Chapter 31
Graham stared down at the letter, sure that he must have misread it.
How dare she write to me with this letter? Jane told me, before we parted, that she could not love me the way I wanted. She took the money my mother offered me and disappeared, together with her scoundrel of a father. She only writes to me now out of desperation.
He hadn’t received the letter, however. It had been opened and clearly read, and had his name on the envelope, but he had not received it. Heart pounding, Graham checked the date, and his heart sank.
It would have arrived yesterday morning. The morning that Mother was at the breakfast table before me, and the post had already arrived.
He sunk down onto the sofa, numb. The reality of the matter was plain to him now.
The letter from Jane was a cruel coincidence, a desperate attempt to seduce him back now that their money was gone and her father was deceased.
His mother had taken the letter and had made it her mission to show it to Ursula.
How could I have been such a fool?
A sharp intake of breath caught his attention, and Graham glanced up sharply.
Margaret stood in the doorway, pale.
“I can see that now is not a convenient time for you,” she said hurriedly. “Do excuse me…”
“Wait,” Graham ordered, his voice heavy. “Wait, please.”
Margaret paused, half turning away already, and glanced reluctantly back at him.
Graham rose to his feet, shaking the crumpled letter in his fist.
“Can you explain this?” he asked shortly.
Margaret clenched her jaw, lifting her chin.
“I recognized Miss Whitmore’s handwriting.
It is still Miss Whitmore, by the way. It seems that she never found a better match than a viscount.
I planned to spare you pain, so I opened it and read it.
You can add this to your list of grudges against me.
I know you have never forgiven me for paying her off. ”
Graham gave a harsh laugh. “You needn’t worry, Mother.
While you had no right to intervene in my life in that way, it helped me to understand that Jane did not truly love me.
If she had, she would never have accepted the money you offered.
But that is in the past. My concern is this letter.
You… You showed it to Ursula, didn’t you? ”
“I did not,” Margaret insisted. “I knew that she would see it, but I did not show it to her. It was in your best interests.”
“My best interests? Mother, anyone reading this letter would imagine that Jane and I have been entangled constantly. Ursula has left this house because she believes that I still love another. She believes that I have lied to her, and that I love another. That is not true, but I cannot tell her so because she is sending back my letters!”
Margaret sniffed, folding her arms across her chest. “I make no apologies. I have done what was right for you and for this family. For your legacy. And for your information, not that I am required to answer to you, my son I have not done this alone.”
A shiver rolled down Graham’s spine. “What?”
“That cousin of Ursula’s was keen to get involved. She wrote to me, seeking my aid. She believes, as I do, that the match between you and Ursula is ill-made and ought to be broken. I shall show you the letter. See, here it is!”
Margaret fumbled in her pocket, withdrawing a neat little envelope and thrust it at Graham. He took it, briefly unfolding it to assure himself of the contents. Clenching his jaw, he slid the letter into his pocket.
“You can end things, don’t you see?” Margaret tried, coming forward with her hands outstretched as if to touch him. “At this stage of a matrimony, an annulment…”
“An annulment, Mother?” Graham snapped, wrenching away from her. “On what grounds?”
Margaret faltered. “Well, perhaps abandonment. She has left you, after all. Or nonconsummation.”
“The first will not suffice, and the second is not true,” Graham responded, and Margaret paled. “At least I know now why you were so keen to keep my wife and I apart. How could you do this to me, Mother?”
“It was all for you!” Margaret bleated, coming closer to him. He dodged her outstretched arms, hurrying over to the bell pull in the corner. He heaved on it and turned to face her once more.
“You are my mother,” he stated bluntly. “I have never considered you as anything but my mother. At the moment, however, it is remarkably hard to love you. You have cost me perhaps my only chance at happiness, and you do not even regret anything that you have done. How am I supposed to forgive you?”
Margaret opened and closed her mouth, groping for words of explanation that were not coming.
They were interrupted by soft footsteps outside, and Morrison appeared at the door. There was a grim look on his face, and Graham imagined that their raised voices had travelled well in the silent house.
“The Dowager Lady Sinclair is leaving immediately,” Graham said, meeting Morrison’s eyes.
