The Duke's Legacy (27 page)

“Money? Wilsden offered you money?” Harold looked as bemused as Sebastian felt. “We already have plenty of money of our own.”

“Hah, not for much longer if you continue to give it away to needy causes. You seem to forget you have three daughters to launch. I am determined they will do well on the marriage-mart and that costs money.” She sent her husband an accusing glare. “By the time they reach the right age, there is unlikely to be much of our own fortune left. Charity should begin at home, Harold, and we shouldn’t have to go cap in hand to your father or
her
, just because you put the welfare of others before that of your own family.”

“How much did he offer you?” Harold asked in a disgusted tone.

“Nothing. That is not why I agreed to do this. Her personal fortune,” she said, once again pointing at Abbey, “the monies her father had before he became a duke, would be inherited by your father in the event of her death. I want nothing for myself but would have appealed to him to set up trust funds for our daughters, since you appear incapable of taking responsibility for their futures. He would have done it, too. He doesn’t need her money. Freed from his responsibility for Abbey he would have turned his attention to where it should have been all along, which is the welfare of his own grandchildren.” Mary crossed her arms over her scrawny breasts and flashed a defiant look her husband’s way, clearly thinking her logic was irrefutable.

“You are very wicked,” Harold said in a gentle tone that was somehow far more sinister than if he’d railed against her. “Wicked and completely evil. I thought I knew you, Mary.” He shook his head, a mixture of sadness and repulsion in his expression. “I would have given you the earth, had it been in my power to do so. I thought we were of one mind, and you shared my determination to improve the lot of those less fortunate than ourselves. I felt empowered with you beside me.” He shook his head again, looking pale and anguished. “How cruelly deceived I have been.”

“It is not too late to put your own children before the needs of your flock,” she said in a brisk voice far more like her own.

Amazingly, Mary appeared to consider things could go on just as they had before and she would continue to twist Harold around her little finger. She had just admitted entering into a murderous conspiracy but appeared to think Harold would forgive her and take her back. Sebastian suspected she had grossly underestimated his strength of character.

“Perhaps we should return to the house,” she said, trying to take his arm.

Harold brushed her hand away, as though he couldn’t bear the slightest physical contact with her. “I think not.”

Mary looked up at him and gasped, perhaps because the steely glint of determination in her kindly husband’s eye made her realise she had taken him too much for granted. She recovered her poise and touched him for a second time, speaking with brisk authority and complete confidence in her ability to bring him around.

“Perhaps I should not have got caught up in Lord Wilsden’s scheme. I lost my common sense for a while, but can see now Abbey is not to blame for being thrust into the bosom of our family. Anyway, none of this is my fault. Wilsden convinced me it was necessary and once I became involved he gave me no opportunity to renege.” She smiled but no one returned the gesture. “No real harm has been done and we can scarce make public what has happened or the family will become embroiled in scandal. Best leave things as they are, my dear. I will beg Abbey’s pardon and, if she can find it in her heart to forgive me, we can carry on as we were before.”

“If that is your belief then you have indeed taken leave of your senses,” Harold replied. “I cannot forget what you have done, and I am unsure if I will ever forgive you, either. You will be will be escorted back to the house, and I will decide what’s to become of you when I’ve had an opportunity to think about it.”

Harold motioned to his father’s man, who stepped forward and took her arm. She demonstrated a surprising strength by shaking him off like an irritating fly.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Take her and lock her in her room,” Harold instructed. “If you will grant me leave to keep her at the lodge until the morning, Abbey, I will relieve you of her loathsome company at first light?”

“Of course, Harold. Whatever you consider best.”

“What do you mean by that?” Mary fell to her knees in front of her husband, probably only now realising that she had underestimated the power she wielded over him. Harold was guilty of indulging his wife, Sebastian suspected, but he was a man of principle and could never act against his conscience. “Come, Harold, perhaps you have reason to be vexed with me, I really do see that now, but it will soon be forgotten. You can’t be serious about locking me in my room. After all, my children will—”

“You will never see your children again.”

