Chapter 24

Isabel stared at the letter as her world imploded for the second time in her life. These were her words, but the letter wasn’t written in her hand. How had this happened?

“Well?” Adam demanded, his voice hard and angry. “Do you deny writing a letter to Winchester? Or was it Denbury? He is the father of your former employer, Mrs. Drummond, is he not?”

Isabel couldn’t find the words. “It’s not…” She tried again. “It wasn’t—”

“Spare me the false denials, if you please. Are those your words or not?”

“Yes, but I didn’t—”

“Just tell me why you did it.” His face became a cold mask of fury. “Was it out of spite because you feared I’d soon take other women into my bed? Do you wish to punish me for not wanting you above all other females?”

“No, I never expected that of you.” Her heart felt like it was breaking. “I told you that.”

“Yet at the same time you apparently were chronicling how many whores I’d slept with.”

Isabel took a deep breath. “Do you want me to explain?”

He gave her the floor with an exaggerated flourish of his arm. “Enlighten me.” His voice dripped with contempt. “I cannot wait to hear it.”

“I confess that I wrote the letter, but I never sent it. I swear it.” Then she realized. It was Abigail. Abigail must have sent the letter in a misguided effort to help Isabel.

“Someone did.” His expression grew more remote. Suddenly the man who’d shared her bed, the man she loved, was looking at her as if she were a stranger to him. “Get out.”

“Very well.” She saw there was no reasoning with Adam when he was this angry. “I’ll be in the playroom with the girls.”

“You misunderstand me. When I said get out, I meant get out of my house.”

“I’ll get the children.” She spoke calmly but all of the muscles in her body had gone painfully tight. “We’ll be at Mrs. Drummond’s.” She turned to go.

“I don’t give a damn where you go, but my wards stay here.”

“Very well. I shall return in the morning, and we can discuss this once you’ve had a chance to calm down.”

“Are you daft?” he asked coldly. “I’m done with you. I want you out of my house and out of my life.”

She gripped the fabric of her skirt to quell her trembling hands. “There are the girls to consider.”

“Allow me to clarify.” He spoke to her with utter condescension. “You go. The girls stay. I’m their family, and they are mine. You are the hired help. Or at least you were, but now you’re not, because I am relieving you of your duties.”

She struggled to subdue the rising panic in her stomach. “You clearly need a few days to calm down.”

“I’ll never calm down where you are concerned. Get out now.”

“You cannot force me to abandon the children.”

He raised his chin. “I can and I will. Leave now, before I have the footmen forcibly remove you.”

She stumbled toward the door, numb with grief. She reached blindly for the door.

“Wait. Finch?”

She pivoted to face him. “Yes?” she asked hopefully. He had to know she would never intentionally hurt him, not after what they’d experienced with each other these past few weeks.

“Be advised that I intend to do everything in my power to keep those children with me.” His silver eyes were flinty and hard. “If you help them take Patience and Prudence from me, I will be forced to tell everyone that you are not a virtuous woman, that you implored me to seduce you, which is the truth.”

Isabel stepped back, her posture rigid. “No, Adam, please—”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I will tell everyone who cares to listen how many times you came to my bed, and I will be graphic in my descriptions of what occurred there. If I must, I’ll convince the entire metropolis that you’re a whore. I’ll ruin you. We’ll see how much the righteous earl and viscount support you then.”

---

By the time Isabel reached the Drummond house on Duke Street, she’d momentarily put aside her grief in order to accommodate the full force of her anger. She stormed past the stunned butler and burst into Abigail’s sitting room without waiting to be announced. “How could you?”

“Isabel.” Abigail put aside the book she’d been reading. “What is it?”

“I placed all of my trust in you, and you betrayed me.”

A furrow appeared between Abigail’s eyebrows. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You gave the letter I wrote about Adam to your father.”

Abigail tilted her head. “Adam, is it?”

“Oh, Abigail.” Anguish tunneled Isabel’s body. “How could you betray me this way?”

Abigail came to her feet. “I would never do anything to harm you. I love you. I was trying to help you. It was only a matter of time before Sunderford hurt you again.”

Isabel collapsed on the sofa. “You had no right.” She stifled a sob. “Everything is ruined.”

The other woman knelt at Isabel’s knees. “What has happened?”

“He knows about the letter. He thinks I’ve betrayed him.” Isabel didn’t bother to wipe away the tears streaming down her face. She could barely breathe through the paralyzing pain in her lungs. “He’s cast me out.”