“She will be leaving as quickly as she can pack her things. Please fetch some of the maids to assist, and you are to overlook the process yourself. My mother is not to be admitted back into the house once she has left.”
There was a heavy silence after that.
“Yes, your lordship,” Morrison said, missing a beat. Graham turned to look at his mother.
Margaret’s face was ashen. Her hands had fallen limply to her sides and she stared up at him, eyes bulging.
“I assume you have somewhere to go, Mother?” Graham asked quietly.
She swallowed. “I will return to my house.”
“The repairs, then…?”
She pressed her lips together. “There never were any repairs.”
“Ah. I see. Goodbye, Mother.”
Not waiting for her to respond, Graham turned on his heel and walked out of the room, never once looking back.
***
Jonathan was not at home. Graham growled in frustration, raking a hand through his hair.
The butler, a little surprised at Graham’s clear misery, offered the information that Lord Hartwell had gone to his club, perhaps.
So, Graham headed there. The footmen at the door allowed him in, shooting curious looks at him.
Inside, the club was barely half full, mostly of middle-aged gentlemen enjoying luncheon. There were a few younger fellows, and as usual, games of cards were going on here and there. Graham scanned the scene, looking for Jonathan’s familiar face. He needed advice, and he needed it soon.
I’ll go to the Worths’ home, he thought, and speak to Ursula, but first I must get my thoughts in order. Where are you, Jonathan?
A raucous laugh made him flinch, followed by an irritatingly familiar voice.
“I never did see such a well-laid plan go so poorly, gentlemen. And now she is a viscountess, can you believe it?”
Graham stiffened, head swivelling in that direction. That was unmistakeably Sir Roderick Black’s voice. Without even understanding what he was doing, Graham began to walk in that direction.
Sir Roderick was sitting in a narrow booth with a couple of friends, all of which were untidy, unpleasant-looking gentlemen.
Most were concentrating on their cards, leaving Sir Roderick talking almost to himself.
It seemed that they were used to his long, rambling stories, and were quite tired of listening to them.
“Now, I was surprised when I received the letter. I’m sure you can imagine,” he continued, taking a loud slurp of his wine.
“I have a reputation as something of a rake, you know. A man must wear such a thing with pride, ha-ha. At any rate, the terms were clear. A handsome payment in exchange for ruining a lady.”
Two of his companions did not react, and Graham was not sure his presence had been detected. The third man, however, glanced up with a sudden frown.
“Be careful who you say that to, Roderick,” the man said curtly, tossing away his cards. “I’m out.”
Sir Roderick played a card of his own, beaming, and took the trick entirely.
“Naturally, all did not go according to plan,” he admitted, shuffling his cards.
“That honourable fool of a viscount appeared at precisely the wrong moment and knocked me out flat. Can you believe it? I was appalled. When I woke up and discovered that the job was half-done, I was most displeased. Of course, the girl was ruined, but not entirely as I had planned.”
Graham’s skin crawled.
He’s speaking of Ursula, he realised, and that night in the garden. He intended to ravish her. Ruin her entirely, that is what he meant.
“And then, the trouble was that the girl wasn’t ruined at all,” Sir Roderick slurred, taking a long drink of his wine.
“She wedded Lord Sinclair and now they are quite doing well. If I’d finished, nobody would have touched the girl with a bargepole.
She would have been entirely ruined. I tell you, Miss Worth was quite angry that it was not dealt with properly.
She only paid me half the money, on account of having to take care of the rest herself. ”
The two men, whose attention was clearly elsewhere, only gave blank nods and smiles and murmuring to each other about the game.
“I’ve heard enough of this, Roderick,” he snapped, tossing down his cards and rising to his feet. “Keep this sordid story to yourself, do you hear?”
Sir Roderick cackled, unfazed by his friend’s departure.
The man who Graham vaguely recognized as a lanky, fortuneless third son of an earl, with few prospects and no charm rounded the corner and walked almost straight into Graham. He reeled back, the colour falling from his face.
“Lord Sinclair,” he gasped aloud, and all conversation stilled at the table. “You… You are here.”
