stop being so fussy.” She patted his cheek before lifting on her toes to brush her lips against his. “I heard a rumor some time ago that Miss Hardesty had a tendre for Ravenhurst when she was a young girl. Unfortunately, the horror of his parents being murdered and his being taken happened before anything could develop from those feelings.”
“Ha! That assumes he would have returned her regard after he finished university and his tour of the Continent. I’m of a mind that he wouldn’t have taken notice of her. And especially now, for her looks aren’t beautiful enough for him.”
“That is for the eye of the beholder, and love doesn’t occur because of outward appearances.” She shrugged. “After spending such intense time together, no matter how it started, they can’t help but come out the other side as changed people.”
“That is true.” What he wouldn’t give to be a fly on the proverbial wall in Ravenhurst’s manor. “Yet you believe fate will put them together? That is a lot of trust for the universe.”
Her eyes sparkled. “You doubt this even after our story?”
“Our marriage was arranged.” When he went to reel her into his arms, she danced out of his reach with a cheeky grin.
“Yes, but why have we lasted twenty years then?” When he didn’t answer, she went to the doorway that adjoined the two rooms of their suite since the maids had departed. “Sometimes, you must entertain trust.” Then his wife drew off her robe to reveal her naked form. “To all accounts, we hated each other in the beginning. Everyone thought we would fail, yet there was that one little spark…” She glanced over her shoulder at him with an elevated eyebrow.
God, he adored her. “Ah, love, who is the romantic one now?”
“Let’s find out. Come join me in the bath,” she said with a throaty purr in her voice as she disappeared into the bedchamber.
Perhaps there was something to be said for fate after all, and he would gladly follow where she led. Ravenhurst could fend for his damned self.