Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

" E nid informs me you are leaving." Maria sailed into the room, forehead creased, shutting the door behind her. "Whatever for? I thought you might stay another week, once everyone else leaves."

"Unfortunately, matters have come to my attention making it impossible for me to stay, Maria." She thrust the Rake Review, still dripping tea, into Maria's hand. "Part of the ink is smudged, but I believe you'll take the meaning all the same."

Maria's eyes widened. "This—where on earth did you come by this?"

"Enid found it outside my room and added it to my breakfast tray. At first, I assumed you had sent it to me, but now I suspect Garland. Last night he mentioned he would do anything to stop Courtland from wedding Coraline. I'm not sure how this helps, other than exposing the duke's impoverished state."

Maria quickly scanned the paper. "Nor I. Unless he hoped knowing the duke's calculated pursuit of you would put off Lady Leek. Which it will not. I am so sorry, Hazel."

"I'm assuming, from the date of this"—she waved at the paper Maria held—"that word has spread all over London. Hazel Dartmont, hunted by yet another lord. The author of this drivel is clearly speaking of Courtland. And me." Hazel bit her lip. "I thought it was real, you see." She blinked to stave off the tears. "But he's been trying to entrap me the entire time. I am the reason he is here. Not Coraline."

"I can hardly believe it." Maria searched her face. "I…I would have warned you away from him had I known. Or not extended an invitation to him at all. As to his circumstances, I was completely unaware. There's been no mention of his poverty until now. He's been in the country and only returned to London at the end of this Season. I thought him a reformed rake."

"I doubt that very much, Maria. He's only decided that someone else must now pay for his circle of mistresses, his credit at whatever gambling hell he visits, all while he swills the finest French brandy."

"Courtland was terrible before inheriting, but there's been little said of him since. He must have bankrupted the estate. No wonder he no longer visits London. He hasn't the funds. But Hazel, I saw the way he looked at you, else I would never have encouraged?—"

"Seduction, Maria. Plain and simple. He's good at it. I can vouch for him in that regard. Any woman might fall in love with him."

"Thank goodness you are wiser than that." Maria's shrewd eyes searched Hazel's face.

"It would take more than a week at a house party to win my heart," she insisted, pain lancing through her chest. "I am not so foolish as to believe the false platitudes Courtland tossed my way. Garland had warned me from the start that the duke lacked character. We dallied. Magnificently. You weren't wrong about that. But once he mentioned marriage, I became suspicious. What duke would wed so far beneath him unless he was in dire need of funds?"

Maria's lips pursed. "You are not beneath Courtland, Hazel. Nor any of them. You never have been. It is only your own?—"

"A matter of opinion," Hazel snapped, cutting her off. "You need only ask Lady Leek." She gave a brittle laugh. "Did you know, Courtland and I were children together in Pensford, the small village where I grew up? He was a horrible child. Superior and spoiled. His uncle and cousin were much the same, always lording it over those so beneath them, like the Dartmonts. Is it any wonder I grew to detest the upper classes with him as an example?"

"Hazel." Maria took her hand.

"Granted, Courtland was nine at the time, but a person's character can be set at such a young age. He used that to his benefit. Our childhood connection."

Hazel wanted to curl into herself, thinking of how she'd prattled on about beautiful coincidences and romance, while August probably had to keep from laughing. "But it was only greed that brought us together."

"I am sorry." Her friend moved to embrace her.

"Don't be. I'm no fool, Maria." Hazel shook her head. "This is why I do not involve myself…more deeply in relationships. I would find gentlemen far more palatable if they were honest and simply expressed their affection for my wealth instead of pretending it was for me."

"I don't want you to return to London alone, Hazel. Wait, just a few days. We'll go together."

Hazel wanted nothing more than to escape this house for the safety of the carriage returning her to London. She did not want to face Garland and the smug smile he'd have on his lips at being right about Courtland. Or Lady Leek. Lady Pierce. Seeing them upon their return to town would be bad enough.

"It would be best if I left now. My uncle has called me back to London. That is the excuse I will use. You do not need to worry over me. Not when you have Balwyn here." She gave her friend a halfhearted smile.

"But—"

"I am happy for you. Lord Balwyn is lovely. I will be fine. I promise."

Maria pulled her close and pressed a kiss to Hazel's cheek. "I will have your carriage brought around," she said softly. "Enid will finish packing your things. If you wish to leave immediately, I'll have your trunks sent."

