Chapter Seventeen

C ornelius swung around, shielding Alice with his body. "Who is it?" he demanded.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to intrude. You may count on my discretion."

The nervous, diffident voice seemed vaguely familiar to Alice. Where had she heard it before?

It sounded closer now, speaking more softly. "If you see Lady Alice, you might warn her not to approach waiting carriages early in the morning."

Cornelius started toward him, growling, "Are you threatening her ladyship?"

"No, no, sir, quite the opposite," the man said, clearly agitated, with an odd mixture of shame and servility.

Abruptly, Alice remembered his voice. "Mr. Jones! Atherstone's chaplain."

Even more alarmed, the man closed the distance between them, and since he had already clearly recognized Alice, she stepped out from behind Cornelius to stand beside him.

"I beg you to return the favor of discretion," Mr. Jones said earnestly. "His Grace is not of a forgiving nature."

Alice frowned. "Is the duke still in Blackhaven? I thought he had gone back to London."

"We are at the hotel," Mr. Jones babbled. "For how long, I do not know."

Cornelius was scowling over the first point. "Are you saying His Grace threatens Lady Alice?"

His gaze darting nervously around, Mr. Jones nodded. "I am to be the deliverer of a note you must not believe," he said to Alice. "On no account leave the castle early on Monday morning. Whatever you hear or read."

"What will she hear?" Cornelius demanded ominously.

"It doesn't matter," Mr. Jones insisted. "She must not leave. And I must go."

"Oh no." Cornelius's arm shot out and seized the chaplain. "I don't trust you further than I could throw you. What the devil are you up to?"

Mr. Jones closed his eyes with such obvious agony that Alice blurted, "You're frightened."

"And trembling," Cornelius said, his scowl more bewildered than angry now. "Come."

Alice followed as he marched the feebly resisting chaplain to the little bench in the empty inn garden and sat him down. Then he took a flask from his pocket, unstopped it, and thrust it into Mr. Jones's hand.

"Take a drink and tell us everything."

"What is it?" Mr. Jones asked, eyeing the flask with suspicion. "I do not do well with strong spirits."

"A sip will do you good," Cornelius insisted.

Mr. Jones took an unsteady sip from the flask and choked.

"You are afraid of the duke," Alice said gently, sitting down beside him.

Mr. Jones shuddered. "We should all be afraid of him."

"He certainly treats you with such appalling rudeness that one wonders why he keeps a chaplain with him," Alice said.

"A weak man of God may be a useful tool," Mr. Jones said bitterly.

"Is that what you are?" Cornelius asked. "Atherstone's tool?"

Mr. Jones nodded, eyes closed again in shame. "Don't ask me what I have done. I cannot tell you. Just keep this poor child safe."

"I will," Cornelius assured him, "but why do you stay with such a man? Why do you do his bidding?"

"I am dependent upon him," Mr. Jones said. For a moment, he seemed about to spring up and bolt. Then he met Alice's gaze and added despairingly, "The welfare of my whole family is dependent upon him. He promised me one of the livings within his gift if I spent a year as his private chaplain to prove my worth. I did. What I saw…" He drew a shaking breath and another sip from the flask. "When I remonstrated with him, he told me I could leave his service and seek a living elsewhere.

"I had no other patron. He paid me well. I could care for my aging parents and send my young brothers to school, even a doctor for my sister's sick child… I am not proud, but I turned a blind eye. And then I became part of it, and he held my crime over my head to make me commit others. I cannot leave him because he is now my only possible employer. Who else would take on a priest who has taken part in false wedding ceremonies? Who has brought him…"

Mr. Jones buried his face in his hands. "I am debased and vile. I cannot even ask you to forgive me. All I have left is to occasionally foil his plots when he cannot find out I am to blame. So I warn you. And now I must go before I am seen with you."

He sprang to his feet and shoved the flask into Cornelius's hand. "Thank you. Thank you both for your kindness. God will bless you."

"Wait," Alice and Cornelius said at once, and he glanced back in alarm.

"You cannot go back to him," Alice said.

"I must, or my family starves."

"It seems to me," Cornelius said thoughtfully, "that this hold of Atherstone's over you works both ways. You know what he has done and could ruin him just as easily."

"Who cares what a duke has done?" Mr. Jones said wearily. "A poor, sinning man of God is another matter entirely. Goodnight."

Hand in hand, Alice and Cornelius watched his weary figure vanish into the darkness, his shoulders slumped in permanent defeat.

"He likes people to be afraid," Alice said. "Atherstone. We must find a way to help Mr. Jones."

"Yes," Cornelius agreed. "But you must also heed his warning."

"What is so special about Monday morning?" Alice asked.

"I'm sure we will find out."

"Together," Alice said, resting her head against his shoulder.

Cornelius's arm crept around her again.

Several minutes later, a hiss penetrated Alice's blissful haze.

"Psst! Time to come back!"

"Who is that?" Alice gasped, peering over Cornelius's arm.

