The Prodigal Daughter (22 page)

Amanda raised her brows, for that seemed excessive even for a disaster. She hoped her own behavior was not haunting him. “What are they about?” 

“Oddly, Fitch’s surgery rarely appears,” he answered, seeming to read her thoughts. “It is always fire – being trapped in my room; watching Fitch engulfed as he fights to rouse me; watching Matthews buried under that wall..” His voice cracked.

“You needn’t feel guilty about that,” swore Amanda, understanding what he had not said.

“Two men died because of me.”

“Fustian,” she scoffed. “You are intelligent. How could you possibly believe that?”

“Fitch would be alive if he had not gone back to save my worthless hide,” he insisted, staring bleakly at her. “And one of Matthews’s helpers was there only because I suffered an attack of cowardice and refused..” It was the first time he had voiced his shame aloud.

“Using that twisted logic, I was responsible for him myself,” she countered.

Norwood gasped. “Ridiculous!”

“Not at all. If I had not forced you to help with Fitch, you would never have considered whether to volunteer, and it
was
force,” she added, cutting off his protest. “Despite my denial at the time, I lost my temper that night and deliberately decided to knock you down a peg or two, knowing almost exactly what would happen.”

“Almost?” he interrupted.

“I hadn’t expected you to let him kick you.”

“Ouch.”

“I definitely owe you an apology, your grace. But beyond that, if I had not selfishly boarded the stage before the work was done, it would have been me under that wall.”

“I can’t deny I needed knocking down a bit, but you go too far to blame yourself for any deaths. You saved so many lives that night.”

“You also go too far,” she said, ignoring his last comment. “What happened was beyond either of our powers to influence. It is God who determines life and death. We should leave the second-guessing to Him as well.”

Norwood nodded.

“Did they ever discover what caused the fire?”

“It might have been a candle,” he suggested, “but the consensus was a careless soldier who occupied the room in which it started. He had spent the evening in the taproom, drinking heavily and smoking cheroots.”

“Nasty habit,” agreed Amanda, seeing Norwood shudder in distaste. “Many soldiers acquired it on the Peninsula. I was grateful that Jack never did.”

“The speculation was that he fell into a wine-induced slumber with one still alight.”

“I imagine so. The same thing happened in Spain to a captain camping near us – but not of our regiment, thank God. His tent went up in flames and him with it. I still hear his screams...”

“Don’t,” he urged her sharply, then lowered his voice as Oliver stirred restlessly on the bed. “I find it hard to believe that any gently reared lady could have survived what you experienced.”

“Fustian!” she scoffed, recovering her composure. “Women are not the delicate creatures that men have decreed. It is custom alone that relegates them to that position, not inherent weakness. You should have seen all the gently bred ladies succoring the dying in Brussels. I am unusual only because I refused to simper or play the coquette. I have always despised dishonesty, even when society expects it.”

“I applaud you, Mrs. Morrison. The airs and affectations that most women employ are indeed deceitful..” He sounded bitter.

“You must have had an unfortunate experience with someone who was less than truthful,” she murmured, hoping to draw him out about his past. Perhaps that was why he hid behind hauteur so often. She had been unable to learn much about him from Lady Thorne. Her grandmother had repeated what his grandmother had written when he was a young man, but she had no idea why he was so different today.

Her warmth and sympathy worked its usual magic. Norwood answered without thinking. “My wife..” A spasm of pain twisted his face.

“Tell me about her,” she whispered.

“Annabelle. She was the most beautiful creature in the world – not that her looks were perfect, but vivacity animated her like no other. I fell in love with her almost at once.”

“You must have been fairly young at the time,” she murmured.

“Yes. Not quite one-and-twenty and just down from Oxford. But that mattered not. She was so warm, so loving, so particular in her attentions. If she had flirted with everyone, I might have been warier, but she did not. Her face would light up whenever I appeared, her entire being relaxing, almost in relief. She seemed alive only in my presence. Dear God, but I was naïve..”

He ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration she had never seen him use. Even his voice was livelier, convincing her that he desperately needed to talk about his marriage. He had probably never done so before.

“What went wrong?” she asked softly.

“Her father accepted my offer without consulting her. I should have realized then that something was not quite right. We settled on a wedding date barely a month ahead. I did not talk to Annabelle until that night at a ball. I do not know how familiar you are with society, but there is no opportunity for private words at
ton
entertainments. And when the heir to a dukedom marries, everyone turns out to fete the couple. It is even more frenzied than the usual Season.”

“So there was no chance to discuss anything with her until it was too late?” she asked, understanding where his comments were leading.

“Exactly. Nor did I have a moment to contemplate her changed demeanor. She was suddenly cold, quiet ... almost brittle. I put it down to exhaustion, which was something I was feeling excessively myself..” His hands again threaded his hair and stayed there, the weight of his head dropping his elbows onto his knees.

“Was it a case of title seeking then?” she asked.

“Not exactly, though I entertained that notion myself for quite some time. After the wedding, I realized that she was not exhausted, but was afraid of me.”

Amanda jumped in surprise. “Of you?  Or just of marriage?”

“I thought at first it was marriage, and that would hardly be surprising. She was only seventeen and had never been out in the world before coming to London. It is a shocking transition, even with a spouse one cares for.”

Amanda nodded, but made no comment.

“But it quickly became apparent that it was me. Her terror eventually settled into hatred..” He raised his head to meet her eyes, his own as bleak as she had ever seen. Pain twisted his face.

“Dear heaven. But why would she marry someone she despised?  Even title and wealth can hardly make up for that.”

He shrugged. “I pieced the story together bit by bit over the next months, but the crux of it remained a mystery until after she died. One of the mourners was Annabelle’s childhood neighbor. It seems that they had fallen in love when she was barely fifteen, but her father refused to countenance the union. The lad was the younger son of a baronet, with no money and no prospects. Annabelle’s father was a viscount with aspirations to higher circles. She was his only child so she represented his lone chance to improve his consequence.”

“Unfortunately not an unusual situation.”

“I know that now. If only I had known it then, but one of the few favors my cold parents ever did me was to protect me from the greediest of the toadeaters. I wish they had not.”

“Why did they not protect you from Annabelle and her father, then?” she asked, sensing another lifetime of pain associated with his family, but choosing to ignore it for the moment.

“In a burst of youthful independence and self-confidence, I arranged the whole without consulting them,” he admitted in chagrin.

“Typical..”

“You condemn me?”

“Never. How can I, having fallen prey to youthful indiscretion myself on more than one occasion?  But what happened?  If Annabelle loved another, how came she to fall in with her father’s plans?”

He frowned. “She had no choice. She was not as deceitful as I initially thought. Her father brought her to town for the Season, ordering her to attach a wealthy title, and demanding at least an earl. Her beau claims that she had concocted a scheme to avoid any union.”

“Ah,” sighed Amanda in sudden understanding. “She probably cut every eligible gentleman who showed interest in her, but was able to flirt with you because there was no chance you would offer for her.”

He raised his brows in surprise.

She smiled. “Think, your grace. How often does any gentleman wed at so young an age?  What duke would ever countenance his heir attaching a lady so far beneath him in consequence?  She must have assumed that you were engaging in harmless flirtation like any other young sprig. That would account for her demeanor with you. She could relax and be herself, knowing that no other gentlemen would dare to cut you out.”

“You are right, of course. I was merely surprised that you worked it out so quickly. Unfortunately, I did not do so until it was much too late. I put the poor girl through hell,” he whispered, voice cracking badly at the memory of his marriage.

“I assume that her father forced her to wed you,” she stated calmly, pulling him back from the brink of collapse.

“Yes. He had already accepted my suit and agreed to settlements before she even knew that I had offered. It was one of the first things I learned after the wedding. He had threatened to incarcerate her for life if she did not comply.”

“The disadvantage of being so proper. You did not discuss your feelings with her and probably did not even hint at a future together.”

