Duke of Deception (Wentworth Trilogy) (27 page)

Derek was beside her in three long strides, and he snatched up the note, ripping it open. His eyes raked the paper, and then he lifted his gaze to meet Lucy’s, leveling her with a murderous glare. “Was it even my baby, Lucy? Or was Stephen waiting on your doorstep the moment I sailed?”

Lucy gasped and stumbled toward him. “Derek, please, you’re making a mistake.”

“Am I?” He waved the note in her face. “It seems Stephen is worried sick about you, so worried that if he doesn’t hear from you immediately, he’ll go mad. We wouldn’t want that to happen, would we?” Derek added, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But don’t worry, love. I’ll let him know you’re fine, right before I make him rue the day he was born.” He turned and strode from the room.

“Derek, no! You’re making a terrible mistake!” Lucy ran after him as he stomped down the hall toward the staircase. “Stephen has nothing to do with any of this.”

“We’ll see what
Stephen
has to say about that, won’t we,” he said over his shoulder. “Oh, and don’t wait dinner for me,
sweetheart.
I won’t be back.”

P
aralyzing fear rushed through Lucy as Derek bounded down the stairs two at a time.

I won’t be back
.
The words echoed in her mind, growing louder with each imagined iteration. What had just happened? Only moments ago, they’d been friends, lovers, and now . . .

I won’t be back.
The words left a hollow ache in her chest, an ache that grew stronger with each breath until it was almost impossible to take another. Desolation, so deep she feared she would drown in it, washed over her.

How had she let this happen? It was the baby she had thought to keep a secret until she knew Derek’s plans. But the miscarriage? Why didn’t she tell him right away? Was it embarrassment, pride, or simply that she didn’t want him to know how much she cared?

Keeping silent had been foolish. If she’d told him, none of this would be happening. She as much as lied to him by her sin of omission, and now he was leaving her because of it.

Grief tangled with regret. The whole mess was her fault and she would fix it. She’d ride after him, demand he listen.

“M’lady, can I do something fer you?” Bridget stood inside the door, looking ready to cry.

“No, no, everything is fine. Go about your business, Bridget. Everything is fine.”

Before the girl could say a word, Lucy raced past her, down the hall and down the stairs, intent on saddling Ahote immediately. She barely noticed passing her aunt.

“Lucy! What on earth is going on?” Eleanor asked. “The captain just swept through the kitchen like a thundercloud, and by the time I got outside, he was halfway down the lane.”

“Oh, everything is in a horrible mess. He found the herbs and—”

“What herbs?” Eleanor asked.

“Oh . . . I-I didn’t tell you because it didn’t seem important at the time, but now . . . ” Lucy’s voice broke and she feared she would burst into tears.

“Darling, what in the world . . . ”

Sturgeon cleared his throat from a few feet away. “Lady Callister, the Duchess of Dorrington is here to see you and Lady Louisa. I’ve put her in the drawing room. Shall I ring for tea?”

The two women stared at each other. Eleanor’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

“Darling, perhaps I should speak with her first,” Eleanor said quickly. “I did pay her a visit while on my travels and—”

“You know her?” Lucy recalled the old duke who had argued with her father, and was unable to imagine why the duke’s widow would call.

“Yes,” Eleanor said, her voice agitated. “We are acquaintances, anyway. I think I should speak with her pri—”

“Lady Callister!” exclaimed a short, plump woman hurrying toward them. “I hope you’ll forgive me for calling without an invitation, but I’ve been so excited ever since I read your letter, I couldn’t stop myself from getting right in the carriage to pay a visit.” She turned to Lucy, her face aglow with excitement. “This must be my new daughter! Dear Lady Louisa—oh, my goodness, you are a duchess now, aren't you?” She laughed gaily. “Being the dowager duchess will take some getting used to, but I must say I am absolutely thrilled!”

Lucy was speechless as the duchess gave her an awkward hug and a peck on the cheek. Suddenly remembering her manners, she dropped into a curtsey.

“Goodness gracious. I won’t have that kind of behavior, not from family,” the duchess said, her eyes sparkling with kind amusement, “and besides, Louisa, you are a duchess now and you don’t curtsey to anyone except royalty.” She giggled. “That may not seem like much of a benefit, but at my age, it makes all the difference in the world!”

