The Duchess Hunt (31 page)

“Do you believe Morton had evil intentions
toward her?” Sam asked.

“I…” James shook his head. “I couldn’t be
sure, but no, sir. He deferred to her.”

“Could it have been a master plot to
kidnap her?” Theo mused. “This Morton fellow was working for someone else?”

“I could not say,” James said. “Her
Grace’s behavior was… odd. Angry one minute and smiling the next. Binnie and I
didn’t know at all what to think.”

The brothers continued to question James,
but they weren’t able to get much more out of him. Finally, they had him give
them his address in Birmingham in case they needed to find him again, then they
dismissed him.

When Mills’s wife came in to offer them
more tea, Luke rose. “I should like to see Bertram Stanley now, madam.”

Simon said, “He means Bertram Smith, of
course. Please forgive the error.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Mills gave a shaky
smile. “Friend Bertram isn’t expecting visitors.”

“We’ll just be a moment,” Simon told her.

She looked from one brother to the other,
all of them poised to follow her to Bertram Stanley, and then she gave a firm
shake of her head. She didn’t question why they wanted to see him; instead she
said, “I fear facing such a great number of men will agitate him. One of thee
may visit with him, but no more. And I shall be present as an observer.”

Luke crossed his arms over his chest.
“I’ll go.” He cast Simon a daring look, but Simon didn’t challenge him. If Luke
wanted to be the one to see Bertram Stanley, Simon wasn’t going to stop him.

Luke was the man’s brother, after all.

During the return drive to Ironwood Park,
the brothers discussed what they’d learned from James. Thanks to Sarah, they’d
received the most important clue they’d been given since their mother’s
disappearance. She was alive, or had been until late May, and she’d last been
seen in Wales.

“I’ll be traveling to Cardiff,” Luke
announced.

Luke had been quiet and contemplative
since he’d returned from seeing Bertram Stanley. He told the brothers nothing
of their meeting save the fact that the man was indeed a Stanley. Most
definitely Georgina’s older brother and Lord Stanley’s son.

Now, hearing Luke’s declaration that he
was heading to Wales to find their mother – the first time he’d said much of
anything in the past hour – Simon just nodded.

The rest of the ride home was quiet. It
seemed like everything that needed to be said had been said, and now there was
nothing left for Simon to do but give each of his brothers time to absorb all
that they’d learned.

And it gave Simon time, too.

Fantasies about a future with Sarah ran
through his mind, a continuous play, scenes repeating themselves. Sarah in his
bed. Sarah in his arms, smiling up at him. Sarah comforting him after a long
day spent debating in Parliament.

Sarah gazing with adoration into the tiny
face of their newborn son.

Now that Sam had opened the floodgates of
Simon’s mind to the possibilities, he indulged in them. And as he indulged,
certain truths sharpened and became crystal clear in his mind. Sarah Osborne
was the only woman who moved him. Who he admired. Who could engage him, body,
mind, and spirit.

He loved her.

And he wanted it all.

He daydreamed about going home and calling
off the engagement with Georgina. He was somehow going to convince Stanley not
to reveal the Hawkins family secrets. When that unpleasant business was done,
he’d see the Stanleys out of Ironwood Park and into their carriage back to
London, or wherever they wished to go.

Then, free of the Stanleys forever, he’d
go to Sarah.

He leaned back against the carriage
squabs, closing his eyes, rehearsing his words in his mind.

“I want you in my life forever.
I want to make you mine. You’re my life, Sarah. Marry me. Be my duchess.”

All throughout, bleak warnings nudged at
the back of his mind:
Stanley is stubborn. Stanley won’t allow
you to sever the engagement. Stanley will ruin you.

He closed his eyes for a long moment, then
he looked at his brothers.

“I can’t marry Georgina Stanley. I’m going
to find a way to end our engagement.”

They all stared at him as if this news,
after a day full of revelations, was simply too much to take in.

“I can’t do it,” he told them.

“How will you get out of it?” Sam asked,
seemingly the only one of Simon’s brothers still capable of speech. “Will you
use the existence of Bertram Stanley against them?”

Simon didn’t want to lower himself to
Stanley’s level – to use extortion to fight extortion. And yet he was the head
of this family… How far would he go to save his brothers and sister? Far enough
to compromise his principles?

Probably.

Yes.

“I don’t know,” he told Sam softly.
“Should I?”

“No!” Theo roared.

Everyone swiveled to face Theo.

“Don’t do it, Trent. That kind of coercion
is not in your nature. You are the most honest, honorable person I know. I’d
rather see the truth about me exposed than to see you renounce your morals.”

“So would I,” Mark said, his expression
hard.

Luke stared out the window to avoid
meeting Simon’s gaze. “And I. Wouldn’t want to be the cause of you tarnishing
your spotless morality, Trent.”

