The Trials of Alaric (Twist Upon a Regency Tale #8)

Chapter Seventeen

“S tavely!” Lord Claddach roared. “Sit down!”

Tarquin slunk back to his seat and Alaric picked himself and the chair up, keeping a cautious eye on his brother. What was wrong with the man?

“Redhaven,” said Lord Claddach, “do I understand that you claim your former betrothed, now your husband’s wife, consented to being bedded by you?”

“He forced her!” Tarquin insisted.

Alaric was about to resume his seat. His knees gave out and he landed in the chair with a thump. “I never touched her!” he said, hotly. “Bedded? She would not even let me kiss her.”

Tarquin swore again, quite vilely, then said to Lord Claddach, “He lies. My wife told me…”

Alaric stared at Tarquin, aghast. “How can you think I would do such a thing. Tarquin!” He felt bereft all over again, the loss of two years ago repeated and made worse.

“You admitted it,” Tarquin insisted. “The day of my wedding. I asked you why you did it, and you said it was Eloise’s choice.”

With a determined shake of the head, Alaric denied that charge and corrected it. “You asked me why I broke it off with Eloise,” he said. “I told you I didn’t. After she met you, Eloise informed me she did not want to marry me, and then a week later, the pair of you announced your betrothal.”

Tarquin’s face worked, as if he was fighting to contain an angry response.

“Can you remember the exact words you said, Stavely?” Lord Claddach asked.

With a frown, Tarquin admitted he was not certain. “Something like, ‘I know what you did to Eloise. How could you, Alaric?’ That’s more or less what I said.”

“That sounds right,” Alaric agreed. “You wanted to know why I jilted her, but I didn’t.”

“I wanted to know why you raped her,” Tarquin roared. He looked as anguished as Alaric felt.

“I didn’t!” Alaric found himself roaring in return as a slew of emotions—anger, fear, sadness, disgust, betrayal—washed through him. He fought to gain control and to remain civil in spite of them, but he could not keep back the words, “And if she says I did, she lies!”

Tarquin dived for him again but slunk back to his chair when Lord Claddach bellowed. “Gentlemen, we are going to go nowhere if the pair of you keep making accusations. Now, Stavely, I take it—and I apologize for the indelicacy—that your wife came to her marriage bed—or, from the sounds of it, her pre-marriage bed—not intact.”

His cheeks red, Tarquin nodded. “I asked her. I thought she and Alaric might have anticipated their vows, as she and I were doing, though only by a day. I was not blaming her, Lord Claddach. I just wanted to know if any child might be my brother’s.”

“And she told you your brother had forced her.”

“She did, my lord. And she is not a liar!” He glared at his brother. “Still, I couldn’t believe it. My own brother. My twin! Then, Alaric confessed.”

Lord Claddach sighed. “I think we have determined, Stavely, that your conversation with Redhaven might possibly have been misunderstood on both sides.”

“Yes, but…” Tarquin trailed off when Lord Claddach held up a hand.

“Up until that point, would you have expected such behavior from your brother?”

“Never,” Tarquin declared. “It was against everything I knew of him.” Tears started to his eyes, and he grimaced as he tried to suppress them. “It broke my heart, to think he was not the man I believed him to be.” He shook his head again. “But she was forced, my lord. She was… I will not discuss it, but it has taken a long time and much patience to… She was forced. If not Alaric, then who?”

That was the question. And why would she blame Alaric? That lie had cost him his brother’s love. It had sent him into exile, and into a life he didn’t want and wasn’t good at. Alaric had never complained but he knew he’d never been the same since, lost in a world without the one person he had always been able to depend on—his twin.

“She said straight out that she had been forced by your brother?” Lord Claddach asked.

“Ye…” Tarquin trailed off. “No. You must understand that she was distressed, sir. Weeping so hard I could barely make out what she was saying. I asked her if she had been forced—for she was… Well. Never mind that. She admitted it, and when I demanded to know who, she said my brother.”

