Too Scandalous to Wed (22 page)

H
enrietta had a terrible habit of sneaking off without telling anybody, but she was at her wit’s end. A visit with her dearest chum was the perfect respite. The duke and duchess had been invited to the wedding, but the couple weren’t scheduled to arrive for another day or so. Henrietta couldn’t wait that long to confide in her best friend, so she’d slipped out of the house with nary a thought for the turmoil she might cause. She had left behind a note, though. She wasn’t alone, either. Her maid was with her, so there was no reason for anyone at the house to worry about her. Henrietta had every intention of returning home in time for the wedding. She wasn’t going to disgrace her family by running away. She just wanted to be with a friend.

“There it is, Miss Ashby,” said Jenny. “The castle!”

It was night. Henrietta peered at the castle through the frosty sleigh glass. It was a very dark structure, constructed of stone. Ancient, too. Spire rooftops capped the round towers flanking the castle gates.
But despite the look of an imposing edifice, there was a warm glow coming from the keep’s windows. The fiery glow of candlelight. A welcoming glow. And Henrietta was suddenly anxious to be inside the keep. To be with her dearest chum. To shed the misery inside her soul. She wanted to shake the darkness that had come over her heart after yesterday’s tiff with Sebastian. But she was having a deuced hard time of it. The viscount’s words haunted her still:

I won’t go back to the club, I promise.

Henrietta closed her eyes at the pang in her breast. A shame the offer was nothing but a falsehood. A capricious man like Sebastian could never change and commit to marriage. He’d be overwhelmed by ennui within months of the ceremony, perhaps even weeks. And Henrietta wasn’t about to let him break her heart again.

And what the devil was the matter with the man anyway? she wondered. Why was he so insistent that they have a real marriage? He didn’t need her to slake his lust. All he had to do was visit that vile club of his and fornicate with a “nun” if he needed to satisfy his carnal desire. Why couldn’t he just let her be?

The sleigh came to a stop before the pompous main doors.

A footman appeared to assist Henrietta and her maid from the sleigh. He attended to the luggage, too, as Henrietta whisked inside the drafty main hall.

The butler appeared. “Good evening, miss.”

Henrietta presented him with a calling card. “Miss Henrietta Ashby to see the Duchess of Wembury.”

With a brisk nod, the butler disappeared again.

Henrietta tugged at her gloves, divesting herself of the soft leather. All the while she perused the mighty entranceway, noting some rather vile-looking gargoyles perched high above her head. But scaffolds filled the grand arena, indicative of a restoration.

As Henrietta took in the keep’s gothic atmosphere, hasty footsteps pattered toward her.

She turned around and beamed. “Belle!”

Mirabelle rushed into her arms. “Henry!”

With a spirited laugh, the young ladies warmly embraced. Oh, it was such a joy to be with her chum again! Five months had passed since the masquerade ball. A dreadfully long time. There was so much to catch up on.

“You look well, Belle.”

Henrietta spied her chum’s regal attire. A faint butter yellow frock woven from the finest wool.

Mirabelle looked dashing in her accouterments, the dress matching the rich golden threads of her long and wavy hair. She looked happy, too. It burned in her amber eyes, the joy.

A joy Henrietta had lost.

“Henry, what are you doing here?”

Henrietta divested herself of her cape. “I’m sorry, Belle. It was very hasty of me, I know. Am I intruding?”

“
You
, my dear, are always welcome.”

Henrietta smiled. “Thank you, Belle. I just had to see you.”

Another tight squeeze of a hug. “Is something the matter, Henry? You’re going to be married in two days! I’m all set to visit
you
. Why are you here?”

Henrietta bit back her sorrow. “I just had to see you, Belle.”

“Come here, luv.” She folded her arm around Henrietta’s waist. “I’ll show you to a room.”

A few minutes later, Henrietta was snug and warm in a spacious guest bedroom. Her maid was sound asleep in the servants’ quarters, and the Duchess of Wembury was pouring her unexpected visitor a hot cup of tea.

“Here you are, Henry.”

“Thank you, Belle.”

With a cup of warm tea in her hand, a sympathetic friend in the room, and a soft divan behind her, Henrietta was feeling very much at ease.

“So what’s it like living in a castle,
Your Grace
?”

Mirabelle snorted. “There’s so much to do here, Henry.” She snuggled next to her chum on the divan. “For instance, I have to sit with the housekeeper every morning to go over the day’s meals. I mean, right down to how many peas I want on each plate! It’s all such a bloody bother.”