“Exactly. And then I defied all propriety by arranging everything myself. I was a devil of a fool.”

“It is over, your grace. One cannot change the past, however much one might wish to. One can only learn from it.”

“For myself, it would not matter. I deserved everything I suffered. But she was an innocent victim. There is no justice.”

“Poor Annabelle. But why was her father so adamant?  Was it just the vicarious power and enhanced consequence?”

“No. He was a gamester, his zeal far exceeding his skill. He believed that no duke would allow his father-in-law to either flee the country or languish in debtor’s prison, so he foresaw a rosy future.”

“I cannot believe you would allow such predation,” she commented, breaking into a chuckle. “Your backbone is far stiffer than that.”

“You are right..” He sighed. “Even before the marriage, I was having second thoughts about allowing him to rush me into signing the settlements. When my solicitor saw them, he nearly exploded. Fortunately, Annabelle’s father made one mistake –  he forgot that I was not legally of age. We overturned the initial document, replacing it with one that would protect Annabelle but not allow her father to coerce anything from her. Yet even that was not enough. I had assumed that she cared for me, of course. In reality, she quickly became a pawn in a power struggle between me and my father-in-law. He applied enormous pressure on her to turn me up sweet. I eventually barred the house to him. But I was hardly better, refusing to allow her to give so much as a groat to the man. The situation made an already bad relationship worse. Her hatred grew until, at the end, she would not even allow me to enter her room as she lay dying..”

“It is over,” she reminded him, noting the sheen of tears in his eyes. “I do not believe that you were ever cruel to her. Nor do I believe that she truly hated you. She was very young and probably deflected her fury at the situation and her frustrations over her own imperfect scheme in your direction. You were as much a victim as she, all of you prey to her father’s obsession.”

“I should have known better,” he insisted. “If only I had not let my enthusiasm run away with me.”

“If, if, if,” she chided him. “If wishes were horses, and so on. Who can blame anyone for acting his age?  Don’t hate yourself for falling prey to youthful misjudgment. You could not be expected to recognize her desperation.”

“But I should have. Poor Annabelle. She was so miserable. How can fate be so cruel?”  His control snapped, allowing a sob to escape.

“Cry it out, your grace,” she urged him, sliding close enough that she could gently pull his head against her to muffle the heart-wrenching sobs. For ten years he had been carrying the pain and guilt. But he was not the Iron Duke, charged with securing Europe’s future. Norwood had no reason to hide his own emotions. She absently smoothed his hair and massaged the back of his neck, hoping all the while that Annabelle’s father would roast for an eternity. His selfish scheming had destroyed three people. It was clear that Norwood was not at fault in the debacle. Nor were Annabelle or her young man.

As the duke’s tears slowed, she slipped out of the arms that had wound around her and moved to add coal to the fire.

Norwood was in shock over his breakdown, yet he had to admit that he felt better. Mrs. Morrison had made him look at his marriage from a different point of view. He had been too busy blaming himself to remember that Crompton was the real villain. Yes, he had been naïve – and impetuous, foolish, and way too arrogant. But it was Crompton’s venality that had engineered the fiasco. Poor Annabelle had found herself in a hopeless coil, her father’s pressure threatening her own happiness. Lacking the courage that had allowed Lady Amanda to escape in similar circumstances, Annabelle had taken the only other path open to her – the faulty plot to sidestep matrimony. She had made only one mistake – failing to consider that one of the unlikely suitors might fall in love with her. He must have seemed the perfect tool in her attempt to stymie her father.

If only he had talked to her. Despite their frequent discussions, he had never bared his heart, for proper gentlemen did not expose their feelings. He wiped the tears from his face. Not once had he considered asking her if she cared. Why should he?  Everyone had fawned over him since the day he was born, rushing to fulfill his every whim. He snorted. It was ridiculous to interpret that as caring. If only he had talked to her first!  He had not even taken the time to think through his decision, impetuously offering for her only a fortnight after meeting her. Had he even loved her?  The unthinkable question slipped into his mind so quickly that he gasped in shock.