Barbara Pierce (37 page)

Blood was welling on the baron’s swollen lip. He spat
on the floor. “I heard rumors your father paid nightly visits to your bride.”

When this was over, he intended to hunt down the source of these rumors and express his displeasure. “There is nothing untoward about my father visiting his future daughter-in-law.” So he was rewriting history a bit, but Carlisles were known for changing the world as it suited them. “If I hear you utter another unkind word regarding the new Duchess of Solitea, I will give you what you have been wanting since you arrived in town.”

Hollensworth knelt on the floor, glaring at his enemy. “And what is that? A fair fight?” The baron lunged upward at him, swinging his arm wildly. Fayne blocked the punch with his arm, and drove his knee into the man’s groin. Making a low keening sound, Hollensworth grabbed his crotch and dropped to the floor.

“No.” Fayne panted, breathless from the swift violent scuffle. He waved away Everod and Cadd. “You want an honorable death. A fitting punishment, don’t you think, for a man who failed to save his only brother.”

The baron roared in anguish and surged to his feet. Maddened by Fayne’s words, Hollensworth charged him. Prepared for the attack, Fayne locked arms with the man and they spun into chairs and tables, knocking the furniture over. Having a slight edge in strength, Fayne shoved the baron onto the surface of an upright table. He did not want to fight the grieving man. Nevertheless, if Hollensworth was responsible for the attack on Kilby, he would kill the man.

“Let me up, you bastard!”

Fayne held him down. “I spared you once because I understand a thing or two about family loyalty. It is simpler to blame me for Mitchell’s death.”

Red-faced, Hollensworth struggled against Fayne’s restraining hold. “You are to blame. He never played so deep until he sat down at your table.”

He made a tsking noise. “Is that how you comfort yourself at night? Haven’t you figured it out yet, Hollensworth? If you didn’t have me to blame, then you would have to admit that your brother was a disgrace. He was a spendthrift and a cheat. Instead of making amends to his family and creditors, he took the effortless way out of the mess he had created and killed himself, leaving you to clean up after him.”

Satisfied he had made his point, Fayne released the baron and stepped out of striking range. Hollensworth remained on his back. Bringing his hands to his eyes, the man broke down and cried. Fayne was not proud he had publicly stripped the man’s grieving heart bare by forcing him to accept that the brother he loved had been far from perfect. Deep down, he suspected the baron had known the truth all along.

“I never wanted to fight you,” Fayne said solemnly. “However, if hating me gives you some measure of comfort then, by all means, continue to do so. My wife, on the other hand, is a different matter. She has no part in your vengeance. If I learn that you were the one who tried to drown her, your life, sir, is forfeit.”

Hollensworth pulled his hands away from his face and glowered at him. “Drown you wife? Are you mad? I have not spoken two words to the lady.”

Fayne looked at Everod and Cadd. He could tell by their expressions that they were thinking the same thing. Unless the baron was a consummate actor, he did not know anything about the attack on Kilby.

“My mother?” Kilby could not believe she had heard the earl correctly. “I do not understand why you are trying to hurt me, my lord, but in this I know you lie. My mother was Ermina Fitchwolf, Marchioness of Nipping. I was given her name. My entire life, people were always commenting on how much we looked alike.”

She turned to her mother’s closest friend and silently beseeched the woman to tell Lord Ordish that he was wrong. “Priddy, tell him that he lies,” she commanded, when the other woman said nothing.

“Dear girl, you look like you might faint.” The earl chuckled, and waved the barrel of the pistol in the general direction of the sofa. “Sit down before you collapse.”

Kilby sank onto the sofa cushion. Lord Ordish slowly sat down and shifted his position to an angle from which he could aim the pistol at either lady with ease. “I am certain you are unaware of this. However, watching you flutter about the
ton
this season has been a great source of amusement for me.”

“How sweet of you to say so, my lord. All the same, the last time I checked, killing people who amuse you is not precisely a sign of sanity,” she said sarcastically.

Priddy gaped in horror at her young charge’s audacity. “Kilby!”

“Let her be. Her spirit is refreshing,” Lord Ordish said, unperturbed by her cutting remark. “Another lady in her situation would be mewling and pleading for me to spare her life.” He took a deep breath and exhaled, thoroughly relishing the power he had over his two companions. “You are curious about the past, Kilby. Would you like to hear an old tale?”

