Redemption of the Duke (26 page)

They looked at flowers and examined the fish in the fountain, until Adam thought he’d
explode with impatience. But Faith never once betrayed any concerns, until at last
she began to talk about writing to her mother.

“It is a duty to write to one’s mother, of course, but sometimes it’s sad.”

“Why are you sad?” Frances asked, still trailing her fingers in the fountain.

Adam was seated on a nearby bench, pretending to look at the flower book with Aunt
Theodosia, but his ears were straining. He’d thought he would have a difficult time
restraining his own questions, but Faith had everything under control.

Now she was saying, “My mother and I aren’t as close as your mother and you are. It’s
hard to know what to say to her. Does your mother write to her mother?”

Frances nodded. “She writes letters every day.”

“Ladies often do,” Faith said, nodding. “I must admit, since coming to live here,
the ducal stationery makes it a pleasure to write. Such pretty paper. Your mother
must like it.”

Adam tensed, never having thought to connect her to the paper the notes were on.

Frances wrinkled her little nose. “She has this ugly paper she uses sometimes. When
I tried to read it once, she took it away.”

Faith nodded, then splashed a few drops on Frances, who laughed. But Faith met Adam’s
eyes with a determined, triumphant expression.

“I’ll be right back,” Adam said to his aunt.

Anger seethed inside him like a hot summer storm. He took the stairs two at a time
to Marian’s apartments, and then searched every drawer and beneath and within every
piece of furniture. He found a yellowed calling card she’d once kept safe and waiting
for the day she’d be duchess, the day that never came. At last he found the paper
hidden behind her giant wardrobe—and there was a new letter ready to post to the newspaper.
Faith appeared in the doorway, and her eyes went wide when she saw what he held.

Gritting his teeth so hard his cheek spasmed, he ripped it open. Faith crowded against
him so they could read it together.

The D—s of R—’s secrets are revealed. She was a special “friend” to the late Lord
R— of Fenton in Northumberland.

Faith gasped. “She doesn’t care if she hurts Lord Reyburn’s son!”

Adam gripped her shoulders and looked into her eyes, feeling triumphant. “And now
she’ll never hurt you. I’ll see to that.”

“Adam, wait. Let me talk to her.”

He hesitated, everything inside him demanding revenge and justice. She was his wife,
she was his love, and he wanted to protect her, to keep her safe.

“She disdains me,” Faith insisted. “I am nothing to her but a means to an end. I think
she’d be more on her guard with you.”

“We don’t have to care—we have the proof,” he said, holding up the letter.

“But don’t we want to hear her say it? This is Frances’s mother, your sister-in-law.
You will be deciding her fate—don’t you want to know it all?”

And then he realized that it was about
her
past,
her
future—and she should be the one to see it through.

“You’re right,” he said.

She blinked at him. “Really? You’re giving in?”

“I told you I could learn from my mistakes, didn’t I?”

She watched him warily, but he thought there might be the faintest trace of amusement
in her eyes.

And that gave him hope.

Chapter 25

A
quarter hour later, Faith waited in the private drawing room, keeping a close watch
on the entrance hall as well as the street. The duchess continued to entertain visitors,
and Faith ducked out of the way at arrivals and departures. The folding doors were
closed, separating the drawing room into two smaller rooms, and Adam and Aunt Theodosia
listened on the far side.

Soon enough, Marian entered through the front door, handing off parcels to footmen
as if she simply expected them to be there.

Faith took a deep breath. “Lady Tunbridge? May I speak with you for a moment?”

She frowned as she removed her shawl and bonnet, looked up the massive stairs as if
something important awaited her, but with a sigh, she acquiesced.

Faith closed the door, then pulled a calling card from her pocket and held it out.
“A maid brought this to me. She found it when cleaning your apartments.”

Marian read the card, then her eyes briefly widened before narrowing as she studied
Faith, disdain barely hidden. “What does this matter? It was made when my husband
yet lived, when it seemed that the old duke was sickly.”

