Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30

W aking in the benign afternoon, for the first time in months, William felt more rested than he had ever felt. There was no stress of rising before dawn, pushing his body to its limit, and then doing it all over again. The only thing he was missing was Bridget sprawled over him, the way he had come to love.

Where is she?

Sitting up, he rubbed his face. “How do I tell her about Frederick?” he murmured to himself softly.

Moving from the bed, he made a quick visit to the washroom, then headed out to find Bridget. It was midday, could she be in the library reading one of the classics, or in her drawing room, working on this week’s menu? Maybe she was in the breakfast room with her friends?

“Lane?” He asked coarsely while stepping into the cozy room. “Do you happen to know where—”

Bridget came in like a whirlwind, her skirts billowing. “Is it true!”

Stymied, he asked, “Is what true?”

“My brother,” she jabbed a finger at him. “Did you kill him?!”

Ice washed right through him. His mouth opened and closed twice but no words came out; his eyes flicked to the man behind her, the very same one he had a feeling had desired Bridget all this time.

“Is it true!” She slapped a hand on his chest, then did it again. “Is it true? Tell me! Why won’t you tell me?!”

Tears were beading in her red eyes, and William knew he could not deny or lie his way out of this. He reached out to grasp her shoulder, “I can explain—”

Her face washed white. “You—you did! You did kill him!”

“I did not mean to,” he stressed. “I didn’t even know it was him. You have to believe me. When he stepped into the ring, he said his name was Ricky, it wasn’t until I found out from an old army man of his regiment that I learned it was indeed him! I never meant to kill him, Bridget, I swear on my life.”

“You didn’t say a word to me, and you knew about this for weeks!” Her voice was breaking.

“Not weeks, God no! I only learned of the truth the night before the final bout. You were right when you said I was distracted, I could not concentrate because I could only see the moment he’d collapsed in front of me. Over and over in my mind’s eye.” His hold tightened on her. “If you only knew how sorry I am.”

She pulled away and her inclement emotions transformed her visage. “Stay away from me,” she whispered coldly. “Don’t come near me again. Now, let me go.”

His hands tightened instead; his features harsh with desperation. “Please listen to me, sweetheart. I omitted the truth about Frederick, but I love you and I cannot, I will never lie to you.”

“Let me go.”

“No.”

“You sent my brother to his grave!” she screamed. “Let me go!”

“You heard the lady. If you have any decency, let her go,” Baron Howell said calmly. “And it would do you well to annul the marriage and return the asset you won over on that last bout to her and then some. Or do you want me to release to the papers that you murdered her brother?”

“What?” Bridget’s head snapped to the Baron, then to William. “What asset?”

“On the night of his final fight, your brother placed his house, your old ancestral home, as a wager, and by default, I won,” William said miserably.

“Another deception,” she whispered.

“I did not mean any of this,” he hastily added. “Please, understand, I never…” The words failed him. “Please don’t go.”

Shaking her head, Bridget backed away until she met Adam’s chest. “Adam, please, get me away from here.”

“As you wish.”

Anger and despair tangled inside her as she boarded Adam’s carriage.

She’d fallen in love with a cad and gotten ripped to pieces for it. To think that she had trusted William with the one thing she cared for more than anything—her brother.

Instead of saving his life, he ended it.

She was done with love, done with being lied to and made a fool of; never again.

“You are better off without him,” Adam muttered. “I always had it that man was a seditious bastard and that he was bad for you. You’ll do good to leave his life.”

“I believed he would save Frederick,” she said emptily, as the carriage trundled out of London and headed for Kent. “I’d gambled on the one thing I shouldn’t have, Adam… and I lost.”

“Meaning, Frederick.”

She gave him a fleeting smile. No, Adam, I mean my heart.

The red tiles lining the rooftop of Adam’s townhouse had a decidedly Italian feel to them but the marble steps and columns, Grecian.

“I know it looks all over the eras and cultures, but inside is nothing like the exterior, I promise,” he defended while unlocking the door. “It’s been a long journey; you must be ravenous.”

“I don’t think I can stomach a morsel,” she replied quietly. “I need to sleep.”