Lucy gave her aunt a desperate look. Was the woman mad? She was rattling on and on, saying such ridiculous things that Lucy couldn’t understand her. Eleanor’s own desperate look convinced Lucy that the duchess must indeed be a lunatic. However would they get rid of her? With every passing moment, her chances of catching up to Derek dwindled.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am that Jonathan, I mean
Derek
”—the duchess winked,
winked,
at Lucy—“has finally married. I was beginning to think he would never settle down, and though I cannot for one moment condone the manner in which he entered the state of matrimony, I am so happy that I shall simply overlook it. However, in case there are any problems with its legality, you shall be married again at Dorrington Hall under your legal names. I know the wedding papers bear his true name—I had the attorney confirm that immediately—but one can never be too certain when it comes to such matters.

“Whatever is wrong, dear?” the duchess asked, staring at Lucy. “You don’t object to taking your vows again, do you? We’ll just make it the immediate family. My daughters Tessa and Gretchen, my son Anthony, and Lady Callister, of course, and was there anyone else you wished to invite?”

“Oh, dear,” said Eleanor. “Oh, dear. I never thought you’d find out this way, Lucy, or I would have told you of my suspicions.”

“Find out?” The duchess gaped. “You mean she didn’t know?” She peered into Lucy’s face. “Exactly which part didn’t you know? That his name isn’t Wainright?”

“His name isn’t Wainright?” Lucy echoed, feeling as though she floated in a dream.

“Why don’t we go to the drawing room where we can discuss this over a cup of tea,” Eleanor said, glancing at the servants who, one by one, had joined them, each involved in some odd task.

“Sturgeon,” she called to the butler who vigorously wiped dust off a wall, “did you ring for tea?” He nodded mutely, his gaze glued to the trio of women while his arm continued to trace circles over the wall.

“I think tea would be lovely. It was a rather long journey,” said the duchess. “And you must have something to eat, Louisa. You are much too thin. If Jonathan has you into the habit of skipping meals the way he often does, I shall just—”

“Who?”

“Jonathan,” the duchess replied with a wave of one hand. “Your husband, my son. Jonathan Derek Wentworth, the Duke of Dorrington, the Marquess of Fulbright, the Earl of . . . Oh, never mind. We’ll go over all that when we get home.”

“Home?”

“Yes, home. To Dorrington. In Yorkshire.” The duchess squinted her eyes at Eleanor. “Is she quite all right?” she asked. “This conversation is very strange, indeed.” She switched her gaze to Eleanor’s maid, Mary, who rubbed a non-existent blemish on the floor. Mary, slack-jawed, stared back at the duchess.

“Your Grace,” said Lucy slowly, her mind finally working, “why is your son using another name?”

“Oh, please, call me Mother,” the duchess said with a smile. “As to Jonathan’s pranks, I have no idea, and that is what I intend to ask
him.
It is unlike Jonathan to do something so adventurous, though he was quite adventurous as a boy, and I suppose he was adventurous in America. One has to be, you know, what with all those savages. But he’s been in England for almost two years now, and he hasn’t been wild at all. He worked night and day, but perhaps that is exactly why he’s doing this. He is getting his wildness all out at once. One can always hope for that, can’t one?”

“Darling, let us all go into the drawing room and have a cup of tea while we talk this over,” Eleanor said again.

Lucy stared at her aunt. “You knew?”

Eleanor glanced at the duchess and then back to Lucy, looking ashamed. “Guessed, my dear. I’d met Jonathan, your Derek, when he was young. He was just as compelling then. I’d wanted to know for sure before I said anything. I
should
have said something, but I thought I could be wrong. I am so sorry.”

Lucy shook her head, thinking of the supreme irony of her plan to catch up to Derek to explain everything to him. She’d been running after him to apologize, to beg his forgiveness for keeping her miscarriage a secret, when all along, everything about him had been a lie, purposeful and planned.
She
kept a secret because of her emotions, because she couldn’t bring herself to talk about her miscarriage, while
he
hid truths and lied about
everything in his life
for no apparent reason at all. He had deceived her, not just covertly by hiding the truth, but overtly, by lying boldly when it suited his purpose.

She had fallen in love with him. She had pledged her life to him. She’d even been willing to forsake England for him. She was such a fool.

He, on the other hand, was a despicable, lying cad, and she was going to make sure that
he
knew that she knew it.

D
erek hadn’t been riding half an hour when he realized jealousy had claimed him yet again. There was no other explanation for his behavior. Now that he had calmed down, he was able to think logically.

He had acted unreasonably and unfairly.

Had he suspected a business associate of duplicity, he would have waited for a full explanation before passing judgment, but with Lucy, he’d gone off in a rage without letting her explain. It didn’t matter whether or not he could see a logical explanation for the items in her drawer. He had told himself he wouldn’t jump to conclusions again, that he would always give her the benefit of the doubt. Yet he’d walked out while she was still proclaiming her innocence, begging him to let her explain.

