An Heir of Deception (The Elusive Lords) Read online

  Relieved at the progress she’d made, Charlotte pressed on. “In the end, although I cared deeply for Alex, a marriage between us would have been a mistake. But I should not have waited so long to tell him and should have had the courage to tell him to his face. For that I will always be more ashamed and sorry than you can ever imagine.”

  “But how could you leave me? Have you any idea what we—what I—went through these past years without you? Without being able to even write to you? One-sided correspondence might suit your purposes but it didn’t mine.”

  Upon her return to England, Charlotte had planned on telling her sister about the dowager’s letter. But with the woman gone, what good would it serve? Whose good would it serve? Katie had had a difficult enough time in Society.

  “If you only knew how much I regret what I did. But it had to be that way. I knew if I told you of my plans, you would tell James. And if James knew, it was only a matter of time before Alex discovered. That wasn’t a risk I could take.”

  “But even if Alex did discover you had fallen in love with someone else, it would not have been the end of the world. You didn’t have to run away.”

  Charlotte couldn’t very well tell her it would indeed have been the end of the world as they all knew it. Alex would have seen right through her lies and gently coerced the truth from her. Following would have been a Rutherford family scandal that would have sent earthquake-like tremors through the ton, and made their illegitimate birth a trivial matter by comparison. And Alex’s titles would have been tarnished by his association with her. Everyone would have suffered. And then of course there was Nicholas….

  “But why—”

  “Katie darling,” Charlotte implored, taking her sister’s hand in hers. “No more questions on this subject for now. Please.”

  “Forgive me if I assumed as your sister, your twin, I would receive more consideration.”

  “Later, I will explain it all. Why I allowed so much time to pass. Why I didn’t tell you about Peter and Nicholas earlier. I promise I will.” Charlotte gave her sister’s hand a gentle squeeze. “But please, don’t press me on it now.”

  Impatience and exasperation flashed in Katie’s eyes. A sure sign she would continue to press the issue. Surprisingly enough, instead of a relentless push for answers, a welcome silence pervaded the room.

  “From your maid’s accent, I gather you’ve been residing in America?”

  Charlotte gave a brief nod, relieved her sister had opted for a safer topic.

  “James had investigators searching throughout the Continent but I don’t believe he ever thought to look there.” Katie spoke as if to herself. “Have you come to stay?” she then asked, her cerulean eyes anxious and hopeful.

  A heavy sigh escaped Charlotte’s lips. That was a question she had yet to answer herself. She would like nothing better than to remain. The only person she would truly miss if she left America was Lucas, and he traveled to London on business often enough for them to remain in contact.

  “I’m not certain.”

  Katie opened her mouth, and then quickly snapped it shut.

  “Katie, will you tell me about Alex?” Charlotte asked in an abrupt change of topic. The question had festered inside her for too many years. She had to know.

  Her sister’s gaze sharpened just enough for Charlotte to don her mask and exclaim defensively, “What? I may not have married him, but I did care for him deeply. Naturally I care how he fared.”

  After a pause, Katie’s features softened. “Well, to say your leaving hit him hard would be a vast understatement. He was like—well, like I’d never seen him before. Frankly, he turned into a man I never care to see again.”

  A needlelike sting of pain accompanied every beat of Charlotte’s heart upon hearing those words. She’d wanted to know but now she wasn’t certain. But her insatiable need to fill the gaps of those years without him urged her to delve in true masochistic fashion.

  “What did he do?”

  Katie swallowed, momentarily looking down at their joined hands. “The truth isn’t pretty and may be difficult for you to hear. Are you sure you want to know?” she asked, looking Charlotte in the eye.

  Charlotte held a breath and nodded, steeling herself for what was to come.

  After a prolonged sigh, Katie began. “He was already at the church when James told him. He left soon after. Derek described him as catatonic. James was the one to inform the guests the wedding was off. Of course, he was also frantic with worry. We all were.” Katie lowered her gaze as if reliving the pain of that moment. Charlotte gave her hand a comforting squeeze, attempting to convey just how sorry she was to have caused them even a moment of distress.

