“I’m afraid not. However—”
“I’m paying you well to gather information!” Piers clamped his teeth together, then after a moment went on more moderately, “Why haven’t I heard of Reeve and Campbell before now?”
Merrick was struggling to master his own temper. He couldn’t see that this was important. It sounded like a gentlemen’s spat to him. But Piers was footing the bill, and it paid him to give Piers whatever he wanted.
As calmly as he could manage, he said, “Because this is the first time I’ve heard of them. too. I came here hoping you could tell me something about them, but since you don’t appear to know them either, I’ll follow up the one lead I have.”
Piers’s eyes narrowed. “What lead?”
“My informant was able to give me Campbell’s direction. He’s putting up at some hotel in Dover Street. I was hoping you could tell me which one. Since you can’t, I’ll be on my way.”
“You’ll let me know as soon as you hear anything?”
“I’ll let you know.”
They parted amicably, but Piers’s mellow mood had soured. He was remembering that it didn’t do to underestimate Castleton. And when he thought about it, the earl wasn’t running in circles. Oh, he’d tightened security at Woodlands and Twickenham House, but other than that, he was going about his business as though he, Piers, was nothing more serious than an inconvenience. The party at Twickenham House was a prime example. It was as though the earl was thumbing his nose at him.
The thought was intolerable! When he realized that he was grinding his teeth together, he tried to relax. He’d think of something, he promised himself, to demonstrate that he was still pulling the strings.
Jane Mayberry and her dog.
The earl would be laughing on the other side of his face if anything happened to them.
His thoughts moved on to the problem at hand. Who in blazes was James Campbell and how could he possibly ruin the earl?
He didn’t like wrinkles in a plan that was only days away from completion. One thing was certain. Campbell had better not get in his way.
Chapter 17
Case’s first order of business the following morn-ing was to call on Robert Shay in his chambers and give him instructions on how to proceed in the divorce action that Campbell would undoubtedly bring against him.
“We’re not going to fight it?” Robert repeated, dismayed. “But that’s tantamount to admitting your guilt. If you follow my advice and sever all ties to Miss Mayberry, Campbell’s case against you will almost certainly fail.”
“I don’t want it to fail.”
Robert looked across his desk at his friend’s calm expression, knowing that his own face must be mirroring his bewilderment. “But why?”
“Because I’m going to marry her.”
For a long interval, Robert simply stared. “You’re going to marry her,” he said faintly.
Case smiled. “Robert, we’re not talking about the end of the world. We’re talking about ending a marriage that failed from the beginning and has not been in existence for several years.”
The fog in Robert’s mind was rapidly clearing. He said heavily, “That’s not how the courts will see it. She’s still his wife. His possession. I’ve told you what you can expect in punitive damages if you continue to see her.”
“So you did. I’m prepared for it. What I want from you is advice on how we can expedite this divorce so that Jane and I can marry as soon as possible.”
Robert could hardly take it in. Only the day before yesterday, he was advising his friend on how to stave off a scandal. Case had been angry then, livid in fact, but his anger was directed against Jane Mayberry. The change in him was astounding. He was relaxed, smiling, happy. Robert felt just the opposite. There was a bottle of brandy in the bottom drawer of his desk and he would have poured himself a generous shot if it had not been so early in the morning.
Jane Mayberry, he thought. Case must love her very much. He’d known he was taken with the girl. A blind man could have seen it. But Case was level-headed. When he found that she was married, he should have sent her packing.
There was no good arguing with him. No doubt His Grace would point out all the pitfalls that lay ahead. He wouldn’t like to be in Case’s shoes when he told his father.
He tried one last time to make his friend see reason. “Take your time. Think this through before you make any rash decisions. Once you embark on this course, just remember, there’s no going back.”
“You won’t act for me?”
“Of course I’ll act for you,” said Robert crossly.
Case smiled. “Thank you. Now take me through the steps so I’ll know what to expect.”
Robert scowled, but finally said grudgingly, “The first thing we must do is write to Campbell informing him that we will not contest his action. All going well, the case should come before the Sheriff’s Court in a week, maybe two, then proceed to the Consistory Court of the Bishop of London.”
“How long?” asked Case.
“A month, maybe two. But that’s the easy part. Campbell will get his divorce and so will your Jane, but that doesn’t mean she’s free to marry. It will take an act of Parliament to achieve that, and that could take some time.”
Case got up. “Then let’s not waste time. I want Campbell to know as soon as possible that Jane will never go back to him. I want him to know that she’s under my protection. Tell him to do his worst. And put something in that letter that will make him move quickly on this. The sooner the better.”
