Читать книгу Once Dishonored - Mary Jo Putney - Страница 9

CHAPTER 3

“I want my son!”

Her anguished words echoed around the small room. Lucas felt a jolt of surprise, though he shouldn’t have. Enough years had passed that Kendra, Lady Denshire, could have a nursery full of offspring. But it sounded as if she had only the one child, and he realized instantly what the problem was. “Under English law, the father has all rights to children. Denshire won’t let you see your son?”

She nodded, her fingers tightened around her half-empty glass. “Since I’m a scandalous woman, it’s positively his duty to keep me away from Christopher.” Her voice was scathing in its bitterness.

“Where does your story begin?” he asked. “Why did you marry Denshire?”

It was Kendra’s turn to get up and pace with long, tense strides. “Not long after you left to join your ship, I met Gilbert Stafford. He was intelligent and handsome and kind, and we made each other laugh. My grandfather approved of him, and his parents liked me. I had visited his estate and could see myself living there with him and raising children and being happy. We became betrothed.”

She fell silent. Lucas asked gently, “He died?”

Kendra swallowed hard. “It was the most absurd thing. He cut his hand on a rusty bridle. It seemed to be nothing, but it became inflamed. Three days later, he was dead. It was a long time before I could imagine marrying anyone else.

“But I wanted a family. I wanted to be a married woman with responsibilities, so eventually I allowed the elderly cousin who presented me the first time to coax me back to London. I didn’t find anyone I could fall in love with, but Denshire was attractive and seemed pleasant. We married and did well enough at first.” Her mouth tightened. “I didn’t realize until after our marriage that his pleasant exterior concealed a mean, selfish soul. Did you know I’m a considerable heiress?”

“No,” he said, surprised. “Since I wasn’t looking for a wife, I never thought about that. Was Denshire a fortune hunter?”

She nodded, her face almost hidden in the shadows as she stalked around the small drawing room. “My maternal grandfather was a very successful merchant and he gave me a large dowry. But he was a Scot and didn’t believe that a husband should control a wife’s property, so my money was secured in a trust that my husband couldn’t access without my permission.”

“Not the sort of thing a fortune hunter wants to deal with! But surely Denshire learned that when the settlements were being negotiated?”

“Yes, and he tried to negotiate full access to my money, but my grandfather and his lawyers wouldn’t budge. Denshire had a substantial fortune of his own, so eventually he accepted the terms with the appearance of graciousness, but I found later that he was furious. He never got over that.” She sighed. “I wish he’d withdrawn from our betrothal then. It would have been humiliating, but I would have been far better off.”

“Heiresses aren’t easy to come by so he didn’t want to let you get away,” Lucas said cynically. “I imagine he thought that when he needed more money, he could persuade or bully you into giving it to him.”

“He did think that, which was poor judgment on his part,” Kendra said. “But the first few years of our marriage weren’t bad. I paid my own bills and contributed what I thought was a reasonable amount to the household expenses. Christopher was born and I spent a great deal of time with him in the country while Denshire was busy with a gentleman’s activities in London. We got along as well as most couples do, until Denshire ran short of money.”

“Gambling?”

“Mostly, though I’m sure he had a full range of expensive vices. He became very demanding.” She touched her left cheek, and Lucas wondered if her husband hit her when she didn’t obey him. Very likely.

“I didn’t see Denshire except when he came to demand money. I was fool enough to agree the first time, but never after that.” She touched her cheek again. “He became more and more furious. I eventually decided the situation was intolerable and asked for a legal separation. That triggered his retaliation.”

“Which led to scandal and disgrace?”

Her mouth tightened. “Exactly. Another trigger was my grandfather’s death. He left the bulk of his fortune to me. He’d come to loathe Denshire, so the trust keeping the inheritance from my husband’s hands was even more stringent than before. In retaliation, Denshire decided to divorce me and do it in such a way that my name would be utterly blackened.”

