The Unclaimed Duchess (22 page)

“Excuse me!” a man's voice called out from the crowd.

Rhys turned toward it and was surprised when his mother came forward with a man at her side. The gentleman was of an age with her, with graying hair but a handsome, friendly face. As for his mother, her face was splotched with humiliated color as she looked first at Rhys and then the stranger who was her companion.

“I am a physician,” the man explained. “May I examine this person?”

Rhys blinked. What the hell was going on here? But the crowd leaned forward, almost as if they were watching a play on the stage. Here was a new character on scene, forget the fact that someone in trade like a doctor shouldn't even be at this glittering social event. They didn't care about that, they only wanted to see how it all played out.

The Earl of Rythsdale stared at this apparently uninvited guest, but then looked at the crowd. It seemed he saw the same scene that Rhys did, for he nodded. “Please do.”

The men holding Warren exchanged puzzled looks, but didn't dare protest when this person, this doctor Rhys's mother apparently knew, approached Warren. The stranger looked him up and down, ignoring the other man's struggles as he pulled down his lids to
look at his eyes and examined his sallow skin. Finally he shook his head slowly.

“Poor man, he seems to be utterly mad. He may not even know who he is or where he is. You would do best to take him to an asylum rather than a prison, gentlemen.”

Rhys's eyes widened as he looked at the crowd. The remaining doubts of all those around them suddenly faded as people began to nod and the talk began again.

“Of course it's madness,” a gentleman said, looking over the people in his group.

Another nodded. “He is a traitor, after all, he couldn't be right. And if he is mad as well, then…”

“How unfortunate that Rythsdale's party was ruined by such a person,” a countess whose name Rhys couldn't remember said with a theatrical sigh.

The lead officer shook his head in confusion and then looked at Warren with new wariness.

“Well, perhaps you are correct,” he said.

“Correct?” Warren spat as he began to struggle wildly. “What the hell are you talking about? I'm perfectly sane! Everything I said is true.”

He was dragged from the room with every word, and finally the sounds were only echoes, and then the echoes faded.

A panicky Rythsdale waved to the orchestra wildly. After a few moments of shuffling, they began to play. Slowly the crowd fell back into its regular rhythm. Rythsdale turned to Rhys and Simon with a shrug.

“Bad luck that madman turning up here. I apologize for his outburst.”

Rhys's eyes widened. Here he and Simon had arranged all this, but it had been believable enough that Rythsdale was apologizing to
them
!

“Well, I suppose you might have better security in the future,” Rhys snapped, hoping this was the last time he would ever have to use the superior tone he had once reveled in and now reviled.

Rythsdale nodded and excused himself. Rhys turned toward Simon, but he was already across the room with Lillian. He looked around, but Anne wasn't with them. Hadn't she seen? Where was she?

But before he could look for her, he turned to find his mother standing close by. She smiled at him, but didn't speak before a few of her oldest friends approached.

“How
dare
that person speak of you in such a fashion?” one of the ladies huffed.

“Really!” his mother agreed as she met his gaze. “Goodness, he must have just randomly chosen me from the crowd. Why, it could have been any one of us he said those horrible things about.”

That seemed to set the gathered women into a flutter and they all began talking at once in hushed and rather excited terms about the drama that had just unfolded. But from their smiles toward him as he backed away, Rhys could see not one of them had even an inkling that Warren had told the truth. Between his own denial and the mysterious diagnosis of madness from a man who shouldn't have even been in their midst, the situation was defused. It was over.

“Hello.”

Rhys turned to find Anne standing at his side. She smiled up at him, but he saw raw emotions in her eyes.

“I want to take you away from here,” he whispered.

She nodded. “And I want to go with you. But not yet. We must stay awhile longer in order to maintain appearances. But we have much to discuss.”

“We do,” Rhys said as he looked down at her. A swell of powerful love overtook him. “There is much for us to talk about indeed.”

W
hen Rhys said he wanted to go home with Anne and talk, he hadn't pictured that he would soon be standing in his parlor with Simon, Lillian, his mother, and the mysterious doctor who had been his savior. But here they were, and until he dealt with all of them, there would be no private reunion with Anne. There would be no explanations and declarations that burned within him as he stared at his wife, so far away across the room.

She blushed as she turned her face from his and covered her reaction by saying, “Now that we are all gathered here, perhaps someone could explain to me what happened tonight?”

Rhys stepped forward and slowly stared at the doctor who had come forth and offered him a final salvation. “As much as I appreciate this man's statements at the ball, I'm not certain I feel comfortable
speaking on this topic with someone who is a stranger to our family.”

The older gentleman smiled, but it was his mother who spoke. “He may not be known to you, but he is no stranger to me. Rhys, this is Dr. Graham Langrish. He is a—” She stopped and sent a side glance toward the other man. “He is a dear
friend
of mine. When I mentioned I knew someone who might be able to help, this was who I meant.”

Rhys stared at the two, now standing together. Slowly his mother slipped her hand into the crook of Dr. Langrish's arm. The stranger covered her fingers briefly in an unmistakable gesture of affectionate comfort.

It was Anne who moved closer.