“You shall stay here, of course, until we sort this all out. Where are the girls?”

“That’s just it. He’s keeping them from me.”

Abigail inhaled sharply. “That cad.”

“You don’t understand. These past few weeks, while you’ve been in the country, we’ve grown very close.”

“How close?”

“I love him, so much so that it hurts.”

She handed Isabel a kerchief. “He seduced you again?”

“No, I seduced him.” She blew her nose. “It’s been wonderful. I never expected to fall in love. I know someone like Adam can never be faithful for long, but there’s nothing to be done for it.” She unburdened herself, telling her friend everything about the last few weeks, from Sunny’s thoughtful birthday gift for the girls to the loving tenderness he showed both them and Isabel.

When she was done, Abigail’s eyes watered. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to protect you from being hurt again, but I’ve done just the opposite.”

“You had no right. You were perfectly aware that I had no intention of sending that letter to anyone.”

“I’m so sorry. You’ve been through so much already, and I wanted to spare you that pain again.”

“Well, you haven’t.” Isabel stood, feeling restless. “I must go.”

“Go where?”

“I cannot bear to stay here with you. Not after what you’ve done.”

“Oh, Isabel.” Abigail’s voice cracked. “Please forgive me.”

“Perhaps I will in time. But for now, I have to get away from here.”

Abigail followed her to the door. “At least tell me where you’re going.”

Isabel shook her head. “No. That way if Sunderford asks you where I’ve gone, you won’t have to lie to him.”

“But you cannot just leave. Tell me what can I do for you. I’ll do anything.”

Isabel looked at her friend. “You’ve done quite enough. It is up to me to put things to rights now.”

---

About thirty minutes after Isabel’s departure, Sunny was about to down his third glass of whiskey when the girls came bounding into his study. Patience did a cartwheel across the green patterned Axminster carpet, while Prudie skipped up to his chair.

“Cousin Adam, when are we going to the plunge pool?” she asked breathlessly, her sweet round face full of happy expectation. “Izzy said we’d be going soon.”

“Where is Izzy anyway?” Patience came to a tumbling stop next to her sister, her honey-colored curls askew from her exertions. “We cannot find her.”

Uneasiness slid through Sunny’s gut. He couldn’t exactly tell them the truth—that Finch was a traitorous lying wench who’d tried to tear all of their lives apart. So he lied. “Finch was unexpectedly called away.”

“Called away where?” Prudie asked with wide, innocent, trusting eyes that made him feel like a damned liar, which he was.

“By whom?” Patience asked. “And why didn’t she take us?”

“She never leaves us,” Prudie put in.

Bloody hell. Sunny silently cursed the nanny with the most filthy language in his rather extensive vocabulary for placing them all in this situation. “Her aunt is ill. Finch is going to stay with her until she is well.”

“Which aunt?”

“Where does she live?”

“The coast.” He tried to recall where Finch had said her people were from. “Plymouth.”

Prudie leaned over his armchair, invading his space as usual. “Who’s going to take care of us?”

An excellent question. He scrambled to find an answer before settling on a satisfactory response. “My sister Anne.”

“You have a sister?” Patience asked.

“Yes, she is a teacher who can continue your lessons.” Sunny knuckled his eyes, still feeling completely battered by Finch’s betrayal and unable to fend off the usual barrage of Patience/Prudence questions. “Girls, I’m feeling a bit out of sorts—”

“Poor Cousin Adam.” Prudie climbed over the chair arm and into Sunny’s lap.

“What are you doing?” he asked wearily. At the moment, he did not have the wherewithal to comfort the child.

“You look sad.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed hard. “Izzy says when people are sad, a big hug makes them feel better.”

He took her into his arms, surprised at how much comfort he took in her earnest sweetness and the steady beat of her heart against his. A strong surge of emotion engulfed him, soothing his sore heart and calming his anger. Profound gratitude settled over him at the realization that even though Finch was gone, he wasn’t alone.

---

Tom’s concerned face peered down at Sunny, who was sprawled on his bed, legs and arms askew. “How are you?”

“How the devil do I look?” Sunny kicked repeatedly at the crumpled bed linens tangled around his feet. Isabel had been gone for seventy-two hours, and he’d been abed for most of that time. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a carriage.”

“I see.” There was no hint of empathy in the doctor’s voice. “Would you care to explain your symptoms in greater detail?”