He scowled and pulled on his reins to slow his horse. The only thing he knew for certain was that she kept her pregnancy and miscarriage from him. Considering their relationship before his trip and everything he was keeping from her, he had no right to complain about that. The question was, did she cause the miscarriage by taking the herbs as he accused her of doing?

A sickening thought came to him. What if she took the herbs after hearing the rumor he was a slave runner? What if she couldn’t bear to have a child fathered by such a man? If that prompted her actions, then the babe’s death was his fault. He had fabricated a blackguard’s reputation and denied none of it to Lucy, and though he wasn’t happy that she so quickly believed him a slaver, he could hardly blame her.

No, damn it. He was condemning her still by thinking these thoughts. She said she didn’t take the herbs, and he should believe her. He
did
believe her, about the miscarriage, anyway. So why was he so angry?

An image of Stephen at Stonecrest, standing with Lucy, smiling at her, jolted into his mind.

He was jealous of Stephen.

Just putting the dishonorable feeling into words irritated the hell out of him. He’d known Stephen forever and didn’t doubt his honor. Still, a man didn’t “go mad” worrying about a friend’s wife, did he?

Derek thought of the Grantham ball and remembered Stephen’s curt manner and insistence that Lady Louisa not be hurt by the masquerade, saying she had suffered quite enough. Perhaps Stephen simply liked Lucy.

Perhaps he liked her too much.

Derek fumbled in his pocket for the notes and drew them out, glancing first at Stephen’s and then Lucy’s. Lucy had blushed over Stephen’s card, but did that mean she was lying or only that she was embarrassed? He tried to think of an instance when she’d blushed while telling a lie, and he couldn’t because he couldn’t remember her ever telling a lie. It was always possible she’d lied to him and he just didn’t know it. He knew she blushed when she was embarrassed, though. But why would Stephen’s card embarrass her?

A sense of foreboding engulfed him. Had Stephen tried to seduce her? He obviously liked her, and he’d always been a bit envious of Derek. The jealousy was understandable when they were in school—for some reason the other boys always glorified Derek’s reputation for delinquency—but it seemed to Derek that some of that jealousy still existed. Otherwise Stephen wouldn’t take such delight in pointing out every deviance from Derek’s plan, every unexpected problem that arose and required some kind of response or change.

But could Stephen be jealous enough, or in love enough, to seduce Lucy, ensuring that he and Derek would be enemies forever? Derek dismissed the thought as ludicrous. Regardless of Stephen’s emotions, he wouldn’t be that stupid. Such a foolhardy act would have enormous social and, therefore, financial ramifications for Stephen and his sister Audrey.

None of it made any sense, and Derek realized he could go on sifting through all the possibilities without any hope of ever knowing the truth. There was no way he could know what was supposition and what was reality, but he knew one thing for sure. If he didn’t return and give Lucy the chance to explain, he would never forgive himself.

L
ucy slowed Ahote’s pace when she saw another horse and rider approaching on the lane. When the rider’s face was recognizable, she stared in disbelief. What was
he
doing here, and why hadn’t he run into Derek along the way?

“What a wonderful surprise!” Stephen called out with a friendly smile. He tipped his hat as he halted beside her.

Lucy shaded her eyes to get a better look at him. “Lord Aster,” she replied coolly. She wouldn’t bother telling him she knew of his and Derek’s deceit. She wouldn’t waste her time.

“Come now, it’s not Lord Aster again, is it?”

“Are you coming from London?”

“Yes. I was worried about you. I thought I’d better come round to check.”

“It’s odd you didn’t pass Derek. He’s on his way to London now.”

“Is that so?” Stephen asked mildly. “Well, it’s not so odd that we didn’t pass, I suppose. I stopped in Chelton to purchase a couple of items, and I fear I may have dawdled too long. He must have ridden through then.”

Hmm. Stephen wasn’t surprised that Derek was back, nor did he seem the least bit unhappy to have missed him on the road. Suspicion grew when she recalled his message. “Your messenger left us less than a half hour ago. Did you not plan to wait for his return message before setting out from London?”

“He did make it, then?” Stephen asked. “Thank God. I sent him at the crack of dawn, and when he didn’t come back, I began to worry. I can’t imagine what took him so long or why I didn’t pass him on my way here.”

“Perhaps you were in Chelton when he passed through, as well.” She studied his countenance, noting that he seemed oddly indifferent for someone who was as worried as he professed to be. The entire matter was a little strange, but perhaps he only pretended to be indifferent. She didn’t know him well enough to pass judgment and didn’t really care about his concerns. She had other, vital, matters to attend to. Matters regarding a despicable, lying cad.