School For Heiresses 2- Only a Duke Will Do (26 page)

Louisa stood there wearing nothing but her wrapper and her smile.

His pulse quickened instantly. Steady, man. She will not be ready for you again so soon.

“I did not want to wake you,” he explained when she continued to stand there, one eyebrow raised.

“I suppose I shall have to get used to a husband who rushes off to his study every chance he gets.”

“It was either that or make love to you again, and I did not think a considerate husband should do that to his newly deflowered wife.”

She strolled into the room, her smile turning coquettish. “Am I so hard for you to resist?”

He raked her with his gaze. “Hard? Definitely.”

It took her a moment to grasp the double entendre. Then she closed the door behind her and reached for the tie of her gown. “Well, then, perhaps you need some relief for your condition, my darling.”

Darling. His wife had called him “darling.” She had never done so before, and just the sound of it on her lips delighted him. Especially when she came toward him with seduction in her eyes. She did not get far, however, before Raji scampered across the desk to launch himself at her. Simon gave a rueful laugh as the monkey settled eagerly into his wife’s arms. “Raji obviously will not allow that.” He sat back in his chair. “And in any case, you should give yourself time to recover. Or so I hear.”

Conceding the point with a shrug, she rounded the desk to stand beside him and look down at the letters. “So what do you work on so diligently every night?”

He hesitated, but there was no reason not to tell her. If anything came of it, it would affect her, too. “I am reading through Grandfather Monteith’s old correspondence to see if I can find any mention of Colin Hunt.”

“Colin Hunt. Wasn’t he your—”

“Aide-de-camp. Yes. And quite possibly also my cousin.”

She stared at him. “Your cousin.”

“By my Uncle Tobias. You know, the one who died in India.”

“But I thought he died alone.”

“Apparently not.” Simon uttered a sigh. “There’s little doubt that Colin is his son. Uncle Tobias signed his name to the birth certificate as Colin’s father. I have already authenticated that signature from letters, so I know that much is true.”

“And the mother? Who is she?”

“An Indian woman. She died when Colin was quite young. He was raised by his mother’s sister, who says his mother was my uncle’s legitimate wife.”

“Wife! But that would mean—”

“That Colin is heir to my maternal grandfather’s title. Yes, if I can prove the claim.”

She paused to take that in. “There’s no record of the marriage?”

“Unfortunately, no. Though his mother supposedly married his father in a church, the place was destroyed by a flood shortly after Uncle Tobias died.”

“Convenient,” Louisa pointed out.

“Yes. But the church really was destroyed. That part is fact.”

“And what of their marriage certificate?”

“That is where it becomes complicated. Colin’s aunt claims that when Uncle Tobias realized he was dying, he wrote to my grandfather to tell him of the marriage. He enclosed the certificate as proof. That was the last anyone saw of it. Shortly after that, my uncle died, leaving his wife and son in dire financial straits.”

He fingered the letter before him. “You may not know this, but around then, Indian widows of officers were cut off from being allowed the widow’s portion. So according to Colin’s aunt, when Grandfather Monteith offered a healthy sum to the widow if she never pursued the matter of her son’s inheritance, she agreed.”

It sickened Simon to think of his grandfather taking advantage of a poor woman that way, though it didn’t surprise him. Grandfather Monteith would not have been pleased to have a half-Indian grandson. He had crafted his public persona too carefully to allow such a “stain” on the family line.

“At the time,” Simon went on, “Colin was the son of a second son, so his inheritance was not of any great import anyway.”

She laid her hand on Simon’s shoulder. “But once your other uncle died without issue—”

“Colin became the heir. Not only to the Monteith title, but to the Monteith estates. Which have increased substantially since I have taken them over.”

Louisa’s hand tensed. “That would certainly give someone great incentive to lie about their heritage.”

He laughed. “Colin? Hardly. I had to twist his arm to get him to be my aide-de-camp after his aunt came to me with his story. He meant to continue serving in the peshwa’s army, but I could tell he had inherited my grandfather’s keen mind. His talents were wasted as a foot soldier. Nonetheless, he never had any interest in being the earl. When I tried to convince him to return with me, he refused, saying I should let the matter stand.”

