Whoever had coined the phrase Be careful what you wish for... clearly knew a thing or two.
‘What are you going to do?’ Randolph’s troubled expression undoubtedly matched Owen’s.
‘What can I do? This will break Lydia’s heart.’ The second Runner’s report was more damning than the first. And even when presented with proof of her brother’s debauchery and downright duplicity regarding her, she had still asked Owen to pay his debts. If he sent the blighter to jail, she’d never forgive him.
‘You have to tell her.’
‘No, I don’t.’
Because it wasn’t worth it. He saw that now as clear as day. Her father wasn’t yet in the ground, she had just learned her brother had sold her off to Kelvedon. Owen wouldn’t be responsible for shattering what was left of her world.
‘I’ll let sleeping dogs lie.’ Better to be the bigger man than the vengeful one.
‘Then the past will always be there—hovering in the background.’
Not if he accepted her forgiveness. He knew in his heart she would still forgive him. She loved him and that would be enough. ‘I’ll simply tell her I stole those blasted candlesticks in a moment of weakness and have been too ashamed to tell her.’
His friend rolled his eyes. ‘And her mother’s precious pearls?’
‘No... I shan’t admit to those. I’ll deny all knowledge of the pearls because they matter too much to Lydia.’
Randolph threw his arms up in the air exasperated. ‘This all matters, Owen! Just because the truth is unpalatable doesn’t mean Lydia doesn’t have the right to hear it!’
‘He’s right, Owen.’ The so far silent Gertie stroked his hand. ‘You were determined to find the truth. You’ve hunted for it for years. Now you have it, you must see it through to the end. It isn’t fair that we both know it and your own wife doesn’t. That’s not the way to build a good marriage.’
She was right. They both were. He knew it just as he suddenly knew so much more. Enlightenment had made him very philosophical all of a sudden. It was staggering how clear things became when one was stood on the moral high ground. From the summit he could now finally see everything and no one was more shocked than he was to discover it had altered his perspective.
Owen knew he should be angry. Knew he should be howling at the heavens and kicking furniture all around the room at Justin Barton’s horrendous crimes, or at least savouring the moment of being completely exonerated, but instead all he cared about was how it would affect Lydia.
And selfishly, how it might affect him by default.
Them.
Could there ever truly be a them if he had her brother arrested? The new Earl of Fulbrook was the only family she had left. She adored the snake. And while she might be currently furious at him for arranging her betrothal to Kelvedon, she would not want to believe Justin capable of committing such a betrayal, nor thank him for appraising her of the fact, and Owen loved her too much to put her through the ordeal of another trial. Another sentence. Another banishment to whichever miserable English prison they sent peers to while she was left to pick up the pieces. There would be more scandal and enough misplaced guilt to crush her spirit.
Two wrongs did not make a right.
But, as usual, blasted Randolph had a point. There had been enough lies and he would not add to them. That wasn’t the way to start a marriage. ‘I’ll tell her after the funeral.’ Which she was currently in the midst of planning because her wastrel brother didn’t have it in him to organise anything which did not benefit himself.
Or at least that was where he assumed she was. He had awoken all alone and, with the reliably watchful Slugger mysteriously missing, too, found nobody who knew where she had gone. They had both been gone all morning.
Gertie was pouring him a second cup of tea when he heard Lydia on the stairs and Owen rushed out to greet her. Except it wasn’t Lydia. It was Slugger.
‘Where is my wife?’
‘The same place she’s been for the last three hours—sat on a bench in Hyde Park. Staring at a bunch of trees.’
‘At the back of the Serpentine?’ Alarm bells started ringing. ‘What’s she doing there?’
His big friend shrugged. ‘She went to her father’s house, stayed there less than half an hour, came out looking distraught and then went to the park. I can’t get a squeak out of her and, while I was loath to leave her all alone, I can’t deny I’m worried. Something’s wrong, Owen. Very wrong. You need to go fetch her because she will not listen to me.’
He didn’t need to be told twice, dashed down the stairs, sprinted down Curzon Street and, when his legs weren’t carrying him fast enough, did the unthinkable and hailed a hackney to take him as close as he could get before running again.
His lungs were burning by the time he reached the Serpentine. In the distance, there indeed was Lydia, still sitting on the bench, her shoulders slumped as if the weight of the entire world now rested on them.