Sunny didn’t even know where to begin. What was this god-awful feeling? “My head aches, my chest feels like it’s being shredded. It’s painful even when I just blink my eyes. It hurts to breathe.”

There was a knock on the door and Anne came in. “Your Grace. Are you unwell?”

“That’s what we’re about to see.” Tom removed a hollow wooden tube from his worn black leather doctor’s bag. “Let’s have a listen. Please remove your shirt.”

Sunny sat up, his body heavy and lethargic. His head felt as though a horse had trampled on it. He shrugged out of his linen shirt and tossed it aside.

Tom placed the tube on Sunny’s chest and put his ear to the opposite side. “Please breathe normally while I have a listen.”

“What in Hades is that contraption?”

“Just a hollow tube. Listening to the internal sounds your body makes assists me in diagnosing any maladies you might have.”

“Why have I never seen you use that before? Usually you just put your head to my chest.”

“It’s a device some of my colleagues at the physicians’ college and I have begun using. It allows me to hear with more clarity. However, if you don’t stop talking, I won’t be able to hear anything at all.”

Sunny quieted, feeling miserable all over, his body one big ache. Jarvis worked diligently, placing his tube contraption at various places on Sunny’s chest, stomach, and back. Anne waited at the foot of the bed, her arms crossed, concern stamped on her elegant face. When Jarvis was finished, he returned the listening tube to his doctor’s bag, with a quiet “hmm.”

“What is it?” Sunny demanded. “What are you hmming about?”

“I don’t believe you need a doctor, Your Grace.”

“What is it then?” Anne asked.

“The devil I don’t,” Sunny said at the same time. “If this is what they taught you at that physicians’ college of yours, I clearly wasted my money in sending you there. I feel like shite.”

“Yes, I’m sure you do.” Tom closed his doctor’s bag. “You are exhibiting all of the signs of a common enough ailment. However, it is not a malady that requires a doctor’s care.”

“Then what in Hades is it?”

Amusement glimmered in Tom’s eye. “A broken heart.”

Sunny glared at the doctor. “Shut up and be serious.”

“Ah,” Anne said. “That makes sense.”

“I am most serious,” Tom said to Sunny. “I understand Miss Finch has removed herself from the premises.”

“At my request.” Sunny placed the back of his hand over his eyes to block out the light, as well as his tiresome companions. “She’s a lying, deceitful piece of baggage, and I don’t want her anywhere near the children.”

“I see,” Tom said. “I understood from Miss Finch that the two of you were no longer at each other’s throats and that all was harmonious in the household.”

“She seems like a lovely woman,” Anne’s voice put in.

Sunny shifted his arm, uncovering one eye so he could peer at Jarvis. “The nanny told you that?”

“She did. I received a note from her just last week.”

Possessiveness flared in Sunny’s gut. “Why would she feel the need to inform you of the state of our…my…household? Were you still pursuing her?” If he was, Sunny would pummel the man here and now and enjoy doing so.

“Calm yourself. It was nothing of the sort. We’ve remained friends. My continuing interest in Miss Finch is not in the least bit romantic. It quickly became clear to me that she was besotted with you and you with her.”

“She told you that?” Hope kindled in his chest, but Sunny quickly smothered it. He’d never again be foolish enough to believe anything the deceitful nanny said. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“You say you told her to leave. You separated her from the children?” The disapproval in Tom’s tone was clear. “She’s very devoted to them.”

“They’re my blood. They belong with me. And Finch is not to be trusted.” He waved an impatient hand. “In any case, that’s beside the point. I’m clearly ill, and you need to give me something to ease the pain.”

“Only time will ease the sort of anguish you’re experiencing at the moment,” Tom said.

“Cease with your nonsense. There is no such thing as a broken heart.”

“Literally, perhaps not. But my professional opinion is that the pain you are experiencing is a direct result of your break with Miss Finch. I have suspected for some time now that you and Miss Finch have developed a bond of a deeply personal nature. Simply put, you are heartsick.”

“That’s completely ridiculous. I’ve gone through many women before…the nanny.” He couldn’t bear to say her name.

Anne came around to the side of his bed. “None that you loved and let into your heart.”

Sunny groaned. “I don’t mean to be vulgar with you, Anne, but I have been close, very close, with many, many women.”

Tom stiffened. “Mind your tongue around my sister.”

