The Charmer (27 page)

“You don't want her to hear it. That means that you know.”

“I suspected.”

“If you deduced that part, you are very good.”

“She commented frequently that you reminded her of Alistair. Then there was the way that he favored you. As you get older, the resemblance is there. It also gives those murders a clearer motive.”

Stidolph ran his hand over the polished desk, looking more like Alistair by the minute. “Of course
you
would suspect quicker than most. It is a story you know well, isn't it? So here we are. Two men cut from similar cloth. Except, of course, that I am all English wool, and you are half-primitive weave. Two men fathered by men other than their mothers' husbands.”

“Everdon knew?”

“Of course he knew. When my mother's first husband died, he threw his brother at her because of me. He knew how to take care of his blood, even if I was sired on the wrong side of another man's blanket. He saw to my education and bought me my commission. He saw himself in me, more than in his legitimate children.”

Adrian fought his profound disgust. It was too much to have hoped that Stidolph would lie, and have the decency to leave these secrets where they belonged.

“Whose idea was it? For you to marry your own half sister?”

“I think we both considered it separately. I certainly did. Otherwise, why do away with her brother? I sensed the duke would not be averse.”

“So it was your plan. Your idea.”

“It repulses you to think that our father suggested it? Sorry, but that is how it happened. He broached the subject after Brandon's death. He wanted Everdon to go to his son, and I was the one left. I would not get the title, but I would hold the power.”

It did repulse him. It would sicken anyone. If Sophia ever learned that her father had planned this, if she ever suspected that Alistair had tried to force her into an incestuous marriage, it would be the final, horrible betrayal by a man who had given her little else. The wound might never heal.

“But he reconsidered. He remarried.” Adrian tried to keep the hope for reassurance out of his voice.

“Ah, yes. Dear Celine. I reconsidered too. When no child came, I even tried to help out. If she had borne my son, I might have been satisfied. The title should have been mine. I was his blood. But if it went to my son . . . it might have been enough. But the bitch was barren. Wouldn't you know it. A sign, it seemed to me. Alistair thought so too. He revived the old plan. For a while.”

“Then he reconsidered again, so you killed him.”

“If you want to preserve your memory of him by thinking so, go ahead. It was not that way. He concluded that she could not be convinced, and that he was losing time. He decided to accept another match so that he could at least secure the succession before he died. Stupid man. To think I would settle for nothing after having it all within my grasp. He never would have stood down. He should have known I would not either.”

So there it was. All of it, including the most insidious part. If the world found out what Alistair had tried to do, it would be a smear on Everdon for generations. It would also destroy Sophia's fragile truce with the past.

“You should not have told her. About Brandon,” Gerald said.

“She deserved to know.”

“Now I have only one card left. I will tell her all of it, and threaten to let the world know what her father intended if she does not marry me. I don't fancy marrying her if she knows. Her awareness that I am her brother will make it very sordid. Still, you have left me no choice.”

“Do you think that she will submit to such heinous blackmail? Accept incest in order to protect her father's name from the accusation of plotting incest?”

“Not to protect her father's name. I doubt she would do it for that. But to protect the prestige of Everdon, maybe. What do you think?”

“That she would let you do your worst. Play that card, breathe one word of this to her, and I will make you wish you had never been born. Do not doubt that.”

“If I am tried for murder, I will have nothing to lose. If I find myself in the dock, I will speak of it. Don't
you
doubt
that.
”

So there it was. The real blackmail. Not of Sophia, but of him.

She would never agree to keeping silent about Brandon, especially if she did not know the reason. And her not knowing
was
the reason.

“It disgusts me to see you escape justice, but you have given her enough pain for one life. You have twenty-four hours to get out of Britain, Stidolph. I only make this concession for Sophia's sake.”

“I have no intention of leaving. There is nothing for me on the Continent.”

“Then flee to hell, where you belong. You have one day. Or I bring Harvey Douglas to the authorities and watch you hang.”

Gerald drummed his fingers on the desk thoughtfully. “Without Douglas, you have nothing. Without you, Douglas has no coercion.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It is an observation.”

“Douglas is hidden where you will never find him.”

