Secrets of Seduction (29 page)

“Yes, quite alive.”

“She is
here
? In this very house?”

“Yes.”

“Dear God,” he repeated, the words no more than a hoarse whisper.

Skye could understand his alarm, for he had realized the possible consequences. Rachel Farnwell’s existence not only put his nobility in question but his very legitimacy. The impact to his birthright would dwarf any scandal from his father’s bigamy and abuse, which was doubtless why he’d felt the urgency to make Nibbs retract the story of Lady Farnwell’s drowning.

The baron looked so thunderstruck that Skye almost felt sorry for him, except that she knew Daphne didn’t consider her brother overly deserving of sympathy. Edgar was a selfish prig, with a streak of meanness he had likely inherited from his father.

As if on cue, his combativeness rallied in short order. “No, I shan’t believe it,” Farnwell declared. “You have been utterly deceived, Daphne. Someone is impersonating your late mother and spinning lies.”

“You are entitled to your opinion, Edgar, but you are wrong.”

“How could you possibly know? You were but an infant at the time of her death. What proof do you have that she is your mother?”

“I need no proof. It is a
feeling
.”

Farnwell seemed to gain confidence the more he thought about it. His panicked air receding, he squared
his shoulders in a more belligerent frame. “I demand to see this imposter for myself.”

“You needn’t be concerned, Edgar. She has no intention of making our father’s sordid history known or resuming her former life.”

He might have replied, but just then Rachel entered the drawing room, accompanied by Cornelius and Isabella. Reaching back, Rachel shut the door carefully behind her, no doubt to keep their conversation from the servants.

“We heard shouting,” she murmured with concern. “Are you all right, my dear?” she asked Daphne.

“I am quite well, thank you, Mrs. Donnelly,” Daphne assured her.

Edgar had frozen and was scrutinizing Rachel as if she were some sort of strange mythical creature.

“Allow me to introduce myself, Lord Farnwell,” Rachel said with composure. “I was wed to your father in another lifetime.”

He responded with an angry sneer. “You cannot deceive me, madam.”

Rachel moved toward him. “Why would I even attempt a deception?”

“Because you covet my fortune for yourself and your daughter.”

“You are mistaken, my lord—”

Farnwell cut her off with a scoffing sound. “I warn you, if you dare try to claim my inheritance, I will bring criminal charges against you.”

Rachel tilted her head serenely. “On what grounds? Lord Hawkhurst’s solicitor has advised us on the law regarding deceased spouses. My case against you would be good. I would first have to prove that I am
Lady Farnwell, but that could be achieved by finding reputable witnesses who once knew me.”

Her assertion made Farnwell clamp his lips shut in outrage.

Rachel smiled politely. “But please, rest assured I have no intention of mounting a legal challenge. I won’t contest your legitimacy.”

“Why the bloody hell not?” he ground out through his teeth, earning a sharp glance from Hawk.

“Because as I said, that was another lifetime ago.”

Of course there was a paramount reason she would not seek to elevate her daughter in Edgar’s place, Skye knew. Daphne was not actually William Farnwell’s daughter, so morally the inheritance didn’t belong to her, even if legally a case could be made. They couldn’t risk the truth coming out, however. Not only would an explosive scandal result, but Daphne would forever be shunned by polite society.

Moreover, Daphne had no idea of her true parentage yet—and certainly her brother could never be allowed to learn of it.

Fortunately Farnwell was focused on his own complaints. “There should not even
be
a question of my legitimacy. You were thought to be dead when my father remarried. The validity of his second marriage should be unassailable.”

“But it is not.”

“Then the law is monstrously unfair.”

“Perhaps, but you have nothing to fear from me. Daphne and I have discussed the matter. We believe it is best to let sleeping dogs lie.”

When suspicion suffused his features, Daphne voiced her agreement. “Mrs. Donnelly had to persuade me to
go along, but not for the reason you think.” She gazed at her mother solemnly. “What disturbed me most was that you never received a proper burial. I wanted the world to know that you did not kill yourself, so the stain on your memory would be erased.”