There was a flurry, and then the other two card-players appeared, dashing off to separate corners of the club without a backwards glance. The young man swallowed; eyes wide with fear.
“I… I…” he stammered, and Graham held up a hand. The man swallowed his words.
“For your own good, I suggest you forget every word of what Sir Roderick has said here today,” Graham said firmly.
The man nodded eagerly, swallowing. “I swear I will.”
“Good. Off you go, then.”
Relieved at being released, the man darted past Graham and hurried away.
Drawing in a breath, Graham advanced upon the booth.
Sir Roderick must have known that he was here, but he had not moved. He sat very still in his position at the table, fat fingers clutching at the stem of an empty wine glass.
“Lord Sinclair,” he remarked innocently. “What a pleasure to see you.”
“Let us dispense with pleasantries,” Graham responded tightly. “I imagined you to be a foolish, opportunistic rake who simply seized the opportunity to assault a woman, but now I see that something much more evil is at work here.”
Sir Roderick huffed. “Evil? Have mercy! Listen to yourself! Waxing lyrical about right and wrong. I spurn you, sir, and this conversation is at an end.”
He got up, clearly intending to push past Graham and leave the club.
He was gravely mistaken.
Graham’s fist shot out before he knew what he was doing, landing with an echoing crack on the other man’s cheek.
He seized Sir Roderick by his lapels, forcing him backwards onto the empty table.
Sir Roderick gave a surprised squawk, struggling in vain.
His wine glass tipped off the table, shattering on the floor.
There was a commotion behind them, and Graham knew that soon enough the footmen would come and drag him away.
I believe I am going to lose my club membership, he thought wryly.
Sir Roderick was blubbering and trying to squirm away. Graham gripped him by the collar, lifting him a few inches off the table.
“You listen to me, you nasty little rat of a man,” he hissed.
“You have crossed the wrong man this time. If I can prove that you were involved in Ursula’s attempted ruination, I shall see that you are ruined.
I will contact each one of your creditors.
I will buy all of your debts, triple the interest, and force you into debtor’s prison before you can burble an apology.
The reason you were not prosecuted for your attack on Ursula was because Lord and Lady Farendale wished to avoid a scandal.
Are you of the opinion that Ursula, who is now Lady Sinclair, and outranks her very own parents will be quite so lenient?
She will not. Do not trifle with me. You will pack your things and leave London within the next few days, and if you ever return, I shall kill you myself.
Stay out of my sight, Sir Roderick, and pray that our paths do not cross again.
The next time you see my face will be the last day you walk on this earth. Do I make myself understood?”
A thin trickle of blood was making its way down from one of Sir Roderick’s nostrils. Gritting his teeth, Graham conjured up an image of Ursula after the attack, wide-eyed, dishevelled, and bruised. He tightened his fists, fighting to stop himself from striking the now-helpless man again.
“I’ll do it. I’ll leave London,” Sir Roderick sniffled. “You’ll never see me again, I swear it.”
“Good,” Graham snarled, releasing him. “Now get out of my sight.”
Sir Roderick slumped to the ground, crawling away. Graham was aware of a commotion behind him, and turned to find a white-faced footman standing behind him, eyes wide.
“Yes, yes, I am leaving,” Graham responded gruffly.
“Your lordship, we really cannot…” the footman began uneasily.
“You needn’t worry, I shan’t return.”
The footman paused, glancing down at Sir Roderick with an expression of contempt.
Graham found himself wondering how many ladies Sir Roderick had boasted of compromising with such bold confidence.
He had never dared before to risk the ruin of a woman of Ursula's consequence, and certainly never a Diamond .
Graham knew in his heart there must have been other women for a fair price.
“I beg your Lordship’s pardon, but that what not what I intended.” The footman answered at last, turning back to Graham with a level look. “I only wished to remind you that fighting is not allowed in the club.”
Graham gave him a wry smile and turned on his heel. He strode straight out of the club.
There is no time to find Jonathan, he thought. The wretched fellow is probably paying a call on Charlotte Winter, in any case.
No, I have wasted enough time. I must find Ursula.