“Yet you kept it, knowing there would be another duchess. And now I’m here.”

“Well, the little kitten has claws,” Marian said, her smile not touching her eyes.
“It seemed you didn’t want to be the duchess just two days ago.”

“We had an argument. It’s settled.”

“So you run at the first sign of a problem? Not very dignified of you.”

“You mean not dignified as a duchess should be. You think you would have handled things
better?”

“I know I would. I far deserved the title, spent my youth and adulthood knowing it
would come to me, and preparing for it. If my husband had lived an hour longer, I’d
have
been
the duchess for life. You? You don’t deserve the honor. You’re nothing but a whore.”

Faith didn’t even flinch. “How interesting. That is the same word used in the anonymous
letters Adam has been receiving. The cowardly ones.”

Adam folded the door back, and Marian saw him there, with Aunt Theodosia looking pale
and disappointed.

Marian’s eyes blazed with hatred. “I have nothing more to say.” She turned to leave.

Adam stepped between her and the door, then held up the latest note. “You won’t be
sending this. I suggest you tell me everything, before I send you far from here.”

“There’s nothing you can do, you fool,” she hissed, her eyes malevolent.

“I wonder what Frances would think.”

That simple sentence made her choke, her face going red before pale. “You would not
hurt her like that.”

“No. Strangely enough, you’ve done well as a mother. But I’m about to send you to
my most northern property in Scotland, where you will live out your days in far more
prosperity than you deserve. But Frances—what you do now will decide her fate. Will
she have the large dowry promised to her? Will she spend some time each year with
Faith and me in London?”

Marian’s lips parted with anguish. “You threaten a child?”

“I threaten
you.
Frances will be fine. She will have the dowry left to her by her father. But I will
give her so much more, present her to Society, see her well married. But it all depends
on you.”

“What do you want?” Marian asked haughtily.

“The truth, all of it. And your promise to never speak of this again. Frances doesn’t
need to know the ugly things you’ve done here.”

Marian’s gaze went from Adam’s cold, unyielding expression to Aunt Theodosia’s scorn
and sorrow, then to Faith, who met that gaze with calm indifference.

Marian actually seemed to sag from within. “I sensed from the beginning you were not
of the same moral fiber as your brother, Rothford, and it showed the moment you met
this commoner.”

“Insults to my beloved won’t win you my indulgence,” Adam warned.

She winced at “beloved,” but sighed and said, “I overheard Mr. Gilpin pressuring your
‘beloved,’ and realized there was something in her past. I hired an investigator who
discovered that you’re not worthy for the honor of being a duchess,” she said scornfully
to Faith. “Why should I have spoken of it when I could torment you, Adam?” She chuckled.
“I wish I could have seen your face when you opened each one. I actually saw you chase
those little boys, and I laughed until my eyes ran with tears.”

“It’ll be a long time before you laugh again,” Adam said impassively. “The Highlands
are bitterly cold in winter, and full of biting midges in the summer. You’ll enjoy
the rest of your life there, far from Society.”

“What care I for this stupid city if I cannot rule Society as I was destined?
I
should have been the duchess, not you!” she shouted, pointing a finger in Faith’s
face.

Adam took her arm and bent it behind her back until she gasped. Inches from her face,
he said, “I don’t plan to ever hurt a woman, but you’re the first who tempts me to
do so. You will be escorted to your rooms and you will not leave until the carriage
is ready to take you away. Enjoy the rest of your life. I hope it was worth it.”

He let her go, and she staggered, then righted herself.

Adam opened the door and quietly said, “Hales, escort her ladyship to her chambers
and remain outside the door. She needs to stay within, and if she does not, come tell
me.”

Marian’s last scornful look raked them all, but Faith did not miss that her shoulders
slumped as she left the room.

It was over. Faith was glad that the worry Adam had been living with for months was
gone.

