Lord Harry's Folly by Catherine Coulter (read this if .txt) 📕

me when you had the opportunity. You either doubted my imagined guilt over your brother’s death or you hadn’t the stomach for murder. Which is it?”

She cocked her head to the side, staring at him, perhaps even through him, trying to understand why she’d done as she had. She saw so clearly the tip of her foil against his heart. One thrust, that’s all it would have taken, just one thrust, yet she hadn’t done it. She said aloud, “I’ve never doubted your guilt for a single instant. But when you just stood there and stared at me, no fear on your face, just waiting, looking at me, I knew I couldn’t do it. When Damien died, part of me died with him, but yet I still lived, still knew I lived and was grateful for it. You lived as well. I couldn’t be your killer. I couldn’t be like you.”

“You were close to your brother?”

“He was part of me.”

“I gather you must have some sort of proof, some sort of evidence, that makes you believe me guilty of your brother’s death. It must really be something for you to arrange your elaborate charade as Lord Harry. Now, tell me.”

“Very well, we shall see how well you can lie, Lord Oberlon. I trust you do still remember your wife Elizabeth Springville.”

His eyes darkened at his dead wife’s name. “What has any of this to do with Elizabeth?”

“You’ve a short memory, your grace, so I will refresh it. Not such a long time ago, you, Sir William Filey, and my brother, Damien, were all enamored with a beautiful young lady named Elizabeth Springville. Evidently your respective assaults to win her hand led you to lay a wager at White’s a large wager, I understand to see which of you would succeed in winning her. Is this true?”

“Yes, it’s true,” he said, grim lines etching about his mouth.

“Although I’m disappointed that Damien would do such a thing, and indeed, I can’t excuse him for that, what followed bears witness to your true nature. You’re correct in one thing, your grace, I do have proof of your treachery. Pottson was Damien’s batman. It was he who found a letter from Elizabeth to my brother. The letter damns you. She damns you. You will have to tell me the details of your plot to rid yourself of Damien. I will tell you what I know. Elizabeth chose Damien. Then you, your grace, getting wind of your defeat, used your influence with the ministry through your uncle Lord Melberry no doubt and we both know he has more than enough influence, and you had Damien quickly removed from England to be sent on a series of dangerous missions that, you hoped, would lead to his death. It is my belief, your grace, that Elizabeth gave herself to Damien as a proof of her love. When she discovered she was pregnant with Damien’s child, she had no choice but to wed her lover’s murderer.

“Perhaps the reason she died in childbed, your grace, was that she loathed you so greatly, particularly after hearing of Damien’s death, that she simply had no further wish to live. There is much on your conscience, if you have one, for even Damien’s child didn’t survive.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

The marquess stared at her long and hard. Then he jumped to his feet and strode to the fireplace where he stared down at the warmly glowing embers. Then, without speaking, he strode back to her, stood over her and said, his voice remarkably level, ah, but she could feel his rage, a deep rage, but he was controlling it, “I damned well don’t believe this. You’re telling me you engaged in your suicidal charade all on the basis of a letter written from Elizabeth to your brother? You planned to track me down, insult me until my eyes crossed with anger. And I challenged you to a duel, and then kill me all because of a bloody letter from Elizabeth to your brother? Jesus, this is madness.”

“Yes, it was enough, more than enough.”

“By God, you’re a fool, a damned irresponsible, blind as hell female fool and God knows a female fool is the very worst kind. No, I take that back. There can be no greater a fool than a man brought low by a woman. Now you will listen to me. When you’ve recovered, I shall want to see this infamous letter of yours. In the meanwhile, allow me to disabuse you of your romantic, ridiculously idealized reading of the entire sordid affair. Despite what you believe of me, I’m a man of some scruples. Were I not, I wouldn’t have kept quiet about the true facts, and none of this need ever have happened.

“On several points, you are quite correct. The three of us, Filey, your brother, and I, all wanted Elizabeth Springville. Obviously, you have heard that she was an exquisite girl, sought after and feted from the instant of her coming out. Foolishly, too, one evening when all of us were deep in our cups, Filey suggested the wager to add spice to the chase, he said.”

He stopped and she knew he was debating with himself what to tell her. He gave her a look of utter loathing, then began to pace back and forth beside the bed. “Ah, to hell with it,” he said more to himself than to her. “Let’s get it all out in the open. Listen, Hetty. Although the next day both Damien and I regretted our action, it couldn’t be undone. Elizabeth was courted like a princess. Like a woman with all the wiles of Cleopatra, she gave each of us encouragement in turn, yet never declared her preference. Although you may not choose to believe me, after several weeks of this sport, my supposed affection for the young lady began to wane. I began to believe her vain, cold, and quite calculating in her actions.”

Again, he seemed to struggle with himself for a