The viscountess started to rise in protest until she recalled the pistol. She sat back down. “My lord, I beg you to reconsider,” the older woman said, gripping the carved wooden supports of the chair. “Lord and Lady Nipping are dead. What good can be accomplished by digging up the past?”

The earl gave her an incredulous look. “Why, absolutely none, Pridwyn! You should know that better than most.” Keeping the pistol aimed at Kilby, Lord Ordish raised his walking stick and slammed it down on the table bearing the shattered tea set. Pieces of sharp porcelain bounced with
the impact. “Not another word from you, my lady, else the next thing I smash with my stick will be your thick skull.”

“You wanted to tell me a story, my lord,” Kilby prompted, not liking the flat, hostile gaze that hardened the man’s face each time he stared at the viscountess.

Some of the enmity in his expression faded as he blinked and focused on her. “Ah, yes. It is a sad little tale that I believe you will find fascinating. The story is about a man and his beautiful wife. The couple had been fortunate enough to find one other in their youth and had fallen deeply in love. The man respected his lady, and proved his commitment by marrying her.”

“This man and woman,” Kilby interjected. “Are they my parents?”

Fierce denial flared in his eyes. “No. They were happy for a time. How could they not be? They were blessed with love, companionship, and constancy. The only burden they carried was that the couple remained childless. With each passing year, the woman grieved her womb was barren. Her husband quietly accepted God’s decree, and was content. He loved his lady dearly. Nothing, not even a child born of their love, could have strengthened his devotion.”

He paused, and leaned slightly forward, subtly excluding Priddy. “Shall I tell you a secret about the man? Something his wife never knew?”

Kilby shrugged nonchalantly. Her thoughts were focused on counting the hours that had passed since Fayne had left her at his town house. She suspected that despite their awkward parting, he would not leave her alone too long. When he returned and read her note, Fayne would come for her. As far as she was concerned, Lord Ordish could regale her with obscure tales for days. She would listen attentively to every word as long as it distracted him from pulling the trigger on his elegant flintlock pistol.

“The gentleman secretly loved another lady,” Kilby
helpfully suggested. She glanced meaningfully at Priddy. It was important that they kept the man engaged in his story. However, the viscountess, too frightened by his earlier display of temper, seemed withdrawn from their conversation.

“No!” Lord Ordish harshly bellowed. “He loved only her, more than life itself. His passion burned in his soul like a white flame, pure and unwavering.” He visibly calmed, the wrinkles near his eyes lessening by degrees. “No, the truth was, the man was secretly pleased his lady was barren. And why not? A child is a fretful, demanding creature, sapping its mother’s strength and dividing her affection.”

Kilby wisely did not debate the issue. It was apparent Lord Ordish had an affinity for the man in his story, and shared his dislike for children.

“While the man privately rejoiced, his wife continued to despair over what she viewed as her unnatural state. The lady grew melancholy. The bliss she had initially found in her marriage bed withered, and her selfish obsession drove her husband away.” Lord Ordish peered at the viscountess. “What say you, madam? Did the lady deserve her husband’s coldness or his compassion?”

“I dare not offer an opinion, my lord,” Priddy said quietly. “You are the storyteller. Why do you not tell us?”

Lord Ordish tilted his head, scrutinizing the viscountess’s bleak expression. If there was veiled belligerence behind her words, he had not detected it. Nodding, he continued, “It had been a grave error on the man’s part to distance himself from his lady. He had thought if he gave her distance, she would gradually accept her childless condition. However, what man can grasp the illogical workings of a lady’s mind? Perceiving her lord’s silence for rejection, in her loneliest hours of despair the heartless wench turned to another man. Her lover used her traitorous body for a time, and the lady pretended she was in love. In
spite of her wiles, she could not seduce her lover into pledging his love for he knew she belonged to another. Like most men, her lover was content to sample the pleasures of a lying whore. It was quite another matter to give the bitch his honorable name and protection. Eventually, the man encountered a lady worthy of his name and affection. In a callous act, he discarded his mistress. Refusing his lover’s tearful entreaties to continue their affair, the gentleman married his lady and forgot the whore who had been merely an entertaining diversion.”