"The twins, of course. And they are quite right!"

*

Cornelius's heart was bursting with joy because Alice loved him. The threat of Atherstone and the plight of his chaplain were very much secondary, as was his care for her reputation.

The twins' reminder was timely. "Quick!" they urged with glee. "Felicia and Bernard Muir are catching the cheat who stole from Maitland and made her poor!" Lawrence added.

For Cornelius, there was a fierce satisfaction in watching that play out, and in acting with his brothers to prevent the rat from leaving except under arrest. He was proud of Felicia and, seeing her with Muir again, hopeful for her happiness. It all added to the glow of his own.

Alice would marry him.

Somehow, he would build a home for her, but it would not be quick. Would she mind waiting? Or would she want to get used to the idea of being his wife? When should he speak to her brother? If Braithwaite withheld his permission, they would have to wait two years until she was of age, and even then she would be defying him.

The questions spun through his blissful delirium, even the next morning when he found himself in church, gazing at her in the Braithwaites' front pew.

He was briefly distracted by the emergence of Felicia—who had not come home with the rest of the Vales last night—from the vestry, closely followed by Muir and the vicar. The reason for this unconventional entrance became clear when the vicar called the banns not only for Julius and Antonia, and Lucy and Eddleston, but also for Felicia and Muir.

Grinning, Cornelius thumped the blushing Muir on the back. He hadn't seen Felicia look so happy since they were children.

Everything, surely, was coming right for them all in Blackhaven.

"There'll be none of us left soon," Aubrey muttered.

"Jealous?"

"Christ knows," Aubrey said savagely, taking Cornelius by some surprise.

What was going on with his rakish little brother?

Outside the church, while everyone embraced Felicia and shook hands with Muir, Cornelius moved toward Alice, who edged back from her own family to speak to him. Her smile was adorably shy and warm.

"I'm so pleased for Bernard and Mrs. Maitland," she said breathlessly. "We have known him forever, and he has always been such a good friend. One of the kindest people I know."

"He seems to be just what Felicia needs. What about you?" he asked, low. "Do you still want to marry me?"

"Yes," she said at once, and blushed enchantingly. "If you still want to marry me."

"More than anything, ever," he said intensely. He wished they were not surrounded by most of the town. He was desperate to kiss her. He contented himself with offering his arm, which she took, and they walked around the little churchyard looking for tiny patches of privacy.

"Will your brother consent?" he asked.

"He will in the end, when he sees that you love me. Of us all, only Frances really made a good marriage in the eyes of the world. But underneath Gervaise's stern exterior beats the heart of a romantic. He married for love, too."

When he sees that you love me … Her open trust in him made his heart ache with pride.

"Where shall we live?" he asked, to prevent himself simply taking her in his arms before everyone. "If you do not care for the cottage I showed you—"

"Oh, but I do!" she interrupted with such force that several people turned to glance at her. Blushing, she turned aside. "I love it. It would be perfect for us. I could see us there as clearly as I see you now. That is what confused me. I could not grasp what I felt for you, let alone what you felt for me."

"Then we could live there?" he said eagerly. "I'll speak to Julius, though I'm sure he will be happy about it. I can work on it in spare moments, and over the winter. Perhaps we can be married in the spring."

"Spring?" she repeated in dismay. "So far away."

It was his turn to blush. "I am not a wealthy man. I never will be."

Her fingers tightened on his arm for an instant. "I know, and I don't care. We could still be married sooner. I could live with you at Black Hill House, if you like. Then I could help prepare the cottage, supervise tradesmen, and so on while you are about your other duties."

Cornelius was momentarily speechless. All he could do was cover her gloved hand with his own where it lay on his arm.

"When would be a good time to call on your brother? Shall I speak to him now?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Go and celebrate your sister's betrothal. Bernard's family is great fun—you will like them, especially Gillie and Lord Wickenden. Why don't you come tomorrow afternoon? I will make sure to be in the castle."

"A good plan," he said mechanically, distracted by the sight of Aubrey on the other side of the churchyard railings, in conversation with none other than the Duke of Atherstone. Behind them, looking servile and miserable, lurked Mr. Jones. "Stick close to your family," he murmured, walking in their direction. "And don't leave the castle until we speak again."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Remember Jones's warning," he said urgently. He glanced around him, then lowered his head. "And remember I love you. Only you."

Abandoning her at Lady Tamar's side, he tipped his hat and strode toward the church gates.

Aubrey walked toward him. There was no sign now of either Atherstone or his chaplain.

"We have a problem," Aubrey said. "Morgan's second is the Duke of Atherstone. He claims Morgan will accept no apologies, though he is allowing swords as weapons. Won't budge on time, though."

Cornelius glanced at him. "Don't tell me. Tomorrow at dawn?"

Aubrey blinked. "Tomorrow at dawn."

*

It was an eventful day. As well as welcoming Muir to dinner as Felicia's betrothed, the Vales also welcomed a new half-brother, Alan Bryant, another of their rakish father's by-blows who had been respectably brought up by a wealthy family in Scotland.