"Thank you."

Maria cast a look of pity in Hazel's direction and closed the door behind her.

Once the dust settled and she no longer felt as if the skin had been ripped from her body—Hazel had to shut her eyes for a moment—she would be able to speak about August with a great deal less emotion. But not today.

She took a seat on the bed, and Enid paused in her work. "Nearly forgot, miss. I was handed this note for you."

Hazel took the paper with trembling fingers, recognizing that bold masculine slash of letters. Even if she hadn't, the note was addressed to Stork.

Come find me in the garden.

Oh, Hazel thought, tossing the note into the fire. I will most definitely come find you, August Wade, Duke of Last Resort. He must not realize his ploy had been discovered. "Have my things taken down, Enid. Just toss it all in there. I have one last errand to take care of, but I wish to leave within the hour. Whatever isn't packed, Lady Talbot will send."

Not waiting for the maid's response, Hazel hurried down the stairs, the sounds of the other guests at breakfast echoing through the house. Reaching the bottom, Hazel turned towards the terrace, only to catch the eye of Lady Coraline and her mother, who were on their way out of the breakfast room. Both shot her twin looks of dislike.

Not unusual.

Lady Pierce followed behind, steps halting at the sight of Hazel, disapproval dripping from her richly garbed form.

Lady Pierce had the room next to Hazel's. She and August had tried to be discreet last night, but she supposed they hadn't been as quiet as she'd hoped. Probably all part of August's plan. Humiliate her until she agreed to wed him.

The thought strengthened her resolve and helped dampen some of the pain. She would fall apart later, in the safety of her carriage.

Hazel sailed past them all, a brief jerk of her chin the only acknowledgement as she made her way to the gardens. Would August make some great show of professing his undying love for her? Maybe propose they run off together immediately to be wed, hoping she'd never know?—

A sting snagged her heart.

Had she been so foolish to wed him, Hazel would have found herself in the country while August returned to his amusements in London to bleed her fortune dry.

She straightened her shoulders and walked confidently into the garden, reliving every memory of him from the last week, looking for signs of his deceit. How had she missed it?

Because I wanted to.

Her body still hummed from the touch of his hands. His mouth. His bloody tongue and cock.

She stumbled and quickly righted herself.

Magnificent duke or not, August was also a dishonest, self-serving cur.

Stopping abruptly at the sight of his broad shoulders and shock of white-blonde hair standing near the roses, Hazel considered he'd chosen the spot purposefully. The maple tree where he'd lifted her skirts and pleasured her was to his left. He was exceptionally skilled. She'd grant him that much.

But she, Hazel Dartmont, was not about to be taken advantage of by a manipulative, titled nobleman who'd frittered away his own fortune and now sought hers by devious means.

She cleared her throat.

August turned, shining like some bloody god in the morning sunlight. Her entire body rippled in response to his.

"Stork. You received my note." The turquoise of his eyes softened on her, filled with a light she no longer believed. His mouth curved in a sensual half-smile. "I wanted to speak to you."

Hazel's pulse beat furiously. That duplicitous mouth had been on every inch of her body.

"Do not under any circumstances," she said in a crisp, firm tone, the envy of governesses everywhere, "refer to me in such a fashion ever again."

Wariness filled his handsome features. "You're very contrary this morning, Miss Dartmont."

A snarl came from her. Hazel pulled the Rake Review from where it had been hidden under her arm and tossed it at August's feet to flutter over his boots. "Duke of Last Resort."

"I see." He bent down and picked up the paper, balling it in his fist. "Stork, I wanted to tell you. I meant to tell you."

"Yet, you did not. Nor is Stork the endearment you think it is, Your Grace." She pressed a palm against her stomach. "I have never read the Rake Review until this morning. How incredibly informative it proved to be. Did you know about this little scrap of gossip?"

August's jaw grew taut.

Of course he'd known. He hadn't even looked at the paper before crumpling it up. He knew well what it said. Her heart sank lower.

"What a disappointment I must have been, Your Grace. Not only a spinster of questionable family origin, but I'd already been ruined. I've had dozens of lovers, August. All of whom I liked far better than you. Including the man who took my virtue. On a bolt of cloth in my father's warehouse. And he did not hold his nose ."

The blue green of his eyes grew shadowed. "Don't."