“The only ground for divorce in England is adultery by the wife,” Lucas said in a neutral voice. “Were you having an affair?”

“Of course not!” she scoffed. “I didn’t even want the man I had, much less another one!”

Lucas frowned, seeing that this discussion was getting into difficult territory. “Since the divorce was granted, there must have been some compelling evidence. What really happened?”

“Three of his good friends testified in court that there was a drunken dinner party at our house and that I begged them to lie with me,” she said tautly.

He winced. “I assume they were lying?”

She began pacing again like a captured panther. “I believe they told the truth as they knew it. That night is a blur to me. Apparently Denshire hired a prostitute with a general resemblance to me, then drugged me into unconsciousness. In the dark and saturated with drink, his friends believed that I was the woman they lay with, and they testified to that.”

Lucas sucked in his breath. “That is appallingly devious and cold-blooded! How could a man do such a thing to his wife? The mother of his child!”

“He was concerned only with his own pleasures and desires,” she said coolly. “By this time, he despised me. I imagine he devised this plan as a way to inflict the maximum amount of public humiliation.”

“Is there any chance that you were assaulted when you were too insensible to realize what was happening?” he asked gently.

She shook her head. “I’ve been celibate for years. If I’d been assaulted by three men, my body would have known the next morning. I’m sure I spent that night alone. For that, at least, I’m grateful.”

“Was your maid able to testify in your defense?”

“She disappeared that night. I’m not sure whether Denshire paid her to leave, or whether he had her murdered.” Kendra shuddered. “I fear it might have been murder.”

Lucas tried to imagine what Kendra had endured. A lesser woman would have been broken. “Would no one listen to you?”

“A woman cannot testify in her own defense!” she spat out, her outrage vibrating in her voice. “I could do nothing to defend myself. Nothing! Denshire divorced me, told me I’d never see our son again, and he has instituted legal proceedings to allow him access to the trusts my grandfather set up because I owe him a huge fine as restitution for my wicked behavior. He is evil!”

“Evil or mad,” Lucas agreed. “May I ask more questions? I want to try to understand what was in your husband’s mind.”

“Go ahead,” she said wearily. “I’ve had plenty of time to think about what happened.”

“At least Denshire wasn’t ruthless enough to have you killed, which would have simplified his life in all ways.” Lucas’s inflection turned his words into a hesitant question.

“My death would have put my fortune forever out of his reach,” she said flatly. “The money would eventually go to Christopher, half when he turns twenty-five, the rest at thirty. If my son died in some horrid ‘accident,’ the money would go to charity and more distant relatives. Denshire would never see a penny of it.”

“Your grandfather sounds like a wise and suspicious man.”

She smiled a little. “That he was. Ferocious and frightening and a darling to me.”

He’d also been her protector, and now he was gone. A woman alone and disgraced was in dire straits, and Lucas guessed it was possible that under the circumstances, a court might rule that Denshire had the right to manage the money on behalf of his son. “It’s fortunate that you were unmolested that night, but it did complicate matters to hire a woman to pretend to be you,” Lucas said. “Do you know why he didn’t choose the simple way?”

“I’ve thought about that,” she said slowly. “I believe Denshire decided to hire a substitute because if I became with child as a result of that night, he would legally be the father and he wouldn’t want responsibility for a child not his own.”

Lucas shook his head. “It’s a monstrous story. No wonder you’re in a rage for justice.”

“Do you believe me?” she asked, sounding on edge. “When I say the words out loud, my tale seems too bizarre to be true.”

“Yes, I believe you,” he said steadily. “Not only is it hard to imagine someone making up such a tale, but even though we’ve only met half a dozen times or so, the Kendra Douglas I once knew was honest to a fault. I believe you still are.”

She exhaled and finally returned to her chair by the fire. Briefly she lifted the brandy decanter as if considering another drink, then set it down again. “I’m glad someone believes me. I’m trying to decide what to do next. Shooting Denshire would be very satisfying, but I don’t want to end up on the gallows.”