Mary’s face drained of all colour as it clearly dawned on her that Harold really did mean what he said. Even so, she still appeared unable to comprehend the enormity of what she had done, much less accept responsibility for her actions. Coming to terms with the fact that she was her husband’s chattel, and her punishment lay entirely in his hands, was equally beyond her capabilities. Sebastian recognised the exact moment when the stark truth hit her. She was to be hidden away from society and denied access to her children for the rest of her days. She clawed at the hem of her husband’s coat, keening—a terrible sound that added more tension to an atmosphere that was already taut, embarrassing them all.

A commotion behind Hodges heralded the arrival of Evans and Charlie Wilsden.

“We heard rumours at the house of inappropriate trysts,” Charlie said with his usual cheerful disregard for convention. “Sounded too exciting to miss and so we thought we would see what was a-foot. I see that others beat us to it and have prevented you from making away with our lovely hostess, Denver,” he added, winking at Abbey.

“Not precisely.”

There was nothing for it but to reveal the true nature of a strange gathering taking place in an even stranger location. Evans seemed to quickly grasp the full implications and, more specifically, Sebastian’s true purpose for being at the hunting lodge. He looked at Abbey, still held protectively at Sebastian’s side, and visibly paled.

“You have been in danger for so long and didn’t confide in any of us, preferring to place your trust in a stranger?” He shook his head. “I cannot bear to think what agonies you must have endured.”

He looked as though he wanted to take over as her main source of solace. When Sebastian made no move to cede his position, Evans took to moving about the room in a distracted manner while Charlie stared at his father in open-mouthed disbelief.

“I thought you were the culprit at first,” Sebastian told him with a rueful grin. “Sorry about that, but I’m glad I was wrong.”

“Apology accepted,” Charlie said absently, his eyes still burning into his father’s face. “I knew he wanted me to marry you, Abby, but we both knew we wouldn’t suit. No offence meant.”

“None taken,” Abbey replied with a weak smile.

“Besides,” Charlie said, “I’m not cut out for the role of a duke. It was no good the pater constantly ringing a peal over me on the matter. He ought to have known it wouldn’t serve. None of us can be what we’re not. All that money and responsibility. I would have made a complete mull of it.”

Charlie shuddered rather theatrically, lightening the tension with the return of his irreverent attitude. From what he had observed over the past few days, Sebastian surmised Charlie had little respect for his father, accounting for the speed and calmness with which he accepted what he had done. He certainly didn’t attempt to defend him.

“Of course,” he added, “I had to play my part and when he was watching me, do my best to convince Father I was making myself agreeable to Abbey.”

“That was why we were suddenly so awkward together in public,” Abbey said, “but fell back into our more comfortable ways when unobserved.”

“Got it in one. I knew you would take immediately you were let loose on the
ton,
m’dear, and that you would be bound to accept an offer by the end of your season. I could then assure Father I had done my best and he would have to consent to my marrying Lady Isabel.”

“Yes, I can quite see how difficult it must have been for you,” Abbey said with a sympathetic smile. “Especially when your heart wasn’t really in it.”

“My heart’s taken, I’m afraid. Lady Isabel…now there’s a woman!” He threw back his head and sighed. “She shares my passion for horse flesh and is a first rate whip, as well as being deuced attractive. I’m sure we will rumble along together splendidly, and there is nothing to prevent me from approaching her father now. Although—”

His words trailed off as he turned and faced Wilsden, roused to something close to anger as he belatedly realised what scandal his father’s actions would bring to bear upon his family’s name. Lady Isabel would never be permitted to marry into such a family. With an expression that reflected his despair, he slumped onto the seat beside Sebastian. He clasped Charlie’s shoulder, determined the engaging young man’s life wouldn’t be ruined by an evil and avaricious parent. He turned towards Lord Bevan’s man.

“Take her away,” he said, indicating the still prostrate Mary Bevan, whose fingers had to be literally prized away from her husband’s leg. She continued to wail her remorse and beg forgiveness but her cries went unheeded by a stony-faced Harold.

Nodding in the direction of Wilsden’s pistol, Sebastian had Hodges place it a short distance away from its owner. Helping Abbey to her feet he swept her into his arms, pausing to speak to Wilsden in a barely audible undertone she couldn’t have heard.

