Page 55 of The Untamed Duke
“The innkeeper at the Red Stag mentioned it when we stopped last evening. He said the bridge at Riverbend Road washed away,” Ivy commented.
“Not completely. It was underwater for a while, though. It has since receded to its usual depths.” Grace cast about for a way of changing the subject. The last thing she wanted was a discussion of the bridge and storm. “I planned on visiting Beaumont now that the mares have been bred. Lady Celia Buchanan would like to attend the ball you have planned for Alan and Sara when they return from Paris. I said you would not mind if she accompanied me. I’ve missed Sara dreadfully and can’t wait to hear all the news of the honeymoon.”
Ivy laughed as she affectionally embraced Grace. “You are always welcome at Beaumont, and you don’t need a ball as an excuse for a visit.to. I’m hoping I’ll convince you in returning with us when we leave here. It seems our time together is always far too short.”
* * *
It was laterin the afternoon that Grace found herself in the parlor with Ivy. Sharing a cup of tea while Sebastian checked on his broodmares, the two women discussed Alan and Sara’s adventures. The earl and his wife were on honeymoon in Paris. For the past two months Sara had sent sending regular letters expounding on the social scene and beautiful scenery. Grace missed the new Countess of Bentley a great deal, the three women having become the closest of friends over the past six months.
“I can think of no subtle way of asking you this, Grace, but Lady Celia indicated you met the Duke of Richeforte at Calmont Downs.” Ivy set her teacup down.
Grace’s composure slipped a little. Was her interaction with Nicholas now fodder for gossips? Not that Celia was a gossip, but if she mentioned it, others probably had as well. “Oh? When did you see Celia? How is she?”
“She’s well. We attended a series of plays performed at the Marquis Blackthorne’s estate. Dreadfully boring; the plays, not the Marquis. I vow, had Sebastian not gone with me, I would have expired from sheer boredom. Anyway, Celia said you and Richeforte shared quite the exchange.” Ivy’s expressive turquoise eyes studied Grace. “More than once. It seems her brother was quite disturbed by that and grumbled of it.”
Grace thought surely every illicit act she and Nicholas had committed was etched on her face at that very moment. Answering nonchalantly was a struggle.
“The duke and I did meet. He’s quite arrogant.”
Ivy smiled. “And dark-natured. And sarcastic. And terribly wicked.” She gazed at Grace as if determining something quite vital. “He’s like a dangerous, wild creature. Fascinating when admired from afar, but one wouldn’t dare keep him as a pet.”
Grace took a deep breath and sipped her tea. Ivy could not possibly know just how wicked the duke truly was. Nor how dangerous. “Is he? I thought him quite clever once his arrogance eased.”
“You are aware of the background between Sebastian and the duke. Needless to say, your cousin would prefer you have no contact with him at all, but you are an adult woman. You have the right in making your own decisions. But you must be careful of certain gentlemen and their courtship, darling. Richeforte’s reputation is quite scandalous. Perhaps not deserving of every rumor, but scandalous nonetheless.”
Grace could not meet Ivy’s gaze. Not while uttering the most blatant of lies. “You’ve no cause for concern. I’m certain the duke’s interests lay elsewhere.”This is not completely untrue. Nicholas’s interests do not include courtship of any fashion.“Do you believe the rumors? Is he really that terrible?”
Ivy bit her lip and slowly stirred her tea. She thoughtfully tapped the spoon against the teacup’s rim before answering. “No. I do not believe all of it. He was Sebastian’s closest confidant for many years, and I honestly cannot fathom the level of betrayal that caused the rift between them. How a friend could be so cruel. Richeforte, by all accounts, considered Sebastian his brother, and Sebastian did the same. They were friends from such a young age. Alan Bentley as well. The three of them always together. As children, and as men.”
“What happened?” Guilt pinged Grace. It felt underhanded obtaining the story from someone other than Nicholas. Especially when he declined to provide an explanation when prodded. “Why would Richeforte cause Sebastian harm?”
“Over a woman.” Ivy reached forward and took Grace’s hand. “Never repeat any of this. To anyone, darling. I only relate this now because Celia said Richeforte’s interest in you went beyond mere politeness. You should know the truth so you can protect yourself.”