“Where will I find him?”
“Cook’s Hotel, Dover Street.”
“Where are you going?”
“To break the news to my father.”
When Case left, Robert could not resist the temptation. He got out the brandy bottle, poured himself a drink, and took a healthy swallow. He’d never acted in a divorce case before, which wasn’t surprising. Divorces were so expensive and difficult to obtain that they were almost unheard of. He’d have to brush up on divorce law. Campbell was Scottish. There must be residency requirements before he could proceed with the divorce. This could take longer than he’d thought.
Maybe, in the interim, Case and Miss Mayberry would come to their senses. It was a comforting thought.
Or was it? He was thinking of the change in Case, his easy smiles, the glow in his eyes, his good humor in spite of the seriousness of what he proposed to do. And then, it struck him. They were lovers! Case and Jane Mayberry had become lovers! The change in Case was so noticeable, it could only have happened after they parted company the other night, when Case went to Woodlands to confront Miss Mayberry about her deception.
He took another swallow of brandy. There would be no turning back now. Case would not have taken this extreme step unless he was absolutely committed to the girl. No wonder he was in a hurry to get this settled. He wouldn’t want his first child to be born out of wedlock.
On that horrific thought, Robert drained his glass. Galvanized now, he went to the bookcase, found the tome he wanted, and began to go through it slowly. He soon came to see that divorce law was extremely complicated.
The duke was out riding when Case arrived, so he waited in the library and fortified himself with nothing stronger than coffee. There was a painting of his mother above the mantel, and he stood on the hearth, before a crackling fire, gazing up at it.
He couldn’t look at this portrait without smiling. His mother had never liked it.
Don’t tell me I look like
that woman in the portrait,
she would say.
There’s no life
in her!
No portrait painter could have captured his mother’s essence. She was as light in looks and nature as the Deveres were dark. Maybe that’s why his father had loved her so much. She’d turned his ordered life inside out and upside down. And when she died it seemed as though all the joy in the world went with her.
It should never have happened. She’d gone riding without a groom, taken a fall, and had not been found till the following morning. Then she developed a fever and had quietly slipped away. She had just turned thirty, the same age as he was now.
He wondered what words of wisdom she would offer him. They wouldn’t be the conventional mouthings that passed for wisdom in his circles. Nobody would care if he made Jane his mistress. What would shock them was the fact that he wanted to make her his wife.
He combed his fingers through his hair and took one of the chairs that flanked the grate. He knew what his mother would say. She would want to know what his conscience was telling him, and he could answer, truthfully, that his conscience was clear. He’d never felt more right about anything in his life.
His father would take a different tack. Honor. A Devere’s honor was sacrosanct. His word was his bond. He esteemed the virtues of honesty, loyalty, and respect for the weak and underprivileged. He would never dishonor friend or foe.
These were lessons that had been drummed into the three Devere children since they were infants. In a civilized world, his father’s code made perfect sense. He’d tried to live up to it. But he’d learned some harsh lessons in Spain. A man’s code of honor couldn’t protect him from the hard choices he had to make, and in war, honor was often the first casualty.
He couldn’t talk about these things to his father. His Grace wouldn’t understand. He didn’t know if he could make him understand about Jane, either. He wasn’t even going to try.
He let out a long sigh. So much was happening at once. The reunion, Jane, Campbell. If the circumstances were different, he would have left the matter of the divorce until after the reunion. He was rushing things for Jane’s sake. She was not convinced that Campbell would let her go. She was afraid he would come for her and spirit her away. If she was right, it was imperative that Campbell be made to understand that she had a powerful protector who would come after him if he harmed as much as a hair of her head.
He didn’t think Campbell was that stupid.
He should really be thinking of the reunion. He was lucky to have Waldo. Waldo was completely focused. Tomorrow they would all meet here and rehearse, step by step, how this little drama would unfold. No. How they
hoped
this little drama would unfold. No one knew for sure what Piers would do. It was entirely possible that the gunpowder was a feint.
He had to remain completely focused until tomorrow night. Then he’d see Jane.
When he heard footsteps approaching the library door, he got up. The duke entered, a broad smile on his face. “I thought I recognized your curricle,” he said. “Was that Harper with you?”
“Yes. I left him in the stables.”
The duke nodded and took a few steps into the room. Observing the severity of his son’s expression, he halted, and his smile died. “What is it, Caspar? What’s wrong?”
“The most damnable thing,” Case replied. “The woman I love, Jane Mayberry, is already married.”
