The Duke's Defiant Debutante Page 9

  "Henbury, you are a philistine!" laughed Frederick. "Don't tell me you would gladly swap the theatres – the Opera House – the history and romance of London for your muddy strip of land in Devon?"

  "We all know what reason Henbury has to avoid the theatre," said Hatherford, waggling his eyebrows. Henbury twiddled a curl around his finger and sulked while the other men laughed. "Oh! But His Grace the Duke of Redhaven does not know! Shall we tell him of your most recent escapade, Henbury?"

  The other men cheered, and Henbury made a great show of pleading his case. Edward took pity on him.

  "It will give me no pleasure to be the cause of another man's embarrassment. Let his secrets remain secrets."

  "That's frightfully decent of you, Your Grace!" gasped the beleaguered Henbury.

  Another sharp look from Frederick spurred Edward into action. "Gracious, man, there's no need to stand on ceremony here. Call me Redhaven."

  "Well, Redhaven, let me ply you with a cigar and a swig of this fine brandy," offered Hatherford, forcing the cigar into Edward's hand before he could object. "If you are insistent on behaving like a decent chap when we all know Henbury does not deserve a bit of it, you must allow me to corrupt you a little."

  Edward pretended to puff the cigar and began to relax a little. Once the initial shock had worn off, Frederick's friends seemed more than happy to welcome him into their circle.

  But how could they behave in such a way towards a man who, seconds earlier, they would have decried as a rogue? Edward himself would never be able to hide his sense of justice under brandy and cigars.

  Once he had decided a person was not worth his time, he never stooped to accommodate them. Why, he had spent ten years refusing to stoop to ingratiate himself into society! Now, here he was, surrounded by men who had heard the very worst about him – and who did not mind.

  Edward could not understand them, nor approve their friendliness. All the same, in the depths of his heart, he had to admit that he was allowing himself to enjoy it.

  By the time the clock chimed midnight, Edward had won two games of whist, lost three, and was forced to admit, when Frederick asked him, that the night was not the disaster he had predicted.

  "Hatherford's a dashed fine chap," said Frederick slapping Edward on the back. "A good friend of mine. I can't tell you how glad I am to finally have the opportunity of letting you into my circle of acquaintance, Redhaven."

  "You're growing sentimental, Lathkill," Edward warned him.

  Hatherford himself interrupted their quiet conversation. His apple-cheeks had flared up to an alarming shade of crimson. "Don't turn around, Redhaven," he muttered urgently. "Don't look."

  "What on earth is the matter?" asked Edward, ignoring Hatherford's warning and turning to scan the room.

  The moment his eyes fell on the man standing in the doorway, he understood what had caused Hatherford such a panic.

  Lord Oliver Barnet had just entered White's.

  Edward had not seen his one-time friend for ten years. Despite his rising anger, he could not help but notice that those years weighed heavily on Lord Oliver. Where once he had stood straight and tall, he now hunched over at an awkward angle. His face was lined and had lost all its old brightness – the glow which Adelaide had spoken of so fondly – and had taken on a greyish pallor. He did not look like a man who should be up and about at midnight. He did not look like a man who should be out of bed at all.

  Edward found no pity in his heart for Lord Oliver's diminishment. He had already been transported back to that rainy morning on Hampstead Heath. His fingers itched for the trigger of his pistol. He could almost hear the gunshots.

  His ears still rang with the echo of the screams that followed.

  Lord Oliver took one lurching step into the room, dragging his left foot behind him. He used not one cane but two, and leaned on them heavily. Of course. The bullet had entered his left hip.

  Edward realised that Frederick had an arm around him and was holding him back. "Easy, there, Thorne. It's not worth a scene."

  "Adelaide's life," said Edward, through gritted teeth. "Adelaide's life is worth it –"

  "You have had your vengeance!" Frederick hissed, though Edward knew he had no idea of the truth behind their long-ago duel. "Look at him! Look at him, Thorne!"

