Taken by the Duke (24 page)

She swallowed, but then nodded. “Very well.”

“Get your things,” Windbury said, motioning for the door.

She shook her head. “I have no things, I was kidnapped, if you recall.” She met Christian’s eyes evenly. “I will have the dress I’m wearing sent back to you.”

His lips parted at the flat tone of her voice, but he could think of no response that would comfort her. How could she not see that this parting was an inevitability? Windbury would never let them stay together, there was no future here, even if that concept was tempting as forbidden fruit.

“Then come,” her brother said, taking her arm with more gentleness than his sharp tone would have suggested.

She let him lead her away, past Christian and to the door of the parlor. There she stopped and turned back.

She opened her mouth and shut it, seeming to struggle with what to say. Finally she shook her head. “Goodbye.”

The one word hit Christian like a punch to the chest. Goodbye was so final. And it fit the situation perfectly.

“Goodbye, Ava,” he managed as she walked out the door and out of his life forever.

Chapter Twenty-One

Ava stood at the window in her front parlor, holding the curtain back a fraction as she stared out onto the busy street and at the green park beyond it. London was utterly stifling after the country estate, closed in and dirty.

“Come away from the window. If you are seen, people will talk even more than they already are,” Liam said from behind her, his voice hard.

Ava sighed as she did as he said and returned to the breakfast table. They had returned home the night before after two days in a carriage together, but the sentence her brother had just said was the longest set of words he had put together in all that time. Even now, he held the newspaper up in front of him as a shield to keep her out.

“If you railed at me, would it make you feel better?” she asked softly as she settled into her seat and spread her napkin out on her lap.

Slowly he lowered the paper and looked at her.
Really
looked at her.

“I doubt anything would make me feel better now, Ava,” he said softly, his voice tired and pained.

She shook her head. “Liam—”

“How could you allow that man liberties?” he asked, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the paper. “That is the question that pops into my mind every time I look at you. I see you in his bed and I…I can’t even tell you what it makes me feel, Ava.”

She flushed at his blunt words, although she had asked for them.

“It is more complicated than this Montagues and Capulets war that has been going on between our families for generations, Liam. Certainly you of all people should know that.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why I of all people, Ava?”

She pinched her lips. “You developed a relationship with Matilda.”

He pushed away from the table with his one good arm and flipped the chair over as he walked away. It slid backward and came to a stop, but he hardly looked at it and didn’t pick it up.

“I
loved
Matilda. Please do not compare—”

“I love Christian,” she interrupted. Saying the words out loud gave her both a thrill and a stabbing burst of pain.

He froze and stared at her, his face crumpling into disgust, rage, sadness and most of all…pity.

“Don’t say such foolish things,” he murmured.

She swallowed. “You dismiss me as if I am a child, but I’m not. What I say isn’t foolish. I fell in love with the Duke of Rothcastle, Liam. The real man, not some caricature of an evil monster.”

“There is no man there,” her brother growled.

“I’m certain that is the same thing someone said to his sister in regards to you,” she whispered. “And it was no truer with you than your words about him are now.”

Liam didn’t say anything, only stared at her. There was no doubt he was angry. She felt that censure as keenly as if he had struck her.

The door to the parlor opened and Hornby stepped inside.

“Lady Portia is here,” he announced.

Liam stared at Ava a moment more, then turned away. “You have much to tell your friend, I’m sure. I will leave you to that, for I have things to do myself.”

“Things to do?” Ava began, uncertain whether to be pleased her brother was finally out of his self-imposed exile or worried about what he might be doing with his time when he was so angry and filled with bitterness toward her.

He ignored her with a curt, “Good day,” and left the room.

Hornby looked at Ava in question. “Is it not a good time, my lady?”

“No, I
need
to see Portia,” she said, pushing her uneaten breakfast aside. “More than ever. Send her in.”

The butler stepped from the room and in a moment Portia burst through the door. Ava got to her feet and the women embraced wordlessly. Portia clung to her, shaking as Ava smoothed her back gently in comfort.

Finally, Portia pulled away and there were tears streaming down her face. “I feared you were dead,” she whispered.

Ava swiped tears from Portia’s cheeks. “I’m sorry. So very sorry that you were made to worry. I was never in danger, though. And I wrote to my brother as soon as I could, but of course he had already received word from someone else by that time and was rushing to ‘save’ me.”

“What happened?” her friend asked as she sank into a chair at the table and poured herself tea with shaking hands.

Ava rubbed a hand over her face. “Oh, that is a very long story, and I shall tell it. But first, will you tell me exactly what happened here during my absence? My brother will hardly speak three words to me.”

Portia frowned. “I saw him storm away from the house. He did not even acknowledge me.”

“He is enraged.”

“That you were kidnapped?” Portia said, her tone filled with her own outrage.

“No. I…” Ava sighed. “It is far more complicated than that. But tell me what I need to know and then I shall confess all, I swear it, for I need your counsel and support more than I ever have.”

“I was late to the party the night you were taken.” Portia sighed. “My mother had one of her episodes, so by the time I got there, you had already been taken and the ball was abuzz about it.”

Ava wrinkled her brow. “How could the attendees know so soon?”

Her friend shrugged. “Someone saw Rothcastle stuffing you into his carriage and driving away. The gossip began almost immediately, even as some of the men went to report the abduction to your brother.”

“I can only imagine the glee with which the information was seized upon,” Ava murmured.