“I—I’m tired,” she said, starting to move past him.

“Faith, will you join us for dinner?” he asked softly.

“I think I’ll have a tray sent up. I have much thinking to do.”

He nodded, and she sent a brief smile to Aunt Theodosia, who watched her with concern.

Faith felt a bit in a dream as she went slowly up the stairs. What was next for her?
She was no innocent, she knew, and could not continue to be angry with Adam forever.
Her own choices had affected her past, and would affect her future, too. Would she
always choose correctly? No, no one was perfect.

She’d only met Adam because of her brother. The grief she’d long suppressed over what
his death had done to her family had at long last faded away. She smiled wryly when
she thought how surprised he’d be by all that had happened to her because of him.

She’d forgiven Adam his part in that—how could she not do the same now? And could
she not learn to forgive herself for what she’d been forced to do to survive?

“Faith?”

As if she’d called him to mind, he was coming down the corridor just as she’d meant
to close the door. He looked so handsome, so concerned, lines in his forehead that
bespoke a maturity through hard work and sacrifice.

“Will you let me in?” he asked.

She opened the door wide and gestured. He looked relieved, as if he doubted her, perhaps
doubted everything she felt.

“I was afraid if you sat up here alone,” he began, not coming any closer, “you’d think
of all the stupid things I’ve done, all the ways I’ve hurt you.”

“Perhaps I’m thinking of all the stupid things
I’ve
done,” she said softly.

He looked taken aback. “Faith, you have done nothing wrong. You’ve spent your life
buffeted by the decisions of others, and you’ve only done your best.”

“And you tried to do your best,” she said. “Even if you were misguided.”

He stared hard at her. “Faith—”

“Regardless of your mistakes, I think you’ve changed, Adam. You let me in, you let
me help, even when you worried it might hurt me. You let me make my own choice about
confronting Marian.”

“But I didn’t give you much of a choice about marrying me. I’m trying to do the right
thing now,” he said huskily, coming a step nearer.

She reached for his hand, and his face softened as he gently brought her hand to his
mouth.

“Faith,” he whispered. “I want to prove I’ve changed—for you, for myself. I can’t
promise I’m perfect, but I see now the mistakes I kept making. But the one thing I
can’t regret, that won’t ever be a mistake, is falling in love with you.”

She inhaled, closing her eyes, trying to savor those words she thought she might never
hear.

“I don’t know when or how it happened, but I only realized how much I needed you when
you left me, how barren the future looked without you. I want to prove myself worthy
of your love, to prove I’m not the wastrel of my youth, the floundering former soldier.
I have skills and knowledge, and ferreting out Marian made me realize that there’s
still a place for me that isn’t just attending balls or dinners—though of course I’d
escort you anywhere you wanted to go.”

She laughed and touched his cheek with her free hand. “So what do you want to do?”

“Offer my skills to the War Department. I don’t wish to travel much, but I can help
train men, read correspondence, offer my advice. I learned a lot in India, especially
how to understand the enemy. And maybe it’ll keep me from interfering in anyone else’s
life,” he added wryly.

She smiled.

His own faded into a determination. “I love you. I’ve never met anyone more resilient
and brave. There aren’t many people who do what they must to survive and come out
stronger.”

The first tear fell from her lashes, and he cupped her face to wipe it away with his
thumb.

“Oh, Adam, I’ve fallen in love with you, too,” she whispered.

He took a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes as if he’d never even hoped. She was
touched and flattered, and so warm with love for him.

“You’ve wanted to change, and you have—although maybe not as fast as I’d have liked.
You made mistakes, but for the right reasons, and I know that. I honestly believe
you respect me, that you’d never again do what you think best for me without my knowledge,”
she added dryly.

“Never.” He let his hands slide down her shoulders and arms, then took both her hands
in his. “Will you stay with me, Faith, raise children with me, love me?”

She smiled through her tears. “I will. Let these be our real wedding vows, Adam, now
that there is love.”