“I’ve no desire to see Stanley spread
rumors about our family,” Simon told them. “But I don’t love Miss Stanley. I
never will. I can’t marry her.”

“Then don’t,” Luke said, as if it were
that easy.

“There’s someone else,” Simon said in a
low voice. “Another woman I care deeply for. After I break it off with Miss
Stanley, I intend to propose to her.”

“Really? Who is it?”

Simon glanced at Theo to see him frowning
in confusion.

He took a deep, steadying breath. Other
than Sam, their reactions would be filled with shock, surprise, disbelief. Even
Luke’s reaction would be so, given how shallow he believed Simon’s feelings for
Sarah were.

This would be the first set of reactions
of many that would come, from everyone he knew and from people he didn’t know
as well. He’d deal with them all, starting with his brothers right now. Because
he’d changed. He would no longer hesitate to shout his love for her from the
rooftops. He wanted everyone to know.

“Sarah,” he said, his voice steady and
firm. “Sarah Osborne.”

Simon’s confrontation with the Stanleys
had to wait due to the ball at their neighbor’s house that night. Canceling their
attendance at the ball would have set tongues wagging, and when word got out
about the breaking of his betrothal, Simon wanted it to be on his terms.

Simon could only stomach one dance with
Georgina, but that didn’t stop every other gentleman in attendance from dancing
with her. Mr. and Mrs. Beardsley were holding a house party this summer, and
several men Simon hadn’t seen since he’d left London approached him.

The Duke of Dunsberg was one of them.
Simon had retired to the card room for a brief respite from it all when the
older duke approached with a grin on his heavily weathered face.

“Well, Trent. I’ve just finished dancing
with your lovely betrothed. I must congratulate you – she is a rare find
indeed, a true diamond of the first water.” Snatching a glass of brandy from
the tray of one of the passing servants, Dunsberg settled in the seat beside
him and gave him a rueful glance. “Now that you’re joining the ranks of our
fellow peers wallowing in connubial bliss, I suppose that’ll leave me as one of
the few unattached dukes in the country.”

Simon wasn’t going to correct Dunsberg
about the status of his engagement. But he felt itchy and unsettled, like
thousands of tiny ants crawled under his skin. God knew, he wanted to tell the
man. He wanted the whole damn thing over with. Now.

“Why did you never marry?” Simon asked him
instead, deliberately turning the direction of the conversation.

Dunsberg regarded the liquid, swirling it
in his glass. “Ah, well.” He slid Simon a wry look. “I was like you once, though
I didn’t lose my own father until I was forty. But all the ladies were well
aware that I would be a duke one day, and for ten years, at least, the
matchmaking mamas emerged in full force every Season to plot my downfall.”

He took a sip of brandy. “But I wasn’t
interested in marriage then. Those were wild times. No doubt you’ve heard much
about them from stories of your parents.”

Simon made a small noise of agreement.

“And…” Dunsberg frowned into his glass.
“Well, I suppose I found all of it a trifle distasteful. As if I weren’t a
human being but my title was some kind of prize they were all vying for.”

“Yes.” Simon understood that completely.

“So I avoided being shackled at all costs.
Eventually they gave up, for the most part.” Dunsberg chuckled softly. “Now, at
the age of forty-nine, I finally feel ready to find a wife… but…” He shrugged.
“I suppose I just haven’t found the right lady as yet.”

Simon raised his glass. “I wish you the
best of luck in your search.”

Dunsberg chuckled. “I should concede defeat.
I am too old. Ladies are attracted to the young and virile. Look at me” – he
gestured to his wrinkled and pitted face – “the years have not been kind.”

“You’re still a duke.”

“Right. Yet to find a creature as lovely
as the one you have snagged for yourself… well, I doubt such a blessing is in
store for me.”

“You never know,” Simon said.

They talked for a while longer, then Simon
excused himself to return to the ballroom.

The evening felt interminable, but he
managed to endure it without anyone – besides his brothers – knowing something
was amiss. Still, it was closing in on dawn when they returned home. Exhausted,
everyone went straight to bed, except Simon, who paced his bedchamber, wanting
to go outside, find Sarah, take her in his arms, and tell her everything.

But he needed to break with Georgina
first. When he went to Sarah, he wanted to be a free man, a man who could lower
himself on one knee and proclaim his never-ending adoration to the woman he
loved.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be the day he’d reveal
all.

Chapter
Twenty

Simon awoke from a short, restless sleep
and asked one of the footmen to have Lord Stanley meet him in the library after
the older man breakfasted. Simon was still in the library just before noon,
mulling over accounts at his desk, when a knock on the door finally heralded a
haggard-looking Stanley.

After he bade the man to be seated and
offered him a drink, he got right to the point.

“I’m not going to marry your daughter.”