  “After a day or so, Alex joined James, Thomas, Derek, Mr. Wendell and Lord Bradford in the search.”

  Charlotte briefly closed her eyes. These were the things she’d tried so hard not to think about. Her family, her friends searching for her. Worrying themselves over her. Only the knowledge that she’d saved them from certain social ostracism and grief made the ordeal bearable. And of course, then Nicholas had come, needing her just as much as she’d needed him.

  “Oh, they were all quite discreet about the matter. To this day everyone believes you’re residing somewhere in the north of England. James wanted it so. The gossip surrounding your departure must have kept every printing press running nonstop for well over a year. He had no desire to feed the frenzy by admitting that we had no idea where you were. In any case, when your first letter arrived two weeks later, Alex abandoned the search. I believe it was then he was convinced you had left of your own volition. It probably would have been easier for him if he thought you’d been taken by force.”

  Katie sighed and extricated her hand from hers. Charlotte instantly missed the warmth of her touch. “After hearing you were settling into your new home, he seemed to close himself off entirely. He wasn’t sad anymore he was just…empty. Then he started drinking. And carousing.”

  Charlotte bolted to her feet, her skirt sweeping the low center table of knotted pine. She couldn’t bear to hear anymore. The pain inside her was excruciating and blinding. “I see. You needn’t tell me anymore,” she said, trying not to choke on her words. She failed utterly.

  Katie arose, regarding her with a look of concern. “It is difficult to hear is it not? It was even more difficult to watch, and I didn’t witness the half of it. You have no idea how many years James, Derek and Thomas spent beside themselves trying to save Alex from himself.”

  The image of Alex lost in the stupor of drink as he caroused about town in quest of a warm, willing female almost brought her to her knees. And he’d no doubt found them to be had by the droves. But the images persisted unforgiving and relentless. She bit back a wave of nausea.

  “Darling, you look pea green. Are you all right?”

  Determinedly, Charlotte mentally shook it off, opening her eyes to take in the worried crease on her sister’s brow. “You did warn me it would be hard to hear.” Agonizing, excruciating were more apt terms.

  “Alex loved you. He took it exceptionally hard.”

  “And now? How is he now?” Silly as it was, what she really wanted to ask was did he ever talk about her? When had he stopped missing her? Within weeks? Months? Years?

  Her sister gave a wan smile. “Well, he does not drink spirits anymore. Not one drop. Gave it up entirely.”

  Thank God! Her guilt was suffocating enough. “Has he married?” Charlotte hadn’t meant to ask, in her heart was afraid to know. But there it was, her insatiable need to know everything about him exerting its control.

  “Would it assuage your guilt and make you feel better to know he’s married with a brood of children?” Katie asked, compassion in her eyes.

  God no. It would destroy her. But she had no claims on him. She was the last person who should begrudge him happiness, even in the arms of another woman.

  Turning from her sister, Charlotte advanced to the bay window. “Perhaps a little.” This t
ime she couldn’t look her sister in the eye when she voiced the lie. Moreover, it was how her sister would expect her to feel given she’d just admitted she hadn’t truly been in love with him.

  “Then you’ll be disappointed to hear he remains unmarried. But the rumor is he will soon be paying court to Lady Mary, the Earl of Cranford’s daughter. It appears not only are the earl and his wife keen on the union, but the duchess as well. They hope to see them wed before year’s end.”

  Charlotte couldn’t see the beauty in the profusion of budding daisies and violets landscaping the front lawn for pain and grief swelled her heart. Ready to send her to her knees. But truly, it was a small miracle he wasn’t already wed with several children by now. Perfectly legitimate aristocratic children.

  “I see.” Charlotte paused. “Well I wish him well.”

  And she did. She sincerely did.

  It would be utterly selfish of her to begrudge him happiness. And by God she wasn’t selfish. Her absence from his life attested to that. Marrying him would have been selfish.

  “Charlotte, do you know what I believe?” Katie said softly from behind. She hadn’t even heard her approach.