“Oh,” she said softly as she looked at the couple. “Oh.”

“Yes, my dear,” his mother responded with a girlish blush. “
Oh
. And the doctor knows the particulars of our situation already. I didn't think it fair to deny him that truth when he might be affected by it himself in the future.”

Rhys hadn't stopped staring at the apparent couple who stood before him. He had never once pictured that his mother would involve herself with a man again, and certainly not one of no rank. But here she stood, a light in her eyes that he had never seen before.

And this man had saved him, perhaps
because
he loved Rhys's mother. So Rhys pushed his lingering snobbery regarding rank and bloodline away and slowly extended a hand to Dr. Langrish.

“Sir,” he said stiffly.

Langrish's handshake was firm and brief. “Your Grace. Anything I know stays with me to the grave. I hope you'll soon see that I only have your mother's best interest at heart. I'd never do anything that could cause her pain.”

Rhys nodded, discomfort making him shift ever so slightly. But didn't his mother deserve love? She'd spent a lifetime longing for it but never having it returned by her husband. That desperation had driven her to do things she most certainly regretted. But now, with this new man, she appeared…content. And that was enough for Rhys.

“I hope I'll soon know you better,” Rhys said quietly. “And I thank you for the part you played tonight. Without your statement that Warren was mad, I fear many at the gathering would have given more credence to what he said about me and my family. Your performance during what transpired defused much of the gossip.”

The doctor shrugged. “I don't think what I said was so very far from the truth. There
was
a certain madness in Warren's eyes, caused by whatever twisted
evil made him what he was. But I think it was also created by ill health and fear. An asylum may be the best place for him. If you'll help me find out where he was taken, I'll visit him later and see if I can be of some assistance. And also make every effort to determine where he hid the proof he claimed to possess so that you or your brother can obtain and destroy it.”

Rhys almost sagged in relief. That was the last piece of this puzzle, and if it could be found, he thought he could put the matter to rest.

He nodded. “I would appreciate that greatly, Doctor. When Simon and I met with him earlier, he mentioned he had a sister who he greatly wished to see again. Perhaps if she could be found, it would ease his anger and his struggle.”

Anne sucked in a breath, and Rhys turned to find her staring in disbelief at him.

“You—you would offer solace to a man who tried to destroy you tonight?” she whispered.

He nodded slowly. It seemed odd, but what she said was true.

“He didn't succeed,” he explained. “And Simon's father—” He stopped and glanced at his friend. “
Our
father did terrible things to him in the years since he left England. Perhaps everyone deserves some comfort, some kind of second chance.” He returned his
gaze to Anne. “I have to hope we can
all
change and perhaps find acceptance again.”

Without reply, she dipped her head.

Lillian slipped her hand into Simon's. “Do you think it's over, then?”

Simon looked first to his wife with a reassuring smile and then to Rhys. “I don't know. We know my father had more bastard children who are out in the world, and perhaps even other solicitors who made devil's bargains with their incriminating information. But all we can do is hope to handle whatever comes our way, and not live in fear.”

Rhys nodded. “Someone very wise once told me that fighting was sometimes the best option. And if anyone threatens this family again, we
will
fight. I know now that it is very much worth the battle.”

Simon reached out and the two men clasped hands briefly before he sighed. “Now it is late and I think we should talk more about this tomorrow. Dr. Langrish, I thank you again for what you did for my family. And Lady Waverly, you were most excellent tonight in how you handled the situation, despite how difficult it must have been for you.”

“I was happy to help after all these years of silence and guilt.” The dowager duchess smiled. “You've been through a great deal, Simon, but I'm glad you have such a bride to help you.”

Simon smiled as he took Lillian's hand. They said their final farewells and departed, followed by the doctor. When they were gone, Rhys looked at his mother.

“Are you happy?” he asked.

She hesitated only a moment before her face lit up. “I am, Rhys.” She looked at Anne. “I hope you shall be, as well. Good night to you both.”

Then she slipped from the room and quietly closed the door behind her. Rhys turned to face his wife, painfully aware that two very happy couples had left this chamber, entirely certain of their love and their futures. But he wasn't. And now he had to face that, this final challenge of his wife, who stood stone-still in the middle of the room, watching him. And what terrified him most was that her normally open face was now utterly unreadable.

 

Anne stared at Rhys. They had been alone so often in the past few weeks, but tonight it felt awkward.
She
felt awkward and utterly uncertain of what to do next. Her only comfort was that the situation seemed to be equally difficult for her husband, for he shifted from one foot to the next like a green schoolboy who wasn't sure how to say hello to a girl who caught his eye.

She eased toward him one step, unwilling to
move closer for fear she would launch herself into his arms. And until she understood what had happened, what his thoughts were, she refused to do that. Not again.

“I thought you had decided to end this situation quite differently,” she whispered.

He nodded. “I had.”

“When Warren came out of the room bound and led by officers of the Crown, I could scarcely breathe,” she continued. “And you denied him so forcefully. Even before Dr. Langrish said Warren was mad, there were many around me whispering it couldn't be true. That only a true descendant of the late Duke of Waverly could conduct himself as you do.”