Alaric, who was staring fixedly at his brother, straightened. “ My brother? Or just ‘brother’?”

Tarquin frowned and then paled as he leapt to his feet. “That sodding bastard!”

“Bebbington,” Alaric said, rising more slowly. The Viscount Bebbington was Eloise’s stepbrother, and a more controlling conniving person Alaric had never met. He had put one obstacle after another in front of Alaric. Eloise had begged Alaric to run away with her, but in the end, he had managed to persuade Bebbington to approve the betrothal, and they had traveled to Alaric’s father’s estate to see to the agreements.

There had always been something odd about the way Bebbington behaved with Eloise—and the way she had behaved with him.

Tarquin was pacing in the way he always did when agitated. “Gad. She begged me not to leave her there, and I wouldn’t listen. I left her at Bebbington’s estate! I must get back to the Wirral Peninsula. Claddach, I take back everything I said about my brother. It wasn’t him at all! When does the next ferry leave?”

Lord Claddach stood too, and so did Alaric. “Who do you have to guard your back?” Alaric asked. “Bebbington is a piece of work, and he might not want to give Eloise up, even to her husband.”

A shake of Tarquin’s head was answer enough.

“I am coming with you,” Alaric decided. “Lord Claddach, I beg you to hold me excused for long enough to get my sister-in-law away from her brother.”

“Bebbington,” said Lord Claddach. “He asked to be included in this house party. I would not give a dog to that man, let alone my daughter. The next ferry is not until this afternoon, Stavely, and it goes to Liverpool, so you would still need to cross the Mersey. Take my yacht to Birkenhead. She is berthed at Dara, in the north of the island. Redhaven can direct you. I shall also send two footmen with you. I shall send instruction to the stable to prepare a carriage.” He smiled, as if at a private thought. “Redhaven, can you drive a carriage?”

“Yes, my lord,” said Alaric, mystified.

“Make it four footmen,” said Lord Claddach. “You can leave the carriage at Dara. Someone there will make certain it gets back to me. When you have Lady Stavely, sail directly back to Bailecashtel. Stavely, you and your wife must join us for the last of the house party. Your brother may need you. I shall expect the three of you for dinner.”

*

Alaric had no time to do more than throw a couple of items in a bag in case of delays and ask Luke to give a message to Bea. But when he told Luke that he and his brother were going on a rescue mission to bring Lady Stavely to Claddach, Luke insisted on coming too.

“Bebbington cozied up to me my first Season in Town,” he said. “I found I was getting in too deep and had to ask my brother Thornstead to bail me out. Then Thorn explained that Bebbington tried to compromise my sister Barbara during her first Season. Apparently, Father told him that, if he came within a mile of any of my sisters ever again, Father would destroy him. So, he came after me, instead, and I fell for it. Please let me come. It never hurts to have a Versey on your side.”

After that, Alaric went to Miss Bryant, instead. “Please let Bea know I shall be back as soon as I can, and that I wouldn’t leave at all if it wasn’t important,” he said.

The carriage was ready. Alaric took his place up on the driver’s perch, with Tarquin on one side and Luke on the other, while the footmen crowded inside. “It’s a one-hour trip across the island,” Alaric told Tarquin, “and at most, three hours to Birkenhead. From there, we can hire horses to take us to Bebbington’s estate. We shall be there no later than three in the afternoon, perhaps even by two.”

“My carriage is at Birkenhead,” Tarquin said. “We’ll take that to Bebbington’s and back.”

“We’ll reach Claddach by six,” Luke commented, with satisfaction. “In time for dinner. Ellie will barely have time to miss me.”

After that, Alaric concentrated on his driving, and on the route. He was not taking the long way to Dara that he’d traveled on the steeplechase, nor could he go over fields or along paths only wide enough for a horse. He had asked the stable master for the fastest carriage route, and the landmarks by which he would know the turns.