“Shut the hell up.” Sunny sat up, ready for a fight. He’d had quite enough of Tom’s smug manner and know-it-all ways. “She’s my sister, too.”

“Then maybe it is well past time you started treating her as such.”

“Sod off. Maybe it’s time you stopped resenting me for being our father’s heir.” Tom might be the old duke’s firstborn but Sunny, younger by two years, was the son to whom the title, social standing, and riches had gone. “It’s not my fault the old bastard was actually wed to my mother at the moment of my birth.”

Flushed, Tom took a menacing step toward Sunny. “Insult my mother, and I will thrash you like the sniveling spoiled brat of a little brother that you are.”

“That’s quite enough.” Anne strategically placed herself between her two half brothers. “I’m certain Adam meant no disrespect to your mother.”

“Bloody hell.” Sunny pressed his palms hard against his gritty eyes. “I like his mother rather more than I ever cared for my own.”

Tom’s mother was a laughing, lighthearted woman who’d been seduced by the old duke after one drunken evening in the tavern where she’d worked. While pregnant with Tom, she’d wed an innkeeper and the union, which produced no other children, seemed a happy one. Mrs. Jarvis had always been kind to Sunny, offering a meal or ale on the few occasions he’d managed to sneak out to play with the village children or wandered into the inn.

“Adam has been very generous with us,” Anne said to Tom.

Sunny’s elder brother let out a derogatory huff. “With his money, perhaps.”

Sunny stared at him. “What else is there?” Ungrateful sod.

“Stop it, Tom,” Anne said firmly. “He does the best he can.”

Sunny swung his head in her direction. “What do you mean by that?”

“What we are both saying,” she responded in a gentle manner, “is that you’ve been generous financially, but you’ve held yourself apart in all other ways.”

Tom grabbed hold of his doctor’s bag, making as if ready to depart. “That’s probably because we’re just his father’s bastards. God knows there are plenty of those around.”

Sunny had no idea how many children his father had sired on the wrong side of the blanket. The very thought of it made him ill. The pounding in his head worsened. “Are you going to give me something for my head or not?”

“Not. Because the source of your pain is emotional, not physical.”

“What rot.” Weary of arguing, his headache worsening, Sunny propped his elbow on his thigh and cradled his pulsating head in one hand. “If you aren’t going to be of any use, just get out.”

Anne put a sympathetic hand to his arm. It felt comforting, which surprised Sunny. Physical touch unrelated to sex no longer seemed abhorrent. The children seem to have cured him of that. Since Finch’s departure, he’d grown used to their earnest little hugs. He shook his head with disgust. He really was going soft.

He looked up at his sister. “Who’s looking after the girls?”

“They’re having a music lesson. As I was saying,” she continued, undeterred by his interruption, “Miss Finch and the children are the first people in your life you’ve allowed yourself to become emotionally attached to. I mean no disrespect to your parents but they were not, shall we say, particularly demonstrative.”

“I’ll say,” Tom chimed in. “They were about as loving as automatons.”

“The old duke was a heartless bastard, and the duchess as remote as a Pacific island,” Sunny said impatiently. “I fail to see how any of this is relevant to my current malady.”

“What Anne and I are attempting to get through that thick skull of yours,” Tom explained, “is that although you’ve bedded every doxy, strumpet, and willing widow in Town, those interactions were purely physical, like eating a meal for nourishment or relieving yourself to rid your body of waste. But that was not the case with Miss Finch.”

“Indeed.” Anne nodded. “What you had with Miss Finch is unlike any other interaction in your experience.”

“What rot.” But even as he dismissed their ludicrous theory, memories of making love with Isabel flooded his memory and warmed his blood.

His chest had never felt so full, and he’d never known such tenderness or the feeling of belonging to something much larger than himself or even the dukedom as when he’d laid with her. The physical sensations had certainly been immensely satisfying, but it was the accompanying emotion—the full engagement of his body, mind, and heart—that had elevated the coupling beyond anything he’d ever experienced before.

Was it really possible that he suffered from heartache?

“Bloody hell.” He flopped back against his bed pillows. “Even when she’s absent, the harridan is making my life a living nightmare.”

“Welcome to the love game, brother.” Tom smirked. “It’s not for the hen-hearted. Frankly, I’ve never believed you were man enough for it.”

Sunny put a pillow over his head to shut them both out, eager to be alone in his misery. “Go to the devil. Brother.”