Lady Bridget's Diary (Keeping Up with the Cavendishes #1)(30)

“Something that would ruin this family and see me hanged.”

Darcy wracked his brain for something Rupert might have done. But Rupert was not prone to trouble; not serious trouble, anyway. He kept decent company, he played cards well, he wasn’t a liar or a cheat. Perhaps there was an accident that he was somehow involved in?

“Have you hurt someone?”

“Quite the opposite,” Rupert said, his voice hoarse, head down. And after a long, excruciating silence, he said quietly, “All I have done is love someone.”

Love someone? That didn’t make sense. He thought first of Bridget—-but he couldn’t imagine a blackmailable offense there. Perhaps there was another woman and an irate husband? A mistress deceiving her protector? Whom did Rupert love, anyway? He had never mentioned any one woman’s name. He seemed fond of Bridget, but these “gaming debts” had been coming in long before she arrived on the scene.

Whom, then, did Rupert love? And why was he being blackmailed over it?

It was another long, aching moment before Rupert lifted his head. And when their eyes met, Darcy knew that Rupert didn’t fear the blackmailer as much as he feared his own brother. But why?

It was another long, aching moment before he understood.

When they were young, perhaps thirteen or fourteen or so, Rupert’s best friend was one of the stable boys. Their father discovered this and thrashed his younger son within an inch of life. No son of mine, he had roared. Darcy had assumed it was because of the social disparity between them. The late earl was a horrible snob.

But perhaps it hadn’t been snobbery at all.

Darcy thought back over the years at Eton, then Oxford . . . Rupert had flirted with girls, but never spoke of anyone in particular. He had earned a reputation as a rake and did nothing to dissuade people of it. Meanwhile, he was always with his close friend, Frederick Croft.

Darcy thought of the night Rupert had rushed to be by his side, and all the stories that began “Frederick and I . . .” Slowly the puzzle pieces fit together, revealing a picture Darcy had never even considered.

Rupert loved someone he shouldn’t. Rupert’s love was a crime.

It was a crime. It was on the books, the law of the land. It went against the teachings in the Bible, the sermons in church, and the natural order of things. Darcy believed in order.

He paused, considering all these things. It was a long pause. An endless, agonizing pause. But the simple fact was that he loved his brother more.

His heart broke for Rupert. To keep this secret he had to suppress his natural desires and inclinations. He had to flirt with women, dance with young ladies, and constantly maintain the charade of perfect gentleman, the devil--may--care second son.

He must be exhausted. And frustrated. And Darcy understood.

Rupert was more like him than he realized.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Darcy asked softly.

“This is not something one says. I have been paying hundreds and thousands of pounds to make sure this person doesn’t say something. I have been putting it about that I’m interested in a wife so that in the event that this person does say something, it is unbelievable. I have even considered taking a wife, but I cannot drag her into this.”

Darcy sucked in his breath. Then he let it go.

“But why did you not tell me? I am your brother.”

“You are my perfect brother. You are a paragon of gentlemanly virtues. You were trained by our father to think only of the estate, the legacy, our reputations. Your first instinct is always the right, proper thing. How could you do anything but turn me out and cut me off? If news of this gets out, I will ruin this family’s reputation and legacy. You have to put the estate and the family name first. I will have to go. I will go.”

Rupert was right about one thing; Darcy’s first instinct was always to do the right, proper thing. This moment was no exception.

“You are my brother. I will protect you. And I will not turn you out.”

He meant every word.

Though the light was dim, he thought he saw Rupert’s chin tremble.

He managed to elicit a promise that Rupert would tell him everything in the morning and they would take care of this once and for all.

But in the morning, Rupert was gone.





Chapter 11


Had a horrible fight with Amelia last night after she caused a hugely embarrassing scene at Almack’s.

Lady Bridget’s Diary

The less said about the previous evening, the better. The family spent an exceedingly tedious evening at Almack’s. Amelia then caused a scandal—-one that was perhaps worse than anything Bridget had done thus far. What followed was quite a row between the two sisters. It only ended when Bridget stalked off and slammed the door to her room and when Amelia calmed down after a dose of laudanum was snuck into her water.

As a result, everyone, even the duchess, had slept in. But eventually, they all made their way to the dining room for breakfast.

Josephine was seated in her usual spot at the head of the table, sipping from her elegant china teacup. Everything about her was elegant, at all hours of the day.

But the way she surveyed the breakfast table was more like a general observing his troops before battle. Her trusty lieutenant, Miss Green, beside her.

Cavendish family versus the haute ton. The score was dismal.

“Where is Amelia?” Josephine asked. “That girl is late for everything except for breakfast.”