Henrietta smiled. Her chum was exaggerating, but Henrietta could commiserate with the woman’s newfound responsibility. Mirabelle had not been
reared to govern a household like other young ladies of the peerage. A merchant’s daughter, she had lived a simple life before she’d met the Duke of Wembury.

And speaking of whom…

“How did you snag a
duke
, Belle?”

“With my womanly grace and charm.”

Mirabelle’s husky laughter was infectious. An orphan with
four
seafaring brothers looking after her, she wasn’t one for womanly grace and charm. In truth, her boyish tendencies matched Henrietta’s—making them the best of friends.

“Really, Henry, I didn’t know Damian was a duke when I first met him. I thought he was a navigator.”

“A navigator?”

She nodded. “He was serving aboard my brother’s ship.”

“And what were
you
doing aboard your brother’s ship?”

Mirabelle grinned. “I’d stowed away.”

Henrietta balked. “But why, Belle?”

“I wanted to be a sailor.”

Henrietta sipped her tea in bewilderment. “And the duke? Did he want to be a tar, too?”

“No, Damian was stranded in America with no credentials. He needed to disguise himself as a navigator to get back home to England.”

“And you fell in love with the man?”

Another snort. “The bounder stole my heart.”

At the thought of a certain bounder stealing and
then breaking
her
heart, Henrietta’s breast smarted.

“Now, Henry, why are you here? Is something the matter?”

Henrietta tried to keep her composure, but Mirabelle’s soothing voice and comforting company had her blurting out, “Oh, Belle, I’ve made a terrible blunder!”

Startled, Mirabelle set down the cup and saucer. “Tell me, Henry. What’s wrong?”

Henrietta sniffed. “It’s Ravenswood.”

“Yes, I see you finally did something scandalous to get the viscount’s attention. He’s asked you to marry him. I’m so happy for you, Henry. I know you’ve loved Ravenswood for years.”

Henrietta’s teacup rattled in her hands. “That’s just it, Belle. I don’t love him, not anymore. I don’t think I ever really did.”

“What do you mean, Henry?”

“I was smitten with Ravenswood, but I never truly loved him. How could I? I didn’t even know the man, not really.”

Mirabelle took the china from Henrietta’s shaky grip and put it aside. She clasped Henrietta by the hand. “What’s happened, Henry?”

“Ravenswood’s a rogue!”

A snort. “The duke was once a rogue, too. I think he still is at times. What has
that
to do with anything?”

But Henrietta didn’t want to dampen her friend’s spirit with the belief that once a rogue, always a
rogue. And since Mirabelle had married the duke of all rogues, it just didn’t seem appropriate.

“Ravenswood and I don’t suit.” Henrietta battled with tears. “I don’t trust the man. I don’t even like the man anymore. And now I have to marry him because I wrote this silly letter and…”

“Hush.” Mirabelle stroked her hand. “It’s all right, Henry.”

Softly, she said, “It will never be all right, Belle. I’m doomed to marry a man I don’t love.”

Mirabelle bit her bottom lip. “Henry, I’m so sorry. Are you sure you cannot make a go of the marriage?”

“Very sure, Belle. Ravenswood, he’s…he’s not the man I thought he was. And I don’t have the courage to trust him, to sacrifice my heart to him the way you sacrificed your dream of seafaring to live on land with the duke.”

The duchess shrugged. “It wasn’t really a sacrifice, Henry.”

“What do you mean?”

“I love Damian more than the sea.”

At another sharp twinge in her breast, Henrietta said, “How do you know when you’re in love, Belle?”

The duchess sighed. “Well, I suppose it’s all a matter of fear.”

Henrietta wrinkled her brow. “Fear? What do you mean?”

“Well, I wasn’t always so sure I’d be happy with
the duke. In truth, I was very sure I’d be
un
happy with him. But I was just afraid of getting my heart broken.”

Henrietta could understand that. “What changed your mind?”

“I almost lost Damian,” she said quietly.

“How?”

“He was injured in a fight. Very nearly died.” The duchess smoothed her skirt. “I quickly realized I would rather risk my heart being broken than live without the duke.”

“But he didn’t break your heart, did he, Belle?”

“No, he didn’t.” She smiled. “And I’m very glad I took the risk.”