If ever the duke wished for his wife’s counsel, it was now. This hard-faced man sitting opposite him seemed like a stranger. His son hadn’t come for advice or to talk things over. It was already decided. Caspar was going to marry Jane Mayberry.
Only she wasn’t Jane Mayberry. She was Mrs. James Campbell. From the little Caspar had told him, she had good reason to fear her husband. If there was any justice, someone would have locked him up a long time ago and thrown away the key. But that was beside the point. Marriage was a sacrament. Vows were taken before God. If a husband and wife could not live together, there were other remedies besides divorce. There was such a thing as a legal separation. But that wouldn’t suit Caspar. He was determined to marry the girl.
“I’m sorry, Father,” said Case.
“I don’t think you’re sorry at all,” snapped the duke.
In the same calm tone, Case went on, “Let me put it another way. I regret causing you pain. I’m sorry for the scandal that is bound to follow. If there was another way, I would take it, but there’s not. There are almost no grounds in English law for a wife to divorce her husband. She can’t divorce him for his adultery. Jane will be free only if Campbell divorces her.”
“What if he refuses to divorce her?” the duke demanded, annoyed by Case’s composure. “You said he wanted a reconciliation.”
“He’ll divorce her. Jane will never go back to him and Campbell wants an heir.”
“What about
your
heirs? How will they react at school when boys taunt them about their mother and her shady past?”
He regretted the words almost as soon as they were out of his mouth. His son blazed him a look that was hot enough to reduce him to a cinder.
“I’m sorry,” the duke said at once. “That was un-called for. I suppose I’m in shock. When I walked into this room, I was expecting to hear good news, that you had asked Miss Mayberry to marry you and she’d accepted. I didn’t expect to hear that she was already married.”
The harsh lines on Case’s face softened a little. “Let me get you a brandy,” he said.
“Good idea.”
While Case drank coffee, the duke nursed his brandy. It didn’t help. He regarded himself as a broad-minded fellow. Not only had he let his beloved daughter go to someone who was, in the world’s eyes, her social inferior, but at the time, Richard had been a fugitive from the law. He himself had married beneath him, and his father had disowned him. But this was different. They weren’t talking about breaking the social conventions. These were vows that a man and woman had made before God.
“Father,” said Case gently, “Campbell isn’t giving us a choice. If Jane doesn’t go back to him, he’ll proceed with the divorce.”
The duke heaved a sigh. “I know.” He looked directly into Case’s eyes. “But you could fight it.”
“No,” said Case softly. “It’s too late for that.”
That was what the duke had been afraid of. There were convincing arguments that he might still put forward to make Caspar change his mind: that it was Jane who would be ostracized if Campbell divorced her, and marriage to Caspar wouldn’t mitigate her position. Even her kindred spirits at the Ladies’ Library might well shun her if she turned out to be the guilty party in the divorce. She was the one who would pay the price for being the woman that two men lusted after.
He held his peace because he knew it wouldn’t make a jot of difference. When Caspar made up his mind, there was no shaking him. And Caspar had made up his mind about Jane Mayberry.
It reminded him forcefully of when Caspar had made up his mind to join Wellington in Spain. They’d sat in this very room, just like they were doing now, and he’d put forward every argument he could think of to make his son change his mind. He was the heir. He had a duty to his family, and so on and so on. To which Caspar replied that Justin, his younger brother, would have to take on that role.
And what happened with Justin? A few years later it was the same story. Napoleon had escaped from Elba, and off went both his sons to fight for king and country at Waterloo.
Rosamund was no better. He had no objection to her marrying a commoner. But surely a father was right in thinking that his daughter should not marry a condemned man?
He spoiled them. That was his trouble. He’d tried to be both mother and father to them.
Love them,
were the last words Elizabeth had said to him before she’d slipped away. Maybe he’d loved them too well.
He could rant and rave, he supposed, threaten to disown him. But that brought back painful memories of how his own father had treated him when he’d told him he was marrying Elizabeth. He never wanted to be like his own father, a cold and unforgiving man, who didn’t know what love was. He loved his son. He didn’t approve of what he was doing, but he would never turn his back on him.
He thought about Jane Mayberry and, not for the first time, marveled that she should be the one to capture his son. He’d watched the women who had passed in and out of Caspar’s life, some of whom had made him cringe, others who had made him hopeful. They were the kind of women who made men stare. Jane Mayberry was an intelligent, attractive young woman, but not particularly sophisticated or elegant, not in Caspar’s usual style. What did she have that other women did not?
He leaned forward in his chair. “Caspar,” he said, “why her?”