Although young, quietly spoken, and clearly expecting a barbed welcome, Alan did not appear to be overwhelmed by the Vales en masse, even at their informal table, where everyone called to everyone else, wherever they sat. Muir and Felicia seemed to already regard him as a friend. And when Delilah, also illegitimate, greeted him with a cheerful "You too?" he actually laughed.

Of course, he was "twinned," as Lawrence and Leona endeavored to learn all they could of his parentage. For once, they got nothing out of their victim, and Cornelius regarded him with new respect.

But the main focus of dinner was Felicia and Muir and their upcoming nuptials. It scared Cornelius how much he would miss them all, how much he would let his family down, if something went wrong at tomorrow's duel. What if he died? Who would tend the land for Julius? His siblings' new happiness would be spoiled. And Alice…

"Spill the beans, Muir," Aubrey said. "Who won your duel this morning?"

"I fought no duel," Muir said. "We discovered there was no quarrel. This beef is delicious—my compliments to your cook."

Felicia smiled secretively into her wine, but the subject was dropped. A moment later, Betsy the maid entered and came up to Cornelius.

"There's a Mr. Harmondsworth arrived to see you, sir," she murmured. "I told him you were dining and put him in the office."

"The office?" he repeated, startled. "What's wrong with the drawing room?"

Betsy blushed a fiery red. "He says he's your man of business up from London. I thought the office was the right place for him."

"You're probably right," Cornelius said kindly, taking the card she belatedly proffered.

"What's going on?" Julius asked.

"I'm not sure yet," Cornelius admitted. "I wrote to Harmondsworth with a question, but I didn't expect him to answer in person. Perhaps I'd better go and see him. If you'll excuse me for a few minutes?"

He found Mr. Harmondsworth in the office, his coat over the back of a chair, going through papers he had taken out of his document case.

"Mr. Harmondsworth." Cornelius offered his hand. "I'm Cornelius Vale, my brother's steward. I hope it isn't only my letter that has dragged you all the way up here."

Harmondsworth shook his hand. "Well, it is, largely, but I regard the matter very seriously. I have never sold any land for Sir Julius or Sir George, and when I called on your man in Blackhaven, I discovered that neither had he. Whatever documents you have seen must be forged."

Cornelius's brows flew up. Opening a drawer, he took out the sale agreement. "It looks like my father's signature and yours."

Harmondsworth tipped his spectacles farther down his nose and peered. "It's not even a good copy. That is not my hand or my ink. What is more, I would have used a higher-quality paper. It looks very much to me as though this Daubin and Sir George's old steward have conspired to steal from you because they didn't expect you to come back, and then forged this evidence to cover themselves. I suggest we put the fear of God and the law into everyone involved and get your stolen land back."

Cornelius smiled at him. "Come and have dinner. Then we can sort everything out and plan accordingly."

*

To Cecily's surprised delight, her husband made love to her that night. Whether he forgave her or finally believed in her innocence, he did not say, but as she lay awake afterward, it came to her that he might have been saying goodbye.

Surely Cornelius would never kill Jack in this silly duel?

In any case, there was little she could do. In such matters of honor, women could never influence men.

But she could help another woman.

She had almost gone up to Alice at church to warn her, but Cornelius had been there, so attentive that her heart had been hardened. But Alice was so young, and how awful to be forced into marriage with such a cheating, ill-bred little weasel as Darcy Daubin. Or D'Aubin, whatever he called himself. Ridiculous man.

Besides, old Lady Morgan might be less critical if Cecily saved her friend the dowager countess's daughter from rape and ruin.

She drifted off to sleep and woke as Jack slipped out of her bed. It was still dark, and he was going off to fight his duel.

Don't. Please don't go.

She could never stop him. But she could impress him by saving Alice.

Accordingly, as soon as Jack left the room, she lit the lamp and dressed. Bizarrely, she almost ran into her husband and the Duke of Atherstone on the landing, and only just managed to hide herself behind a pillar in time. Jack's coat actually brushed against her, but he didn't notice. His face was white by the light of the lantern he carried.

When they were past, she slipped back to the staff stairs and fled down to the hotel's back entrance. No one was yet about in the dark stable yard, and she hurried outside. Even though no one would be able to see her, she drew the thick veil of her hat down over her face and flitted along the street and up the hill to the castle, a stark silhouette against the just-lightening sky.

By the time she reached the castle gates, she was panting in a most unladylike fashion. There was no sign of a carriage, and nothing had passed her in either direction, so she must be on time.

She had already decided that if she went right up to the castle, she might miss Lady Alice altogether—there were so many doors that she had no idea which Alice would use, and she might well lurk at the wrong one or lose her by sending messages via servants. No one seemed to be stirring yet, in any case. It was ridiculously early.

Concealing herself behind a tree to wait, she leaned against it to rest.

Where was Jack? She wondered if he was afraid.