Duke of Arrogance, page 22
Jon took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. “But I cannot allow you to wed me without telling you first. If you choose to walk away, I will understand.”
“I would never do that,” she insisted quietly. “I love you.”
He glanced away, not having the courage to look her in the eyes. After another calming breath, he said, “I am a murderer, Arabella. I killed my own brother.”
Arabella stilled. She tried to make sense of the words Jon had just spoken. Yes, he could be arrogant and overbearing—but a murderer?
She didn’t believe him.
“Tell me,” she said. “Take your time.”
Jon let out a loud, guttural wail. He began weeping, his body trembling as if he were chilled. She gently placed a hand on his arm, wanting to show him she was still here and not going anywhere. He wept for some time, heaving sobs that wrenched her heart. She had only seen two men cry before, ones who had been in their cups at Oxford.
This was entirely different. It’s as if he tried to purge his soul. She kept her hand in place, knowing once the tidal wave of emotion ran through him that he would finally reveal whatever darkness had threatened his very sanity.
Finally, he calmed. He began speaking, his voice almost monotone. Arabella knew not to interrupt and let him get it all out.
“I was born minutes after my brother, Arch. He was meant to be the duke. We were identical twins, with only a few being able to tell us apart. We were more than brothers. More than being one another’s best friend. We had an unbreakable bond between us that nothing could sever.
“Until I killed him.”
She kept her hand in place, breathing steadily, trying not to let his words shock her. There had to be more to the story. A hunting accident, perhaps? Something that Jon blamed himself for. Surely, he hadn’t actually killed Arch.
Or had he?
She remembered now hearing the name before and wondering if this was a Sutton sibling not currently in London. Now she knew that Arch had died. When and where remained to be revealed.
“Everyone loved Arch,” he continued. “He had a sunny nature and was outgoing. Very athletic. I was more reserved. Arch loved to push the boundaries. He thought rules were made to be broken and as a future duke, none applied to him. He would have been in constant trouble if . . .”
Jon’s voice faded away and Arabella finished his thought. “If you hadn’t taken the blame for him.”
Her fiancé nodded. “We looked so much alike. If someone saw Arch committing mischief, it was easy to blame me. Arch was the heir apparent. The golden child. Father lavished praise upon Arch and favored him in all things. I soon earned a reputation as a troublemaker. It was easy to step in and take the punishment.”
“You did so willingly?”
“Of course. He was my brother. My twin. I loved him beyond measure. I would have died for him. Killed for him.” He choked.
Arabella tightened her grip. “I am here, Jon. Go on.”
He sighed. “Arch became ill during our last term at Harrow. Some rash which spread along his body, accompanied by fever. The headmaster sent him home. In a way, I was relieved. We had always competed in everything. For the first time in our lives, we’d been separated. I finished the term with strong marks and raced home, eager to see my twin.”
He stared out into the space ahead of him. “When I arrived, I learned Arch had been moved to the dower house. I couldn’t understand why Father isolated him and raced to see him. Dr. Broll was there. He told me Arch had syphilis.”
Arabella gasped. Unlike most ladies of Polite Society, she knew of the disease. If Arch had been diagnosed with syphilis, it was a death sentence.
“The doctor had used mercury on Arch even though it was dangerous. I learned Arch would likely go blind. He was already half-deaf. Paralysis was a strong possibility, as was his heart being affected. The doctor said dementia, too, would most likely set in and Arch wouldn’t know anyone, least of all me.”
Tears now streamed down his face. Her heart ached hearing his words.
“When I saw him, I barely recognized him as my brother. He’d lost both hair and weight. His body was covered in the rash and grotesque sores. His vision was fading.” Jon paused. “The doctor had been frank with him so Arch knew what lay ahead. He was in great pain. It was terrible seeing him in that state.”
She kept her hand on his arm but with her other hand she reached out and covered his fingers with hers.
“He told me I would be Blackmore. Not him. It would be my reward for being punished and ignored for all those years.” A strained smile crossed his face. “Arch said I would have to learn to be someone I’d never wanted to be and not to be an arse to my second son, as Father was to me.
“Then he asked me for a final favor. I would have done anything for him. Anything. What he asked . . . what he asked . . . was before his mind and sight went . . . was for me to help kill him. He couldn’t stand the pain any longer. The headaches were excruciating. He was living under a death sentence.”
Jon fell silent for some minutes, tears glistening his cheeks.
“He pleaded for me to help him. Dr. Broll had been giving Arch laudanum for the pain. I poured all that remained into a cup of water and helped him drink it.”
He wiped his face with the back of a hand. “Now you know. I took the life of my beloved brother. I have had to live with that every day.”
Jon closed his eyes. Arabella looked at the man she loved, seeing the pain and sorrow that had been his constant companions, knowing he’d never shared this with anyone but her.
“You didn’t murder Arch, Jon. You saved him,” she said.
He turned and looked at her. “I took his life, Arabella.”