Kilby felt sorry for the three people in Lord Ordish’s tale. All of them, whether it was calculated or not, were responsible for the sorrowful turn in their lives. “You are right, my lord. It is a sad tale.”

“Partly,” the earl conceded. “In shame, the woman returned to her husband and begged his forgiveness for her perfidy. What could the man do? He loved his lady, so he forgave her and opened his house to her again. For a time, he even blamed himself for her confusion.”

“The man was lying to himself and his lady,” Priddy tersely muttered, startling them with her exasperation. The older woman had seemed so wholly distracted, Kilby had wondered if she was paying attention to the earl’s story. “No man forgives betrayal.”

“A man in love might, if his unfaithful lady had truly cast aside her sinful nature,” Lord Ordish sharply retorted. “Alas, the lady in my tale did not. Rejecting her husband’s sage counsel, she attempted to conceal from him the tangible proof of her betrayal, allowing it to flourish in her womb. With each passing month, her belly swelled with iniquity, until her devoted husband could not look upon her without wanting to strangle the wanton bitch for her fickle affection.”

The earl abruptly stood and aimed the pistol at Priddy. “I was a tolerant husband, was I not, Pridwyn?”

“Solitea, a word if I may!”

Fayne turned to see Lord Darknell grimly approaching their carriage. Irritated by the delay, he felt the muscles in his jaw tighten painfully. He really did not like the gentleman. It was only out of respect for Kilby’s friendship with this man that he did not order the coachman to drive on. “What do you want, Darknell?” he said, trying hard to forget that the viscount had offered to marry
his
duchess.

Darknell frowned at Fayne’s unfriendly tone. “What you said to Hollensworth—”

The way this day was going, Darknell was probably on the verge of challenging him. Fayne held up a silencing hand. “Sir, I do not have the time or inclination to listen to your diatribe on what you witnessed. Suffice to say, I’ve been amazingly tolerant toward the man who has, since his arrival, tried his best to maim or kill me. My apologies if he is a good friend of yours. However, I—”

“I’m not here on Hollensworth’s behalf,” the viscount said bluntly. “I’m here for Fitchwolf.”

His announcement had Fayne’s green eyes narrowing on him warningly. Realizing how his declaration could be misconstrued, Darknell scowled, saying, “Don’t be daft. I haven’t come to challenge you. Fitchwolf has chosen her champion. I can respect her choice, even if I do not agree with it.” Even though Darknell had claimed he was not challenging Fayne’s right to Kilby, his stance was rigid and poised for attack. “What I want is a few answers. You practically accused Hollensworth of trying to drown Kilb—uh, your wife. Solitea, differences aside, the lady is a beloved friend. If she is in danger, I want to help.”

What irritated Fayne about the viscount’s offer was his blasted sincerity. His affection for Kilby was genuine. While Darknell might have relished watching Fayne being trampled under the wheels of a speeding coach, he was an honorable gentleman who thought nothing of offering his support to a rival if it protected a dear friend.

By God, he detested the man.

“Then you are welcome to join us.” He nodded at the already crowded carriage not far away. “I haven’t the time to stand here and chat.”

Fayne longed to return to Kilby. Only a few hours had passed, and already he was yearning for her. When she saw him, would she greet him coolly? If his duchess was still miffed at him for his angry outburst, he could think of several diverting ways of persuading her to forgive him.

His sister’s house was as good as any for all of them to plan their next step. “If Hollensworth was not responsible for the attacks on Kilby or me, then our speculation returns to her brother. If Nipping is the villain, I want to put an end to it.”

The viscount kept pace with him as they approached the carriage.

Darknell made a derisive sound in his throat. “You think Archer would stain his hands with blood? Improbable,”
Darknell said. “I have no love for the little worm, but Nipping is too cowardly to be your villian. He preys solely on weaker quarry. Attacking Fitchwolf is essentially taking on the entire Carlisle clan.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Lord Darknell’s reasoning was sound. The attack on Kilby had to have been a means to strike at him.

Lord Darknell climbed into the carriage, murmuring brief greetings to Cadd and Everod. Waiting until Fayne had settled down into his seat, Darknell grimly added, “Besides, the man has a certain affection for his sister.”