Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

I t was always a pleasure for Hugh to hear news of Sandhurst, and still more so when the news was that he was nothing short of broke.

"Can't say anything else," Duncan said, laying a greasy pack of playing cards on the table they were frequenting. "He doesn't know the full extent of it yet, but he knows that they're collecting the debt, and he doesn't have the means to pay it off. Been selling land up so he can at least make some of the repayments."

"Short-sighted," Hugh commented.

"Aye, but he doesn't have much choice. You've got him cornered, if you don't mind me saying."

Hugh gave a thin smile. "I don't mind at all."

These past few days—weeks—with Evangeline had been wonderful, almost enough to distract him from his purpose, but this had been his real intention behind marrying Evangeline. Revenge.

Once he found a resolution, once he'd destroyed Sandhurst once and for all and finally moved on with his life, he would be able to dedicate his time toward building a life with Evangeline. The sort of life he had once never been able to imagine having. Never mind with a woman who had turned him inside out in a matter of months. Weeks, even.

Duncan raised his glass. "To vengeance."

"And giving Sandhurst what he deserves."

"No man should go free after the things he did."

"And no one else would ever make him pay." Hugh took a long drink.

The ale was weak, but there was more where it came from and music in the corners. Barmaids were dancing and some were pouring wine, and there were games played in all corners. The light was cheery, and there was a sense of newfound hope in the air.

Duncan flicked the edge of the cards. "You're distracted."

"Sorry." Hugh forced his attention back to his friend.

"Thinking back to your lovely wife?"

"Now you're being ridiculous."

"Am I?" Duncan grinned, and Hugh had to fight the urge to hit him like they were boys again, brawling in the sand. "It is obvious things have changed."

"It's… complicated."

"Have you told her?"

"No."

"Ah."

"As I said," Hugh said heavily. "Complicated."

"Do you think she'll take the truth well?"

Hugh hesitated. There was the matter of Sandhurst, which he felt that she might perhaps understand, and then there was the matter of Lily, which he strongly suspected she would not understand at all.

Only one of those was possible to conceal indefinitely.

"I think it'll cause a rift between us," he said. "Originally, I hadn't thought it would matter much, so long as she remained by my side when I needed her the most."

"But now?"

"Now I think it may prove—complicated."

Duncan snorted. "You can say that again. So, what do you intend to do about it?"

"Confront Sandhurst tomorrow, as planned. Reveal that I am the one behind everything, that I own him in all manner of speaking."

"Aye," Duncan said, beginning to deal with quick motions. "But you know I wasn't talking about that."

"Once the matter with Sandhurst is finished with, I will go back north and tell Evangeline the truth. Then she can choose to do with that as she wishes, so long as she publicly remains my wife."

There was no reason for him to be so unsettled over the idea. The feeling was unfamiliar; usually, he was confident in everything he did, certain of both his actions and their outcome.

This was the first time he was so uncertain about another person. Or at least, the first time he cared.

He cared . What an alarming thought.

He tilted his tankard as he thought. "I like to think she will accept my word and my reasoning, and we may continue as we have been doing."

Duncan pursed his lips as he glanced at the cards in his hand. "But you don't think that's likely."

"No."

"Nor do you want it to happen."

"A series of statements does not make a conversation, Duncan."

"Peace. You've always been so quick to anger." Duncan placed a card on the table. "I'm just saying that you don't want things to change, and you definitely don't want her to back away from you, but she must know the truth. So, how are you going to make it up to her? Convince her that you're in love with her."

Hugh's hands stilled on his cards. "What?"

"You heard me."

"You're being ridiculous."

"Am I?" Duncan nodded. "It's your turn to play."

"I'm not in love with her," Hugh repeated. "That's not what this is about. Respecting my wife and wanting her cooperation—wanting a calm and peaceful household with no animosity—is not the same as being in love."

"It's hardly something to be ashamed of," Duncan said lightly, as though they were not two grown men discussing the prospect of being in love while in a tavern filled with wenches.