“Then why are you pursuing it?”

“Colin is a man without a country. Other Indians do not accept him, and the English do not, either. It isn’t right. He and his mother deserved better treatment from my grandfather, so I owe it to him to set the matter straight. And not just to him, but—” He paused, wondering if he should reveal so much, but when she squeezed his shoulder encouragingly, he went on. “To his wife, too.”

“Oh, I forgot he had a wife. She was Raji’s previous owner, wasn’t she?”

“Yes. She, too, was half Indian. When she lay dying, I swore that I would make sure Colin got what was rightfully his. Assuming I could prove his claim.”

“But why would you make such a vow? Just because he was your aide-de-camp and possibly your cousin?”

“Is that not reason enough?” he hedged. How could he tell her the truth? She already thought him devious and a liar, but at least she seemed to think him competent as a statesman. If she knew everything—

“I think there’s something you’re not saying.” She pulled her hand back. “I know that those Indian women are very beautiful…”

Bloody hell, he had not realized how this must sound. “I told you, sweetheart, I was celibate in India. I never had an affair with Colin’s wife, if that is what you think.”

“Then why would you make her promises?” she whispered. “You can tell me, darling, really you can, even if you just secretly cared for her or—”

“It was nothing like that.” Now he had to tell her, if only to keep her from getting the wrong idea. Besides, the secret had lain like a sore on his soul for too long. If anyone could help him lance it, it was his forthright, practical wife. Assuming that she did not regard him with loathing, instead.

“But you are right; it was not just because of Colin that I made that vow.” A ragged sigh escaped him. “It was because of what I had done. You see, I am the one who caused her death.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Dear Cousin,

Surely you acknowledge that a tender glance is sometimes all a body needs or wants. Once in a while, a tender glance is even more important than having one’s opinion solicited by one’s spouse. Your romantic-minded cousin,

Charlotte

L ouisa didn’t know what to think or say to his astonishing confession. “Does this have to do with that battle you and Captain Quinn fought?”

Simon shot her a veiled glance. “How did you know?”

“Today you clearly didn’t want to discuss it.” Louisa perched on the edge of his desk, and Raji settled himself in her lap. “Colin’s wife died in that battle, didn’t she?”

“Actually, she died just before it, at the hands of the Marathas. They were warriors who served as soldiers-for-hire for the peshwa.”

“What’s a peshwa?”

“A sort of prime minister of a region of India. Baji Rao was the peshwa and ordered his Marathas to raid Poona. They burned the British Resident’s home to the ground, then roamed the town, pillaging and slaughtering. Colin’s wife was singled out because she was half-English and married to my aide-de-camp.

”

“Is that why you blame yourself for her death?” Louisa asked, laying her hand on his arm. Shrugging it off, he rose abruptly to pace. “I wish that were so. But no, my part was more…shameful.”

His refusal to accept her comfort stung, but she tried not to show it as she sat stroking Raji’s silky fur and waited.

When he spoke again, his voice was cool, remote. “Weeks before the Marathas’ raid, Colin told me his wife had gone to Poona to visit her mother and was hearing rumblings in the marketplace about a revolt. The peshwa was angry about the treaty the British had convinced him to sign.”

He strode over to a pedestal table and poured himself some brandy from a carafe there. “So I questioned two native officers from the area. They assured me all was well in Poona. ‘The peshwa would be a fool to revolt,’ they said. ‘He knows the great strength of the British army,’ they said.”

A harsh laugh escaped his lips. “I briefly considered that they might be part of a potential rebellion, but they were highly regarded officers. Whereas Colin had every reason to resent the British. I assumed he was exaggerating the situation.

He swallowed some brandy. “I had negotiated the treaty with the peshwa myself. The other two peshwas seemed perfectly content with their treaties. So why would Baji Rao dispute his?” His tone turned self-deprecating. “I was the mighty Governor-General, after all. I knew exactly what was happening in my fiefdom.”

“Oh, Simon,” she whispered, but he paid her no heed.

“Besides, Colin got his information from his wife, who had even more reason to distrust the British than he did. Her bastard of a British father hadn’t married her mother. So she saw rebellions where there were none.” He stared blankly into the brandy glass. “I assumed she wanted me to march down to Poona with an army and make a fool of myself.”

