The Unclaimed Duchess (15 page)

Simon released an incredulous snort. “You cannot think she won't be touched by this, no matter how much you distance yourself from her.”

“Of course she will,” Rhys snapped as he got to his feet and paced to the window. “But if we are already living apart I cannot help but believe she has a better chance of survival than if she stayed with me, stood by me as the world discovered I had been masquerading as a duke, looking down on them and making their lives a hell.”

Simon took a long step toward him. “Rhys!”

Rhys ignored the interruption. “No, if I set Anne free in this manner, I think Society could see her as a victim of a man many of them already despise. With her father's support, with the assistance of her friends, many of whom are devoted to her, she could weather the storm.”

“You are not so hated as you make it out,” Simon protested, though his tone was less than convincing.

An incredulous arched brow was Rhys's response. “Do you know who I saw while in the country?”

Simon sighed heavily. “Who?”

“Caleb Talbot. He was at a village fete Anne and I attended.”

His friend blinked once. “Somehow I'm having a difficult time picturing you at a village party, but very well. Why was Talbot there? He's been missing from Society for nearly a year.”

“I have no idea, but he was right on the edge of an ugly drunk and miserable, so I doubt it was for pleasure. He likely struck upon the gathering by chance. But I spoke to him, Simon. I even tried to apologize for how I acted toward him, for who I was when in his presence.”

He swallowed as he spoke, trying to keep his tone even, trying not to let Simon hear and see how much
that moment had affected and changed him.

“And what was his answer to your apology?” his friend asked softly.

“Let us just say that his reaction wasn't one of forgiveness.” Rhys shook his head. “Most people will offer the same response, I think. I've given them little reason for charity and mercy toward me.”

Simon dipped his chin. He drew in a few breaths before he looked at Rhys again. This time there was firm determination in his brother's stare. And a sadness that seemed to be caused by more than just Rhys's situation.

“Have you ever considered simply
not
telling anyone else the truth?” Simon said with the slightest tremble to his voice.

“Of course I have!” With a scowl, Rhys clenched his fists at his sides. “I've contemplated every scenario, and hiding the truth and continuing on as before has always been the first thing to come to mind.”

Simon nodded to encourage him. “It would protect your mother, your family, and you could remain with Anne.”

Rhys shut his eyes. His brother had to know he was offering him heaven, but there was more at stake here than simply protecting his family reputation.

“All those things are true. And it is easier to believe I could hide it, but perhaps…” He trailed off.
“Perhaps it is better that the truth come out.”

“You cannot mean that!”

“I very much do. Before I knew I was your brother, when you told me that he was a man of title, I said that the world deserved to know the truth. That even if the law allowed a bastard born within the confines of a legal marriage to keep his title, Society should be made aware and the man should face the consequences.” He shrugged. “Why should that not remain true, even if it is myself I condemn?”

“So despite the changes in you, the idea of family blood and history still utterly controls you?” Simon snapped in disgust. “To the point that you would put your own feet and those of your family to the fire.”

“My father—” Rhys cut himself off. “The last Duke of Waverly instilled the value of the pureness of our family line and history into me almost daily. The Waverly title has great power, should it not be held by someone who actually has blood from that family? And if it isn't, should the man who is forced to keep that title despite his blood still be revered and held up as an example, as if the truth didn't exist?”

Simon looked at the floor. “One day I'll tell you the whole story I discovered about our father's duplicity. One day. But for now, I'll only say that I understand, somewhat, what you are going through, how you are
torn between two worlds. But I'm telling you, Rhys, sometimes it
is
better to live the lie. It may sound strange, but revealing the truth can be more damaging in ways you haven't fully considered.”

Rhys cocked his head at the hollow sound of Simon's voice, but didn't press for more details. By the expression on his brother's face, he could see Simon was too raw to discuss whatever troubled him.

“But don't you understand?” he asked. “I still see a way to repair the line by revealing the truth.”

“Repair the line?” Simon repeated, shaking his head in confusion.

Rhys nodded. “If the truth were to come out, people would see I don't deserve to continue the line, even if the law recognizes me as duke. And if Anne and I are separated, not only will she be somewhat protected from the scandal, but we won't produce children, more pointedly
heirs
whose birth would force the Waverly line to continue with my blood instead of a real person who shared the Waverly blood and history. Upon my death the line will revert to someone else. A distant cousin will be found who—”

Simon looked at him. “There is no distant cousin, Rhys.”