‘Lydia.’ Her head snapped up, her expression suddenly so tragic he couldn’t bear it. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’ve been thinking about the past...and what you said about it being like brambles. And I understand now, because I feel as though they are choking me.’
All his fault. He’d kicked the hornets’ nest. He couldn’t let it lie and now she was suffering.
‘About that...’ Gingerly, he sat next to her on the bench, deciding there and then it was his job to protect her from the truth. She didn’t deserve to feel this wretched. Nor should she have to choose between him over the only living relative she had left. ‘I am calling off the investigation. I’ve decided I don’t care what happened. All that matters is now.’
‘Liar.’ It was barely a whisper. ‘You know my brother did it, don’t you?’
Owen was silent, trying to work out how she had learned what the Runner had relayed to him at eight this morning when she had been gone since dawn. He considered denying it, considered confessing to the crimes himself, then dismissed both foolish ideas because neither would be fair. ‘Who told you?’
‘Nobody. I remembered something. Something significant. My mother’s pearls...’ She shook her head, then stared back down at her hands, clearly lost in her own personal pit of despair. ‘They were missing weeks before I first met you. She lost them before we went to Bath, which coincidentally was about a week after my brother came home from Cambridge. He had been summoned back by Papa for overspending his allowance and, according to your file, he already owed a thousand pounds of gambling debts by then. I confronted him this morning...’
He reached for her hand. Through the soft leather of her gloves, he could tell it was frozen solid. ‘Come... Let’s go home. It’s freezing out here.’
She refused to budge.
‘My heart always knew you were innocent. That’s the real tragedy I cannot get over. I didn’t want to believe my eyes, but...’
‘I know, Lydia. It doesn’t matter.’ And in that moment he realised it didn’t. Randolph, damn him, was right again. In the grand scheme of things this was in the past, set in stone and ultimately irreversible. Therefore, it was best left there. He wouldn’t allow it to taint his future now that he had a future with her. ‘It really doesn’t matter any more.’
She turned to him then and he could see she was thoroughly devastated. Guilty and ashamed. Broken. ‘I should have said something, Owen. I should have spoken out. Defended you. Then perhaps...’
He placed a finger on her chilled lips. ‘There is no perhaps. There is nothing you could have said or done which would have changed the outcome. I would still have been arrested. Still sentenced. Still sent to the other side of the world.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘Yes, I do.’ He wrapped his arm around her and tugged her close. ‘I had this notion that when I came home, I would give you irrefutable proof of my innocence and then I would forgive you and it would all be made better. I really wanted to savour that moment and I suppose feel superior because of it, but I don’t want that now.’
In fact, all things considered, it was now the last thing he wanted. ‘As I see it, you have nothing to be forgiven for either. We were both powerless to change things, Lydia. Neither of us had a voice. I was a nobody and you were just the sixteen-year-old daughter of a man who never noticed you. We were both victims. We both lost out. Were both unfairly punished. If you had tried to defend me, admitted you knew me, then your father would have sent you away in disgrace, I’d have definitely hanged and your mother would have had nobody with her when she died.’ He kissed the top of her head, feeling bizarrely lighter than he had in years. The truth—the whole truth—had truly liberated him from the past more effectively than he could have ever imagined even a few days ago. Like an oppressive weight had been lifted, those damn brambles hacked away. ‘With hindsight, it could have been so much worse and all we lost is ten years.’
‘Thanks to my brother.’ She pulled away, squaring her shoulders, so determined to be brave. ‘He bribed the stable master to testify against you in court.’
‘I know.’
‘The stable master is dead.’
‘I know that, too. Mr Argent died of a stroke two years ago. But his daughter is alive and well and living in the Lake District...’
She sighed, her clever brain piecing it all together. ‘I suppose he made a deathbed confession and she is prepared to testify as much in court.’
‘She is. But I am not going to bring charges.’
‘That’s ridiculous!’ Lydia blinked back at him, completely flabbergasted. ‘My brother blamed you for a crime you didn’t commit. Had you transported! Tried to have you hanged!’
‘He did.’
‘Don’t you want retribution? Justice? Revenge?’ Because she did. She had been sat here for hours, debating whether to head straight to Bow Street to tell them of his treachery or to head back to Libertas to beg for her husband’s forgiveness first and see if he could find it in his big heart to want to remain properly married to her when she could have saved him. She should have remembered that one pertinent detail sooner.