  Charlotte turned. Her sister took her cold hand in hers and looked her directly in the eye. “I don’t for a moment believe there was ever another man—this husband. And I don’t believe you left because you didn’t love Alex.”

  Charlotte went stiff, her spine ramrod straight, feeling vulnerable and exposed. “What?”

  Katie’s mouth curved but it wasn’t a smile. It was entirely too sad to be described as such. “My dear, do give me some credit. I’ve known you all your life. Perhaps, the story you’ve so convincingly rehearsed would have fooled strangers, acquaintances, and perhaps even James and Missy. But this is me. We occupied the same womb for nine months and bedchambers for fifteen years. You would have walked barefoot across the desert for Alex. And as for finding someone else? You had eyes for only him, which would have made that impossible. You loved him then and I’m quite convinced the years apart haven’t changed that one little bit.”

  It should have been a diatribe, for Charlotte had lied to her, but it was not. Katie had exposed her web of well-rehearsed lies in calm, gentle tones, her only proof being her sister’s intimate knowledge of her.

  Thoughts of issuing an emphatic denial flitted through her mind but the lure of understanding in Katie’s eyes had her head dropping as if her neck could no longer support its weight. Her admission conveyed the truth without a single spoken word.

  “Nicholas is Alex’s son, is he not?”

  Chapter Three

  Alex returned home and executed a swift change of clothes. His waistcoat suffered the loss of three of its four shanked, brass buttons. His rage ripped his linen shirt near the seam of the arm. He savaged the button closure of his trousers with his impatience. His drawers were the lone garment to survive the ordeal unscathed. He tamped down his anger long enough to ensure donning his riding clothes was a much less destructive affair.

  He made good time getting to the stables, his long strides clashing with hard earth. Minutes later he sat bent over Shalais, his favorite Arabian mare, his gloved hands closed tight about the reins, flying across Reading’s flat, grassy terrain with the wind at his back.

  With his every labored breath and every stretch of dirt kicked up by Shalais’s hooves, he tried not to think about her. But since the moment he’d left, his attempts at this had been wholly unsuccessful. Her image and the memories would not go willingly into the dark recesses of his mind, refusing to be bowed by the strength of his will.

  Little by little, they seeped back into the forefront of his thoughts as his gray-stoned manor house shrank against the backdrop of a deceptively cloudless, sunlit sky. She had returned, bringing with her ugly and unforgiveable lies, effectively darkening the skies like a swarm of locusts.

  Dusty-rose lips, just as soft and full as he remembered from countless dreams, looked too tempting to be the vehicle of such egregious lies. But those same lips had lied to him before. I love you. Yes, Alex, I’ll marry you. I can’t imagine my life without you.

  With a squeeze of his thighs, Alex urged Shalais into a full-out gallop, trying to expend himself physically to quell the lure of oblivion a glass of alcohol could bring. He needed exhaustion enough to prevent him from the insanity of barreling a path through heavily wooded trees and underbrush to return to Rutherford Manor and force the truth from those same lying lips.

  For years his feelings for her had drifted on the plane of indifference. He ceased to care where she was, what she did, and he never allowed himself to even venture near thoughts of with whom. Her return upended his long-dormant emotions. He’d never thought he’d ever feel this deeply again, whether it be in anger or love. Today she’d proven him wrong as she’d done so adroitly in the past.

  It galled him that after all these years she still had that power over him. That despite everything she’d done, she was the only woman who could turn him inside out with just her presence.

  But, he vowed, this time would be different. If the last five years had taught him anything, it was that only a fool didn’t learn from his mistakes.

  To his face and behind gloved hands and silk fans, he’d been called self-destructive, boorish and unfeeling. But they’d never accused him of being a fool and he’d make damn sure it remained that way.

  He returned to the house two hours later sweaty and hot. He was greeted by his rather anxious-looking butler, Alfred, who approached him the moment Alex stepped a dusty booted foot in the corridor leading to the main part of the house.