Stanley’s eyes went ice cold. He stared at
Simon. Simon gazed back at him, keeping his expression blank. He didn’t know
how long they sat there, staring at each other.

Finally, Stanley’s lips twisted. When he
spoke, his words were soft. Calm. “Are you sure that’s what you want, Trent?
Are you prepared for the repercussions of this decision?”

“The only repercussions should be the
increased happiness of the parties involved, Stanley. Mine and your
daughter’s.”

“Her happiness revolves around her
upcoming marriage. To you.”

“That’s nonsense. She feels nothing for
me.”

Stanley raised a brow. “Do not tell me you
have fallen victim to romantic tripe regarding your future wife, Trent. You
know, perhaps better than I do, that in our class there are more important
factors than romance when choosing a bride. You have a dukedom to consider.”

Simon almost smiled. He did indeed have a
dukedom to consider. One that Sarah would manage with grace and aplomb. One
that he wished to continue to manage only with her by his side.

“I have come to the conclusion that for
the overall happiness and well-being of all the people who depend upon me, Miss
Stanley is not the right choice.”

Stanley’s expression soured even more.
“You’re deranged. Of course Georgina is the right choice. I have groomed her
for this very position.”

Simon leaned forward, resting his forearms
over the papers on his desk. “That’s just it. You’ve groomed her to be a peer’s
wife, Stanley. But not
my
wife. With my title comes my family and its reputation, and all
the eccentricities weaved into that.”

Stanley shrugged. “Georgina’s entry into
your family will only help its reputation.”

Simon’s smile was wry. “I don’t care about
that. You see… I have spent most of my life trying to clear my family’s name.
And do you know what? I am finished with that. My family is odd, certainly. We
have struggled with more than our share of difficulties. But my family is mine,
and if anyone dislikes them or wishes to judge them, I would thank them to stay
well clear of the Hawkinses.”

“Are you implying —?”

“I’m not implying anything. I am telling
you that I am sick and tired of people trying and convicting my family members
of crimes against polite society. I am finished. From now on, I will no longer
try to correct my family members’ alleged wrongs. From now on, I have only one
thing to say to those of you who will condemn my siblings or my parents: to
hell with you.”

“Is that what you’re going to say when the
truth about your brothers’ and sister’s parentage is revealed?”

“I am hoping that, as a man of honor, you
will see the wisdom in my decision not to marry your daughter, and that you
will choose not to reveal that information. There is no point. Unless the idea
of ruining the lives of innocents appeals to you.”

“We had a deal, Trent.”

“Not exactly. You attempted to extort a
marriage out of me, and I allowed it for a while. But no more.”

Stanley tilted his head, gulped the last
of his drink, and smacked his glass down on the desk as he rose. “You will
regret this decision. Mark my words, you will regret it.”

He swiveled and stormed out, slamming the
door so hard the window rattled. Simon sat there for some moments, composing
himself, then he went to look for Georgina. He found her on the far reaches of
the lawn with her mother, Esme, and his four brothers, who’d clearly taken pity
on him and brought the ladies out into the lovely summer day. Servants had set
up a variety of archery targets, and they were taking turns at shooting.

As he approached, Georgina let an arrow
fly, then squinted at the distant target and squealed. “Ooh! I do believe I hit
it that time!”

Mark grinned at her. “I do believe you
did.”

Seeing Simon, Georgina hurried toward him.
She was dressed in white muslin trimmed with cornflower blue ribbons that
matched her eyes. Her blond curls shone beneath her crisp white wide-brimmed
hat, and a healthy color glowed on her cheeks.

She was a flawless English rose. On the
outside, at least. Even now, he wasn’t sure about the inside. She hadn’t shown
him anything of herself but what she wanted him to see.

“Oh, Trent! Where have you been? We are
having such fun!”

“It certainly looks like it,” he told her,
taking in the scene. Theo was helping Lady Stanley nock her arrow. Esme carried
a bow slung over her shoulder and was selecting an arrow from the long table.
Even Luke was there, but he hung back from the action, standing under the shade
of a sycamore tree, a faint smirk on his face as he studied the proceedings and
sipped at a glass of what appeared to be lemonade.

Luke met his gaze and gave him a slight
nod, but the cynical expression on his face didn’t change.

Simon turned back to Georgina. “Will you
walk with me?”

“Oh… of course.” She cast a longing glance
back toward the table, where Esme was talking to Theo about the arrows. “Mama,”
she called, “Trent and I are going for a walk. We’ll be back…” She gave Simon
an enquiring glance.

“Soon,” he supplied.

“Soon!” she said.

“Oh, do take all the time you need,” Lady
Stanley crooned, waving them off.

Giving Georgina his arm, Simon turned his
back on his family and began to walk, taking care not to enter the area where
Esme and Theo were shooting.