Rhys staggered back in surprise. “What?”

“I did some research while you were away. You are, by all accounting, the last male of the Carlisle
line. Whether the truth of your parentage comes out or not, if you don't produce a son of your own to carry on the title, it will revert back to the Crown. Do you know who they'll give it to?”

Rhys shook his head.

“Likely it will go to a common person who has either served or
paid
the Crown well. Someone with
none
of the family ties and likely little of the noble blood you so claim to value. And your family, your mother, your sisters, your
wife
will all live with the stigma your revelation will put on them. For what?”

Rhys clenched his fists at his sides. He had long known there were no close male relatives on his “father's” side of the family, but he hadn't realized there were not even distant relations who could take this title from him.

Suddenly the idea of keeping his silence, of protecting all those he held dear, became a much more viable one again. Only there was one fact that kept him from surrendering to the easy future his brother encouraged him to grasp for.

“But you forget something, Simon. There
is
a blackmailer out there. Coming in a matter of, what…a week? Ten days at most? Another person, one with villainous intent, knows this secret and could reveal it at any moment and in the worst way pos
sible. This won't end simply because I decide I wish it to. Until I have dealt with that person, I cannot completely rule out revealing this secret myself, if only to control the manner in which the information is shared.”

Simon closed his eyes. He nodded as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Very well, let us set aside our argument about you ending or not ending your marriage, about you revealing or not revealing your identity. You are correct. There
is
a blackmailer. And perhaps it is time to talk about that fact and truly decide how we will deal with this. As brothers.”

R
hys's stomach rolled as it always did when he allowed himself to think of some nameless, faceless villain who held the keys to his family's humiliation.

“Do you have more information about this…
person
?”

Simon nodded slowly, and the look of disdain on his face was powerful. “Do you remember the name Xavier Warren?”

Rhys blinked as he tried to recall. “It seems familiar. Wait, wasn't he quite involved in politics a number of years ago? And we discovered something about him and your father.” He stopped and stared at Simon. “I mean,
our
father.”

Simon took a slow step closer and reached out to briefly squeeze Rhys's arm before he released him and gave a short nod.

“Yes. Since I received the initial threat of blackmail,
I've done quite a bit of research, and Warren's name is the one that comes up time and again. It seems the amount of underhanded politicking he and our father partook in was enormous.”

Simon broke off suddenly and Rhys saw the deep and abiding pain that briefly darkened his friend's eyes. As excruciating as this situation was for Rhys, it was equally difficult for Simon. He'd been drowning in disappointing truths about the man who raised him for weeks now.

Rhys tilted his head. “Simon, I realize how distressing this is for you,” he said softly, wondering at how odd these words of true comfort felt on his tongue. He had said such things so infrequently, even when they were warranted. “I'm so very sorry.”

Simon laughed softly. “We both are, my friend. Our father was so revered for his goodness, but the more I learn, the more I realize he had none in him. And now his lies and treacheries are being visited upon us, his children.”

Rhys nodded solemnly, and the two men were silent for a moment as they each pondered that fact and its consequences.

Finally Simon shook his head and continued, “At any rate, I believe Warren might be involved in the blackmail. When I delved deeper I discovered he knew the solicitor who held the paperwork about
you. Warren had some hand in ‘finding' him when the old solicitor died. But it turns out that the new man had no
real
relation to the original. It was all a fraud, meant to gain access to the paperwork being held in his office, and not just the papers regarding our father.”

“Damn,” Rhys growled as he paced to the window. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It sounds like this man is quite the villain indeed. But why do you think he allowed us so much time before moving forward with the blackmail?”

“A few years ago, Warren was accused of involvement in some kind of intrigue. There were whispers that he was a traitor to the Crown.” Simon frowned. “Warren's arrest was called for and the man bolted from the country. But about a month later, my father's records show he began sending a large monthly payment to an unnamed account on the Continent. It's possible Warren was already blackmailing him. But once he heard the late duke had died and his son had come to the solicitor who held the keys to it all…”

Rhys faced his brother. “He thought perhaps he could get more from two live dukes than one dead one. And he decided to take the risk to come here and face us.”