"Don't what, Your Grace?"

"Cheapen what exists between us. Or yourself." August ran a hand through his hair. "This isn't about?—"

"Money, Your Grace?" Hazel snorted in disbelief. "I disagree. It is always about money. So once finding out I was no stranger to a man's cock?—"

"Stop it." There was an ugly, raspy edge to his voice.

"You had to change tactics. Given I couldn't be ruined, scandal means little to me, and I had no desire to wed, I'm sure you were in quite a quandary, Your Grace. Seduction seemed your only recourse. Charm was required. A pretense at understanding me. You must have been overjoyed to realize I was Stork, knowing you could once more use me to your satisfaction."

"When you are finished with your tirade, I will explain—or at least try to. If you want to hate me after, that is your choice, but hear me out. Please." August held up a hand in supplication.

"No. I will not run the risk of being manipulated by you ever again." Good lord, her chest felt as if it were being ripped in two. She could hardly breathe. "I can't believe I was going to give myself to you without a thought. Marry you. I would have said yes." She thumped her chest. "You'd have my fortune—because you've frittered your own away—and send me to the country while you return to your life of excess. You likely have an account at every brothel in London."

His jaw hardened. "Not any longer."

"I must commend you on your scheme, August. Was it terrible? Knowing you would have to wed a woman so far beneath you? The draper's daughter from Pensford, the one you'd always declared no better than the dirt beneath your entitled boots. Hold your nose, indeed."

"I was nine, for God's sake."

"I suppose for money, you can tolerate anything. You must have howled with laughter at how you would use me." Her voice shook. "The hideous Stork."

August flinched. "Please. Hazel?—"

"You can't even defend your actions."

He paced towards her then turned back. "I can't because you won't listen to me. Is it any wonder I didn't tell you before?" He roared back at her. "You want the truth? My estate is bankrupt. I have to marry an heiress. I make no excuse for it. In that, I am like dozens of other men." August reached to take her hand but, at her sound of disgust, pulled away. "But every word I spoke to you last night was also the truth." One palm pressed to his heart. "I do not want to be apart from you. I want to be with you, always."

He looked so stricken, so anguished, Hazel nearly believed him.

"Did you come to Lady Talbot's specifically to seduce and wed me for my fortune?" The words leached out of her, tearing at her throat.

"Hazel."

"Answer the bloody question, Your Grace. Don't you dare lie to me."

"Yes," he said in a broken whisper. "You are the wealthiest unwed woman in London. My solicitor sent me a list, and your name was at the top. But that doesn't mean it isn't real."

A sound came from her. The toast and tea soured in her stomach.

"Why is it such a crime to want you and the fortune attached to your skirts?" he growled. "Why can I not have both? I need both. We are—we are good together, Hazel." His hand pressed against his chest once more. "We could be happy. What I feel for you?—"

"Greed?" she snapped.

"Damn you, Hazel. You hear only what you wish, see what you want. I should have told you sooner, but I was afraid of your reaction, and with good reason."

"I detest dishonesty, Your Grace." She held up a trembling hand. "So I do not care to hear another word. They are all lies, at any rate. You disgust me." Her words dripped with scorn. "Pity that sword didn't find it's mark at Quatre Bras and save us all a bit of trouble."

As soon as the last ugly syllable left her mouth, Hazel wished it back.

His big body recoiled as if he'd been whipped. "Yes, a pity."

This entire conversation had gotten out of hand. She should have left the house party and returned to London without seeing August. Had she thought confronting him would lessen the pain and anger coursing through her?

"Do not approach me again, Your Grace," she stammered. "I'm sure Lady Coraline will welcome your advances. No pretense will be necessary, nor will you have to lower yourself to wed her. She is, in essence, perfect for you."

"You are perfect for me."

"You mean my fortune," Hazel snorted.

His eyes fluttered closed for an instant as if he were in pain. "I do not want to be parted from you. I wish to be with you until the end of my days. That will never change." His eyes opened once more. "Remember that, Stork, if you are ever over your anger towards me."

Hazel wavered, wanting to run to August and place her cheek upon his chest, but forced away the feeling. Swung about. Headed out to her waiting carriage on shaky legs.

Severing her association with August, as brief as it had been, should have been easy, given what he'd done, but it was proving to be the opposite.

"Good day, Your Grace. I wish you happy hunting."