She shook her head. “It was no longer his life. The disease ate away at him. He would never have recovered. He wanted to go out on his terms—and you allowed him to do so. What you did, you did in love, Jon. Love for the one person who meant the most to you. Of the two of you, you were the stronger one. Arch knew that. You had always carried his burdens. This was the final one. But he wouldn’t want you to dwell on it. Be consumed by it. He still lives in your heart, Jon. What you do with your life, you do for Arch and you.”
He began weeping again. His head fell into her lap and she stroked his hair.
“You know I am right,” she said after some minutes. “Arch would not want you to feel guilty any longer. You have for over a decade. It’s time to put your act of love aside and the guilt and shame it brought and begin living your life to the fullest.
“With me.”
He raised his head, his gaze piercing hers. “You still want to marry me?” he asked hoarsely, shock on his face.
“I want to spend every day with the man I love,” she replied, deciding more than anything, Jon needed her to speak of her love as well as show him. “I want you to live a full life, doing all the things you want to do, as well as things your twin might have wanted to do and see. I want to bear your children and grow old with you. Without you, my life would be empty. With you, I feel complete.”
He cupped her cheeks. “I don’t deserve your goodness but maybe Arch sent you to me.” He kissed her tenderly. “You are my reason to live, Arabella. You will be my conscience. My guiding light. I will use my wealth and position and power for good.” He smiled. “Starting with your school.”
“Our school,” she corrected.
“Our school,” he agreed, a slow smiling spreading across his face.
He leaned up and knocked on the roof of the carriage. “Home!” he shouted, loud enough for the driver to hear. Then he settled back into the cushion and lifted her into his lap. She wound her arms about his neck and rested her cheek against his chest, his skin warm. They remained that way until the carriage pulled up at his townhouse. Then she kissed him, a healing kiss of warmth and forgiveness and sunshine, wanting him to know how much she loved him—and always would.
He leaned over and opened the door and said to her, “It’s already early morning. We have been driving most of the night. Go home, my sweetest love.”
Taking her hands, his kissed them. “I love you with all my heart, Arabella. I think I did from the moment I saw you. I will love you for all the decades to come. Until the end of time and beyond. Thank you for loving me. For helping me to forgive myself.”
Never had Arabella heard sweeter words.
Jon lifted her from his lap and placed her next to him. He pressed a final, soft kiss on her lips.
“I will see you at our wedding.”
The ride to his townhouse took but a few minutes with the streets so deserted. He exited the carriage and entered, finding Randall waiting in the foyer for him.
“Your Grace, might I have a word?”
“Come to my study,” he suggested.
Neither man spoke until they arrived and the door was closed.
“What is it, Randall?”
“I heard the shouts from before and saw Lady Arabella fleeing, along with you running after her.”
“Don’t worry. I have set things right between us. She saw something . . . unsavory.”
“I know exactly what she bore witness to,” Randall said, his face flush with anger. “I took it upon myself to go upstairs after you left and found a naked Lady Walton gathering her clothes. It was apparent what had transpired and how the woman tried to ruin your relationship with Lady Arabella. Believe me, I gave her an earful as she tossed on her garments.”
Randall paused. “You should know something, Your Grace. Lady Walton admitted to slapping Lady Arabella.”
“She what?” He saw red, rage filling him. “I will ruin her,” he said, his voice low and deadly. “She will receive the cut direct from me and all my friends. It will be crystal clear to the ton that Lady Walton is not to be invited to any social affair and if she is, the host will feel my wrath.”
Jon shook his head. “All I have to do now is discover how she wound up in my bed.”
“I know how she gained access, Your Grace. The footman responsible is waiting in the kitchens. Thistle and Winspeth are keeping him company and making certain he does not flee.”
He offered Randall his hand. “Thank you. I will see him now.”
Jon strode to the kitchens, Randall trailing behind him, where he found his butler and valet standing guard over a footman who sported a black eye.
“What have you to say for yourself, Porter?” he roared. “You did the unthinkable. You betrayed me in the worst possible way.”
“I needed the money, Your Grace,” the footman whined. “I found myself mired in debt.”
“Gambling, Your Grace,” Thistle said, disgust in his voice. “I got that much out of him.”
“Lady Walton bribed you?”
Porter nodded. “She did.”
“Give me the money,” he commanded, his eyes narrowing when the footman hesitated.
Pulling the notes from his pocket, Porter said, “What are you going to do with it? It’s mine.”
Anger surged through him. “This money is no longer yours, Porter. It is being donated to the school for boys that Lady Arabella is starting. She is to be my duchess—and your foul deed and disrespect of her will not be tolerated. Pack your things. You are to leave at once. Dismissed without references.”
The footman’s jaw dropped then quickly closed. “Yes, Your Grace,” he said, rising to his feet and hurrying from the room.
“I’ll make certain he is gone in the next few minutes,” Randall said.
“I’ll help,” Winspeth said and both men followed the footman.
Left with Thistle, Jon said, “Thank you for making certain Porter didn’t slip away.”
“It was the least I could do, Your Grace.
“And the black eye?” he asked.
Thistle smiled. “That would be my doing, Your Grace.”