Admittedly, Hugh had not so much as looked at another woman since his marriage, but that had been a decision he had actively made from honor and respect. Just as he presumed she would not stray, so he had no intention of dishonoring her by betraying her faithfulness.

But that was not the same.

He did not love her. Yes, he had come to care for her, as any man should for his wife where there was respect and physical intimacy, but?—

He would not allow himself to think about it. The very idea was repugnant.

Evangeline deserved better than a man like himself loving her. His father had, in his own way, loved his mother and their marriage had always been one of contention and jealousy and raised hands.

That was something he would not allow.

"Enough talk of this," he said gruffly. "I am not in love with her, and we did not come all the way to London so we could discuss the wife I left in the north. Let's think of Sandhurst and what we will achieve there and leave the rest behind us."

Duncan nodded gravely, though the corner of his mouth twitched down. Well, so be it—the man could disagree with him if he chose to, but Hugh was not opening the matter up to discussion.

He tossed a card between them. "Your turn."

* * *

Evangeline cupped a hand over her mouth as she stared at Hugh's dead sister, who had slackened in Mrs. MacDonald's arms, obviously also in shock.

"Now, Evangeline," Margaret said, coming up behind her. "This isn't what it looks like."

"Heavens, he truly did bring a wife home." Lily blinked large eyes, looking as though she had been struck over the head. "He said he had; he said that he had brought George's prospective wife home, but I didn't believe he truly could have done such a thing."

Evangeline felt her blood run cold.

"Lily," she said blankly. "You're his—you're supposed to be dead."

The girl tilted her head. In person, she was prettier than the paintings had made her out to be. More animated, a flush coming to her cheeks and her eyes sparkling. A warmer, softer version of Hugh, but the similarities between them were marked.

She was most decidedly not dead.

"Yes," she said. "I can see how that might come as a bit of a shock."

"Why did everyone tell me you were dead?"

"Probably because that was the plan Hugh concocted when George left me for London and…" She blinked and swallowed. "You may release me now, Mrs. MacDonald. I no longer have any desire for air."

"Allow me to explain," Margaret said as the housekeeper released Lady Lily. "It will all make sense once I have explained the situation, Evangeline, though I know it must seem very fantastical to you currently."

"How could anything justify this?" Evangeline took a step backward, away from the small party of deceivers before her.

Lily had seemed such a sweet girl from the paintings, and Evangeline had felt so sorry for her.

She had also not thought that the girl could possibly be alive. That reality was beyond belief. Beyond the pale. Unthinkable. Untenable.

She took a breath.

"Does everyone know about this?" she asked, her voice cracking at the thought that she had been walking around the castle in ignorance while all its inhabitants knew about the secret sister—the one who was still alive.

And Hugh—she had known he was keeping a secret, but she had assumed it was something from his past. Something that wouldn't touch her and wasn't relevant to their life together. Not something like this .

"Not everyone, Your Grace," Mrs. MacDonald said. "I do, of course, and so does Mr. Moore, and a handful of the more trusted maids who waited on Her Ladyship, but aside from that, no one else knew. His Grace wanted to keep it from general knowledge in case word got out before he was ready."

Evangeline shook her head and stepped back, away from the small group. Her stomach churned and her chest ached, and she felt as though she might vomit across the stone floor.

"I understand not telling everyone, but I am his wife . If he can't trust me to keep a secret such as this, then what sort of wife does he think I am? What sort of marriage do we have?"

A sham. There was no other word for it.

She hadn't ever believed he had gone to London with the intention of marrying her, but she had believed that he had come to see her as more than merely a wife of convenience. She'd thought their recent intimacy had meant something.

The fact he had hidden this from her hurt more than it ever should have done. She had believed one thing about their connection, while in truth it had been something else entirely. Perhaps he was merely giving in to loneliness.

How dare he use her in that way?

"I can't stay here," she choked. "I need some time—some space. I need…"

Her voice trailed away because she didn't know precisely what she did need, except for it to be far away from there.

She turned and ran.