  Lord Oliver had not noticed Edward, though he was aware that the room had fallen once more into tense silence. He was looking around in confusion. Another man sprang up and offered him a seat, and an arm to lower himself into it.

  The Lord Oliver who Edward remembered had been spry, athletic, quick on his feet. He had been very fond of dancing. Too fond.

  "I did this to him?" asked Edward, wonderingly. Again, his mind replayed Lord Oliver's scream as the bullet struck him.

  The bullet meant for Edward had whistled past his ear. He swore, afterwards, that he felt the wind of it grazing his face.

  A breath of wind. That was how close Lord Oliver had come to wiping out the entire Thorne family that day.

  "Time to go, Thorne," said Frederick, the urgency in his voice breaking the spell. Edward shook him off.

  "I want to speak to him."

  "Thorne –"

  "I want to ask him how he dares show his face in polite society after –"

  "Thorne! He could very well ask the same question to you."

  Hatherford had prudently positioned himself in front of Edward and Frederick to screen them from the room, but even his rotund bulk could not hide them entirely. People were starting to pay attention. Lord Oliver was still looking around, uncertain, trying to find the source of the tension.

  "I acted only as a gentleman ought," Edward growled. Frederick did not know the whole story. It was only natural that he wanted to make a hasty, painless exit.

  No-one knew what had really happened ten years ago but Edward, Lord Oliver, and Adelaide. And Adelaide was dead.

  The thought that there were men in the room who believed, even now, that Edward and not Oliver had been the man to kill her sent hot rage rising like bile in Edward's throat. His fists were clenching at his sides.

  "What do you intend to do, Thorne?" demanded Frederick. "Strike the man you crippled? He's nothing, Thorne, nothing at all anymore! Let him be."

  A man bent his head to Lord Oliver's ear and muttered urgently. Oliver's eyes flared wide. He looked across the room and his gaze connected with Edward's with a jolt that sent them both spinning ten years into the past.

  "He was my friend," Edward ground out. He did not know whether he was speaking in anger or simply sadness.

  Lord Oliver began to rise, shakily, to his feet. He intended to leave.

  Edward made a sharp, irritable gesture to send him back down into his seat. He bowed swiftly to Hatherford. "A pleasure to meet you. Goodnight. Coming, Lathkill?"

  "Certainly," said Frederick, fumbling to gather his winnings from the card table.

  Edward swept past the man he had broken without another glance. Only when he was outside in the hallway, struggling to set his hat upon his head, did he realise how heavily he was breathing. His fingers were shaking.

  He held his hand up to Frederick, half-amused. "Do you see that tremor? A good thing I had better nerves ten years ago."

  "It doesn't bear joking about, Thorne," muttered Frederick, shrugging into his coat. "Let's get out of here."

  Edward looked at the door they had just closed behind them. He felt a strange pang. A yearning for something.

  Lord Oliver might have lost his health on the day of their duel...but Edward had lost everything else.

  "What was he doing, coming back to London the one month I happen to be here?" Edward wondered aloud as Frederick drew him out into the starry night. "He must have known."

  "I sincerely hope he did not. The man must have a death wish. Honestly, Thorne, if you want people to have a better opinion of you, you would do well not to walk around with such murder in your eyes."

  "Perhaps he wishes to make amends."

&
nbsp; "Make amends? With you?" Frederick let out a spluttering laugh. Now that the moment of danger had passed, his behaviour was growing a little giddy. "Is such a thing even possible?"

  Edward thought of the way Angelica's lips had quirked upwards as she pronounced him fearsome. She, clearly, saw more in him than the fearsome, unforgiving Duke. "Perhaps it ought to be."

  "And how do you propose to make amends to him?"

  "I?" Edward repeated, astonished. "I have nothing to apologise for!"

  "You challenged him. You maimed him. You left him for dead. Whatever he did to upset you, Thorne –"

  "You have no idea what he did."

  "All the same. I really think it would be better if you let things lie. Dredging up the past can only harm you."

  "Perhaps you're right." Edward was nothing if not aware of his own deficiencies. In matters of social justice, he would let himself be guided by Frederick.