Simon nodded, his face grim. “I believe that's why
there was such a long time between the initial letter and when Warren plans to meet with us. Partly it's a game of cat and mouse meant to drive the anxiety we feel to a peak so that we're primed to do whatever he asks when he arrives. But I think part of it may have to do with the time it takes to smuggle oneself into the country when one is a wanted fugitive.”

“It makes sense,” Rhys said, that sick feeling in his belly growing. “But having an idea who the villain behind this situation could be changes nothing. If it
is
Warren who arrives on our doorstep demanding something for his silence, our choices remain the same. We can either pay him and risk exposure, ruin, and a future filled with ever-increasing demands and threats…or we can allow this information to come out in our own way.”

Simon was silent for a long time. He sank into the chair behind his desk and steepled his fingers.

“Then you might reveal this information yourself?”

Rhys looked at his friend. The question had been asked in a calm tone, but he saw the worry in Simon's eyes. In that moment, he had a sudden realization. He had spent all the time since he found out the truth ruminating on the effect revealing what he knew would have on his own life and that of his family.

He had never once considered Simon and the rest
of Simon's family. Now he moved toward his friend with a shake of his head.

“The consequences to you…” he began, his voice breaking a second time.

Simon's expression softened. “You've just thought of them, eh?”

Rhys rubbed his eyes. “It seems I am as selfish as my true father was.”

Simon got to his feet. “
That
is not true. Our father would have fully recognized how deeply he was going to hurt others, only he wouldn't have cared. Perhaps he would have even taken pleasure in knowing he could do so without consequence. Rhys, you may be many things, but I know you'd never hurt me on purpose. Even at your worst, you weren't that cruel.”

Rhys sagged as he leaned on Simon's desk. His friend sounded so certain, but Rhys didn't know anymore. Not about anything, even himself.

“This limits our options,” Rhys began. “If you think the truth shouldn't come out—”

“I never said the truth shouldn't come out,” Simon interrupted.

Rhys drew back in surprise. “But it will taint your family name as much as it will mine.”

Simon shrugged, though Rhys could see he felt none of the nonchalance such an action implied.
“My father has done things that one day I'll share but are currently too
raw
for me to discuss. And I'm not opposed to telling the world the truth about his character, especially if it would protect you from greater pain. But I
do
think we shouldn't be hasty in this, Rhys. We aren't completely certain it is Warren who is behind this. I think we should obtain all the information before we decide what to do.”

“You're correct, of course,” Rhys said softly. “And I appreciate your willingness to sacrifice yourself for me if it comes to that. I'm not sure I deserve the consideration.”

Simon came around the desk slowly. He looked at Rhys, and although his friend knew the truth, there was nothing different in his stare. Except that perhaps there was a greater connection between them now. One of family, not just friendship.

“Rhys,
long
before I discovered you were related to me by blood, you were my brother.”

Rhys caught his breath, stunned once more by the kindness he had found in this man. “Thank you for that. And for standing beside me, even at my worst.”

Simon smiled as he clapped a hand on Rhys's shoulder. “You know, I think Anne would do that, too.”

Rhys moved away from the comforting touch of his brother. He hated that they had come full circle to his wife. He didn't want to hold out hope for a
future with her. He didn't deserve it and he couldn't hope for it with so much uncertainty.

“I know she would,” he said softly. “And
that
is why I must let her go.”

 

Anne sat on the comfortable settee that faced the crackling fire, which pushed away the damp coolness the storm had brought outside. Lillian had a chair to her left, and the two women fidgeted in utter silence as the clock ticked loudly on the mantel.
Click, click, click
echoed in Anne's head until she wanted to scream.

Suddenly Lillian pushed to her feet. “Whiskey?” she asked.

Anne stared, but found herself bursting out, “Great God, yes.”

The other woman laughed as she crossed the room, and suddenly the tension that had coursed between them since Rhys and Simon's departure melted away. When Anne took the drink her friend offered, she smiled, and it was a true expression no longer tightened by anxiety.

Lillian retook her place. Once the other woman was settled, Anne looked at her closely.

“May I ask you a question?”

Lillian took a sip of her drink before she nodded. “Of course. I hope we'll one day be as close as our
husbands are. I've always believed true friends can speak of anything to each other.”

Warmth filled Anne at the idea that she and Lillian would one day be as close as sisters, but could that ever be true? If Rhys succeeded in ending their marriage, she had no doubt Simon and Lillian would keep a stronger friendship with him than with her. It was simply inevitable. The very thought had her downing half her drink in one heated gulp, but she steeled herself and continued.

