Page 10 of Between a Duke and a Hard Place (The Honeywells #1)

Chapter Nine

T he storm that had been brewing all morning finally broke as Lord Eddington’s carriage thundered up the drive of Wellston Hall, the iron-grey sky splitting with the first rumblings of thunder. The servants, wisely, scurried out of sight as the vehicle rattled to a halt, and the footman hastily unfolded the steps. There was simply something about the man, with his pitch black carriage and his preference for wearing all black, that set people on edge. Which, in truth, was likely his intent.

Ethella and Nigel, who had only just arrived back at the house after their humiliating visit to Alstead Manor, exchanged a worried glance. Neither of them could be certain how he would take the news.

“Well,” Nigel muttered, reaching for the brandy that had been poured the moment they crossed the threshold. “This should be a thoroughly uncomfortable conversation.”

Ethella said nothing, merely smoothing her skirts as the front doors swung open, revealing the imposing figure of Lord Bertram Eddington, a man whose appearance was as revolting as his character.

He was not, as some men were, quietly sinister in his depravity. No, Eddington wore his villainy proudly, as one might a badge of honor. He was a relic of an older generation of debauchery, a man who reveled in excess and depravity with no concern for decorum. He had the look of a lizard, his skin pasty, his thinning hair greased back from a high, receding brow, and while he was painfully thin, his stomach protruded ever so slightly—a testament to his love of drink.

Still, none of that, disturbing as it all was, made the man truly revolting. It was his eyes that were the worst. Sharp. Calculating. Hungry. Always darting to and fro, always watchful.

Nigel, who had never been particularly brave, immediately took a large gulp of his brandy. Ethella, ever composed, greeted him with a tight smile.

“My lord,” she said smoothly. “You have traveled with such haste! I trust the journey was not too tiresome?”

Eddington stepped inside, his black greatcoat dripping with rain, and snarled in response. “Do not play the gracious hostess, madam. I have come for what is mine.”

Nigel coughed in his brandy.

Ethella merely folded her hands before her, tilting her head as though addressing an unruly child. “I regret to inform you, my lord, that there has been a most… unfortunate development.”

Eddington’s beady eyes narrowed. “What development?”

Ethella did not look away, nor did she blink when she delivered the words that she knew would send him into a violent rage. “She is married, my lord.”

Silence.

And then?—

A crash as Eddington’s cane swung out in a blind arc, knocking over a nearby table, sending a vase shattering to the floor.

Nigel, predictably, flinched and stepped back toward the sideboard.

“What?!” Eddington roared, his normally pallid face turning an alarming shade of purple.

Ethella remained impassive. “She was wed just yesterday morning—most unexpectedly… To the Duke of Alstead.”

Eddington breathed heavily, his rail thin chest rising and falling in furious heaves like a set of bellows. “The Duke?” His voice dripped with disbelief. “She wed that bastard Alstead?”

“Yes.”

There was another beat of silence before?—

“Then you will return my funds,” he growled, stepping toward them. “Every last penny… and if you cannot, when the courts have settled Honeywell’s affairs, Wellston will be mine.”

At this, Nigel lost all color, looking as if he might swoon.

But Ethella merely smiled. And that—more than anything—made Eddington pause. For all of his wealth and his depravity, he was not a fool. He knew when he was in the presence of a greater schemer.

“You have another proposition,” he said slowly, his suspicion warring with intrigue.

Ethella inclined her head. “I do.”

Eddington narrowed his eyes. “Speak, woman. But mind you, it had best be worth my while to listen to your prattling.”

Ethella stepped forward, lowering her voice to something almost soothing, as if she were speaking to a startled animal. It was not an inaccurate description. “Violet may be married to the duke now, my lord… but marriage is not an unbreakable bond. This was all carried out in a most havycavy manner. It could well be that this marriage may have been embarked upon under fraudulent circumstances. As Violet’s next of kin, it would be up to us to challenge the marriage and to seek an annulment.”

“And if an annulment cannot be procured?” He snapped.

Ethella’s smile never faltered. “Let me see to it, my lord. My son has been quite incompetent in his attempts to rectify that situation. I shall take over entirely and I can assure you that the outcome will be to your benefit.”

“See that it is!” Eddington snapped, before turning on his heel and marching toward the door.

When the were alone, Nigel said, “Mother, surely you cannot think that an annulment will be granted? What will do if the Bishop refuses?”

Ethella shrugged. “Accidents happen, Nigel. Illness strike even young men seemingly in their prime. Men—especially men with enemies—meet their ends, often in the most tragic ways. A pistol ball fired by a highwayman during a robbery gone wrong. A hunting accident. Perhaps he might be thrown from his horse, breaking his neck.”

“Murder?” he croaked, horrified by the mere thought of it. “I can’t kill someone, Mother! I simply can’t!”

Ethella sighed, as if this were all a tiresome chore. “Dp not be so obtuse. Of course, it would not be we who see to such an act.”

Nigel’s brow lifted. “Then who?”

“There are men who would do such a thing for the right price,” she said smoothly. “And once he is dead, we will bring Violet back here.”

“And why, pray, would she remain?”

Ethella’s smile grew. “Because she will be grief-stricken. Devastated beyond reason. She will retreat into mourning—sedated at her physician’s order due to her hysteria—and we, her loving family, will keep her from the public eye until such time as she can withstand the pressures of being in company.” A beat of silence.

“Who will pay for this hired killer?” Nigel demanded. “We cannot. We were lucky to have funds enough to travel here from London. My last coin was spent to obtain that actor who is visiting Violet later today!”

. “Lord Eddington was willing to pay handsomely for Violet. What is a small additional investment to ensure his ultimate revenge on Alsetead… the man he detests?”

Nigel shook his head. “I underestimated you,” he murmured.

She inclined her head. “Most men do.”

Nigel, still clutching his glass, felt bile rise in his throat. It wasn’t a lack of willingness to commit such horrid acts. But he greatly feared the consequences if they were caught. It was reckless and there were dozens of ways it could all go wrong.

As if she’d sensed his reticence, Ethella turned a hard gaze on him.

“You have already gambled away everything, Nigel,” she said softly. “If you’d wished to hesitate, it should have been before placing your last bet!”

His heart thudded violently. For the first time in his wretched existence, Nigel had the most terrible realization of all. He had always known his mother was ruthless, but this was a level of calculated wickedness beyond even his imaginings. And she would throw him to the wolves without a backward glance.

He was in far too deep. And there was no way out.

Alstead Manor was no longer merely a haven for Violet. It was a target. And Maxwell Able, Duke of Alstead, had just been marked for death. And if he failed to be of use to her in this course, he’d be marked for it as well. There was no maternal instinct within her that would save him.