* * *

George Merritt's primary residence was in London, but that property was currently for sale. Therefore, Hugh traveled to Cambridgeshire, where his ancestral seat was. That, he was relatively certain, was not in danger of being sold—or at least, not in its entirety—and thus that was where he knew Sandhurst would be hiding.

Months had passed and London was still in uproar about Sandhurst's first marriage, and the callous death of his first wife, Hugh noted with grim satisfaction, so it was hardly surprising that the man had fled.

And now Hugh was tightening the noose.

There would be no opportunity for the man to remain in England by the time Hugh was done with him, and his revenge would be complete.

"Are you ready?" Duncan asked by his side. "He'll be angry."

Hugh patted the pistol in the pocket of his greatcoat. "I know. I'm prepared for that."

"Though," Duncan mused as they stood on the front steps of the imposing house, "I don't know if he'd be more likely to get gaan."

"Run away, you mean?"

"Don't you think? Rather than face you."

"I don't know if he's that much of a coward."

"Perhaps not." Duncan shrugged. "But he's not that much of a lion, either. And you outrank him in power, influence, and wealth. Every way that matters."

Hugh held up a hand. "But I married the lady he was in love with."

Duncan's expression changed. "Aye, you did that."

"And much as I wish to attribute cowardice to his list of vices, when it comes to Evangeline, she is the one lady who has provoked any sort of fight in him." He steeled himself as he rapped on the door, listening to the sound echoing down the long corridor. "We shall see."

After what felt like too many seconds, slow, ponderous footsteps sounded toward them, and an ancient butler opened the door. The man had evidently been in office all his natural life—and perhaps some of his unnatural life too.

"Good day, sir?" The butler raised his eyebrows.

"Good day," Hugh said. "I'm the Duke of Eldermoor and this is my associate, Mr. Sloane. I'm here to see Lord Sandhurst."

The butler took a moment to assess them both before inclining his head. "Right this way, sir. If you would be so good as to wait in the library, I shall inform His Lordship of your visit."

"Thank you." Hugh stepped inside the house and glanced at the sparse decorations.

By the looks of it, even the paintings and ornaments had been sacrificed to the gods of debt. The library, too, was remarkably deprived of books. No doubt most had been sold.

"How long do you reckon we'll have to wait?" Duncan asked.

"I expect he'll keep us waiting." Hugh strolled to the window and looked out over the lush countryside. "Still, I can be patient when the occasion calls for it. He'll come eventually. He'll want to know why we're here too badly to not."

As it turned out, Hugh was correct—and Sandhurst's curiosity got the better of him faster than anticipated. Only about ten minutes after they had first been ushered in, the door opened, and Sandhurst stepped into the room.

This was the first time Hugh had seen the man since the wedding, and although time had passed, it had not soothed his vitriol. Having Duncan beside him, a solid presence that would intervene if things got heated, helped him keep his head.

Sandhurst's lips curled at the sight of them both. "Gentlemen. Or perhaps I should say gentleman. What company are you keeping, Eldermoor? Truly, you should be ashamed."

Duncan tensed, but oddly the insult calmed Hugh. The man truly must be unsettled if the first thing he did upon entering the room was attempt to upset matters.

"Sandhurst," he said. "What a large, fine house you have. I was admiring it as we approached."

"Why are you here, Eldermoor?"

"I believe you have been receiving my letters? I came to collect the debt."

At the words, Sandhurst's face paled, but he kept his composure. "Was ruining my reputation not enough? Now you seek to threaten me?"

"Oh, these aren't idle threats."

"Thanks to you, I've been blacklisted," Sandhurst said resentfully. "As though it's my fault your pathetic little sister died."

"Enough," Hugh said, his voice cold. "You will not speak of my sister in that way."

"What was her punishment for being so easy to seduce? Tell me that? She practically threw herself at me."

Duncan twitched, ready to throw himself into battle, but although it was tempting to beat the man into a pulp, Hugh's revenge was more refined than that. The pain he caused would be so much deeper than a few bruises and a bloody nose.