“Oh yes. A scandal beyond all others, even for your two families. And it only grew as the days passed and there was no sign of you anywhere in London. Every night you were away made the gossip all the louder.”

“How did my brother respond?” she asked, thinking of Liam’s coldness to her since his discovery.

“Liam went almost mad,” Portia whispered. “He was racing everywhere, trying to find any hint of where you could be. I do not think he slept more than a few hours while you were missing.”

Ava squeezed her eyes shut. Whatever problems they were having now, she did not wish any pain on her brother, and she hated to hear about his fear, his heartache.

“He involved every agency, every investigator he could hire in the search,” Portia continued. “When he interrogated me, I thought he might break something as he crashed around the parlor, screaming.”

Ava swallowed hard. “I’m sure his behavior, as relieving as it is to hear that he cared, did not help ease the scandal.”

“He fed the talk, to be certain,” Portia admitted with a shake of her head. “His out-of-control behavior is all the gossip. And now that you have finally been returned home, I am afraid to say…”

She stopped, dropping her chin.

Ava bit her lip and said, “Tell me. Tell me all of it. I must know.”

Portia lifted her eyes. “
They
are whispering of depravity, ruination, sinfulness, that your brother is going to kill Christian. That you were nearly murdered by the duke. That you seduced him. That he seduced you. Their words, their ‘truth’ has run rampant.”

Ava let that sink it. Truly sink in. She had expected nothing less, but she was surprised by how queasy she felt now. How humiliation burned at the edges of everything she was.

“And so I am ruined. Utterly,” she finally whispered. “At least I shall not have to endure any more awful parties.”

“What will you do?” Portia whispered.

She sighed. “I suppose I shall be exiled to the country where I shall write terrible erotic poetry to fill my time.”

Portia’s lips pursed as she shook her head. “You are not taking this very seriously.”

“Oh, I fully grasp the seriousness.” Ava covered her face. “If I respond with my true feelings, I shall break down and perhaps never recover.”

Portia reached out to cover her hand. “Then tell me. Tell me everything that happened.”

Ava swallowed. She had not told
anyone
everything yet, and Portia was her best friend and dearest confidante. So she drew a long breath and began at the beginning.

It was an hour later when Portia collapsed back against her chair and stared at Ava with an all-new expression. But Ava was happy it wasn’t one of disgust or judgment like her brother’s had been.

“You truly love this man, despite everything that would tell you not to do so,” Portia finally said.

Ava couldn’t help but laugh despite the graveness of the situation. “After all I’ve told you about ruination and seduction, you clasp onto the fact that I love Christian.”

Portia shrugged. “To me, that seems the most important part of your story. The rest is salacious, true, and probably far worse than the imaginings of the
ton
, but I’m worried about your heart more than the sanctity of your body. Though I do have a question.”

“What’s that?”

“Was it…good?” her friend asked with a blush. “What—what you did together?”

Ava shut her eyes and tried not to relive every one of Christian’s kisses, every one of the times he had made her quake with pleasure. She failed.

“It was indescribably wonderful,” she whispered. “Better than anything I ever could have hoped for or dreamed about when I dared to think of the intimacies between a man and a woman.”

“That is comforting, at least.” Portia sighed.

“Very cold comfort, I would say,” Ava disagreed and paced away from her friend. Once again she stood at the window, just peeking out into the world that was so different than it had been a short time ago.

“Because you cannot be together,” Portia said quietly.

She turned back. “Yes. He did not try to fight my brother’s removal of me even a little. It was like he was patting me on the head and sending me away. If he cared about me, I would think he would want me to stay. But he showed no regret at all.”

“But he doesn’t seem the kind of man who shows his emotions easily,” Portia offered.

“That is certainly true,” Ava said with a grimace. “He hides them as often as he can. But it doesn’t matter. He brought me there for revenge and perhaps what ultimately sparked between us went deeper. I know it did. But it’s over now.”

“Do you think the war is over too?” Portia asked.

Ava considered the question. “From Christian’s side, I believe it might be. He had opportunities to stoke the fires of my brother’s anger, to goad him when he arrived at the estate, but he didn’t take them. His heart didn’t seem to be in that response anymore.”

“Then you have won!” Portia said with a half smile. “You have done what generations of others could not.”

Ava closed the curtain and leaned back against the wall beside the window.

“No, I don’t think I’ve won. I have lost everything. My love and I will never be together. My brother will never look at me the same again. I am utterly ruined in Society and will likely be shunned and cast out.” She lifted her hands to cover her chest, where she ached most keenly. “The war may be over, but I’ve lost it.”

Then she did what she had not allowed herself. She sank to her knees and wept until she had no more breath and no more tears.

By the time her brother returned home that evening, Ava had somehow gathered her composure thanks in part to Portia’s comforting for most of the afternoon. She smoothed her gown as her brother entered the dining room.

“Good evening,” she said, flinching as he looked at her then immediately snapped his gaze away. “I’m pleased to see you. I was very worried when you left this morning and were gone so long.”

His lips thinned. “You have little road to stand on with that, sister.”

She moved toward him, holding out a hand, but he stepped away and poured himself a drink before he took his place at the head of the table and motioned for the servants to begin supper.

Ava sighed and took her place at his side. “Portia says you were wild with emotion while you were looking for me,” she said, trying a different tactic.

He hesitated, soup spoon halfway to his mouth, and glanced at her. Something in his stare softened, something told her that while he might be angry, disgusted even, he did still love her. Which was better than nothing.