They were well out of sight of the party
when they stepped onto the bridge over the stream, heading back toward the
house. At the top of the arched bridge, Simon stopped, then rested his hands on
the rail and gazed down at the flow of the stream. Georgina duplicated his
every move.

Ahead, the willow trees that grew on the
banks sloped toward the water, their long branches reaching across the stream
toward each other, like lovers seeking a caress.

He felt no need to use small talk to delay
the inevitable. Instead, he spoke quietly and got right to the point.
“Georgina, I think it would be best if we called off our engagement.”

Her pink lips parted, and she blinked at
him several times.

“What?” she finally breathed.

“I cannot marry you.”

“Yes you can!”

“I’m sorry. I cannot.”

“Why?”

He tried to make his voice gentle. “I
don’t love you. I am sorry.”

“Oh.” Her chest seemed to deflate, and she
matched his gentle tone with hers when she spoke again, patting his hand.
“That’s all right, Trent. I don’t love you, either. That little thing shouldn’t
get in the way of our marriage, though.”

Her words stunned him for a moment, but he
gathered himself quickly. “You don’t understand. I don’t wish to enter into a
marriage without genuine affection.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t, Georgina.”

“If that is the case, then why did you
propose to me?”

Well, then. She really didn’t know the
reason. He considered his answer for a long moment, then told her a half-truth.
“Your father thought it would be the perfect match. He made me an offer I
couldn’t refuse at the time. But now… things have changed.”

He thought of Stanley’s rage. How the
baron wouldn’t hesitate to spew his venom about all of Simon’s siblings.

He closed his eyes, remembering how his
brothers had demanded that he not compromise his morals to save them.

Georgina had been pondering his words, and
now she asked, “Why did you change your mind?”

Her reaction was far less emotional than
he’d expected. Obviously he did not know or understand this lady at all.

“I’ve learned in the past few weeks how
important it is for me to have someone I love at my side.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is there someone else?
A mistress, perhaps? Mama taught me that I should never begrudge my husband his
mistress. She has got along quite well for years with my father and his
mistresses. She told me it is better if he has someone to turn to for physical
release, because it removes the burden of his unwelcome advances.”

Simon tried not to grimace, not wanting to
think about the carnal lives of Lord and Lady Stanley. He remembered his
parents screaming at each other about their paramours. Whenever one of his
parents learned about one of the other’s lovers, it lodged another shard of
glass into that parent’s soul. By the time his father had died, they’d both
been so broken, Simon could hardly look at either of them without feeling their
pain inside himself.

His mother had healed somewhat after his
father died. She’d let her children – even her husband’s mistress’s children –
help with that. He knew now that that was part of why she’d become so
“eccentric” in her decision to always keep them close.

“So,” Georgina continued, “if you should
decide to keep your mistress once we are married, I shall not be put out.”

Put out?
Really?
He raised a brow, remembering
his mother sobbing, flailing out with fists at his father, his father’s
retaliatory hit, and his mother’s blackened eye the next day.

“Georgina, you’re not understanding me.
We’re not marrying. I’ve made the decision and it’s final.” When she didn’t
have a ready answer for that statement, he added, “I am sorry.”

She turned back to the rail and gazed out
over the stream. The afternoon sun shone on the water, making its ripples
sparkle and glitter.

“I thought you should be the one to
formally break our engagement to the public. It will be the best way to keep
the scandal contained.”

She gave a short, scoffing laugh. “You
have informed my father of this, I assume?”

“I have.”

“And?”

Simon sighed. “And nothing. He’s no choice
but to accept it. As do you.”

“No,” she said quietly. Then she pushed
off from the railing and turned to look up at him. “No. I won’t accept it.”

“You must.”

“But I want to be a duchess!”

“I am sorry I cannot assist in your
endeavor to become one.”

“I was promised a duke, and I will accept
nothing less.”

“So it is true, then.” Simon wasn’t
surprised, but to hear confirmation of it voiced out loud felt like sandpaper
scrubbing his skin. “I
am
just a title to you.”

Her eyes seemed to shoot icy blue sparks
at him. “You are a duke.”

“I am a
man
.”

Her lips were tight, but her voice was
deadly quiet. “You will
not
do this to me, Trent. You cannot offer everything and then just
turn around and throw it all away based on some ridiculous notion that you
don’t love me. I won’t accept it, I tell you!”

“You haven’t any choice,” he said again.

She stamped her foot. “Change your mind. I
insist!”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Ugh!” she cried in frustration. “I’m
going to my father.
He’ll
make you change your mind.”

“You may go to your father,” he said
calmly, “but I won’t change my mind.”

“Then he’ll make you suffer. We’ll all
make you suffer!”

He gave her a bland stare. He could manage
the wrath of all the Stanleys combined with Sarah by his side.

She stamped her foot again. “This is your
last chance,” she growled, rage deepening the color on her cheeks.