Ten whole years sooner!
‘I’ve never been one for revenge. I’ve always prided myself on being the bigger man. Randolph calls it my most nauseatingly pious trait. While I wasn’t born a noble, I was born intrinsically noble and I rather like the irony of being the obviously bigger and better man in this case.’
‘Please don’t be noble for me!’
‘I’m not. Not entirely. A tiny part of me cannot bring myself to have your only living relative arrested, that is true, but bizarrely, and for the life of me I cannot explain why, I am quite content to be noble. He knows he is guilty and he also knows we know he is guilty. He’ll get his comeuppance eventually. It is as predictable as night following day. Fate has a funny way of squaring things off—as our marriage bears testament to. Besides...’ He looped his arms around her waist again possessively and kissed her, smiling. ‘The very best revenge is not to let his petty cowardice and self-preserving selfishness win now that we finally are bound together for all eternity as we were always meant to be.’
‘After everything, you are going to allow Justin to escape scot-free?’ He really was the biggest of men to allow that. And most possibly the most foolhardy. ‘I want him to pay, Owen!’
‘He will. And handsomely. Because I have another plan. One he will not see coming.’
This sounded more like it. It might be vengeful and mean-spirited, but she wanted to see Justin suffer. ‘What is it?’
‘I thought we’d give him the deed to the Berkeley Square house and wash our hands of him completely.’
If the sky suddenly fell down or pigs sprouted wings and started to fly above their heads, she couldn’t have been more surprised. ‘That’s it?’ Lydia could barely lift her jaw from the floor. ‘You want to gift him the house! That is your plan? Why on earth would you want to give him the deed?’
‘Because, as you rightly said, my love, to err is human and to forgive divine.’
‘How could you possibly even suggest forgiving him?’ Because she never would. Her eyes had been opened wide to what he was and, more importantly, she felt it in her heart. Her brother was dead to her and deserved everything he got. ‘He’s a monster!’
‘He is. But we are better than that, Lydia, and, more than anything, I have decided it simply doesn’t matter any more.’
‘How can you say it doesn’t matter?’
He smiled at her—beamed, in fact. ‘Because he didn’t win.’ Something which seemed to please him immensely. ‘He threw everything at us, lied, schemed, cheated, plotted, separated us by ten thousand miles and seven long years—yet here we are regardless. Still together. Still madly in love. It’s taken the truth for me to finally realise that that is really all that matters to me. I have everything I’ve ever wanted and nine-tenths of that everything is you.’
‘That is all...’ Her heart was positively melting at the way he was looking at her. There was so much love and joy in his eyes. ‘...Lovely... But I still do not understand why we should give him the deed. Not having him arrested for his crimes is one thing—but giving him the house is rewarding him for his treachery when he deserves to rot in jail.’
‘Do you want that house, Lydia? Because I certainly don’t. Whenever I see it, I remember the day I was dragged away from it in chains. It’s filled with nothing but bad or tainted memories and the debilitating, depressing ghosts of the past—and I think we are both done with all that. It will only hold us back as all thoughts of revenge always do. Let him have it, with my blessing. If you want a house, give me two years to save and I’ll buy you one. A better one. Certainly a happier one. If we give him that one, then we can cut all ties with the dreadful Bartons for ever—and move forward.’
More proof she had married the perfect man. Loved the perfect man. He was giving up his rightful, hard-won justice—for her. ‘He’ll only lose it.’
‘That is inevitable.’
‘But it is your three thousand pounds, Owen! And I am mindful you have already lost ten.’ Almost everything he had. Each penny earned with his blood, sweat and tears, ten thousand punishing miles away. All diligently saved for the future he longed for, but could only dream of having while her brother squandered his away.
‘I didn’t lose anything, my darling.’ He pulled her up, grinning. ‘Because ultimately I won. So much more, ironically, than I bargained for. So much more than I ever dared hope for.’
He kissed her again. A gloriously passionate and public kiss that left her completely breathless. ‘And don’t let this go to your beautiful, vexing, stubborn head, Wife, but I’d have happily paid twenty, so I think I’ve got off lightly.’
‘You didn’t have twenty.’
