The Duke in Denial (Scandal in Sussex) (32 page)

“Because that’s what your father did. He strolled into the London season and swooped up your mother even though everyone said she was going to marry me, her clever next-door neighbor. I am titled. Not quite a duke, of course, but still very special indeed. Much more special than her family. And so many more times more special than his family.”

“I see,” William said, willing Sir Ambrose to go on.

“Your father conquered my Bianca. He made her fall in love with him, with his height and his dark, handsome looks. Your looks. Do you think I like seeing you?”

Sir Ambrose pointed the gun at William. “But you were cleverer?” William prompted.

Sir Ambrose beamed. “I was always more clever. Your father used to come to me to ask me about his estate. He trusted my judgment. Ha! And as a friend of his wife’s, he imagined I would be happy to help.” He shrugged. “So I helped. I met with him in his library and recommended investments for him. All the while making him invest in my projects. He poured his money into them, and I then said the projects didn’t work. I am very clever. My projects always work. Just like your death now will work.” He smiled at William.

William swallowed, his throat parched. All the blood drained from his head. “You stole from him.”

Sir Ambrose shrugged. “You could say that. You could say I made a career of it. I really should credit your father with everything. He gave me his money to invest, and I told him the investments had failed. I used that to build my estate even larger. I even own my own castle now!”

For a moment, William thought the man would clap with glee. “How could you?”

“He took from me, I took from him. I say it’s all fair. Wouldn’t you? An eye for an eye?”

Sir Ambrose viewed him curiously, and William hoped Sir Ambrose would not decide to shoot him now.

“And I saw you. Don’t forget. I saw Bianca’s son run to the barn bordering my property. I saw the groom follow you. You did this at night. Who goes to a barn at night? And you would saunter out with a wrinkled coat and rumpled hair.”

“You spied on us?”

“Really, Captain Carlisle. You phrase it so indelicately. When it is you who should be ashamed! You were both so foolish. So in love.”

Sir Ambrose stepped closer to William, his eyes flashing. “It was unnatural. It just proved your father never should have married your mother. That was also unnatural. If she had married me, this would never have happened. You would never have happened.”

“What did you do?” William glared.

“Well. As a good neighbor, I did my duty. I told. I did all that was proper.”

William’s legs shook, and he struggled to stay upright. His father had known about him and the groom. He had always thought it strange—his father so adamant that he leave. His father had practically begged the headmaster at Harrow to let him enter the school in the middle of the year. And this was why.

He had adored his father, and his father had sent him away. His father had been repulsed. He had shamed the family.

“Not that your father cared. He forbade me from entering the property again. Can you believe it?”

William froze. Perhaps his father had still loved him. Sir Ambrose laughed. “He was a very foolish man. If I couldn’t enter the property, I certainly wouldn’t be invited to dinners and balls there. And then I couldn’t see your mother anymore. You understand I could not permit that? And I didn’t.”

William’s voice shook, but he had to know. “Did you cause my parents’ deaths?”

“The carriage collapsing. That was supposed to be just for your father. But your mother got into the carriage as well.”

“The wheels falling off? The carriage tipping? That was you?”

“And there was never any investigation. You were too preoccupied with your unnatural state of mind to inquire. And the magistrate never made any inquiries either. He probably thought nobody would have any reason to harm your parents. He thought they were good, upstanding people in the community whom everybody liked. That it couldn’t be anything else except an accident.” He laughed again.

“You killed them.” William repeated. His whole world had shifted. His father had known about him and had still loved him. He had sent him off to Harrow, but to protect him, not to punish him. The reason why they had had no money was because it had been stolen from him.

“And now it is time for you to go as well.” Sir Ambrose directed his pistol at William. “Walk up to the cliff. I don’t want your body to be found near the cave.”

Chapter Twenty-four

William climbed the cliff. His mind raced, unwilling to declare defeat yet unsure how to avoid it. Perhaps if he tackled Sir Ambrose . . . yet Sir Ambrose carried a pistol, and a bullet traveled quickly, slicing through bone and flesh with no discrimination.

Sir Ambrose had killed before and threatened to do so again. No doubt the man’s helpers would rush to protect him as well.

When they reached the precipice, William would grab him. Maybe they would both die, maybe that was the best scenario. At least then Sir Ambrose would not kill Sebastian, dear Sebastian. At least then he would not try to marry Dorothea.