  Alfred’s powdered wig and severe black garb should have demanded a mien of stoicism, instead of the wringing-of-the-hands look on his face.

  “My lord, Lord Cranford is awaiting you in the withdrawing room.” Alfred had a tendency to speak as if he’d lived a century ago.

  Alex quirked a brow. “Pardon?” he asked sharply, taking a moment to digest his shock. What the hell is he doing here? He almost blurted the question, but good manners—at least the vestiges of those he still ascribed to—prevented him from doing so.

  “My lord, he was quite insistent on awaiting your return.”

  The Earl of Cranford, Lady Mary’s father, wasn’t someone Alex wished to entertain today of all days. He’d no desire to entertain a solitary soul, truth be told.

  “Please tell him I’ll be with him shortly. As you can see, I’m not fit for company,” Alex replied with a dismissive nod.

  Yes, sir,” Alfred said with a bow before he strode off.

  Twenty minutes later, Alex presented himself in the drawing room, freshly bathed and dressed from head to toe in cotton and wool in a brown as somber as his mood.

  “Ah, Cartwright,” Lord Cranford said upon his entrance, slowly rising to his feet with the help of a wooden cane, his bare hand proffered in greeting. “I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you by calling without an invitation.” His jowls quivered from the force of his smile, which stretched across a small, narrow face unbalanced by the leftward hook of his nose.

  Alex forced a smile, taking the earl’s hand in a brief handshake. “I hope you weren’t terribly inconvenienced by the wait,” he said, smoothly evading the question.

  “Think nothing of it. I passed the time comfortably. I hope you won’t mind if I sit. My knees have been paining me all day. A sure sign of rain tomorrow.” The earl renewed his place on the brushed-velvet sofa and although Alex would have preferred to stand, he followed suit and took up a seat in a wing-backed chair.

  “Can I offer you something to drink or perhaps something to eat?” Alex asked.

  Lord Cranford dismissed his offer with a negligent toss of his hand, the diamond on his signet ring glinting as it caught the sunlight pouring through the window behind him. “Your man saw to my needs. I could not eat another bite.”

  Which meant his wait had been considerable, possibly over an hour. “So to what do I owe this call, my lord?”


  The earl cleared his throat, straightened his legs with a slight wince and shot a look about the spacious drawing room before returning his gaze to Alex. “Our families have been acquainted for many years now. Why, you’ve known my Mary since she was just a child.”

  “Almost her entire twenty-one years,” Alex agreed blithely. Although the acquaintance had never been a particularly close one. He’d already been attending Eton when she was born. Their interaction over the years had been infrequent at best. It was only during the prior year that he’d taken any real notice of her.

  But the earl confirmed that Alex hadn’t been wrong in his thoughts. He’d come to press his suit on his daughter’s behalf.

  “Yes, yes indeed, a good while. My Mary is quite a beauty, is she not?” he asked, inclining his head toward Alex as if to compel him to agree.

  “Yes, quite lovely.” An inescapable fact.

  Of late, his mother had become more insistent that it was time he married and produced an heir. Lady Mary, a dark-haired beauty whose lineage was said to trace back to William the Conqueror, had been selected as the ideal candidate to fit the future Duchess of Hastings role. Alex had given the matter great thought. A month ago, he’d decided to court her—had had every intention of commencing the courtship. But a day’s delay had slipped quickly and all too easily, until soon he could count the delay by weeks instead of days. Now, given the change in circumstances, he was more than a little relieved he hadn’t done a thing. A courtship and worse yet, a betrothal would have been a nightmare of a predicament to extricate himself from.

  Lord Cranford made a pleased sound, like the purr of a tiger, deep in his throat. He smiled again, showing off a row of white, slightly crooked teeth. “It is your parents, mine and the countess’s greatest wish that our families are united. We believe Mary would make you a wonderful duchess. And I’m sure you are aware that my daughter comes with quite a substantial dowry. Not to say, my good man,” he hastened to add in a jovial tone, “that you are in need of it. Why, to your fortune, you no doubt see it as but a paltry sum.”