A Secret Affair

He stopped abruptly and shook his head, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“You are quite right,” he said. “I would have stopped him. I would have assumed that he could not possibly know just what he was doing. But he did know, didn’t he? You always used to say, Con, that Jonathan was love. Not just loving, but love. You were right about that too. And you were right not to answer my questions—if indeed I asked them as I am convinced I must have. You were right to keep your secrets. You were right to be a stubborn mule.”

“Don’t send us away, Con,” Stephen said. “Perhaps Elliott can help. Perhaps I can. Perhaps not. But don’t send us away. We are your relatives, and you need us even if you do not realize it. Besides, the Duchess of Dunbarton sent us, and I believe she may well be brokenhearted if you turn us away without allowing us even to try.”

Constantine stared broodingly at him.

Ha

Ha

The soreness in his chest deepened.

“There are spare rooms at the dower house,” he said, pointing off to the east to where the house could just be seen nestled among the trees not far from the artificial lake that a previous owner had had constructed. “It is where I live. If it is not too humble for your tastes, you may stay there.”

It was a grudging enough invitation. He was not sure if he was glad to see them or not. Perhaps it did not matter how he felt, though. He was not the issue here. Jess was. Could Elliott help? Elliott with his damned dukedom and his aristocratic air of consequence?

And his honesty?

“Please come to stay with me,” he said before either man could answer. “You need baths and rest and a good meal before anything else. Come.”

“When—” Elliott began.

“Four days,” Constantine said abruptly. “There is all the time in the world.”

And he went striding off ahead of them down the gravel path that led to the dower house.

Four days.

He could hear them coming behind him.

Chapter 19

ELLIOTT AND STEPHEN went off to call on the judge the following morning, both dressed with immaculate elegance. Elliott would not allow Constantine to accompany them. Not that either he or Stephen could have stopped him if he had chosen to go anyway, but he reluctantly conceded that it was probably for the best that he remain behind.

Elliott sought him out alone before they left.

“I have been having a look around, Con,” he said, “and talking with some of your people. You are doing well here. You have been doing well for some time.”

Constantine looked at him, tight-lipped.

“Did that sound condescending?” Elliott asked with a sigh. “It was not meant to be. I am brimful of admiration. And contrition. And shame. It was not you with all those women, was it? It was—my uncle? Your father?”

Constantine said nothing.

“Mine was no better,” Elliott said. “I grew up believing him to be a paragon and devoted to my mother and my sisters and me. It was only after his death that I learned about his long-term mistress and the rather large family he had had with her. Did you know about them? The whole of the rest of the world seemed to, including my mother.”

“No,” Constantine said.

“I had been living a pretty wild existence for the previous few years,” Elliott continued. “I was suddenly terrified that I would turn out like him, that I would be a wastrel, that I would let down my mother and sisters as he had done. And so I lost all my humor, Con, all my sense of proportion. And when you resented my interference, as you saw it, in Jon’s affairs and did all in your power to a

It was, Constantine supposed, some attempt at an apology.

“Jonathan discovered the truth about your father?” Elliott asked.

“Yes. Two of the women—two sisters—came to talk to him when I was away one day,” Constantine said. “I had never seen him so upset, so disillusioned. Or so excited as on the day he concocted his grand scheme. I doubt I could have denied him my help in bringing that to pass even if I had disagreed with him. Which I did not. I had known for years. It had sickened me for years. But the little help I had been able to provide had been akin to wrapping a small bandage about a belly rip.”

“Con,” Elliott said after a short silence. “You were not i

“You were,” Constantine said.

“And you were the stubborn mule.”

They stared at each other. The stare threatened to become a glare until Elliott spoiled it all by allowing his lips to twitch.

“Someone should paint us,” he said. “We would make a marvelous caricature.”

“You are doing all this just for Jess?” Constantine asked.

“And for the Duchess of Dunbarton,” Elliott said. “And for Vanessa. She longs to forgive and be forgiven, Con.”

“To be forgiven?” Constantine said with a frown. “I am the one who wronged her. Horribly.”

“But you apologized,” Elliott said, “and she would not forgive you. I know she has felt bad about that ever since. When the duchess called on us with Stephen, Vanessa saw a chance for some redemption. Perhaps for all of us. If I came for any one person, I came for her. I love her.”

“I know,” Constantine said.

“And I came for you too,” Elliott said, looking sharply away. “You are, despite everything, someone I once loved. Perhaps someone I still love. Good God, Con, I have missed you. Can you fathom that? I believed all those things about you, and I missed you?”

“This is getting almost embarrassing,” Constantine said.

“It is,” Elliott agreed. “And Stephen is probably waiting for me. Before I join him, Con, will you shake my hand?”

“Kiss and forgive?” Constantine said.

“I will forego the kissing if it is all the same to you,” Elliott said, holding out his right hand.

Constantine looked at it and set his own in it.

“As I remember it,” he said, “you did not ask, Elliott. You assumed. But as you remember it, you asked, and I told you to go to hell. We can never know who is right. Maybe it is just as well. But you had just lost your trust in your own father, and I was desperate to preserve Jon’s dream. We never were good at talking to each other about pain, were we?”

“A gentleman never admits to feeling any,” Elliott said as they clasped each other’s hand tightly. “I have to put on all the full force of my pomposity now. I’ll try not to be an ass, though, Con. I’ll try my best to get Barnes reprieved. I hope my best is good enough.”

“So do I,” Constantine said fervently.

He still felt sore that he was going to have to remain behind at Ainsley, idle and helpless. But for the moment the best he could do was let his cousins go and do what he could not. Or at least try.