“Go on.” Grace steeled herself. It could not be that awful. Could it?
“Six years ago, Richeforte—he was the Earl of Landon then—conducted an affair with Lady Marilee.” Seeing Grace’s blank expression, Ivy elaborated. “She was Sebastian’s fiancée at the time. When she became pregnant as a result of the affair with Richeforte, he refused to marry her. With that rejection, she attempted to convince Sebastian they should wed earlier than their scheduled wedding date. Understandably suspicious for the sudden haste, Sebastian would not agree. It was then that Marilee, in a fit of anger, confessed she carried Richeforte’s child.”
Grace’s breath caught in her chest. Nicholas refused his child? Coming from a man whose own childhood was rife with heartache, it did not ring true. She hoped Nicholas was incapable of such cruelty toward an innocent. And one of his own flesh and blood. She desperately needed to believe that.
“Sebastian challenged Nicholas to a duel, but not before they came to blows on the steps of Richeforte’s townhouse. Then, at the duel, Richeforte fired into the air, and Sebastian’s shot, deliberately altered at the last moment, hit the duke’s thigh instead of his heart. It’s believed during the confusion, Lady Marilee mistakenly received word it was Sebastian who was shot. Fatally.” Ivy’s voice dropped to a whisper. “She hanged herself in her bedroom. Unable to face the shame and gossip. So tragic, although I do despise her actions and the heartache she caused my husband. Sebastian left England immediately after. After Nicholas recovered from his wound, he left England as well, sailing off in a yacht only six months later. An escape, I suppose, from the damage he caused. Or maybe he was snubbing his father. They were at cross-purposes at the time. Well, the two of them were always at cross-purposes. Regardless, Sebastian had no intention of murdering his best friend, but it didn’t really matter. He and Richeforte have not exchanged a civil word since the duel.”
Grace was stunned. This was much worse than she imagined. There was no ignoring how her stomach twisted with thoughts of Nicholas suffering a gunshot wound. And then shunned by those who were once his friends. She looked Ivy straight in the eye.
“Do you believe the duke would jeopardize so cherished a friendship? All for a woman who willingly betrayed one man for another? Or that he would reject his unborn child and heir? Did Richeforte love Marilee enough to steal her, but not enough to marry her?”
Ivy smiled sadly. “Men do terrible things when in love. Or lust. I’ve long thought there is more behind it all, some elusive, hidden detail, but Sebastian is convinced of these facts as he knows them. I tried once...to heal the rift, after the duke extended a kindness to me, one for his own benefit, but a kindness all the same. Sebastian would not even listen to me. But I know he suffers the loss of their friendship. To this day, he suffers.”
Chapter 22
Early the next morning, Grace made her way to the stables. She quickly saddled and bridled Llyr and within a half hour was riding along Bellmar Abbey’s western boundaries, where the terrain slipped into cliffs and catapulted into the dark green sea far below.
Grace pushed the stallion, reaching greater speeds, hopeful the pace might free the nagging thoughts roaming around her brain. Sleep proved elusive the previous evening, dreams of the duel between Sebastian and Nicholas overtaking slumber, her active imagination filling in details Ivy did not provide. And Grace always woke during a moment she crouched at Nicholas’s side, cradling his head while blood streamed in dark, lacy-like ribbons.
She'd tossed and turned; worried Sebastian would learn of her contact with his enemy. Worried Tristan would challenge the duke when Bellmar’s lien was released in her favor. The viscount would surely feel betrayed. He might even seek to redeem her honor if he suspected a relationship between her and Nicholas. Between her cousin and the son of her guardian, Grace should have felt protected, instead, irritation pricked her. The two men were obstacles. Standing between her and Bellmar Abbey. Between her and what she feared she wanted far more.
Nicholas.
It was all so dreadfully complicated. And anxiety-producing. After the death of both of her parents, her life had devolved into something relatively simple, survival forced squarely on her own shoulders. For years, she’d handled things in her own manner with only her mother, then the distant, relaxed oversight of her guardian guiding her. Now, Grace was embroiled in a dangerous situation of her own making. And it all revolved around the Duke of Richeforte in some fashion or another. He had become the sun, and she was a tiny planet, rotating aimlessly until his rays caressed her once more.