Jon grinned. “Well done, Thistle. Well done.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jon escorted Elizabeth to the carriage. His sister looked lovely in a soft peach gown, her blue eyes shining with love for him. Arthur opened the door and helped his cousin up and then climbed in after Jon entered the carriage.
As they settled themselves in the vehicle, she teasingly asked, “Are you ready to give up being a bachelor and a rake?”
In truth, he had never been comfortable with the role of rake. He did it more because he thought it was what Arch would have been. His carefree twin would have worked his way through the willing women of the ton, reveling in every encounter. Arch’s zest for life and breaking the rules were what guided Jon all the years since his brother’s death.
Now, he could finally become himself—thanks to Arabella.
“Who would want to be a bachelor and a rake when they could be wed to the most amazing woman in all of London?” he asked.
“You do love her, don’t you, Jon?” Elizabeth asked anxiously.
“I do.”
“And you’ve told her so?”
He smiled. “I have.”
He finally had told her of his love in the carriage, after the cathartic experience of baring his soul to the woman he loved. She hadn’t judged. Hadn’t fled. Arabella merely listened and, in all her wisdom, helped him forgive himself. He planned to tell her every day—every waking hour—that he loved her. Why, he might just wake her in the night and not only tell her so but show her just how much he loved her. She had saved him. She would continue to do so. They would be a couple who always listened to one another and met the challenges of life head on.
“Have you settled where to go on your honeymoon?” Arthur asked.
“We’re going to one of my estates in Kent,” he shared. “We can reach it in half a day.”
“Kent is beautiful this time of year,” Elizabeth said. “And don’t worry about us. I will take good care of Arthur and he of me.”
“Lord Barrington is going to take me in hand while you are gone,” Arthur revealed. “He doesn’t wish for me to get behind in my studies. He’s also promised that we will start selecting books for the school’s library.”
“That will keep the two of you busy while we are gone,” Jon said. Though he loved his sister and had grown quite fond of Cousin Arthur, he was looking forward to having time with Arabella with no others around.
After the brief trip of a few blocks, the carriage pulled up at the Treadwell townhouse and Jon helped Elizabeth out and escorted her inside, Arthur behind them. Weston greeted Jon, enveloping him in a bear hug.
His friend pulled away and said, “You told her, didn’t you?”
“I did. She understood. She has embraced me for who I am, flaws and all.”
“Good. Come outside into the garden. Elise has everything set.”
“A garden wedding?” Elizabeth asked. “Oh, I didn’t know the ceremony was to be held outdoors. How very romantic.”
They went to the rear of the house and through the open French doors. George came and greeted them.
“You are already looking like a reformed rake, Jon. It’s said reformed rakes make the best husbands.”
“I would agree with that,” Elise said, coming and kissing his cheek. “Weston and George had terribly black reputations and Samantha and I are the happiest of wives. I am certain Arabella will feel the same. Come along and meet Reverend Saunders.”
The clergyman had a ready smile. “I hear this is a love match, Your Grace.”
“Very much,” he agreed. “I not only love Arabella but I respect and admire her.”
“Have you the special license?” Reverend Saunders asked.
Jon produced it and the clergyman looked it over.
“All in order. Very good, Your Grace. It is almost time. If you would, come and stand here.”
“Of course. Arthur, you’re to come stand with me.” The young man nodded with a huge grin plastered on his face.
The clergyman indicated an archway leading into the garden. The sweet smell of roses blooming filled the air. His friends and family gathered in a semi-circle. Jon only wished Andrew and Phoebe could have made the trip from Devon. With a small babe, though, and the speed at which he and Arabella had decided to wed, that had been impossible. He would join his friends in visiting the Windhams once the Season ended, so that they could meet Arabella.
The love of his life.
He also longed for Sebastian to return to England. He’d missed his friend from university days. They corresponded regularly but he had yet to write him regarding Arabella. Jon would like to see Sebastian’s face when he opened the missive that revealed Jon had wed. Hopefully, Sebastian would return to England soon since it looked as if Bonaparte’s days were numbered.
Elise nodded and music began. He turned and saw a harpist and violinist some feet behind them. The sweet strains of music filled the spring air.
Then he caught sight of Arabella on her father’s arm. Lord Barrington beamed with pride as he escorted his only child toward Jon. But his attention was focused on Arabella.
Her gown was of the palest blue, trimmed in a darker blue. The diamonds he’d gifted her glittered in the sun. What warmed him, though, was her radiant smile. She reached him and they only had eyes for each other. Lord Barrington took his daughter’s hand and kissed it before placing it on Jon’s arm and stepping aside.
His heart pounded with a mixture of nerves and excitement as they spoke their vows. Jon knew the best decision of his life was asking this woman to become his wife. Life would be good and rich and sweet with her by his side.
Reverend Saunders indicated he could now kiss his bride. Unlike most grooms, who gave their new wives a quick peck, Jon allowed himself to drink in Arabella. He could kiss this woman all day and never tire of her.
“Should we begin the breakfast without you two?” he heard Weston call out playfully, causing Jon to break the kiss.