Rachel returned a poignant smile. “My reputation isn’t important, my dear.”

Farnwell broke in again. “If you bring me down, Daphne will be mired in scandal as well. I will make certain of that.”

“Which is why I intend to keep the secret.”

“There will be no possible way to conceal your existence,” Farnwell refuted, his voice rising an octave in frustration.

“I beg to differ, my lord. I assumed the name of an Irish relative years ago, and I shall continue the pretense for my remaining lifetime. Any resemblance to Daphne can be brushed off as a family similarity. Even if, by an unlucky chance, someone happens to recognize me as Baroness Farnwell, I will deny it and laugh it off. My identity will remain a strict secret—unless you choose to advertise it by shouting to Lord Hawkhurst’s entire household.”

“What about Nibbs?”

“Who,” Daphne countered, “would believe the ravings of ‘an old peasant,’ as you just termed her?”

“Even so, I do not
trust
you, madam,” he almost hissed.

At his savage tone, both Cornelius and Isabella moved closer to Rachel’s side, hovering protectively, as if to show strength in numbers. Skye found herself instinctively closing ranks as well.

But Daphne, who knew her brother best, chimed
in. “Please believe me, Edgar, I am not after your fortune, even if you have always been a nipcheese with mine.”

From Edgar’s perspective, his worry was understandable, Skye thought. Daphne had been left a modest dowry and portion by her father, but Edgar controlled the purse strings and was exceedingly stingy.

“I will
never
believe you,” he insisted.

Rachel intervened with a rational explanation. “Lord Farnwell, I will not need your fortune. I have been living very simply in a cottage all these years and have very modest needs.”

“Now you claim you have no desire to improve your station? You are living in a virtual palace”—he glanced around the elegantly refurbished drawing room—“and you prefer a cottage to this luxury?”

The sneer was back in his tone, but this time it held a tinge of jealousy of Hawk’s inherited wealth. Briefly Skye met Hawk’s gaze and saw his gray eyes glittering with irony. Farnwell had no idea of the trials Hawk had suffered and was still facing.

Then Rachel continued in a milder voice, “Cottage or palace makes no difference. And even if it did, I am now engaged to wed Lord Cornelius Wilde. He has fortune enough to keep me in luxury should I crave it.”

After a start at her mother’s sudden announcement, Daphne looked only faintly surprised. Perhaps she had guessed at Rachel’s affection for Cornelius after witnessing them together for the past sennight, although they had maintained their pretense of being merely old friends until they considered her ready to accept the news.

Rather than be comforted, Farnwell resorted to genuine hostility. “I have a better solution. You should stay dead!”

Rachel looked startled herself. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“Your vow to keep quiet is not good enough. You need to leave England and return to wherever you have been hiding.”

Skye felt herself bristling. Daphne had said her brother tended to become abusive and threatening when he didn’t get his own way, and his tone as he berated Rachel bore that out.

Surprisingly, however, his demeanor only stiffened Rachel’s spine. “I will not be forced to leave England again,” she said quietly.

When Farnwell took a step toward her, Cornelius let out a low growl and moved between them, his stance rigid, his hands curled into fists warningly as he faced down the baron. Skye was taken aback to see her mild-mannered, scholarly uncle prepared to employ physical violence. But he had also waited twenty-five years to defend the love of his life, and that failure would have grated on his soul as a man.

“She has suffered inexcusably at your vile father’s hand,” Cornelius bit out before Rachel laid a calming hand on his arm.

“Thank you, my dear, but I have quailed for too long and am determined to stand up for myself.” With consummate dignity, she addressed Farnwell. “I have already wasted over half my life living in fear, my lord. I will not do so any longer.”