Tarquin and Luke had fallen into conversation. Alaric was leaning forward over the reins, so their words were passing behind him, and when his total focus was not needed for a tricky piece of driving, he heard what they were saying without really listening.

Luke was describing the marriage trials. “So, we are up to eight, with four to go,” he said. “Today, we were meant to be moving bulls, but Alaric and I already did that, at the fête. If Lord Claddach counts that, we have already passed that trial.”

“Then you and my brother are rivals for Lady Beatrice’s hand?” Tarquin asked.

Luke laughed. “Not really, for several reasons. First, the goal is simply to finish the trials without being disqualified by Lord Claddach. Since we do not know what will get a man disqualified and what will allow him to pass, influencing the outcome is out of our hands.”

“How peculiar,” said Tarquin.

“Shrewd, I think,” Luke replied. “He is not just looking for a husband for his daughter but a caretaker lord for Claddach. She will inherit the lot, including the title. She and her husband will be parents of the next earl. Whatever his criteria might be, I think the trials are designed to show us for who we really are.”

Tarquin made a considering noise before making the noncommittal remark, “I see. And your other reasons?”

“Second, Lady Beatrice will make the final decision, from those who are successful in the trials. Or, she may choose none of us—but I can tell you she shows a marked preference for Alaric. And third, I have asked Lady Eleanor Fairweather, another guest at the house party, to be my bride, and she has said yes, subject to her father’s approval. So, while I want to finish the trials because we Verseys don’t give up once we’ve started something, I am not a suitor for Lady Bea’s hand.”

The remark about asking for Ellie caught Alaric’s attention, though it came as no surprise. “Congratulations, Luke. She is a wonderful lady.”

“She is,” Luke agreed. “Exquisitely lovely, graceful, kind, sensible. She says her father will agree, since I am a Versey. If she is right… But if she is not, I shall do anything…”

Alaric was certain that, if he could spare the attention to look, Luke would be staring into mid-air with a besotted expression on his face. But he was negotiating a tricky corner, and he gave all his thought to that, even as Tarquin joined in with his congratulations to the lucky prospective groom, and his reassurances that a son of the Duke of Dellborough, even a third son, must be acceptable to the somewhat ramshackle earl who had fathered Martin and Eleanor Fairweather.

They covered the distance to Dara in a little over sixty-five minutes, Luke taking the reins for the second half, to find that the groom sent to ride cross-country had arrived before them. The inn was ready to receive the carriage and horses and the captain of the yacht had sent for his crew.

“He will be ready to cast off in ten minutes, sir, he says,” the groom told Alaric. And he was.

After that, there was nothing to do but stay out of the way of the crew. “The wind is right to give us a good run to the Mersey, my lords,” said the captain. “I shall have you in Birkenhead in good time, never you mind.”

“Claddach seems like a pleasant island,” Tarquin said to Alaric, as they sat out of the way in the owner’s cabin. “Out of the way, and I daresay it is isolated by storms fairly frequently, but the farms appear well cared for, from what I saw, and the town looks prosperous.”

“I have been impressed,” Alaric agreed. “I have talked to a lot of Claddach’s people, between the steeplechase, the fête, and the tenant visits. The earl is a fair but firm lord. They love their island, and they love Bea. ‘Lady Beatrice,’ I should say. It would be a good place to live, I think.”

“And what of Lady Beatrice?” Tarquin asked. “In Town, they say that Claddach keeps her at home because she is unmanageable—and unmarriageable, even with her dowry. The suitor trials have caused quite a lot of gossip, as you can imagine.”

Luke burst out laughing. “I see the heavy hand of Beverley and his mother behind that gossip,” he said. “Lady Beatrice, unmarriageable? The suitors the earl gathered would argue otherwise. Three relatives of dukes, one earl’s son? Even Dashwood is a baron. Landless, it is true, but that was one of Claddach’s criteria.”

“It was? The gossip notes that the trials have attracted only those without an estate, and mostly without a title,” commented Tarquin.

