Duke of Midnight
Page 37

Maximus looked up to find that the other man had leaned near, his muddy brown eyes glittering with threat. Maximus held his gaze and began backing away.
Something changed in the other man’s eyes.
He lunged, fast for such a big man, his whole weight hitting Maximus in his middle. Maximus went down, Kilbourne on top of him, as the chain screeched across the floor. The viscount heaved himself up, his right arm pulled back, rage masking his features. Maximus thrust with his right palm while at the same time kicking out. He missed the other man’s balls but kneed him in the belly. Kilbourne’s breath whooshed out and Maximus shoved him off as hard as he could.
He scrambled back, out of the reach of the chain.
For a minute the only sound in the cellar was the panting of both men.
Maximus looked up.
Kilbourne was glaring at him, and there was no need for words or writing to know what the other man meant. For a moment Maximus wondered if this was the last thing those three men had seen that bloody night: Lord Kilbourne with a feral look of violence on his face.
He stood. “Whatever happens, be assured that I’ll take care of your sister.”
Kilbourne lunged. He was already almost at the end of his chain, so the additional movement merely brought him to his hands and knees. Still, he glared at Maximus steadily and Maximus knew that if the other man had been free, he’d be fighting for his life right now.
He turned away. He couldn’t blame the viscount. If it had been Phoebe and someone had seduced her… His hands clenched. He ought to feel guilt, he knew, but all he felt was an odd, poignant sorrow. If only things were different. If only he weren’t the Duke of Wakefield.
He straightened his shoulders. But he was the Duke of Wakefield. He’d assumed the title because of his own stupidity and cowardliness. To give up his duties, his standards, as the duke would be to let his father’s death mean nothing.
His father had died for him, and he owed him the best stewardship of the dukedom possible.
Maximus shook his head and concentrated on the matter at hand. Kilbourne claimed that Alderney had lost the pendant to him.
Obviously he needed to question Alderney.
ARTEMIS HADN’T SEEN Maximus since she’d left his bed this morning. She couldn’t help brooding on that fact even as she made her way to a table laden with tea and cakes that afternoon. Overhead the sun was brightly shining as ladies mingled and drank tea in Lady Young’s garden. Lady Young was holding a small party, presumably to show off her autumn garden—though the only flowers Artemis saw were some rather bedraggled daisies.
The sad fact was that there wasn’t much reason for her and Maximus to be together during the day. Not if they didn’t want to arouse suspicion, that is. She supposed that if she became his official mistress then he might spend more time with her during the daylight hours. Maybe. And in return she would no longer be welcome in places like this.
Well, that was depressing.
“Miss Greaves!”
The hearty voice of the Duke of Scarborough made her turn around. He strolled toward her with Penelope on his arm. “Well met, well met indeed!”
“Your Grace.” Artemis sank into a curtsy.
“Whatever are you doing here, Artemis?” Penelope looked around eagerly. “Is Wakefield here as well?”
“Ah, no.” Artemis could feel guilty heat flooding her cheeks. “It’s just Phoebe and me.”
“Oh.” Penelope pouted, seemingly unaware that the elderly duke beside her had wilted a bit.
“Er, I was about to retrieve a dish of tea for Lady Penelope,” Scarborough said. “Would you like one as well?”
Artemis made sure to smile at the man. “That’s very kind of you, but I was going to get two dishes—one for me and one for Phoebe. I’m sure you can’t carry all that—”
“But of course I can.” Scarborough puffed out his chest. “Please wait here, ladies.”
And he was off as eagerly as a knight errant.
Penelope watched him go affectionately. “He really is the most charming gentleman. It’s just too bad…”
Artemis sighed. If only Penelope would see Scarborough as a worthy suitor. He seemed perfect for her cousin in every respect save age. If Penelope turned her sights on Scarborough, then maybe she wouldn’t be nearly so hurt when the inevitable happened and Artemis’s own liaison with Wakefield came to light. Of course that wouldn’t solve Artemis’s own problem—Maximus would just find another heiress of noble birth and sane family to wed.
She was pulled from her depressing thoughts by Penelope leaning forward as if in confidence. “I can’t think what the Duke of Wakefield has been about. No one seems to have seen him since his return to London. I know he has his silly parliamentarian duties, but the man must have social rounds to make as well.” Penelope bit her lip, looking vulnerable. “Do you think he’s lost interest in me? Perhaps I ought to do something daring again. I’ve heard Lady Fells rode in a horse race last week—astride.”
“No, darling,” Artemis said, her throat clogged with tears. She swallowed. She’d never forgive herself if she let Penelope think that she needed to break her neck racing a horse in order to win Maximus. “I’m sure he’s as interested as ever. It’s just that he’s so very busy.” She ventured a tremulous smile. “You must get used to that when you marry—his duties in Parliament and the like. He’ll often be away.” Oh, dear God, she loathed her own perfidy at the moment!
Penelope had brightened during this painful speech and now she beamed. “Well, that won’t be a chore—I’ll simply use his money to shop.” She placed her hand almost shyly on Artemis’s arm. “Thank you for telling me so. I don’t know what I would do without your advice.”
