Lady Gone Wicked (Wicked Secrets)(58)

“This is what you want, then? To marry Montrose?” Alice pressed.

Adelaide nodded firmly. “I want my child.”

Her sister’s eyes glittered in the darkness. “Then you shall have him.”





Chapter Forty-One


Nick stared down the tumbler of whiskey. He was no closer to forgetting Adelaide than he had been a drink ago. He could still see her dark eyes pleading for understanding and forgiveness. The taste of her still mingled with the whiskey on his tongue. His ears were full of the sounds she’d made, the words of her confession, the lingering echo of her sobs.

He tossed back his second drink.

It did no good.

By God, how many drinks would it take?

“I told you he would be here,” Nathaniel said, claiming the seat to his right.

Wessex took the seat to his left. “I never doubted it. He doesn’t keep liquor at home, and this is no time for sobriety.”

Nick thunked his forehead down on his fist. Why? Why must they continuously torture him with their presence? He didn’t deserve this.

Or maybe he did.

“Go away,” he growled, the hated words coming easily.

Wessex remained stubbornly seated. Likewise Nathaniel.

“I would like an explanation,” Nathaniel said pleasantly. “I believe my exact words were don’t make things worse for her. And yet you did exactly that.”

Sweet heavens, no. A lecture from his sanctimonious brother was the last thing Nick wanted to endure.

“What, then? Will you challenge me to another duel?” Nick asked sarcastically.

“I doubt there will be a need for that. I wager you will be begging for her forgiveness within forty-eight hours.”

Nick snorted. “And why would I do that, pray tell?”

“Because if you don’t, you will be forced to live without her.”

Nick felt the words like a knife to the liver. Of course he knew he must live without her. His brain understood that what she had done was unforgivable. But his heart seemed not to have gotten the notice, because it cracked open painfully.

“You don’t understand,” he said quietly. “You don’t know what she’s done, and the terrible secrets she’s kept.”

“Are they any worse than yours?” Wessex asked pertly.

Nick opened his mouth, then hesitated. He had killed a man—or several. He had killed a friend. Was Adelaide’s sin in any way equal to that? She had left her baby—their son—to a stranger’s care, but what choice had she had? Prostitution? Besides, Miss Sherwood wasn’t a complete stranger. They had lived together through the fall and winter before Adelaide left for London. And Miss Sherwood was a good woman who kept a neat and orderly home—he’d seen both for himself.

Unbidden, an image of Adelaide saying goodbye to James that day sprang to mind. It had ripped shreds in his heart at the time, and remembering it now felt like vinegar being poured on the wounds. She had not wanted to leave her son, that much had been crystal clear.

Still, she had betrayed Nick. She had kept his son from him, for God’s sake. Had kept even his existence a secret from Nick.

“She should not have lied to me,” he said.

“True,” Nathaniel admitted. “Perhaps you are lucky to be free of her, then.”

No doubt.

But Nick didn’t feel lucky. He felt…utterly wrong. How completely unfair. He was not wrong, dammit! It was she who had betrayed him. She who had engaged herself to another man. She who had lied.

And still he wanted to fall at her feet and beg.

It was pitiful, really. Pathetic.

“How fortunate that Montrose is willing to take her off your hands,” Wessex said, then grinned. “Or, if he does not, I would be happy to.”

Nick saw red. “You won’t touch her. Not one goddamned grimy finger of yours will ever touch her.”

Wessex tipped his head. “One might wonder why you care, if you are as done with her as you claim.” He took a sip of brandy. “But quite frankly, I don’t care why you care. You don’t deserve her.”

Nick’s head spun—whether from the whiskey or Wessex’s nonsense, he couldn’t truly say.

“The truth of the matter is, I don’t like you, Eastwood,” the duke went on. “You could have stopped the madness years ago. But you did nothing. You let it fester and turn rancid.”

Nick blinked. What the devil was he talking about? Adelaide hadn’t reappeared until two months ago, and before that he hadn’t known that he’d left her with child.

“For years,” Wessex went on, “he was consumed with worry for you. Were you safe? Were you trying to kill him? Would your family ever be whole again?”

Oh.

Wessex wasn’t speaking of Adelaide at all.

He was talking about Nathaniel.

Nick held up a hand. “He could have written. He could have asked me to come home,” Nick said angrily.

Wessex arched one dark brow. “Because you were so very easy to find. Miss Bursnell might argue otherwise.”

“That isn’t the point.” Nick crossed his arms and glowered at the duke. “The point is, he didn’t even try.”

“And my point is, neither did you.”

Nathaniel cleared his throat.