Chapter 17
“Shut the door, James.” The Duke barely looked up from the study as his son walked in.
As always, it annoyed James greatly; his father was no stranger to treating him in the same way as he treated everybody else.
“You sent for me, Father?” James had been sent to the Duke’s study by a very embarrassed looking footman, and it was a struggle to keep the annoyance from his voice.
At times like these, the ceasefire between father and son proved to be a little irksome. Before James had a happy life to protect, he would have soothed his own annoyance with a heavy serving of sarcasm.
To smile and keep his bad humour from showing was proving to be increasingly difficult, and James could hardly wait for the day when he could present Charlotte Cunningham to his father as his new fiancée and watch as the old man could do nothing about it.
Assuming Charlotte ever said yes, of course.
“I did. I did.” The Duke finally looked up from his papers and smiled before waving his son amiably into the seat opposite the desk.
James sat down and returned his father’s smile. This business of them getting along was going to take some adjusting to.
“Forgive me, Father, but I am packed and ready for my journey to Hanover Hall. I had promised Hector and his father that I would be there in time for a charity reception they are holding this evening.”
It was true; he had promised. But that was far from being his reason for haste. Charlotte and her father were attending, and he had sent her the briefest of notes to let her know he would see her there.
After the disappointment of missing his previous intended visit, James was certainly looking forward to seeing her beautiful face again. And, not trusting his father, he had left his message to her until the last minute, not wanting to have to send her yet another long letter of apology for letting her down.
The Duke did not speak for some moments, and James eyed him with suspicion. Surely, he was not going to interfere in his plans again. It had been many weeks since his last visit to the east, and the Duke could have no complaints this time.
“You will not be going to Hanover Hall today, James.” The Duke smiled, but it was not the conciliatory smile he had employed of late; it was something far crueler and more self-satisfied.
It was a smile of victory, something James had almost forgotten about in the weeks and weeks of cordiality.
“I have made a firm arrangement,” James said in a steady voice; he knew his anger would not stay buried for long.
“And with whom have you made a firm arrangement, boy?” The Duke’s voice was low and his pale eyes shining with excitement.
“I beg your pardon.” James felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
“With whom have you made your firm arrangement? Hector Hanover or Miss Charlotte Cunningham?” The Duke looked as satisfied as a cat with a helpless mouse between its paws.
“Both.” James was furious; had his father known all along?
All the time James had wasted doing his father’s bidding and keeping him on his side, or so he thought. But the spiteful old man had been interfering with full knowledge for some time; James had no doubt about that.
He could see no sense in trying to hide Charlotte now. Everything was clearly known after all. But how had it become known? Who had passed such information to his father in the first place?
There were too many unanswered questions flying through his mind, questions that would have to wait until later. For now, he needed to state his case and make his position clear.
“Honest at least.” His father raised his eyebrows and smiled again. “But then, you are not stupid. No point denying something that is clearly known, eh?”
“I will let neither Miss Cunningham nor Hector down again, Father. You might well know that I have an interest in Miss Cunningham, but I should tell you that I intend to marry her. Your interference will make no difference.”
“You will not marry her,” his father said so matter-of-factly that James felt his heart sink.
Why did the Duke seem so very sure of himself?
“I will marry her if she will have me,” James reasserted.
“No, you will not.”
“I care nothing for her father’s money,” James said; he guessed that would be the larger part of his father’s objection.
“I realize that. But it is time you started to think of such things. Duchies run on money, and it is up to you to seek it out. I sought out your mother because her father was a wealthy man. A man as wealthy as Lady Felicia’s father as a matter of fact.”
“I will not marry Felicia Trent.”
“I care not, but you will not marry the daughter of Lucas Cunningham.”
So, his father had done a little work, had he? Enough to find out the basics about Charlotte if nothing else.
“I do not see how you can stop me. Unless you want to have me removed as the heir to the Duchy. And even if you do care to embark on such a process, and even if you are successful, which I think extremely unlikely, I do not care. I shall still marry Charlotte if she will have me.”
“No, you shall not.” The Duke laughed, and it was a rotten sound that gurgled in his chest. “If you care about her as you claim to, you will stay away from her from now onward.”