‘I’d have found twenty. I’d have sold my share in Libertas in a heartbeat...for you.’ Before she could find the words to speak, he took her hand and entwined his fingers through hers. ‘Come—let’s get that toxic deed and give it to him now. His face will be an absolute picture. Then, let’s have a wonderful life purely to spite him—and your miserable father and anyone else who looks down their nose at us. Let’s savour every moment, Lydia, build a million wonderful memories to make up for the ones that were stolen and thank our lucky stars that fate was always on our side. Because it won’t be on his. Your brother is doomed to live the rest of his miserable, loveless life looking over his shoulder for all the numerous others he has cheated, robbed and maligned over the years. All of whom will not be as forgiving as this better and bigger man. And unless he has an epiphany, which I fear he is incapable of having, he is doomed to die a miserable and lonely death one day—just like your father. A proper life sentence... Whichever way you look at it.’
What a truly noble man he was. ‘Clearly I married a mad man, but if that is what you want...’ She tapped her reticule in defeat. ‘The deed is in here. Alongside the list of his debts and the letter he sent to Kelvedon. I was going to take it all to Bow Street and ask them to arrest him.’
He seemed momentarily surprised and then touched until both emotions were replaced by cheerful resignation. ‘I dare say it is only a matter of time before they do—so let’s save ourselves the hassle and leave that up to some other poor wretch. All the interviews, statements, the trial...the scandal and publicity...’ He made a face. ‘Having been through all that before, albeit from the other side of the dock, I’d rather spend the time productively making up for lost time. Or making those babies you were so adamant you wanted.’
‘But he wronged you. Stole seven years from you.’
‘He did. But his arrest won’t change any of that. I cannot turn back time. I will never get those years back and neither will you. They are done and dusted. But our love endured.’
‘And you are not angry?’ Neither did he look it. ‘I don’t understand why you are not shouting and waving your arms about?’
He kissed her nose, grinning. ‘Clearly marriage to a good woman has mellowed me. Perhaps I have become even tempered all of a sudden?’ He shook his head, smiling as if such a thing was indeed a miracle.
‘But to allow him to get away with it hardly seems just! Are you sure you don’t want to press charges, Owen?’
‘Bizarrely, never surer. We can’t change the past, Lydia, any more than we can run from it. But we can come to terms with it. It happened. It wasn’t fun. But we emerged out the other end stronger people. In a strange sort of way, I wouldn’t be where I am now if your brother hadn’t cheated me. I wouldn’t have Libertas, or Randolph or Gertie and all their annoying children—or very probably you. We were so young and naive, Lydia, and our situation next to impossible. We might not have stayed the course.’
‘But what if we had?’
‘Let’s not kick that hornets’ nest. Neither of us could possibly ever know what might have been. Only what was and what is.’
‘You are very philosophical all of a sudden.’
‘I am. Perhaps it will become my newest, most nauseating trait?’ He tugged her away from the Serpentine and, feeling decidedly off-kilter and confused, she allowed him to lead her briskly to Berkeley Square. While she hoped he might come to his senses, he showed no signs of it and beamed as he knocked loudly on the door.
The butler answered straight away, looking every bit as wary as he had on the day she had been left standing on the doorstep.
‘We have come to see my brother, Maybury.’
He swallowed nervously. ‘I shall see if he is at home, my lady.’ Then he tellingly closed the door rather than inviting them in.
‘Care to make a wager he is suddenly out?’
‘He wouldn’t dare!’ Lydia would knock the damn door down herself if he tried it.
‘Cowards always hide.’ Owen’s deep voice was carrying, enough that several of the people around them slowed their pace to watch the spectacle. ‘Especially when they are in the wrong.’ In a show of impressive bravado, he sat on the top step, facing out to the square, arranging his long legs in front of him and crossing them at the ankles as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Then he winked and patted the stone beside him. ‘We might as well be comfortable while we wait.’
It was funny—sat next to Owen and watching the sea of curtains twitch all around them, she didn’t feel the least bit humiliated. If anything, she felt empowered. By the time Maybury returned, looking completely terrified, she had the makings of a plan all worked out. Owen might well be noble and determined to be the bigger man—but she was a woman. His woman. And she felt no compunction to be the bigger person at all.
‘I am sorry, my lady, but His Lordship is indisposed.’
‘Is he, indeed? Well, that is embarrassing...’ She allowed her voice to carry, too. There was no feeling of mortification this time. No cringing embarrassment. In front of the whole of Berkeley Square she fully intended to cause a scene. ‘It puts me in the dreadful predicament of having to conclude my business with him here on the street.’ Slowly, she stood and made a great show of rummaging in her reticule.
