The Lost Duke of Wyndham

“Oh, you will,” Crowland warned him. “You will marry her if I have to march you to the altar with my blunderbuss at your back.”

“Father,” Lady Amelia cried out, “you cannot do this.”

Crowland ignored his daughter completely. “My daughter is betrothed to the Duke of Wyndham, and the Duke of Wyndham she will marry.”

“I am not the Duke of Wyndham,” Jack said, recovering some of his composure.

“Not yet. Perhaps not ever. But I will be present when the truth comes out. And I will make sure she marries the right man.”

Jack took his measure. Lord Crowland was not a feeble man, and although he did not exude quite the same haughty power as Wyndham, he clearly knew his worth and his place in society. He would not allow his daughter to be wronged.

Jack respected that. If he had a daughter, he supposed he’d do the same. But not, he hoped, at the expense of an innocent man.

He looked at Grace. Just for a moment. Fleeting, but he caught the expression in her eyes, the subdued horror at the unfolding scene.

He would not give her up. Not for any bloody title, and certainly not to honor someone else’s betrothal contract.

“This is madness,” Jack said, looking around the room, unable to believe that he was the only one speaking in his defense. “I do not even know her.”

“That is hardly a concern,” Crowland said gruffly.

“You are mad,” Jack exclaimed. “I am not going to marry her.” He looked quickly at Amelia, then wished he hadn’t. “My pardons, my lady,” he practically mumbled. “It is not personal.”

Her head jerked a bit, fast and pained. It wasn’t a yes, or a no, but more of a stricken acknowledgment, the sort of motion one made when it was all one was capable of.

It ripped Jack straight through his gut.

No, he told himself. This is not your responsibility. You do not have to make it right.

And all around him, no one said a word in his defense. Grace, he understood, since it was not her position to do so, but by God, what about Wyndham? Didn’t he care that Crowland was trying to give his fiancee away?

But the duke just stood there, still as a stone, his eyes burning with something Jack could not identify.

“I did not agree to this,” Jack said. “I signed no contract.” Surely that had to mean something.

“Neither did he,” Crowland responded, with a shrug in Wyndham’s direction. “His father did it.”

“In his name,” Jack fairly yelled.

“That is where you are wrong, Mr. Audley. It did not specify his name at all. My daughter, Amelia Honoria Rose, was to marry the seventh Duke of Wyndham.”

“Really?” This, finally, from Thomas.

“Have you not looked at the papers?” Jack demanded.

“No,” Thomas said simply. “I never saw the need.”

“Good God,” Jack swore, “I have fallen in with a band of bloody idiots.”

No one contradicted him, he noticed. He looked desperately to Grace, who had to be the one sane member of humanity left in the building. But she would not meet his eyes.

That was enough. He had to put an end to this. He stood straight and looked hard into Lord Crowland’s face. “Sir,” he said, “I will not marry your daughter.”

“Oh, you will.”

But this was not said by Crowland. It was Thomas, stalking across the room, his eyes burning with barely contained rage. He did not stop until they were nearly nose-to-nose.

“What did you say?” Jack asked, certain he’d heard incorrectly. From all he had seen, which, admittedly, wasn’t much, Thomas rather liked his little fiancee.

“This woman,” Thomas said, motioning back to Amelia, “has spent her entire life preparing to be the Duchess of Wyndham. I will not permit you to leave her life in shambles.”

Around them the room went utterly still.

Except for Amelia, who looked ready to crumble.

“Do you understand me?”

And Jack…Well, he was Jack, and so he simply lifted his brows, and he didn’t quite smirk, but he was quite certain that his smile clearly lacked sincerity. He looked Thomas in the eye.

“No.”

Thomas said nothing.

“No, I don’t understand.” Jack shrugged. “Sorry.”

Thomas looked at him. And then: “I believe I will kill you.”

Lady Amelia let out a shriek and leapt forward, grabbing onto Thomas seconds before he could attack Jack.

“You may steal my life away,” Thomas growled, just barely allowing her to subdue him. “You may steal my very name, but by God you will not steal hers.”

“She has a name,” Jack said. “It’s Willoughby. And for the love of God, she’s the daughter of an earl. She’ll find someone else.”

“If you are the Duke of Wyndham,” Thomas said furiously, “you will honor your commitments.”

“If I’m the Duke of Wyndham, then you can’t tell me what to do.”

“Amelia,” Thomas said with deadly calm, “release my arm.”

If anything, she pulled him back. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Lord Crowland chose that moment to step between them. “Er, gentlemen, this is all hypothetical at this point. Perhaps we should wait until-”

And then Jack saw his escape. “I wouldn’t be the seventh duke, anyway,” he said.

“I beg your pardon?” Crowland said, as if Jack were some irritant and not the man he was attempting to bludgeon into marrying his daughter.

“I wouldn’t.” Jack thought furiously, trying to put together all the details of the family history he’d learned in the past few days. He looked at Thomas. “Would I? Because your father was the sixth duke. Except he wasn’t. Would he have been? If I was?”

“What the devil are you talking about?” Crowland demanded.

But Jack saw that Thomas understood his point precisely. And indeed, he said, “Your father died before his own father. If your parents were married, then you would have inherited upon the fifth duke’s death, eliminating my father-and myself-from the succession entirely.”

“Which makes me number six,” Jack said quietly.

“Indeed.”

“Then I am not bound to honor the contract,” Jack declared. “No court in the land would hold me to it. I doubt they’d do so even if I were the seventh duke.”

“It is not to a legal court you must appeal,” Thomas said, “but to the court of your own moral responsibility.”

“I did not ask for this,” Jack said.

“Neither,” Thomas said softly, “did I.”

Jack said nothing. His voice felt like it was trapped in his chest, pounding and rumbling and squeezing out the air. The room was growing hot, and his cravat felt tight, and in that moment, as his life was flipping and spiraling out of his control, he knew only one thing for certain.

He had to get out.

He looked over for Grace, but she’d moved. She was standing now by Amelia, holding her hand.

He would not give her up. He could not. For the first time in his life he’d found someone who filled all the empty spaces in his heart.

He did not know who he would be, once they went to Ireland and found whatever it was they all thought they were looking for. But whoever he was-duke, highwayman, soldier, rogue-he wanted her by his side.