William shivered. All those years he had thought Sir Ambrose simply an annoyance when, in fact, he had murdered his parents and stolen his father’s money.

His eyes darted around. A few bushes lined the path. Perhaps if he pushed Sir Ambrose into one of those. Would that be wiser? Was there a chance he might live if that happened? Or was there only more of a chance Sir Ambrose would survive?

His head ached, and his hands were clammy. Sir Ambrose crept behind him.

He surveyed the geography and stifled a gasp. Two pairs of eyes stared from a bush, their eyes glistening under the moonlight. Lewis. And next to him crouched Sebastian. His darling! He would recognize his golden curls anywhere. Confusion hit him. Should he not be at his ball? Had he come to rescue him? He hoped they would not do anything foolish. Sir Ambrose was his worry, and he would not be able to bear it if more people were to die.

A gunshot rang out. Lewis had fired. William flung himself on the wet grass.

Lewis and Sebastian jumped from the bushes, pinning Sir Ambrose to the ground.

Sir Ambrose looked at Lewis in horror. “But you’re dead!”

Lewis smiled grimly. “In a manner of speaking.”

Sir Ambrose paled, his eyes widening and mouth opening. “Is this the end?”

“It is.” Lewis placed his foot on Sir Ambrose’s chest.

Sir Ambrose’s eyes narrowed. “You were supposed to be dead.”

“All a ruse.” Lewis grinned.

“But Dorothea was getting remarried! She was in mourning.” Sir Ambrose studied Lewis.

“The home office switched my identification with another soldier. He died. Not me.” Lewis smiled, pulling out a pistol, directing it at Sir Ambrose.

“Oh.” Sir Ambrose paled and tapped his fingers against the ground. “How clever. Perhaps you will kill me, perhaps I can be reunited with Bianca in the afterlife.”

“You were never united with her,” William retorted in scorn.

The men regarded him. Sir Ambrose wiggled under Lewis’s foot, but the duke tightened his foothold on him.

“Let’s take him to the magistrate,” Sebastian said.

William’s heart swelled. The man was so good; Sebastian couldn’t imagine killing the baronet.

Lewis bent down and pulled Sir Ambrose up, shoving him against a wall of rock.

“Gregory!”

Sebastian turned at the sound of the feminine squeal.

Dorothea, Penelope, and Reynolds stood in the distance, staring at the scene before them. Shawls covered their ball gowns, and behind them Joshua and Sam stood with guilty expressions on their faces. The coach was behind them, the noises of the horses obscured amidst the commotion and the sounds of the waves and wind.

“Sweetheart.” Lewis’s voice quivered, and he rushed toward Dorothea.

She stared at him, making no move to touch him.

Lewis’s shoulders dropped. “My face is a bit more rugged than normal.”

“How—how can it be? You are alive. The general urged us to come, but I didn’t expect this . . .” Dorothea wrapped her shawl tighter, looking distraught. “Or am I dreaming this?”

She looked to her friend for confirmation. Penelope’s mouth had fallen open.

“I am most certainly alive, sweetheart,” Lewis said, his voice shaking with emotion.

“But how can that be? They told me you had died.” Dorothea walked toward him, her dress dampening in the long strands of wet grass. She brushed her hand over her brow, her face flushed.

Lewis knelt before her. “I am so sorry, Dorothea. I never wanted to cause you worry. It has been agony knowing you suffered.”

“Worried! I was beside myself with grief. I loved you.”

“Can you forgive me? Please say you can forgive me.” Lewis grasped her hands.

“I don’t know.” Dorothea’s eyes grew rounder, and she looked at Penelope and Sebastian, as if for help.

“I was going to see you tonight, but I got delayed.” He gestured at Sir Ambrose, who sat grinning. William pointed Sir Ambrose’s pistol at him.

She turned back to Lewis. “Why did you pretend to be dead?”

The man reddened. “My dearest. It is not my fault the war office preferred me to pretend to be dead. I was injured, and when I woke up, they warned me not to resume my current identity.”

“You could have told me.” Dorothea pulled her hands away from his and folded her arms, frowning. She shook, her breath heavy.

“I tried to, I swear, I—”

“How very emotional we are tonight,” Sir Ambrose said from his perch.