“I cannot allow a lady to leave to her bed hungry,” Adam replied while calling for a servant girl. “Indulge me again. My cook makes a sumptuous pheasant. There’s nothing like a well-roasted pheasant with new potatoes and seasoned vegetables. And perhaps a good Yorkshire pudding to go with it.”

“Adam,” she sighed. “Please.”

“How about tea and a small mince pie?” he asked instead. “I cannot sleep knowing you are hungry.”

She looked down, “I think I ran out too quickly. I haven’t brought anything to sleep.”

“No need to fret. I still have some of my sister’s old things,” he continued. “You’ll have everything you need.”

“Thank you,” Bridget murmured while taking off her coat. “I suppose I can settle for some tea.”

“Good God, man,” Andrew said. “You’re supposed to be at home, basking in the fruits of your winnings and celebrating with your wife. Why in the name of all that is good and holy do I catch you getting foxed at Whites?”

Ignoring him, William threw back his whiskey.

She was gone.

The memories of her walking out were all he saw. They buried him in a darkness worse than if the earth had opened and swallowed him alive. Remorse had his chest in a vice grip.

She was gone. Gone because he’d deceived her, killed her brother without knowing it, then hid it from her.

She is never coming back.

“Arlington?” Colin joined him, “What the deuce is going on?”

Setting the glass down, he finally muttered bitterly, “She left.”

From his periphery, he saw the two share a look, “ She as in… the Duchess?”

“Why?”

Eyes clenched, he leaned on the table and the tale came out, from the moment he had met Briget in the alley to the deal he’d made with her to find her brother and restore her fortunes. It all spilled out in calm, concise words. He did not hold a thing back and when everything was said, the silence around him was deafening.

“Now, I think I need a drink,” Colin called for a glass from the barkeep.

“Shakespeare has nothing on this torrid tale,” Andrew muttered.

Taking a stool, Colin asked, “Did you try to explain it to her?”

“I did, but she would not listen to a word I said,” William slurred. “I cannot convince her otherwise.”

“But—if the man had a heart condition, anything could have made him collapse,” Andrew replied. “Isn’t that simple logic?”

“Would you listen to logic when you heard someone killed your loved one?” William scoffed.

“You’re a fighter,” Colin pressed. “Go and fight for the woman you love and don’t even try to tell me you don’t love her because it is written all over your face that you do.”

“She went off with Baron Howell, somewhere to Kent,” he murmured, “What should I do? Go there and scale the ivy like a love-skin Romeo?”

“It couldn’t hurt,” Andrew replied cynically with a shrug.

His words were met with a fist against the heavy wooden table. “I forgot to tell the reason I did not chase after her,” William exhaled somberly. “Howell stated clear as day he would publish that I was the one who killed Frederick, and you already know how London thinks of me.”

“Extortion? Christ,” Colin muttered.

“No matter how you look at it, I will be blamed,” William sighed, shifting his glass to the side, “Dukes can get away with almost anything but murder.”

“Is there a way to turn this back on him?” Andrew asked, very little hope lacing his tone.

“I don’t see how,” William shrugged, “As far as I know, he never committed a crime, nor would it do any good to my standing with Bridget.”

If he’d only taken the risk and told her the truth earlier, she would have maybe understood and forgiven him. Instead, he’d been a coward and dragged it out.

Shifting in his seat, Andrew pressed, “Are you going to let the love of your life fade away like that? I thought you were more of a stubborn bastard than a spineless one.”

“I cannot love her from gaol,” William grunted, the shadows of the room playing over the back of his hand. “Maybe I have allowed the fantasy to take over my common sense.”

“Despite what you might think, you do deserve love,” Colin scratched the side of his head. “You fought a giant for her, William, and we both know it. The moment she touched you, you got the strength to finish the fight. Maybe the tables are turned now; she is the weak one and needs your strength instead. Think of that, Hartwell.”

With a clap to William’s back, both men moved off and left him to his thoughts.

What if they are right? What if it is a switch around, and I need to go to her this time?

His gut clenched.

This Baron , it was clear he desired for more than a ‘sisterly’ relationship with Bridget, and the thought of the man touching Bridget the way he’d loved her made him want to rip the man limb to limb.

His words played over in William’s mind. It would do you well to annul the marriage…

He had to get to Bridget before the man sewed permanent poison into her heart against him. He had to find her.