“Stay away?” James was tripping over his words; his father had an ace card up his sleeve, and he knew it.
“If you care about the young woman’s reputation and standing in society, not to mention her undoubtedly delicate feelings, you will keep away from her.” The Duke was dragging the whole thing out and clearly enjoying himself.
“Get to the point,” James hissed and could feel his hands balling into fists on his lap.
“Alright, my dear boy, I shall.” The Duke leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together over his swollen gut. “If you continue to meet with Charlotte Cunningham, then that young lady is going to be made aware of some facts that will undoubtedly be shocking, if not heartbreaking, to the poor creature.”
“And what facts are these?” James said and wondered just what on earth his father, or one of his emissaries, could possibly have discovered.
“I am sure that your young lady will be most surprised to discover that she has a sister in the world.”
“A sister?” James was dumbfounded.
“Well, a half-sister to be absolutely correct about the thing.”
“Charlotte has a half-sister?” The possibilities were racing through James’ mind.
“Although I believe the young lady is under the mistaken impression that she is an only child. Perhaps she might like to have a sister.” The Duke laughed in a most ugly, bawdy way. “Although I am not sure that she will be pleased to hear the details of how that sister came into the world. Especially not if she has previously thought highly of her father.”
“She thinks very highly of her father and with good reason,” James said angrily, although he knew what was coming. “He is a very fine man, a very fine father, one who only has his daughter’s happiness at heart and not his own wants and wishes.”
James was hoping to make an unfavourable comparison with the Duke but could see already that he would get nowhere with it.
“Then I can only suggest that there was a time when the fine Baron was not so selfless. A time when his own wants and wishes were very much at the forefront of his mind.” The Duke laughed so hard he began to cough. “Or the forefront of his breeches, at any rate,” he went on when the coughing had subsided.
“That is enough!” James said angrily. “You do not even know the family, Father, and I will not hear you discuss them in such an ugly way. Your behaviour is disgraceful, Sir.”
“Oh dear, that rather sounds like your mother talking. Goodness me, that woman and her dainty ways. If only she had not passed such dainty ways onto her son.”
“It is not dainty to be respectful. And it is not manly to be disrespectful and disgusting.”
“Whatever constitutes manliness, my dear James, the facts are as they are, and I think that you will find that I am the winner. I and my insensitive sense of humour would appear to be the victors.”
“Victors? For heaven’s sake, this is not a game; you are talking about people’s lives,” James said desperately. “Mine included.”
“Then it is a good thing for you that I am here to look out for the life that you would so easily squander, is it not?”
“I do not wish for your intervention in any aspect of my life, Father. I do not want it; I do not welcome it.”
“And yet I will intervene anyway, whether you care for it or not.”
“And so, this is a threat?” James wanted to know the worst now.
“It is a promise. Continue in this courtship now I have told you to desist, and Charlotte Cunningham will be the one to suffer. Her father will suffer too, obviously, for no man likes to have his dirty laundry inspected publicly, but I think the daughter will suffer the most.” The Duke looked inappropriately pleased by the last.
“I cannot simply turn my back on her.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I could never be so cold.”
“Then your very warmth of personality is going to be the most painful thing that young lady ever experiences.” As the Duke spoke, James realized how he hated him. “Because she will be told everything. She will not be spared a single part of it. Charlotte Cunningham will know how her father sired another daughter with one of his servants when her own mother lay terribly ill in her sick bed.”
“Servant? Which servant?”
“I do not know which servant.” The Duke shrugged as if the details were unimportant. “Surely that is neither here nor there.”
“In deciding whether or not you are telling the truth, I think that the identity of the servant is very important.”
“You think I am telling a tale, do you? You think I have simply come up with a story and nothing more? You really ought to know better, James. You really ought to know that I am a very determined man, and that I have conducted the most thorough of investigations.”
“And what proof do I have of this thorough investigation? You surely do not expect me to simply take your word for it, given that you are a most determined man; determined to have your own way in everything at least.” James had the awful feeling that he was fighting pointlessly; he really did know his father better.