“You know this
thing
…this truth that torments Rhys, don't you?”

Lillian choked on her most recent sip of whiskey, coughing as she searched for a handkerchief in her pelisse pocket. Finally she regained her composure and dabbed her lips.

“I didn't expect you to be so direct,” she said, though there was no censure or upset in her stare. Actually Lillian's frank gaze seemed to hold even more respect for Anne.

“Well, I can be direct when the situation warrants it,” Anne said, setting her drink aside and leaning back to look evenly at Lillian. “And this is the most dire set of circumstances I've ever faced. If I don't ask the questions that plague me, I'll surely regret it later.”

Lillian nodded slowly. “I'm far too familiar with the concept of regret, so I understand.”

Anne wrinkled her brow. She could hardly picture Lillian as a person who harbored such feelings, but she put that aside as she asked, “Then will you answer me?”

There was a brief hesitation before Lillian nodded a second time. “Yes, Anne. I do know the truth, but I don't feel comfortable being the one to reveal it to you. As much as I believe you deserve to know, it isn't my place.”

Anne rested her head against the soft chair cushion with a sigh. Of course Lillian wouldn't tell her what was really happening. Like Simon, she wished to protect Rhys's privacy…even from his own wife.

“I'm sorry,” Lillian offered softly.

“You shouldn't be the one who is sorry,” Anne responded as she finished her drink and held out her glass for another. “You're perfectly correct that it's my husband who should tell me the truth, though he seems determined not to do so.”

Lillian was silent as she poured liquor into Anne's tumbler. It wasn't until she set the decanter aside that she asked, “Does it anger you that I know the truth and you don't?”

Anne pondered the question. Finally she shook her head slowly.

“
Anger
isn't the proper word for what I feel, I don't think. I
am
frustrated because it seems every
one is aware of what has caused all this pain and upset except for me. But my life is just as affected as anyone's…in fact, more than anyone else's will be, especially if Rhys goes through with his plans to abandon our marriage.”

Lillian leaned toward her with a horrified gasp. “Abandon your marriage? You cannot be serious.”

“I'm afraid I'm very serious,” Anne said softly, though she kept her gaze from Lillian's as embarrassed heat flooded her cheeks. This was the second time she'd revealed her humiliating future to someone today, and each time it seemed to grow more difficult. How would she ever face the public if Rhys truly did leave her?

“He is an idiot,” Lillian said with a shake of her head.

Anne shrugged. “Well, I thank you for that.”

“And you've told him you don't wish for this?” Lillian stared at her.

“It seems my feelings on the subject mean very little to him,” Anne said with a deeper blush. “Even his own heart seems to have no bearing on his decision. When we were in the countryside, I saw him changing as a person. Perhaps it was only wishful thinking, but I believe we bonded closer than ever before. I thought there might be a chance for us after all. But now that we've returned to London, he pulls
away again. He's already separating from me, and I have no idea of how to bring him back.”

Lillian moved closer, taking a place on the settee beside her. Her arm came around Anne and she hugged her gently.

“Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry. I had no idea the situation was so grim. I cannot imagine your pain.”

Anne rested her head on Lillian's shoulder briefly, allowing herself to be comforted, though it wasn't Lillian's comfort or even Mally's that she desired. It was Rhys who she wished for.

But those wishes weren't to be, it seemed.

“I'm certain you cannot imagine what I am enduring,” she said, straightening up from Lillian's embrace after a moment and turning slightly to face her. “Simon loves you. Even if I didn't know him so well, even if he didn't say it, one can see it from the glow within him. Every time he speaks your name, it's like a candle has been lit inside him. I envy you both for how easy your love seems to come to you.”

Lillian dipped her chin with a happy blush, but when her gaze came up it was troubled and serious. “I'm very lucky in that, Anne, but the ease you see now hasn't always existed. I sometimes haven't deserved his love. I even tried to push it away, just as Rhys pushes at yours.”

Anne tilted her head, not understanding. She'd
known Lillian was a little hesitant in the weeks leading up to their wedding, but she never would have guessed the other woman was actively trying to avoid a connection with the man she so clearly loved.

“But, my dear,” Lillian continued, taking both of Anne's hands. “I'm so very lucky that Simon fought for my love, regardless of what I said, or even what I did. He fought for
me
because he loved me, just as you love Rhys.”