“You are not.”

“Others know.”

“Not everything. If you offer me flight, they do not know about Douglas yet. Only Sophia does.”

He spoke pleasantly, merely making another observation, but the conclusion was unmistakable.
I remove you and her and I am free.
Adrian's blood chilled as it had at the auction. A monster. Or, as Colin had said, a rat. Vicious when cornered.

Only, Adrian was cornered too. Bring Douglas forth, and Sophia would learn about her father's unnatural plans for her. Find a way to get Sophia to agree to keep silent, and Stidolph would one day try to remove the dangling threat of eventual disclosure.

He would risk his own safety. If Stidolph got to him, however, Sophia would be helpless.

“I have reconsidered. If you do not flee, I will not bring you to the authorities.”

“I thought that you would see reason.”

“Instead, I will kill you.”

Gerald's smile froze. Then he laughed. “You don't have it in you.”

Adrian placed both hands on the desk. He leaned forward, forcing Gerald back, and hovered while he looked him straight in the eyes. “I have it in me. Do you want the names of past ministers who can vouch for that? It was always self-defense before, but any one of the men I've killed had more right to live than you.”

Gerald's face fell. Adrian swung away and strode to the door. “One day. After that, we begin an interesting game. Who will succeed in killing the other first? I think that the half of me that is a ‘primitive weave,' as you put it, will give me the advantage. You will not even hear me coming.”

chapter
27

S
ophia paced furiously in front of the study door, blinking back tears of scathing anger. Her heart filled her chest, pulsing painfully, strangling her breath.

Her scrambled thoughts veered between plans for delicious revenge and terrible pictures depicting Gerald's crimes.

She glared at the door separating her from her enemy. She raised her fists to pound on it and demand entry.

The door suddenly opened. Adrian stepped out and closed it behind him.

Her fists found a target on his chest. Her emotions poured out while she pummeled him.

“By what right do you throw me out of that chamber when what will be discussed is all about Everdon and me? You reject the marriage that would have given you that kind of authority, and then you exercise the authority anyway. I
will not
be managed, especially when it is a matter so important to my family and to
me.
”

The words did not emerge with the indignation she intended. Instead they wavered and broke and ended in a gasping sob that groaned out of her soul.

He pulled her into his arms.

He held her to his chest as he had at Staverly, keeping her together while the anger and grief engulfed her.

Slowly, within the security of his embrace, the tempest receded, leaving the profound calm that only comes after a dangerous storm.

Sounds of the pianoforte and conversation drifted and echoed. She looked to the music room.

“I cannot go back in there. I cannot spend the next hour speaking of stupid things after what I have just learned.”

“You can send in word that you have taken ill.”

She pressed her damp eyes against his shoulder. “I keep seeing Brandon. Over and over in my mind. All of the memories I blocked, have flooded into me all at once. It is breaking my heart. I can picture his face when Gerald came by in that boat. The relief, and then the shock. It is horribly vivid, as if I really witnessed it. I want to kill Gerald. If I had a weapon, I might have done so.”

He caressed her hair with a soothing touch. A few distant footsteps intruded, then faded away. She jerked her head toward the sound.

“It was the viscountess. She will be discreet,” Adrian said.

“I do not want to be discreet. I am sick to death of being discreet. Aren't you?”

“It has been a way of life for me, but, yes, sometimes I get sick to death of it too.”

“Perhaps if it had been my way of life I would not find it so stifling. I suspect that is what I will hate most about Everdon. Never having the freedom of Paris again.”

“You are freer at this moment than you have been in eight long years, darling.”

His words made her look inside herself. “I am, aren't I? Free of the guilt and the past. Despite the heartbreak of learning about Brandon and my father, there is a kind of peace at the center of my soul that I have never known before. Thank you for discovering the truth for me.”

The study door opened and Gerald stepped out. Adrian pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her protectively.

Gerald smirked. “Charming. Very touching.” With the air of a man who has no care in the world, he ambled back to the other guests.

Sophia could not believe her eyes. “He thinks to stay. He shows no distress at all, Adrian. He expects me to play the hostess to the man who murdered my brother and father.”