“Well, if you will not take my word for it, perhaps you would do better to speak to the Clarkin family in Hollerton. I am sure that they will be as keen to furnish you with the details as they were my own representative.”
“Clarkin?” James said vaguely, knowing he had heard the name somewhere.
“Yes, yes. You have heard the name before, have you not? Allow me to assist.” The Duke smiled slowly and antagonistically. “Does the name Ruth Clarkin ring any bells for you?”
“Charlotte’s maid?” James said in disbelief.
“Yes, Charlotte’s maid. All these years the young woman has been fetching and carrying for the Baron’s daughter, little knowing that she is every bit the aristocrat herself. Well, she would be had she been born on the right side of the blankets, but you take my meaning. Ruth Clarkin is Charlotte Cunningham’s younger sister.”
“That cannot be true.”
“Why? Because Charlotte has never mentioned it? My dear boy, the girl knows nothing of her father’s dalliance. That is what makes my own victory so complete, do you not think?”
James could hardly think in a straight line; he closed his eyes and tried to picture the two women as if side-by-side, wondering if there was truly any resemblance. After all, since one was dressed as a lady and the other as a lady’s maid, it was hard to reconcile the two as sisters.
“This is rotten,” James said, unable to think of anything else to say.
“Rotten, perhaps. But clever, do you not think?” The Duke raised his eyebrows, and James could hardly believe that the man was expecting praise for his hateful slyness. “Anyway, I can see that you have had the most dreadful shock, my dear boy, and I think it best that you take a little time now to think about it from every angle, to look at the thing properly, and to come to your own conclusion that there is only one course of action. You must break all ties with that woman and, furthermore, you must cease to make your little trips to the east. I cannot risk you continuing in this courtship behind my back. I do not trust you, you see.”
“You do not trust me? That is rather ironic, is it not?” James said and rose to his feet.
He knew he was unable to stomach another moment of his father’s company, and he would have to leave the room before he was provoked into an action he could only regret.
As much as he despised his father, the Duke had been right; he really would have to look at the thing properly and decide what move to make next.
Charles Holt had hovered in the wide corridor for almost twenty minutes. He knew that James Harrington was in the study with his father receiving the news that had been entirely the fruit of Holt’s own labours.
He hoped that the meeting would be brief, for he did not wish to happen upon any of the household servants whilst he lurked suspiciously.
But he did not want to make himself scarce either, for Charles Holt did not want to forgo the opportunity to look into the face of the man whose world he had just been instrumental in shaking to its foundations. Charles had worked hard for this moment, and he would have it. He would have it, and he would enjoy it.
As always, it did not occur to Charles to examine his own behaviour. He did not wonder if he was motivated purely by envy, for it did not matter to him. He did not see his own flaws, only a lifetime of injustice that had seen a sarcastic fool of a young man as an heir to the Duchy and himself a simple attorney.
Charles was the cleverer man, and he had just proved that. He had proved it to himself, and now he wanted to prove it to James Harrington. He wanted him to know who had truly brought him to his knees, even if he did not say it.
After a few more minutes, Charles was rewarded for his patience when he heard the Duke’s study door creak open.
He straightened himself up and began to walk slowly along the corridor in that direction as if he had simply arrived himself and was making his way to his client for instruction.
James walked out of the study without closing the door behind him. His shoulders were down, sagging a little, and Charles Holt’s own spirits began to soar. So, Lord Harrington really did love the Honourable Miss Charlotte Cunningham. Somehow, it made his own little victory all the sweeter.
James had his head down as he approached Charles; he was clearly deep in thought. But that was not good enough for Charles; he wanted the man to raise his head and look into the face of the clever attorney who had defeated him.
Thinking that his moment would never come, Charles Holt loudly cleared his throat in a bid to gain James Harrington’s attention.
His little ruse worked, for the noise seemed to bring the Duke’s son back into the here and now. He raised his head immediately and looked directly at Charles.
Charles did not speak, not even to say good morning as he ordinarily might. He simply smiled, a slow, satisfying smile.
James Harrington’s eyes widened just as the two men passed one another, and Charles knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had silently conveyed his victory to the young man he so despised.