“If Denshire can be revealed for the monster he is, you might regain custody of Christopher,” Lucas said. “We need to find witnesses to support your story. Your maid, for one, and the woman hired to impersonate you.”

“I hope Molly is still alive, but if she is, I don’t know how to find her.” She cocked her head. “You said ‘we.’ You would help me?”

Lucas smiled, feeling a tingle of anticipation. “You need an ally and I need a good cause to fight for.” He extended his hand across the space between their chairs. “Shall we make a pact to pursue justice on your behalf?”

Looking as if she wanted to weep, she caught his hand in a tight clasp. “Yes! I hope you have a better idea of where to start than I do.”

After he released her hand, he said, “I have a few thoughts, and I have friends who will have more. I’ve been staying with my cousins Simon and Suzanne. Will you dine with us tomorrow night so we can discuss the possibilities?”

“This is the Simon who is your almost-brother?”

Lucas nodded. “He was also a colonel in the army intelligence service, so he has a number of useful skills as well as useful friends.”

“Will his wife mind having a disgraced woman at her table?” Kendra asked warily.

“Suzanne is the most tolerant of women. She has also had a complicated past and may have some good insights into your situation.”

“Then I thank you for the invitation.” Kendra exhaled roughly. “I must rest now. Thank you for coming to my rescue at the ball, and for listening to me.”

Lucas rose. “Between now and tomorrow night, think about everyone who was involved and might have information about what happened to you. Servants. Neighbors. Your husband’s friends.”

“Do you think that will help?” she asked.

“I don’t know, but it might be a start.”

“I hope so.” She drew a deep breath. “Thank you, Lord Foxton. I feel steadier for having talked to you. Step by step, I will move forward as best I can.”

“That’s all we can ever do.” He smiled. “You should call me Lucas if we’re to be allies. That will balance the fact that I keep wanting to call you Kendra Douglas.”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I want to be Kendra Douglas again. She was stronger and more clear-sighted than I. Scottish women keep their own names, so I’ll claim that right. I do not want to be Lady Denshire anymore.”

As they’d talked, she’d become more like the Kendra Douglas he remembered. He was glad because she would need that strength and clarity to fight her way out of the wreckage of her life. “I’ll collect you tomorrow for dinner, Kendra. I hope you sleep well.”

“Perhaps I actually will,” she said, sounding surprised as she escorted him to the door. “Good night, Lucas.”

After he left, she climbed the stairs to her room, tired but feeling a cautious hope that there might be sunlight beyond the dark fog of despair that had been suffocating her since her life had shattered.

Though Denshire had done his best to destroy her, he had failed. Now she was going to fight back. Women had few weapons, but she was better armed than most because she had money and determination. Dear Lord, did she have determination!

She wondered how far Lucas would go to help her. This was such a sordid business and he had no particular reason to exert himself for a near stranger. He might eventually lose interest and she’d be on her own. But his kindness and belief had already meant a great deal to her.

After she lit the lamps in her room, she opened her jewelry box and removed the miniature of Christopher, which was more precious than any of her jewels. The picture had been painted the year before. He’d grown since then, but his sunny smile hadn’t changed.

Or perhaps it had. She hadn’t seen him in months, and his life had been disrupted almost as badly as hers had been. What lies had his father told him about the divorce? Had he told Christopher that his mother was a whore whose name must never be mentioned? Surely not, Christopher was only nine!

But Denshire was capable of great vileness, so perhaps he had poured the whole ugly set of lies into his son’s ears. Would Christopher believe his father’s stories? She and her son had been very close, while Denshire had been a distant father, not very interested in his son except because he needed an heir for the title.

She prayed the love between her and her son had not been destroyed.

Her fingers whitened on the gilt frame of the miniature as the horror of her recurring nightmare swept through. Time and again she dreamed of Christopher being wrenched from her arms. Always he was a helpless, crying infant and she could do nothing to save him, nothing.

She must get her son back, for both of their sakes.