Rhys drew in a breath and shook his head. “I suppose if there is but one benefit to the terrible way I behaved in the past, it is this. But I hated doing it. I hated speaking that way, acting that way. Somehow it's no longer second nature to me. Thanks to you.”

“Thanks to me?” Anne laughed, humorless as she shook her head. “I have had no effect on you whatsoever, my lord.”

“Is that what you think?” Rhys asked, and now he crossed the room to her, the green boy gone, the man she loved so desperately returned. “Why do you think I changed my mind about revealing my parentage to
that room tonight? Why do you think I took the risk to deny Warren's charges in that public place?”

Anne swallowed, drawn in by how close he now was. By how much passion snapped in his dark eyes. “I don't know, Rhys.”

He caught her hands and drew them to his chest, forcing her to step forward as he did so. She felt his heart beating against her palms, a strong, wild rhythm that spoke of his continued anxiety.

“Because of
you
, Anne,” he whispered.

“Me?” she breathed, hardly able to hear her own voice over the sudden rush of blood through her veins.

He nodded. “I was ready to throw away my life, but then you walked away from me two nights ago. In that moment, I realized fully what it would mean if I declared myself a bastard and surrendered to the scandal that would surely follow.”

Anne blinked, hardly able to comprehend this confession. “I don't understand.”

“I could have lived with being denied in public. I think I could have survived the hatred, the crowing, and endured the whispers,” he explained, maneuvering her closer with each word until his arms were around her back, cradling her to his chest. “But when I fully felt the power of losing
you
, I realized I would do
anything
to prevent that.”

Anne's lips parted in complete shock. She had spent a lifetime being denied by this man. Even when they were at their closest, he'd never surrendered himself completely. But now he was saying…he was telling her…

“You told me a few nights ago that I didn't deserve you,” he said.

She cringed as she recalled all the things she'd said that night. Her anger had overflowed, words she had held in for years had bubbled forth.

“Don't look so guilty,” he soothed, smoothing his hands along her spine. “You were absolutely correct. I
don't
deserve you. I've been arrogant and wrong my entire life. Only when you forced yourself into my veins did I see how very wrong I was. And only when you told me you would leave me before I could destroy us did I realize how much I loved you.”

Anne couldn't help it. A sobbing gasp escaped her lips. She could scarcely breathe as she stared up at Rhys. He didn't seem to be in jest, or compromised in some way that he would say something he didn't mean.

“You love me?” she repeated, fighting to control her tone. “After all this time, after everything we've endured, you're now telling me you love me?”

He nodded, utterly solemn and completely without hesitation. “I do, in so many ways. I love your spirit,
I love the strength I've seen you exhibit over the past few weeks. I love your kindness and your ability to teach me something new about myself with just a look. I love
you
, Anne, with everything I am and everything I hope to become. Everything you once believed I could be.”

Now her tears flowed freely. She couldn't have stopped them for anything in the world, nor did she wish to. Finally, after all the waiting and wanting and hoping, she was receiving the one thing she had ever desired.

“If you'll allow me,” he continued softly, “I'd like to try to earn the love you once felt for me. Perhaps, in time, you'll come to feel even a shadow of it again.”

The joy that rushed through Anne was something unlike anything she'd ever felt before. The heady feeling overtook her, and she knew that in that moment she could fly if Rhys asked her to do so.

Instead she carefully slipped from Rhys's warm embrace. Slowly she wiped her eyes before she looked at him with a small smile.

“Oh, Rhys, you don't know how like me you sound right now, hoping for the love of your mate. And thinking that somehow time can change things.”

Rhys swallowed hard. “You think it cannot, then?”

“When it comes to some things, yes,” she said, but then she shook her head. “But not when it comes to me.”

The blood drained from Rhys's face and his knees buckled before he caught himself and straightened up. Anne was shocked to see the sparkle of tears in his eyes, the utter disappointment that lined his face.

“Then I've lost you,” he whispered, his voice thick. “You don't think there is any way I could ever change your heart?”

She moved toward him. “No, Rhys. Because I have
never
stopped loving you. In fact, in the weeks since we were wed, no matter how trying they were, no matter how angry I was, I've grown to love you more with every passing day.”

A sharp exhalation of breath escaped Rhys's lips as he stared at her.

“Y-you love me still?” he choked, moving toward her in a few long steps. But he didn't touch her.

And she realized why. Like her, he was in awe of the feelings she declared. In awe of the idea that they could love each other, without barriers, without exception, for the rest of their lives.

“Of course,” she whispered as she touched his cheek. “I will
always
love you.”

He caught her arms and pulled her close, and then his mouth was on her with a fiery possessiveness that
was like nothing she had ever experienced before. She clung to his neck and lifted to her tiptoes to meet his crushing kiss. And she didn't resist as he pushed her back to the closest settee and laid her down across it, then covered her with his heavy, heavenly weight.

He pulled back. “I've never claimed you as my wife.”

She blinked up at him. “You have. We consummated our union.”

“No.” He cupped her cheeks gently. “I have never
claimed
you, not like I wanted to.”