“Go to your chambers. I will have Charles bring an explanation in to them.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I will not give Gerald that satisfaction. He has seen me weak and enjoyed making me so, for the last time. I will go back in. Gerald Stidolph will be damned before he makes me hide again.” She turned her back on the waiting party so she could see only Adrian. “I would like you to stay.”

“You have the strength to do it yourself. You do not need me holding you up.”

“I will not let him see me weak, but I am not feeling very strong at all. He frightens me. His coldness, his own lack of fear, chills me as if I have been touched by the hand of death. I may not need you holding me up in there, but I would like to be with you later. Please stay with me tonight, even if it is for the last time.”

“We seem to have a lot of last times.”

“I would settle for one more, but would prefer a lifetime without any.”

“Until matters are concluded with Stidolph, I cannot give you an answer about that. I promise that I will, as soon as this is finished.”

“That should be soon, though, shouldn't it? You plan to take care of it tomorrow, don't you?”

“Yes. Soon. Probably tomorrow.” He kissed her hand and looked into her eyes. “In truth, the man chills me too. I think that only your embrace will warm me.”

Already she was warming. His touch and gaze, the lights burning deeply in his eyes, had her flushing. Anticipation of the comfort of his arms would carry her through the next few hours even more than her satisfaction in showing Gerald that he could not break her spirit.

She turned toward the music room.

Adrian released her hand. “We may both be sick of discretion, but this is not the night to abandon it. I will follow you in a few moments.”

She had thought that he intended to wait in her chambers, but he was going to come in. He would be there, not holding her up, but helping her to find her own strength as he always had.

She walked down the corridor to where Gerald Stidolph waited among her guests.

She could do this. She could stare evil and death in the face, because later she would heal her heart in the arms of goodness and life.

The next night Adrian sat with Colin, St. John, and Laclere at a table in Gordon's gaming hall. Only half of his mind participated in their languid rounds of vingt-et-un.

Colin was winning, Laclere was breaking even, St. John was up a huge amount, and Adrian was down twenty pounds. Adrian decided it was a good thing he was not a superstitious man.

Normally.

“That chestnut promises to be a good runner. With some work he may be up to Ascot,” Colin said, continuing the forced banter that he had employed all day while he doggedly trailed Adrian all over London. Colin did not know what had transpired in Sophia's study, but he was worried and had not let Adrian out of his sight.

“It won a race in Sussex last spring, didn't it?” Laclere asked, picking up the cue.

Gordon's was not one of Laclere's normal haunts. Adrian suspected that he had arrived tonight specifically to sit next to him. The news of Dincaster's decision to socially repudiate his youngest son had spread very quickly. Since Laclere was hardly a paragon of acceptability himself, Adrian doubted that his display of support could break the fall much, but he was grateful for the effort.

Laclere may have come in friendship, but Daniel St. John had attended at Adrian's request. St. John made no attempt to enter the light conversation, and his eyes glowed with an internal distraction that echoed the tension that Adrian himself felt.

St. John's glance caught Adrian's own and a silent message passed. Soon. Very soon. Stidolph must realize that there really wasn't any choice.

A ten showed faceup on the table in front of him. His hole card was a seven. Adrian debated calling for another card.

A chill shivered down his back. A shadow fell on the cards. Adrian did not turn but his companions did. St. John's body tensed in a way that announced who had arrived.

“Stidolph,” Laclere acknowledged in greeting.

“Laclere. Odd finding you here.”

“I am more particular about my company than my surroundings.”

“It would appear that you are not very particular about your company at all.”

Adrian turned in time to see Laclere's blue eyes harden into crystals. “I am most particular, which is why I must ask you to excuse us.”

“That is not possible at the moment. I need to speak with your half-breed bastard friend.”

The men at nearby tables heard the insult. An oasis of silence instantly formed.

Laclere shot a questioning glance at Adrian, who returned a quelling blink. Colin required more direct restraint. St. John reached for Colin's arm, to prevent him from rising.

“Insult one Burchard and you must deal with us all,” Colin warned.

