Page 105 of From Rakes to Riches

“Yes, I know what extortion means,” Theodore snapped. “Why would anyone bleed Fremont’s funds? It’s nonsensical. He was friends with everyone and the least confrontational person I know. Every time I think I’ve solved a problem, another question arises.”

Huntington sipped his brandy. “I suppose you could ask Mowbray, although I wouldn’t want him to think I’ve betrayed his confidence and repeated the conversation. I doubt he’ll want to play cards with me again after that.”

“Is that what’s most important here?” Theodore asked, struggling to maintain his patience.

“No, of course not,” Huntington replied. “I’d just prefer if you went about your information recognizance in another manner. Maybe you can sit in on a few hands of cards tomorrow evening. I’ll bring up the subject of Fremont’s passing and we can go from there. That way I don’t look like a tongue-wag.”

“That’s not a terrible idea,” Theodore said, hopeful he could lead Mowbray into repeating whatever he knew about Fremont’s situation. “All right. I’ll meet you here tomorrow evening. How about nine?”

“Yes, that will be all right,” Huntington agreed. “But for now, I’m off.”

“I’ll walk out with you,” Theodore answered. “I have somewhere else I need to be.”

Lola leanedon the platform railing and stared out beyond the grandstand. It was late afternoon, an hour before the gates opened, and no one was about. It was a good time for her to examine the hedgerows in the close walks.

Scurrying down the ladder, she aimed for the pleasure paths. If she found a place in the shrubbery along Langley Lane that looked damaged, she would share the information withTheodore. She’d told him not to come tonight and walk her home, but part of her wished she hadn’t. Kissing him was the only peace her heart experienced since she’d fled Ipswich years ago. Yet kissing him was also the reason she couldn’t think clearly.

Impatience and anger simmered inside her. She’d developed feelings for a man who would always be above her reach and had allowed those same feelings to interfere with her concentration. Her mind and heart were at war. So much so, she’d had to stop walking the rope this afternoon for fear she’d make a foolish mistake. She had enough troubles without inviting more.

If her past had taught her anything, it was that the line dividing social class was stronger than the rope that supported her weight each night and even more dangerous. Whenever she lost sight of that divide, danger loomed. It was what caused her to leave home, the same circumstance that changed her family’s close relationship with a duke into a confrontation with the law.

Two years ago in Ipswich, her world had upended when the Duke of Leinster accused her father of stealing. The accusation came as a shock since the two men were on good terms for nearly a decade. Her father, a sought-after horse trainer and His Grace, an avid equestrian, were introduced at Tattersall’s. They’d become fast friends and eventually His Grace hired Lola’s father to run his extensive stables. Lola, her parents and sister, moved into a spacious cottage on estate grounds and in many ways became part of the duke’s extended family. His Grace was a reserved, formidable man, but for many years, her family lived a content and comfortable life due to the strong bonds of friendship. A rare and precious friendship considering her father possessed no lofty title.

But everything changed when His Grace accused her father of stealing. Suddenly the distance between their social class overrode more important qualities like uncompromised loyalty,infallible respect, and years of camaraderie. His Grace contacted the authorities and Lola’s father was challenged. He had no way to prove his innocence other than his word and since an aristocrat’s claim cancels all others, the magistrate didn’t investigate the matter. Just like that, Lola’s family was displaced from their home, her father taken into custody, and their honor stained.

But Lola couldn’t bear the thought of her father suffering for a crime he didn’t commit and her mother and sister struggling without him. Her intercession was the only way she could spare the people she loved. One person’s sacrifice in exchange for three seemed a very fair trade.

She never questioned her decision, nor did she regret it now. Even if it meant forfeiting her future and keeping Theodore at arm’s length. Never indulging in more of his kisses. Never pretending their connection could be more than a temporary, meaningless tumble. Because there was no way their relationship made sense. Not when she was an accused criminal and he, an honorable nobleman. Not when one wrong word or action would destroy those tenuous bonds or worse, expose her past and further humiliate her family.

She breathed deep and entered the close walks, knowing exactly which direction to take. Striding past the place a man had lost his life. Moving farther into the twisting labyrinth of clandestine alcoves until she reached the line of shrubbery that paralleled Langley Lane. She paced along the path slowly, her eyes on the hedges while her mind and heart continued their fierce battle.

If she confided in Theodore and told him about her past, would he respect her decision? Or like most men, would he attempt to remedy the situation? He lived in a different world than Marco. Entitled men possessed power far above the law. But in this case, Theodore’s influence would befor naught. The Duke of Leinster was a prideful, arrogant man. Uncompromising and unsympathetic in ways she’d never imagined. His Grace didn’t want the truth to come to light. Any interference by Theodore would only exacerbate the situation, and she was not so naïve to believe the problem could be resolved with an apology and conversation. Had that been the case, she would never have had to confess to the crime in the first place.

Blinking hard to clear away these thoughts, she walked on. One of the shrubs near the corner had several broken offshoots. It created a narrow opening, no more than twelve inches wide, but with the flexibility of the branches and the force of someone pushing through, she believed passage could be achieved. The killer had worn a greatcoat for protection. In her thin day gown, she wouldn’t attempt to move through, but she had no doubt she’d found the correct spot.

Turning on her heel, she made her way out, her mind debating decisions in the same fashion she followed the maze out of the gardens. She believed Theodore experienced the same pull of desire, the same aching measure of want and need, yet she could never be more to him than an illicit affair. Her mind insisted that to be true while her heart squeezed tight in objection.

When she exited the close walks, Marco was waiting for her.

“Where have you been? I looked for you on the platform. Did you practice today?” He stepped closer.

“I needed time to think.” She gestured behind her. “I wanted to walk where it was quiet.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“Just my family,” she lied, unwilling to share her conflicted emotions concerning the earl. “I miss them.”

“Is there no way you can visit them?” His voice was more relaxed now.

“No,” she answered adamantly, folding her arms over her chest and standing her ground. She’d had this conversation with Marco in the past and it never served any purpose other than to ignite her temper. “If I go to Ipswich, my parents will urge me to recant my confession. My father will insist he committed the theft, even though I know he would never betray the duke’s trust. But my fatherwillattempt to save me. He will sacrifice himself in the same way I’ve chosen to protect him. It’s better that I never return. My running away is another layer of guilt added to my confession and the only way to keep my father from prison.”

“Are you sure, Lola?”

“Yes.” She dropped her arms and straightened her shoulders. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Marco glanced toward the pavilion and his expression changed. She followed his line of sight and saw Theodore walking toward them. She breathed deep, soaking in the sight of him. Warning herself to guard her heart.

“Look who’s back, acting as if he belongs here,” Marco said with a bitter note of sarcasm. “I know why he keeps coming around and it has nothing to do with his dead friend.”

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