‘Kindly give him this, please, Maybury. It is the deed to this house, which my dear husband bought to save my feckless brother and miserable father from complete financial ruin. Tell him that against my advice and despite my cowardly brother’s shoddy and ungentlemanly behaviour towards him, my beloved and noble husband has decided to gift the deed back to him.’ She unfolded the enormous piece of parchment and practically held it aloft so that any onlookers could indeed confirm at every social engagement they happened to be gossiping at it appeared to be every inch a legal document before she imperiously handed it to the butler. ‘And can you also kindly inform the new Earl of Fulbrook that, henceforth, we wash our hands of him and his further six thousand pounds’ worth of gambling debt.’
The poor fellow blinked back at her for several seconds before he finally found his voice. ‘I will, my lady.’
‘Furthermore, please tell him that while my sainted husband is benevolent enough to forgive him for his treachery, I am not. When Bow Street come knocking—and both they and the bailiffs will come knocking one day very soon—I shall happily give them statements as to his character and all his past transgressions. All of them, Maybury. Be quite specific in that.’
Poor Maybury gulped. ‘I shall, my lady.’
‘And do let him know I’ve now found all the evidence I need and I shall keep it until such a time as I deign to use it.’
The butler simply nodded this time, his eyes as wide as saucers.
‘Splendid.’ She reached out her hand and hoisted a quietly impressed Owen back to his feet. Out of the corner of her eye she could see she was drawing quite the crowd, as suddenly, and a tad predictably, half of the residents of Berkeley Square all felt the overwhelming need for some fresh air and were taking a hasty walk. Better still, every carriage seemed to have stopped and, despite the flurry of activity all around them, it was eerily silent. The perfect opportunity to remove the dagger from her back and plunge it further into her hideous sibling.
‘And might I also suggest—because I have always had a great deal of time for you, Maybury—that you find yourself another employer, as I cannot see this particular job lasting for much longer because the Barton coffers are as empty as my cowardly brother’s heart. Your loyalty has been admirable, but we both know it has been severely misplaced. This is a dreadful house, Maybury. Owned by a dreadful family of selfish men who have no regard for other people, or indeed the law.’ She smiled and, to the old retainer’s shock, leant forward to squeeze his hand.
‘Goodbye, Maybury. I shan’t be back, so you’ll never have to leave me standing on this soulless doorstep again.’
‘I am sorry about that.’ Looking embarrassed, the butler bowed. ‘Good day, my lady... Mr Wolfe.’
She turned until the distinction made her pause. While she had an audience, she might as well make the most of it.
‘Actually, Maybury, I am not a Barton any longer.’ Thank goodness. ‘I am Mrs Lydia Wolfe.’ The name she had wished for a decade ago. The name which felt exactly right. The name she said loud enough for all the curious inhabitants of Berkeley Square to hear and which she might well have tattooed on to her skin in an intimate place which only Owen would ever see. An indelible mark symbolising an indelible truth. ‘And I am very proud to be so.’
She took his arm and beamed up at him, the world slowing to a standstill as he smiled back.
‘And what, pray tell, was all that about?’
She shrugged, unrepentant. ‘I am human. I erred. And it felt divine.’
‘I see.’ But he was smiling. ‘Now that you have got that off your chest, are you ready, Wife?’
‘For anything, Owen—as long as you are always beside me.’
‘I am never leaving you again, woman. Make no bones about that! You are stuck with me for ever, Mrs Wolfe.’
‘A life sentence.’
‘With absolutely no chance of a pardon, I’m afraid.’
‘That all sounds positively splendid... Husband. Do lead the way.’
And without looking back they stepped forward, finally leaving the past behind where it belonged, towards the bold, bright and wonderful future they were always destined to have.
Together.
If you enjoyed this book, why not check
out these other great reads by
Virginia Heath
Lilian and the Irresistible Duke
Redeeming the Reclusive Earl
And be sure to read her The King’s Elite miniseries
The Mysterious Lord Millcroft
The Uncompromising Lord Flint
The Disgraceful Lord Gray
The Determined Lord Hadleigh
Keep reading for an excerpt from The Earl with the Secret Past by Janice Preston.