“You have one chance to take the honourable way out,” he said, “and save the rest of your family from sharing in your disgrace.”

He swept Abbey from the floor and carried her outside, leaving Hodges standing guard over the folly in case Wilsden attempted to escape. He loaded Abbey into the curricle and had driven it half way back to the lodge when a shot rent the air. Abbey, still suffering from the combined effects of disappointment and delayed shock, seemed too subdued to ask what it implied.

But Sebastian knew and his jaw tightened with grim satisfaction. Wilsden had saved both families from censure by putting a bullet through his own head.

Chapter Nineteen

The rest of the day passed in a frenzy of activity. Sebastian’s first priority was to deliver Abbey safely into Sally’s care. He and Lord Bevan then dealt with the local magistrate. Using their combined influence they were able to have Wilsden’s death recorded as misadventure—a tragic accident that had occurred while cleaning his gun—thereby sparing Wilsden’s family from having their lives tainted by the stigma of suicide. The magistrate didn’t think to ask why he would clean his gun in the folly, saving Sebastian and Lord Bevan from some awkward questions.

“Do you suppose Wilsden would have succeeded in assuming the dukedom?” Bevan asked, regarding Sebastian contemplatively from a chair in front of his library fire.

“It’s difficult for me to offer an opinion because I cannot recall another situation quite like this one. In the event of Abbey’s demise no one would have a solid claim, perhaps with the exception of your son Tobias.”

“He would never dream of—”

“I’m aware of that and so, I suspect, was Wilsden. But even if Tobias did claim to be the closest male relative to the late duke, it could take years of legal wrangling before the matter was resolved.”

“Leaving Wilsden with his hands on the coffers until it was settled.”

“Precisely.”

Bevan frowned. “But if the title became extant, wouldn’t the prince be more likely to leave it that way and keep the spoils for himself?”

Sebastian offered up a sardonic smile. “It’s no secret that Prinny’s permanently in deep, so it would be a great temptation for him to absorb such a rich prize as Penrith into his own depleted coffers. But Wilsden was right to suggest a permanent presence would be necessary to keep that area of the West Country under control. Wilsden was clever. He had set himself up as the obvious claimant, both through his unquestionable loyalty to the prince and by establishing himself as a figure of authority in the eyes of the locals.”

“Hmm, and I made it easy for him by agreeing to him taking over the running of the Penrith estate.” Bevan expelled an angry breath. “What a fool he played me for!”

“Don’t distress yourself. You weren’t the only one taken in by him. He even managed to fool his own son, who is not quite the numbskull he makes himself out to be.”

“I have always thought Charlie’s talents went unappreciated.”

The door opened to admit a subdued but determined looking Harold. Lord Bevan stood and clasped his son’s shoulder, Sebastian’s cue to leave father and son to discuss Harold’s problems in private. He already knew Harold was resolutely determined his wife would never see her children again. Instead she would live in seclusion with only the dour Miss Frobisher for company, which sounded like poetic justice to Sebastian.

Dinner that evening was a subdued affair, given the demise of Lord Wilsden, the absence of Mary and all that it implied. Desultory conversation did little to disguise the guests’ collective curiosity or the fact that they were brimming with questions they were too well bred to openly voice. Abbey was absent from dinner, too. Sebastian knew from Hodges—who’d obtained his information from Sally—she had partaken of a light supper and was now sleeping, thanks to a draught of laudanum supplied by the redoubtable Mrs. Burton.

Sebastian, gripped by a fit of the blue devils, took little part in the conversation that swirled in fits and starts around his place at the table. His mind dwelt instead upon Abbey and the havoc she had wreaked in his well-ordered life. Well, that was about to come to an end. He had done what he came here to do and tomorrow, as soon as he had attended to his remaining business with the magistrate, there was no reason why he and Hodges shouldn’t be on their way.

It was the only sensible thing to do. To put as much distance between himself and Abbey as possible was now his highest priority. He could then look forward to the resumption of his former ways and forget all about compelling silver eyes which had the uncanny knack of intruding upon his sub-conscious when he least expect it. Sometimes those eyes regarded him with unqualified trust, at others they mocked him or danced with mischief as their owner shed her inhibitions and wheedled her way into his arms.