  "Come along, now," said Frederick, breathing a sigh of relief. "Let's take a hackney carriage back to my place. I'm much too fraught to go to bed. We'll play another round of cards and settle ourselves down before bed. How does that sound?"

  Edward looked up at the sky. It was not quite the sky that hung over Redhaven Castle, bright with stars and gashed with the distant beauty of the Milky Way. London's smoke obscured much of the night's splendour. But there was still enough to remind him that his own concerns, in the great scheme of the universe, were very small.

  "Thank you, Lathkill," he said. Frederick jolted with surprise and looked at him almost shyly.

  "I don't know what's gotten into you tonight, Thorne. I don't think I've heard those words cross your lips since – well, not ever!"

  Edward patted him on the shoulder. "Thank you."

  Frederick broke out that smile which had entranced half the ladies of London. Twice as bright as any star. "You're welcome, Thorne. You're welcome."

  Chapter Fifteen

  "Miss Angelica, do you really want us to go out in all this – this – weather?" asked Kitty, shaking her head in disgust as she tied the ribbons of Angelica's broadest-brimmed bonnet. The day was warm and muggy, and Kitty had never approved of the heat.

  "The weather is immaterial," said Angelica. "I simply must speak with my fiancé. I cannot wait."

  "If I may, Miss?"

  "You always may, Kitty."

  "What's the good of traipsing all the way across London on a simmering Wednesday just to see a man who, soon enough, you'll see every day for the rest of your life?"

  "I have received some disturbing news," said Angelica. She bit her lip. "Can you keep a secret, Kitty?"

  "I love a good secret, Miss!"

  "I overheard my father talking to one of his friends in the study this morning. It appears that, once again, I am the last person to hear the rumours about the man I'm supposed to marry."

  "I haven't heard nothing, Miss."

  Angelica smiled. "Then I am only the second-last to know. I wish that were more comforting."

  "What did you hear, Miss?" Kitty put on her sternest expression. "Not that I condone you putting your ear to Mr Stirling's keyhole."

  "You wretch! You'd do it yourself if you had the chance! Well, if you must know, I heard that he recently had a disturbing encounter with an old enemy." Angelica considered the wisdom of spilling out everything her father had said to Kitty. She trusted her lady's maid, and goodness knew the girl had managed to keep all of Lily's struggles a secret, but it still did not seem prudent. Prudence was a virtue Angelica had only lately begun to cultivate, and it did not come easily.

  The fact was that Edward had encountered Lord Oliver Barnet, the man whom he allegedly shot ten years ago, and it was the talk of London.

  Angelica had no wish to live her life in the centre of a whirlwind of gossip and scandal. She intended to put a stop to the whispers as firmly as she could. She had written a note to Edward, asking him to meet her at Gunter's Tea Shop that afternoon.

  It was the sort of conversation that could not be had in her family home, where Angelica well knew they were chaperoned and watched over carefully. Edward might not like what she was going to say, and she couldn't have her mother policing her language.

  The best thing would be to go and see him in private at his house, where she was sure they could speak freely. That, however, was quite impossible. It was simply not done for a young woman to call on a gentleman with no ladies in the house, whether she was engaged to him or not. While it was equally out of the question to be seen in public with a gentleman at a coffee house or similar establishment, it was perfectly acceptable to remain in a carriage in Berkeley Square, eat one of Mr Gunter's iced confections from a pretty little glass, and talk to a gentleman there.

  Angelica felt a prickle in her stomach as she considered that Kitty's words were true. Very soon, she would be alone with Edward every day for the rest of her life.

  Did the thought excite her, or fill her with fear?

  She considered the prospect of meeting his shockingly green eyes over the breakfast table each morning. That part she would certainly not object to. And she was beginning to think that, despite his cold exterior, a warm heart did beat inside that broad chest.

  Perhaps, one day, it might beat for her alone...

  Angelica shook her head, drawing a squeak of annoyance from Kitty, who had not quite finished tying her bonnet. It was useless to make plans based around Edward's affection, or lack thereof. That was not something she could control.

