Regency Society Collection Part 2. Ann Lethbridge

of him. ‘If Viscount Lullington deliberately implicated you, there is no guarantee he will back down.’

      Maggie opened her mouth to protest.

      ‘Miss Bracewell is right,’ John said. ‘Lullington would love to spear you with his proverbial rapier. Come home with me and we’ll find a way to sort out the mess. The duke—’

      ‘No,’ Robert said.

      ‘What about Charlie?’ Maggie asked.

      Charlie had been less than charitable the last time they met. He shook his head. ‘Forget about my family.’

      A grating noise had everyone looking up.

      ‘Snively,’ Frederica said. ‘Unbarring the trapdoor. Pippin should be waiting at the end of the drive.’

      John looked startled. ‘Enterprising young lady, I see. Robert, let me offer you refuge until we get this sorted out. Do you think you can find your way to Radthorn Grange? You can stay in the east wing.’

      Another person who believed in his innocence. His best and oldest friend. A man he would trust with his life. Robert let go a breath. ‘All right. I’ll meet you at the gate. Then we can decide on what to do next.’

      ‘Let Pippin go when you are done with him. He’ll find his way home,’ Frederica said. She looked at him for a long moment, moisture glistening in her eyes. ‘I just want you to know, I am not getting married.’

      Amid the tears he saw hope. Yet he could not be swayed by those eyes or that lovely mouth. He could not tie her to a man without honour. He could not let the ache to fill his empty nights be her downfall, no matter how much he desired her. ‘You are safe here,’ he said softly. ‘Get married, have children and be happy.’

      She stared at him as if he’d handed her a death sentence.

      ‘You had better get going,’ John said. ‘Who knows who else might decide to visit you?’ They all knew he meant Lullington.

      Frederica turned away, but the pained expression on her face sliced through his chest like a sword. At that moment he would have much preferred to face the viscount’s blade.

      She was better off without him. He might never clear his name. He’d certainly never be accepted back into society. He forced himself to scramble up the coal heap, holding his breath against the clouds of dust, and pulled himself out into the fresh air.

       Chapter Ten

      Frederica turned back to see his legs disappear through the trapdoor. Tears she hadn’t wanted him to see stung the back of her eyes. Obviously, he couldn’t wait to see her married to Simon. He’d said she belonged here.

      Of course she did. He was a duke’s son. One step from royalty. Far above her touch.

      And all this time she’d thought him no better than herself. One of the lesser mortals. A man within her reach. How he must have laughed behind his hand at the way she’d fallen for his charm.

      The tears threatened to well over again. To hide them, she picked up the three-cornered hat lying at her feet, then rounded on Maggie who was talking in a low voice to Lord Radthorn. ‘You will do as you promised, won’t you?’ Her voice sounded damp.

      Lady Caldwell’s wide eyes darted a glance at Lord Radthorn before she answered, ‘Robert is not the man for you, my dear. He’s a charming rake, but a rake all the same.’

      Radthorn shook his head. ‘But he’s too much of a gentleman to betray you, Maggie. I’m damned if I’ll let you make him an outlaw.’

      Maggie folded in on herself, her shoulders hunching, her hands twisting at her waist, her pretty face looking years older. ‘I already said I would withdraw the charges. But my husband is going to murder me.’

      Radthorn put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Don’t worry, Lull with think of something.’

      Maggie wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. ‘Yes.’ A tremulous smile curved her lips. ‘He usually does.’

      ‘Of course he does,’ Radthorn said cheerfully. He patted her shoulder.

      She smiled up at him ruefully. ‘I never meant for anyone else to be harmed, John. You know that, don’t you?’

      Such endearing sweetness curved her lips, Frederica could see why Robert had loved her. Her heart squeezed pitifully, but she forced a practical smile. ‘That’s it, then. We are d-done here. I’ll lock the d-door. With luck it will be morning before anyone notices he’s gone.’

      Radthorn nodded. ‘Good idea. You need to get back upstairs, Maggie. I’ve no wish for pistols at dawn if Lull finds you missing and comes looking.’

      Maggie laughed and fluttered her lashes, no doubt cheered by the thought of men fighting a duel over her. She took Lord Radthorn’s arm and the two of them walked out of the cellar.

      All’s well that ends well. Not quite. Maggie would be fine. Robert would be fine. And she was betrothed. Hah. In a pig’s eye.

      She dropped the hat on the floor.

      The son of a duke and the Wynchwood Whore’s bastard daughter—he must have thought her such a fool.

      Suddenly, she felt drained. Empty. As hollow as a drum in her chest, and yet there was a hard ball of something else in there making it hard to breath. A sense of loss.

      She didn’t want to think about it or she might start crying in earnest. And never stop. Tears never did the slightest bit of good.

      Frederica left the cell and locked the door behind her. The affair with Robert must be viewed as one of life’s lessons. She would never again give her heart to a handsome man. She had no heart left to give. Robert had taken it with him.

      She marched up the stairs. With Robert rescued, she needed to know what her uncle was about, announcing the betrothal without warning. Did it have something to do with a letter from the London lawyer as Snively had hinted? Perhaps she should find out in case there was more bad news in the offing.

      On silent feet, she stole along the corridor past the drawing room and crept into her uncle’s dark study. If there was a letter from this mysterious lawyer, it would be here.

      She lit a candle. The desk was cluttered with paper. A quick search turned up nothing. She pulled on the right-hand drawer. It was locked. If Uncle kept to old habits.. yes, here was the key in the inkwell. It turned in the lock.

      The drawer was full of papers. She unfolded the one on the top, an official-looking thing with a seal. She almost dropped her light. It was a special wedding licence. Made out for her and Simon, dated the day he left London. She picked up the next sheet of paper. A letter. From the vicar. Agreeing to perform the ceremony—tomorrow. She gulped.

      They couldn’t force her to marry Simon. Could they?

      Did she dare stay and find out?

      Umm. No. She needed to leave. Now. Tonight. And there was only one person she trusted to help her.

      Raindrops ran down the nursery’s diamond window panes. Low-hanging clouds hid Radthorn Grange’s acres from Robert’s view. He swung around at the sound of the door opening.

      ‘Only me,’ John said, tossing a pile of clothes on the cot on which Robert had spent a restless night. ‘Why you insist on wearing these rags is beyond me. I would happily lend you some of mine.’

      ‘Because no one will give me work if I dress like a damned dandy,’ Robert said.

      John winced.

      Robert focused on undoing the buttons of his frilled highwayman shirt to avoid seeing his friend’s embarrassment and softened his tone. ‘Thank you for fetching them. I’ll be off as soon as I’m dressed.’

      ‘You might want