Her simple declaration nearly made Artemis’s knees buckle. How could she have wronged Penelope so terribly? In the bright sunshine it seemed an insurmountable sin: to have put her own wants before the girl who had offered her sanctuary when Artemis had been so desperate. No matter how silly Penelope sometimes acted, Artemis knew, deep down, that her cousin truly had a heart.
And it would break when she’d realized Artemis’s betrayal.
Artemis looked down at her hands, drawing a steadying breath. She very much feared that if she stayed with Maximus, this awful taint—this terribly wrong act—would, day by day, year by year, wear at her until she was no more than a ghost of her former self. She saw need when she looked into his eyes, but was there any love as well? Had she discarded Penelope’s friendship for a man who didn’t, in the end, truly care for her?
For she loved him, she realized now, in this brightly lit garden, of all places, with his future wife, her cousin, by her side. She loved Maximus totally and completely, with all of her bitter, broken heart, and she did not know if it was enough for the two of them.
Scarborough bustled up at that moment, his hands full of steaming dishes of tea. Artemis quickly took two cups and thanked the duke before turning away to bring the tea to Phoebe.
She was within sight of Phoebe when she was hailed again.
“I had not thought to see you again so very soon, Miss Greaves.”
Artemis turned at the voice, surprised to find Mrs. Jellett looking at her with interest.
“Erm, how nice to meet again,” Artemis replied, wondering if she was expected to curtsy even though she held a dish of tea in each hand. She glanced to the right where Phoebe was seated at an arbor waiting for Artemis’s return. Her friend had her face tilted up to catch the sunlight.
“You left Pelham House so precipitously,” Mrs. Jellett continued, linking arms with Artemis before she could defend herself. Artemis watched the full dish of milky tea hovering over the fine blond lace adorning Mrs. Jellett’s sleeve and hoped the lady wouldn’t hold her at fault if it soon became tea stained. “Just after Wakefield hurried back to London in fact. Such a pity! My dear friend Lady Noakes was quite put out at the early end to the house party. She has so little occasion to dine well. Not since Noakes lost most of her dowry. He was quite penniless before he married Charlotte. All his wealth came from her and now it’s gone.” Mrs. Jellett leaned close in confidence. “Gambling, you know. Such a terrible affliction.”
Artemis eyed the older woman warily. “I’m just taking this tea to Lady Phoebe if you’ll—”
“Oh, is Phoebe here, too?” cried Mrs. Jellett. She glanced in the direction in which Artemis had been walking and smiled.
Artemis did not like that smile.
“Well, we shouldn’t keep her waiting,” Mrs. Jellett announced, and Artemis found herself standing in front of Phoebe still linked with the other woman.
“I had no idea you’d be here, dear,” Mrs. Jellett said in an overly loud voice, rather as if Phoebe’s poor sight had affected her hearing as well.
“It’s a lovely day for a garden party, isn’t it?” Phoebe said.
“Here’s your tea,” Artemis said, carefully placing the cup into the girl’s hand. “I was just discussing your brother’s house party with Mrs. Jellett.”
Phoebe’s eyes cleared with the mention of Mrs. Jellett’s name and Artemis suspected that she hadn’t known who exactly had greeted her until just then. “Will you sit with us, ma’am?”
“Oh, thank you, my dear.” The older lady immediately sat beside Phoebe, forcing Artemis to take Mrs. Jellett’s other side. “I was just telling Artemis that we all missed her when she left the house party in such a rush.”
“But she left with me,” Phoebe said sweetly. “So if Artemis was in a rush, I suppose I was as well.”
Mrs. Jellett looked a trifle put out by this simple statement before her expression smoothed over and she leaned forward. “But then, Phoebe dear, you didn’t wander off with a bachelor gentleman into the woods before you left.” She tittered with horrible gaiety. “We did so wonder, Miss Greaves, what you might have been doing with His Grace out there in the woods.”
“As I said before, His Grace was merely looking at a bird I’d spotted.” Artemis was careful to keep her voice even.
“Indeed? Why, I wish I were as daring as you, Miss Greaves! No wonder he immediately installed you in his town house.”
“Actually, Artemis is acting as my lady’s companion,” Phoebe said quietly.
Mrs. Jellett patted her hand. “Yes, dear. I’m sure she is.”
Artemis inhaled, but Phoebe was quicker than she. “I think we’ll take a turn about the garden. If you’ll excuse us, ma’am?”
She stood and Artemis hastily offered her arm. They were quiet as Artemis led her down one of the less crowded paths, until Artemis spoke. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Phoebe said fiercely. “Spiteful old witch. I don’t know how she can stand herself. I’m just sorry that helping me has laid you open to such gossip.”
Artemis looked away, her throat closing in guilt. Soon—very soon, if Mrs. Jellett’s attitude was any indication—her secret with Maximus would be revealed. She’d known from the start that there was no way to keep it for long, but she hadn’t guessed it would happen so abruptly. She was about to enter a different level of society.
One reserved for ladies who had fallen.
Chapter Seventeen
Lin had never liked serpents and the one in her hands was very big, but she gripped it firmly nonetheless, for she knew it was her beloved brother, Tam. The serpent reared back and sunk its awful fangs into the soft flesh of her arm, yet still Lin held him fast. The Herla King turned his head, staring at her with hollow eyes, his attention finally torn from the hunt.
Then Tam turned into a burning coal.…
—from The Legend of the Herla King