Skye silently applauded Rachel’s refusal to leave timidly or quietly. But there was no need for her to fear an
abusive bully anymore, either. She now had wealthy, powerful supporters—Lord Cornelius and the entire Wilde family, as well as the Earl of Hawkhurst.

His complexion flushing red, Farnwell stared at the company, but when he brandished his own fists at Cornelius, Hawk stepped in.

“I don’t advise it,” he warned softly.

Farnwell was livid by now, but evidently he thought better of starting a brawl.

“My majordomo will escort you from the premises,” Hawk added in a silken drawl.

The baron not only looked outraged but flabbergasted. “You are ordering me off your property?
Me?
”

“Indeed. And I will advise my servants to keep you off permanently. You return at your own peril.”

Hawk’s eyes were like slate as he stared down the baron. Farnwell was clearly furious but helpless.

With a strangled sound, he abruptly capitulated. Brushing past the others, he stalked across the drawing room and flung open the door. With a final seething glance behind him, he quit the room.

“Pray excuse me a moment,” Hawk murmured before following Farnwell, no doubt to instruct the castle servants to make certain he left the premises. Skye highly approved of the precaution. Hawk was taking no chances that the baron would take his anger out on Rachel.

Although no one was ready to say the issue was resolved, there was a visible relief of tension at his retreat. Rachel exhaled a long breath while Cornelius’s stance relaxed.

Daphne recovered most quickly, however, and proceeded to marvel at her mother’s betrothal announcement.
“I shouldn’t be surprised that you and Lord Cornelius intend to marry. It has been fairly obvious that you are in love.”

Rachel cautiously studied Daphne’s face. “We would like your blessing, my dear.”

“Of course you have it. I am very glad that you love each other.”

Cornelius clasped Rachel’s hand in his. “Your mother is correct, Miss Farnwell. I have an ample fortune and can provide for her and for you as well. You will not lack for fortune, even though you are unable to claim Farnwell’s.”

As much as Skye would have liked to hear the remainder of the conversation, she was more eager to speak to Hawk alone, and so quietly slipped from the room in pursuit of him.

Farther along the corridor she spied an elegant, silver-haired gentleman. He had stepped out of Hawk’s study, she suspected, because he was curious about all the commotion. It had to be Sir Gawain Olwen, Skye thought as he momentarily waylaid Hawk.

When she halted, debating what to do, she realized that Aunt Bella had followed her into the corridor.

Her aunt took one look at her dismal expression and instantly grew concerned. “What is it, my love? Something is amiss, I can tell.”

Not for the first time did Skye wish her aunt was not quite so perceptive.

Determinedly she swallowed the ache in her throat. Hawk was fully occupied at the moment, but she would not allow him to leave for London without another attempt to renew her arguments about his impending courtship and marriage. By forcing a confrontation,
she would be fighting for him—for
them
, Skye told herself. But perhaps she needed Isabella’s wise counsel beforehand.…

With a final glance at Hawk, she turned back to her aunt. “Now that you mention it … You are an expert on romantic matters, and I could use your advice. My own arsenal of tricks is entirely depleted.”

“Of course, my dear,” Bella said gently as she slipped her arm in Skye’s. “Come with me to my rooms and we will have a quiet coze.”

It went against
Skye’s very nature to give up, but relinquishing hope for Hawk’s love was precisely what her aunt recommended.

In fact, when told of his plans, Isabella seemed more torn by
his
dilemma than Skye’s. “I understand why Hawk feels obligated to fill Sir Gawain’s shoes. He would not want to betray the man who has been like a father to him.”

“Oh, I understand,” Skye agreed. “But what can I
do
about it, Aunt? I have tried my utmost to make him love me, to no avail.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes. More than anything. But clearly he doesn’t return my feelings. And even if he did, we have no future together. Not when he insists on wedding Sir Gawain’s niece so he can lead the Guardians.”

Isabella pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I believe you have done all you can, Skye. As I have told you before, one cannot force love. If you are meant to be together, then you will be.”