“You spoke of Lady Beatrice’s dowry,” Alaric said. “The thing is, she doesn’t have a dowry—or not what most people understand by the word. She will be countess in her own right. She is already Lady of Claddach in all but name because her mother takes little interest. She needs a husband who will make her, her lands, and her people the center of his world. That’s why her father invited younger sons. And that’s what Beverley and his mother do not understand. Willfully choose not to understand, for Claddach has made it clear enough.”

“Ah. I see why you are so interested,” Tarquin said. “You love the land. Could you love the lady, too, do you think? Marriages are better, I believe, if husband and wife are at least friends.”

That prompted another burst of laughter from Luke. “I rather suspect that you have it the wrong way around, Lord Stavely.”

“I am in love with Bea,” Alaric admitted, “if that is what you are driving at, Luke.”

“Have you told her that?” Luke demanded.

“Of course not. She is not looking for a love match, but for a practical arrangement with someone who can be her consort. I have been trying to prove to her and her father that I can be the man she needs.”

Tarquin and Luke exchanged a look, and Tarquin said, “Admittedly, I have not met Lady Beatrice. Still, I think she would like to hear the words. I know Eloise needed to hear them.”

“Ellie, too,” Luke agreed. “Especially if Bea is beginning to love you. She certainly favors you ahead of anyone else.”

Might they be right? But Bea had not said anything. Besides, would it be fair? If he were not one of Lord Claddach’s selections, wouldn’t it be worse for Bea if she knew he loved her? That is, if she loved him, too. Alaric shook his head. “It isn’t the right time,” he told the pair of them. “She has agreed to choose one of the suitors who successfully completes the trials, with her father’s approval whether she loves him or not. Who is to say I shall be one of them?”

“Lady Beatrice, possibly,” Luke answered. “You seem to think the earl will make the selection without her, but he certainly involves her in all the other decisions regarding the earldom and its holdings. Why not this one, which so nearly concerns her?”

“I had not thought of that.” Alaric was much struck. What Luke said made sense. And it was true that Bea liked him. She would not have let him kiss her if she disliked him.

“If she means that much to you, why did you insist on coming with me?” Tarquin demanded. “You should have said. I would have understood.”

“And let you face Bebbington on your own? I thought I had lost you, Tark. To find out it was all a mistake…” He turned away from the others so they would not see the tears in his eyes and coughed to clear his throat before he spoke again. “I don’t have so many brothers I can afford to stand by and let one be killed, Tarquin.”

“I do have four brothers,” said Luke, “and I wouldn’t let any of them go on their own to face Bebbington, either. Not even if it meant disappointing Ellie.”

Tarquin grasped Alaric’s shoulder in a tight grip and gave it a gentle shake. His own voice was husky when he said, “We have to get you back by the end of day, then.” He shook Alaric one more time and forced his voice to light humor. “I can’t have my brother missing out on becoming Lord of Claddach.”

“Consort to the Lady of Claddach,” Alaric corrected. “It matters, Tarquin. Bea inherits as countess. Her husband’s role is to support her.”

“That is…” Tarquin trailed off, shaking his head. “It wouldn’t bother you? Taking second place to your wife?”

“I don’t see it that way,” Alaric insisted. “It won’t work that way. Not with Bea.” He thought of a parallel. “Does Eloise take second place to you?”

“Eloise has her own place,” Tarquin said, immediately, “and when I need her support or she needs mine, we talk about it.”

Alaric raised his eyebrows at his brother. See?

“I see your point,” Tarquin said. “It still seems unnatural to me, but if it is what you want…”

“Bea is what I want,” Alaric told him. “I have never met anyone like her. Even if she didn’t have Claddach as part of her dowry, I’d love her.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if it will be as straightforward as I expect, but the fact is that Bea comes with this… package. The Isle of Claddach, the title of countess, the expectation that she will rule, not her husband. I cannot have Bea as my wife unless I accept the package. So, I do.”

“Then let us rescue Lady Stavely and return to Claddach and the trials,” said Luke.