“You!” William clenched his fists. “You should be quiet. This is all your doing.”

“I am afraid I have little patience for your love affairs.” Sir Ambrose turned to address Dorothea. “I am afraid you have the most abominable taste in men. You could have had me. I would have made you a wealthy woman.”

“I will too.” Lewis drew himself up. “If she’ll have me again.” He turned to Dorothea. “Will you marry me, my darling?”

Dorothea was silent, and Lewis’s face, so hopeful initially, darkened. “Of course. You may not desire to marry me. Sebastian told me your engagement with him was broken, but… Forgive me.”

Dorothea coughed. “I will marry you.”

“Truly?” Lewis asked, his voice rising.

“Truly,” Dorothea said.

Lewis smiled.

Sir Ambrose laughed. “Do you intend to keep her in your decrepit manor house?”

Lewis frowned. “It is not that decrepit. If you had not scared everyone away with your vicious rumors . . .”

“Not everything I say is a rumor. Quite a lot is the truth.”

He had a strange gleam in his eye. William’s chest tightened when he saw the baronet look directly at Sebastian. He started toward Sir Ambrose, hoping to quiet him. The pistol did not seem to be sufficient hindrance.

“Your former fiancé,” Sir Ambrose regarded Dorothea, “I could tell you stories about him.”

He was going to reveal their secret.

“Please don’t,” William called. “You mustn’t.”

“Oh, really?” Sir Ambrose smiled. “Dorothea, my sweet, do you want to hear some stories?”

She shook her head, her dark curls spilling from her chignon.

“No? I think I would surprise you.”

“Do be quiet,” Dorothea screamed.

Sir Ambrose smiled. “Did you know your fiancé—former fiancé—bears unnatural affections for your brother?”

William froze at the words, watching as his sister’s face constricted. Of course she knew, but she didn’t want her closest friends to know as well. Shame, such a constant companion for him, surged through him once more. He avoided Sebastian’s eyes.

“Unnatural? They are friends!” Penelope exclaimed. “What can you possibly mean?”

“This doesn’t concern you.” Lord Reynolds folded his hands around his wife, pulling her against his chest.

Perhaps the action was meant well, but William felt as if he was not worthy of being looked at.

“But what can the man mean?” Penelope said, her voice muffled.

“I see your curiosity has been piqued. I must commend you for that,” Sir Ambrose said. “A curious person is an intelligent person.”

“I would care for you not to address my wife.” Lord Reynolds turned to Lewis. “Do we have anything we can muffle him with? A rag?”

“Come now, you would not deny a man his last words. It would not be Christian of you. I am under no illusions my life is drawing to a close.” He smiled. His voice grew deeper and more steady. “Your fiancé, Sebastian, is a sodomite. And you dare call me flawed.”

“That’s enough.” William lunged at his former neighbor. “You are a murderer.”

“How dare you tarnish my cousin’s name, just because you have a morbid fixation on his fiancée. Why he was married before. Just because his wife had the misfortune to die, you think you can create scandalous stories.” Penelope raised her head, her eyes flashing. “Tell them, Sebastian!”

“Yes, do enlighten us all, Your Grace.” Sir Ambrose smirked and stepped toward Sebastian, away from the edge of the cliff. “Oh, I cannot call you that anymore, now that the rightful duke has presented himself. Now you are just a country squire and a sodomite. Don’t think I don’t know about the night you spent in the gatehouse with Captain Carlisle.”

“That is enough.” Lewis’s eyes remained fixed on Sir Ambrose. “You’ll hang.”

Sir Ambrose sighed. “I suppose courtesy is something your family lacks entirely. Forcing silence from me. I suppose when some members feel the urge to—”

“That is quite enough,” Lord Reynolds said, his eyes dark. “I will not have you distribute any more insults. Penelope, take Dorothea to the coach. Tell Sam to drive both of you back quickly and come straight back here so we can stop by the magistrate.”

Penelope nodded and grabbed Dorothea.

“No,” Dorothea said, “I will stay with Gregory. I have no desire to leave his side.”

“Lewis will be here. We promise,” Reynolds said.

“I will be here, my darling,” Lewis said.

Penelope clutched Dorothea’s arm, tugging her. William stared, distracted, as Dorothea untangled her arm, lifted her dress, and rushed back toward them.

“What devotion,” Sir Ambrose said bitterly.