  What she did hope to gain a measure of control over was his reputation. And that required his cooperation.

  Angelica was not certain that she could convince her future husband to do anything, but the life she would lead if she could not did not bear thinking about. At the very least, she was determined to try.

  So it was with a degree of trepidation, but much more determination, that Angelica waited for Edward to arrive at Gunter's. She remained in the carriage, as was proper, while Kitty leaned against the railings at a discreet distance and chatted to the waiting staff who bustled back and forth with trays of ices and sorbets for the people in the square.

  She saw him coming the moment he appeared on the other side of the square. He cut through the tree-lined grass in the centre. The way he walked drew the eye unmistakeably; he was tall, confident, straightforward, and it was visible in every step. Angelica had never before appreciated the way a man moved. Now, suddenly, it struck her that Edward's grace and power was one of his finest qualities.

  How foolish had she been, not to notice it while they were dancing? They had never danced again since the night they met. How she suddenly longed to try it again now, now that she knew how to value it!

  "Good afternoon, Edward." She extended a hand down from her seat on the carriage for him to kiss.

  He scowled up at her as if she were the sun and it hurt him to open his eyes. "Good afternoon, Angelica. May I buy you an ice?"

  "I have already ordered one. Elderflower – quite my favourite flavour. What sort do you prefer?"

  "I do not indulge in confectionary."

  Once, Angelica would have despaired at his surly answer. Now that she knew him better, it amused her. "I suppose you don't want to run the risk of sweetening your temper."

  "I don't appreciate being summoned like a manservant," said Edward. "Would your father approve of your writing to me?"

  "Edward, we are engaged. I may write to you as often as I wish. Though you need not write back, if you are not so inclined."

  He sighed and leaned against the wrought iron railings, entirely unaware of how sophisticated he looked with his arms folded and his head cocked to one side. "I suppose I cannot object to it, then."

  "You certainly cannot."

  "What did you ask me here for, Angelica? Is this another necessity of courtship? To be seen eating an ice at Gunter's?"

  "I am not at all concerned about being seen at Gunter's with you or anybody else," said Angelica. Edward relaxed a little. "Edward, surely
you know me well enough to know that I have no wish to court public attention?"

  "You are right," he admitted. "I do know you better. Forgive my temper, Angelica. I am merely..."

  "You are out of sorts, and I know why. That is precisely why I asked you to meet me here. I have things to say to you that I cannot risk my parents hearing."

  Edward raised an eyebrow. "My word, Miss Stirling! That sounds rather scandalous."

  "Are you teasing me?" Angelica asked, delighted. Edward coughed and resumed his pose of affected indifference.

  "I never tease. Tell me, what is so pressingly important that it cannot be said in the Stirling household?"

  "Why, the matter of your encounter with Lord Oliver Barnet yesterday night."

  Edward stiffened. A shadow of horror crossed his face. Angelica immediately regretted bringing it up – but at the same time, she could not bring herself to avoid it.

  "What do you know of my business with Lord Oliver?"

  "I know that you fought a duel. At least, that's what everybody says. And you wounded him."

  Edward's jaw tightened. "He wounded me first, Angelica. A great deal more severely. It is a wound from which I have never recovered. Do not speak of it, I warn you."

  "If I am to be your wife, there can be no subject out of bounds for us," said Angelica. "I will not insist on an explanation of the rumour. Not yet. But I will insist that you do all you can to make things right with Lord Oliver."

  Edward said nothing, but the expression on his face was eloquent enough. For a moment, Angelica thought he was going to leap into the carriage and take hold of her. Cold anger radiated from him as though he were one of the blocks of ice Mr Gunter used to make his frozen confectionary.

  "There are several elements of your past which are less than desirable in a husband, Edward. Your family feud is one. Please, do not ask me how I know these things. It is precisely because I know them that they must be dealt with. I do not wish to marry into a tangle of old grudges and resentments. You must make peace with your past. For my sake, if not your own."