And he would be causing pain, there was no mistake about it—there was no pretending that Sandhurst had repented his actions, or even regretted them. The only thing he regretted, no doubt, was not being fast enough to marry Evangeline when he had the chance.

Hugh seated himself in the expansive armchair by the fire, positioning himself the way he suspected Sandhurst's father would also have sat. They were not so very different in age, but Hugh had all the authority that came from holding his title for fifteen years—and from owning half of the north. He was Sandhurst's superior in every way that mattered, and by God, he would not let the man forget it.

"My sister is none of your concern," he said. "Her death most certainly falls at your door, but as of now, she is no longer your responsibility."

As though finally sensing he had stepped over the line, Sandhurst flinched. "I should apologize. What happened to her was regrettable, of course."

"Regrettable indeed," mused Hugh. "Tell me, you haven't asked after my wife. Do you not wish to know how she is?"

Sandhurst's eyes flashed. "No doubt you wish to tell me."

"The woman you love in the arms of another. She's enjoying life at Eldermoor very much and has all but forgotten you exist. Just as it should be, Sandhurst. But fear not—I am keeping her happy. She wants for nothing when she's with me."

"Don't tell me you're in love with her," Sandhurst snapped. "A man like you isn't capable of love."

"It would be foolish of you to tell her that. That might break her heart."

Sandhurst lunged at Hugh, but Hugh held up his hand.

"Now, now, don't get carried away, Sandhurst. You must know that attempting to harm me would not go well for you. I box often, and my associate here is an expert street fighter."

Duncan sent him a wearying glance, and Hugh knew he would not be hearing the end of that for a long time. At least it was enough to make Sandhurst reconsider, because the man stopped and stalked to the window.

"Why are you here, Eldermoor?"

"I told you… to collect your debts. You have received my letters, have you not?"

Slowly, George turned, and this time, his face was white. "My… debts?"

"Precisely. Glad to see you're finally catching up. I purchased them some time ago and have been calling them in."

"The letters weren't in your name."

"No. That was perhaps a little underhand of me," Hugh admitted. "I didn't want you to suspect anything until I chose to reveal it."

"Why have you chosen now?"

"Because I want you gone," Hugh said lazily. "I want you ruined, and I want you out of the country, and I've bided my time long enough. Your debts—as I'm sure you're aware—are considerable."

He made no mention of Lily or the fact that until Sandhurst was out of the country, he could not reveal her existence to anyone.

"I might have been tempted to call you out and end your sorry existence," he said, brushing invisible dust from his cuffs. "And perhaps I would have done if I had no intention of living in England any longer—but, you see, I did. And I have no intention of being forced to flee over your corpse. It doesn't quite have the same satisfaction to it. Don't you agree?"

Sandhurst's face was purple, and his jaw was clenched. "So, this was your diabolical plan."

"Yes, I suppose it was. But rather brought about by your own carelessness. If you hadn't run up so many debts, I couldn't have called them all. And if you hadn't ruined my sister and been the cause of her death—and that of her child—I would not have been so much as tempted to notice your existence."

"Charming," Sandhurst said and snorted. "And so, you suppose I will play along by your rules and flee from the country, bankrupt."

"Well," Hugh said, weighing the words as he said them, "as an extra incentive, I might be tempted not to call the full extent of your debts so you might have some money to flee with. But if you don't go, then there's nothing I can do, and I will take you for everything you have."

Sandhurst's lip curled, even as his face was the blotchy shade of old porridge.

"This isn't the end you think it is, Eldermoor. I'm not the man you think I am. I won't acquiesce to your demands merely because it's you who made them." The gaze he turned on Hugh was filled with unfiltered hatred. "Mark my words: you will live to regret this."

"Consider your words marked, but given they are empty, I shan't be holding much stock by them." Hugh rose and beckoned to Duncan. "If you leave the country by the end of the month, then you may have whatever you can scrounge from the sale of this estate, once it processes. But if I see any sign of you in England after that date, you will have nothing."

And with that, Hugh left the house.

One month and this nightmare could finally be over.