There was a terrible ache in Henrietta’s belly. She had risked it all, too, to be with Sebastian: her reputation, her heart. And it had turned out miserably. She just couldn’t risk it all again.

“I’m very happy for you, Belle.” And she was. She was just devastated
her
happy ending had turned out to be such a nightmare. “You’re the best person I know, and you deserve all the contentment in the world.”

Mirabelle’s face fell.

“What’s the matter, Belle?”

The duchess sat up and twisted her fingers in her lap. “Oh, Henry, I’ve lied to you!”

Henrietta blinked. “What?”

“I don’t want us to have any secrets. I have to tell you the truth, even if you hate me forever.”

Alarmed, Henrietta sat up, too. “What is it, Belle?”

“I’m not the best person you’ve ever known.”

“Belle—”

“Really, Henry, I’m not.” Restless, the duchess abandoned the divan and started to pace before the great hearth. “I’m not a merchant’s daughter, either.”

Henrietta quirked a brow. “You’re not?”

She paused. “No, I’m a…pirate’s daughter.”

Henrietta eyed her chum with scrutiny. “Be serious, Belle.”

Mirabelle wasn’t smiling, though. “I am, Henry.”

Henrietta swallowed. “Good heavens, Belle, you
are
telling the truth!”

Mirabelle nodded. “And I wanted to be a pirate, just like my father…and my brothers. That’s why I stowed away, to prove to the stubborn brood I could be a good buccaneer.” She bunched her fingers. “Do you hate me, Henry?”

Bowled over, Henrietta gawked at her comrade. “Hate you? No. I could never hate you.”

“Really, Henry?” Mirabelle rushed back to the divan and took her by the hand. “You don’t think ill of me?”

“I could never think ill of you, gel. You rescued me from a tree, remember? I’m forever in your debt. I’m just stunned, is all.”

And she was. Good God, Mirabelle was a pirate! And here Henrietta had thought she’d lived the sim
ple life of a merchant’s daughter. What rot! Mirabelle had sailed the high seas and plundered for treasure. It was scandalous…It was something Henrietta would have done.

“So what’s the best treasure you ever found, Belle?”

She grinned. “My husband.”

A loud scuffle erupted somewhere in the castle just then.

Henrietta looked at the door. “What the devil?”

Mirabelle sighed. “Just ignore them.”

“Them?”

“My brothers.”

Henrietta perked up. “Oh, will I finally get to meet the Hawkins brood?”

“Are you sure you want the pleasure?” she said dryly.

Henrietta quirked a brow. “Do your brothers live here, too?”

Mirabelle snorted. “No. But they refuse to go home until they’re
sure
I’m happy.”

“But you are happy, Belle.”

“Unfortunately, they don’t think Damian is such a treasure.”

Henrietta scrunched her brow. “Why, Belle?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “They’re just being overprotective.”

Henrietta didn’t blame the brood. According to Sebastian, the Duke of Wembury was once dubbed the “Duke of Rogues.” Not a very valiant title, that.

“They don’t think the duke is worthy of you?” said Henrietta.

“They don’t think
any
one is worthy of me. They’re always up to something or other to make the duke’s life difficult.”

Henrietta lifted a brow. “You don’t seem alarmed by their attempts at sabotage.”

“Oh, this marriage will last forever,” she said with confidence. “I’d shoot my brothers otherwise. They know it, too. They’re just being stubborn. But they’re going to have to get used to the duke being my husband.” Mirabelle patted her belly. “Right quick at that.”

Henrietta noticed the little bump then. “Why, Belle!”

But Henrietta wasn’t all that giddy. Deep down, thoughts of motherhood beset her. Her own experience with motherhood, that was. She might be enceinte, too. And what hurt the most was the idea of denying Ravenswood his child.

You would deny me my own child!
he had cried.

Henrietta hated to do such an unseemly thing. But what other choice did she have? If she was enceinte, she had to protect the babe from Ravenswood’s villainy. She had to protect herself, too.

A knock at the door.

“Wait here a minute, Henry.”

Mirabelle headed for the door and opened it.

In stepped a formidable figure, eyes steel blue and locks dark like a midnight sky.

The “Duke of Rogues.”

And he looked…smitten.

“There you are, Belle,” he said in a raspy voice.

He lifted his hand to her hair and cupped the back of her neck in a gentle caress. He kissed her then. A deep yet tender kiss.