“The way I hear it, I do not insult a Burchard at all. The word is that Dincaster will finally make that official.”

The oasis of silence spread. Their table became the center of rapt attention. A few other gamers rose and sauntered closer.

Adrian met Stidolph's gaze with his own. “If you think to provoke me to a challenge, it will not happen. We will not do it quite that way.”

“Then I must challenge you, although the evidence is that you do not have the honor to meet me.”

Colin almost leapt out of his chair. St. John had to exert real strength to keep him in place.

Laclere summoned his best noble hauteur. “Unless there is good cause, there will be no excusing such a challenge, nor will any man here think badly of Burchard for refusing it.”

“There is good cause, and he knows it. The best cause. The honor of a woman. The Duchess of Everdon.”

“If the duchess believes that I have in any way harmed her, let her say so. It is not your place to interpret our friendship.”

“Not that duchess, Burchard. The dowager duchess.”

Celine.

Adrian had wondered if Celine had been a player in Stidolph's plans. No doubt if she had borne Gerald's son, she would have married him after Alistair died.

She had probably even encouraged Stidolph's marriage to Sophia when she found herself barren. If Gerald got Everdon through Sophia, he would permit Celine to stay. A wife in one chamber, a mistress in another. Celine would accept that. Keeping the position that she had bought with her beauty was all that mattered.

Maybe not entirely. After all, she had agreed to have her name used now in this desperate bid to save her lover's skin.

“The dowager duchess has no argument with me,” Adrian said.

“She has confided in me. She told me that you pursued her before her marriage, and continued to do so dishonorably after it. She let me know that on several occasions you importuned her, and the last time, just this summer, crossed a line that cannot be excused.”

“That is absurd,” Colin said. “Of all the women to claim such a thing, she is the last to be believed.”

“Keep that up and I will need to issue two challenges.”

“I beg you to do so. I will demand that you meet them in order of precedence. Me first.”

“My brother forgets that we are no longer boys on the playing field, and that I do not need his protection.”

“Will you give me satisfaction, or will the world know you for a coward as well as a bastard?”

“I will definitely give you satisfaction. I would not think of disappointing you.”

The silence in the gaming hall broke as word of the duel spread like a wildfire. At their table, utter quiet reigned for a solid minute.

“I would be honored to serve as your second, Burchard,” Laclere finally said.

“Thank you, but St. John will take care of it.”

Laclere's eyebrows rose faintly in realization that much of this had been prearranged.

St. John assumed his role with steely calm. “I will meet with your second tomorrow, Stidolph.”

“Tonight,” Gerald said.

“Yes, tonight,” Adrian agreed.

“Tonight, then.”

Gerald strode across the room and out the door. Dozens of astonished men watched, then directed their attention to Adrian.

He turned away, back to the cards.

“Damn the man,” Colin muttered. “Whoever expected . . .”

“I expected.”

“When you meet with his second you must seek to have the challenge withdrawn, St. John,” Laclere said. “An hour or two and he will think better of it.”

“I must insist that no one make any attempt to do that,” Adrian said.

Laclere's brow furrowed. “May I assume, then, that this is about more than the dubious virtue of the dowager duchess.”

“Yes.”

“You are sure that it is necessary?”

“It is necessary, and the only way that I can see justice done.”

Laclere called for a card. “I might remind you that it is illegal. Nor, after this public drama, will it be secret.”

“Fifty men heard him challenge me in a way I could not ignore. No jury will convict me.”

“Perhaps in France . . .”

“He will not agree to that either. It must be tomorrow, so it must be here.”

Laclere turned his card with a troubled expression. “And if you fail in getting whatever justice you seek?”

“If I fail, there will still be justice. I am leaving a letter with Wellington, who will see to it. And if he cannot, another man will.”

Laclere turned his head, suddenly very interested in the bland, calm presence of Daniel St. John.

“What weapons will you choose?” Colin asked, much subdued now. “You really are not a very good shot.”

It was St. John who answered. “Sabres. Mounted.”

Colin absorbed that. “At the risk of sounding like an older brother, may I point out that Stidolph was in the cavalry? He was trained by some of the finest swordsmen in England.”