As if sensing the tension in his master, Raji slipped from her lap to join Simon, but Simon paid him no heed, either. “I didn’t know her very well, and what I knew I didn’t like. She thought I was another posturing Englishman, and I thought she was a troublemaker.”

Simon’s hands shook, making the brandy glass tremble. With her heart in her throat, Louisa left the desk to take the glass from him and set it on the table.

“So I was not about to act on the strength of her word,” Simon said hoarsely. “Colin and I argued about it after the officers left. I told him he should not listen to his wife, that women were fickle creatures swayed by every emotion and not to be trusted.”

Louisa swallowed. “I suppose you were thinking of how I’d had you sent off to India.”

Simon’s gaze shot to her. “Certainly not. I deserved what you did—even then I realized that.” He raked a hand through his hair. “When I cautioned Colin, I was not thinking of any specific woman. I was just spouting nonsense my grandfather poured into my ears when I was growing up.”

His grandfather? No one ever spoke ill of the Earl of Monteith, whose tenure as prime minister had been regarded as brilliant by Whig and Tory alike. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t been a scoundrel in his private life.

Simon sank into a nearby chair. “In the end, Colin let me guide him. He didn’t have a choice—he could hardly gather a force himself to march on the peshwa.” He buried his face in his hands. “So when the Marathas set fire to the residence at Poona, we were thirty miles away, headed for Bombay. The news reached us quickly, and we raced there with the small force we had at hand, but we arrived to find Colin’

s wife dying.”

“And that’s when you made your promise to her,” she whispered.

He lifted his face to her, his anguish carving lines in his handsome features. “She had always wanted to see him get what was rightfully his. It was the only thing I could offer to make up for…oh God, everything.”

This time when she laid her hand on his arm, he didn’t resist. “That’s why you fought so hard at the Battle of Kirkee,” Louisa said softly. “To avenge her.”

“To avenge all of them,” Simon choked out. “And to pay for my error. Do you know how many innocents were killed before the battle began? How much destruction was wrought on the town because I—”

“Made a decision based on limited knowledge,” she told him. “You did what any leader does. You weighed the choices and chose what seemed best.”

“You don’t understand,” he said with a shake of his head. “I should have gone myself to assess the situation. I should not have relied on the wrong officers. I should have listened—”

“To a woman you didn’t trust?”

“She was right, damn it!”

“Yes. But if you’d acted on her information and she had proved to be wrong, would you blame yourself any less for whatever ensued?”

He stared bleakly at her, then dragged her onto his lap and clasped her so tightly to his chest that she could scarcely breathe. “You are too kind to me, sweetheart.”

She stroked his hair. “And you are too hard on yourself.”

“Not hard enough. You didn’t see Colin’s wife with her blood gushing from her wound, her eyes wide with terror as death took her. And Colin weeping over her body. The images…still haunt me at night.”

“As well they should.” When his anguished gaze swung to her, she caressed his cheek. “If they didn’t, you would be a cold shell of a creature, incapable of feeling. Instead of a warm-blooded man dedicated to doing what’s right.”

“I am not sure I know what is right. If I could make such a monumental error once—”

“You could make one again, yes. That only proves you are fallible. As we all are.” She nuzzled his cheek. “And surely you learned from your mistake.”

“God, I hope so.” The storm of his remorse seemed to have subsided some, for his hold on her loosened.

For a long moment, they just sat there clasping each other as the bracket clock ticked above them. After a while, she said, “I’m glad you told me.”

“So am I,” he said in a low rumble. “I have lived with it for so long alone, chafing every time people speak of my heroic actions at the battle—”

“They were heroic,” she protested. “Don’t think otherwise. You could have buried your head in the sand or denied your culpability. Instead you led the soldiers to victory. Don’t let your guilt over how it began negate what you should be proud of.” She gestured to the letters. “And you’re still trying to make amends, after all.”

“Trying, but not succeeding, I’m afraid,” he said with a sigh.

“I can help, if you want. With two of us hunting through them, we might find what you’re looking for.”