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She turned from the hearth to look at him. ‘I didn’t care what happened to me, but much as I hated bearing the son of such a man, I couldn’t cause the death of an innocent child. Then, after his treatment of James, I couldn’t flee and leave him at the mercy of a father like Graveston.’
Unable to restrain himself, Alastair went to Diana and pulled her into an embrace. She clung to him, her head pressed to his chest, shaking with tears she would not shed.
At length, she straightened and pushed against him. Knowing how cruelly she’d been imprisoned, he at once loosened his grip.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, running a fingertip down her cheek as he let her go. ‘But you’re free now, you and the boy. I won’t let Graveston hurt you ever again. I promise, on my sacred honour.’
‘My noble Alastair,’ she whispered, squeezing his fingers. ‘But even if you risk your reputation by getting involved, I don’t know how you could prevent that.’
‘Have a little faith, sweeting! First, I’ll need to consult the solicitor again. I’m not an expert on the courts; I have no idea what evidence would be needed to persuade a coroner to open an inquiry into the death of a man already buried, with no suspicion of foul play. More than vague testimony from witnesses produced by a man well known to harbour a hatred of the woman he’s accusing, I would think.’
‘Even if that man is a duke, owner of nearly all the land in four parishes, employer of hundreds on the estate and in the adjoining villages, patron or supporter of most of the businesses, trade associations, and churches in the county?’
Alastair grimaced. ‘True, with that much influence, Blankford could probably manage to get an inquest begun on his insistence alone. But an inquest is a far cry from convincing the assizes to convene a trial, and even further from a conviction. I’m confident it won’t come to that.’
‘You can’t be sure. He’ll pay for testimony, if necessary. There are always poor wretches ready to swear to anything, if the reward is rich enough.’
Payment for testimony was all too common, and frequently distorted the findings of a court. ‘Perhaps,’ Alastair allowed, ‘but this isn’t the matter of a thief-taker pointing the finger at some poor clerk in order to collect the reward offered for solving a burglary. Nor would the case be settled by a local magistrate, where a high-ranking lord could influence the outcome. For the possible murder of a duke and accusations against a duchess, a trial, if it came to that, would be held in the House of Lords. A chamber my uncle has run for years. Which is why I still believe, once he’s recovered from his fit of petulance and thought it over carefully, Blankford will not push for a trial.’
She gave him a sad smile. ‘To win, he doesn’t have to. Accusations made against me in the county would be enough to poison the local officials against me and make it difficult to obtain any assets from the estate on which to raise my son. Enough to convince the Court of Chancery to take him away, even though he is still a minor child. Enough to create a scandal that would savage your reputation. I still see only one way to prevent all this.’
‘Taking James and trying to disappear,’ he summarised. ‘Don’t you see, Diana, doing that would give Graveston the ultimate victory? He’ll have made you a fugitive and forced you to raise your son in obscurity, denying him the education, the comfort, the status to which his birth entitles him. Moreover, I’d be astonished if your husband hadn’t made some provision for James in his will; disappearing so that legacy goes unclaimed—what a fitting revenge for the neglect Blankford feels you made him suffer! And as a final coup, a Duke of Graveston will once again have been able to drive us apart.’
She raised her face to him, frustration and fury in her gaze, and he knew he’d finally reached her. ‘How do we prevent all that?’
We, she’d said, he noted, a thrill blazing through his heart. Stifling it before the gladness could distract him, he continued. ‘We gather our own evidence, enough to convince Graveston it would be better not to make any public accusations—and I know just the rascal to do it. In the meantime, we need to move you and James some place safer, where a well-placed bribe won’t risk tempting a low-moralled rogue to breach the security of your house and carry off the boy. There’s only one place I can guarantee to be that safe—Barton Abbey.’
She looked at him incredulously. ‘You propose to carry us to Barton Abbey? You can’t be serious!’
‘I’m completely serious. I doubt even the delusional Graveston would attempt to touch you there. Were he foolish enough to try, you’d have a small army of staff and retainers loyal to me to protect you. Who would turn away representatives from Chancery, if it came to that.’
‘But would not my being at your house immediately bring down upon you just the scandal I wish to avoid?’
‘There’s nothing scandalous about my mother inviting a widow who was once a close family friend to spend part of her mourning period in the seclusion of Barton Abbey. Indeed, having you and James at my family home, under my mother’s care, would further diminish the credibility of there being some clandestine plot between us. I assure you, no one in Society would believe Mrs Grace Ransleigh would be a party to something as dishonourable as that!’
‘Quite true. Which is why your mother would most likely forbid me to enter the premises.’
‘Leave Mother to me. Can you think of any place in England that would be safer? Your first duty, after all, is to protect your son.’
She looked up at him, her expression anguished. ‘You know how much I want to keep you out of this. But...but you are right; my first duty is to James, and I cannot think of any place where I could be sure of protecting him, alone.’
‘You would both be secure at Barton Abbey.’
Pensive, she turned once again towards the flames in the hearth, as if ultimate wisdom might be found in their dancing light—before abruptly whirling to face him. ‘If I did agree to accompany you to Barton Abbey, and your mother did not turn us away, I—I could no longer come to you. Not in your mother’s own house!’ she finished, her cheeks flushing.
She looked so scandalised, Alastair had to laugh. ‘My reputation is bad, I admit, but even I wouldn’t embarrass my mother by conducting an affair under her roof. Once past the gatehouse, the agreement between us would be in abeyance, until Graveston is no longer a threat.’
‘If all the trouble I envisage comes to pass, you will be thoroughly tired of me by then,’ she said, reminding him of the terms he’d specified for ending their agreement.
‘I will never tire of you...but you will still be free to do as you wish.’
She looked away and paced several more circuits around the room. Alastair waited, sure he was right, not wanting to coerce her, but hoping that after she’d considered all the possibilities, her own good sense would convince her his plan was the best course of action.
Hoping, though he knew it wasn’t prudent, that accepting him as an ally would bring her even closer to him.
At last, she halted and turned to him. ‘When do you propose to leave for Barton Abbey?’
‘As soon as you can be ready,’ he said, relief—and steely resolve—filling him.
This time, he would protect her and her son.
This time, the Duke’s will would not prevail.
This time, they would defeat Graveston—together. And then, at last, find out whether or not they had a future.
She nodded. ‘Tomorrow it is. Then we had best make the most of tonight.’
He held his breath, but she added nothing further—no admissions of affection, no confession that she had enjoyed their time together so much, she didn’t wish it to end.
As closely guarded as she kept her emotions, he couldn’t reasonably expect such a declaration—but he was still disappointed.
‘We can both agree on that,’ he said at last. Taking her hand, he led her up the stairs.
* * *
Much later, as they lay together in the aftermath of loving, still bone of bone and flesh of flesh, he whispered, ‘Promise me you won’t take the boy and run. Promise me this time, you’ll trust me.’
She opened heavy-lidded eyes. ‘I promise,’ she said, and kissed him.
Chapter Fourteen
As arranged when they had parted late the previous night, shortly after daybreak, Alastair downed a quick breakfast and prepared to leave his sister’s house at the Royal Crescent. His few belongings packed, he settled for penning Jane a note; he regretted parting from her on such unhappy terms without even a goodbye, but as she’d already been abed when he returned, and since leaving Bath early was imperative, it was the best he could do.
After hiring a post-chaise, he set off for Laura Place. A grim smile creased his lips as, for the first time, he knocked at her front door. At least now, there would be no more need for subterfuge.
