Page 78 of To Seduce a Stranger

Edward did not back down. “Only as much as everyone else.” Between what Jack had told him and the information Fairfax had added, he had formed a far more complete picture of the difficult situation into which Charlotte had been thrust by her late husband’s demise—and the bequest to which the man’s son objected so strenuously. “It’s been in all the papers. As you know.”

“Yes, well . . .” Mustering a calmer air, Langerton tugged his coat sleeve into place. “My father’s health was regrettably poor. If you have read the papers, then you know that he was in no condition to be making decisions about the disposition of his property, near the end.”

“I know that’s your position.” Fairfax sounded remarkably unperturbed. “But from what I’ve heard, his friends object to your characterization of him as ‘mad as a hatter.’”

A muscle twitched along Langerton’s jaw. “May I ask how any of this concerns either of you? We have only a passing acquaintance, Lord Fairfax,” he drawled, then flicked a disparaging glance at Edward. “And with Mr. Cary, of course, I have none at all.”

“You may rest assured, Langerton: I want none,” Edward said.

But the duke was now studying Edward’s features, as if seeing him for the first time. “Beckley,” he murmured. “Beckley. The earl’s estate is in the West Country, is it not?” Without waiting for an answer, he gave a low, humorless laugh. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’re the dark-haired stranger the papers have been talking about.”

“Tell me where she’s gone,” Edward demanded.

Langerton lifted one shoulder. “I neither know nor care.”

“Until very recently, you cared enough to offer a reward for information leading to her return,” Fairfax observed. “What’s changed?”

With a flourish, Langerton withdrew a folded paper from his breast pocket and tossed it onto the table. “See for yourselves.”

Edward quickly snatched it up, then found himself reluctant to read it once it was in his grasp. Steeling himself, he dropped his eyes to the paper and saw it contained just a few hastily written lines.

With this letter, I hereby formally abjure all claim upon or interest in the estate of the late Duke of Langerton, my husband. It is my express wish that the inheritance granted to me by his last will and testament be declared the rightful property of his son and heir, Robert Blakemore, Duke of Langerton.

Charlotte Blakemore

The signatures of two others—witnesses—were scrawled across the bottom of the sheet.

Edward dropped the letter as if it were hot. “Why would she do this?”

Lifting the paper, Fairfax quickly scanned it, then let it flutter down to the tabletop. “She’s under no obligation to take the money, of course.”

“But in this case, I strongly suspect coercion.”

With a slow blink, the duke registered his gaze on Edward’s face. “I don’t believe I have to answer to you, Mr. Cary.”

“You’re right,” Edward acknowledged with a jerk of his chin. “You don’t. I haven’t the faintest interest in you or your father’s fortune. I care only about Charlotte’s well-being.”

“Charlotte, is it?” Langerton’s thin lips curled in a derisive smile. “Never say you’ve been taken in by that French whore, too?”

Conventional wisdom would have it that Edward’s return to England marked a return to civilization. But it seemed civilization was not always civil.

Edward knew he possessed the strength to wipe that smile from Langerton’s face. But he had no intention of using it. If twenty years in the bloody West Indies had not turned him into a violent man, Langerton’s words would not be the breaking point. He would find a way to defend Charlotte’s honor without sacrificing his own.

“That’s quite a remark for a gentleman to make about a lady,” Fairfax observed coolly, drawing Langerton’s attention his way. “Fortunately for you, my friend is essentially a man of peace.” Curling his long-fingered hand into a surprisingly formidable fist, Fairfax landed a solid punch in Langerton’s face before the man could react to protect himself. Blood spurted from his nose, spraying the papers scattered across the table and pattering ominously onto Charlotte’s letter. “Unfortunately for you, I suffer from no such compunction.”

“You broke my dose,” Langerton cried, clutching both hands belatedly to his face. “You athaulted a peer of the realm!”

“Call me out,” Fairfax challenged, his voice as soft as his expression was hard. The silvery scar that curled along his cheek leapt into prominence—a relic of the exchange that had sent him into hiding, Edward had always suspected.

Langerton rummaged through the papers for a napkin and raised it to his battered face. “I wouldn’t demean mythelf by giving you the thatithfaction.”

“Suit yourself,” said Fairfax, shaking out his fist. “What now, Beckley?”

Edward started at the unexpected address. “Let’s go,” he answered, moving toward the door. “There’s nothing I want here.”

Langerton lowered the blood-stained napkin and watched them leave. The swelling was already inching outward from his nose. By morning, his eyes would be ringed with bruises. Now, however, they were filled with loathing. When Edward was just about to cross the threshold, he muttered under his breath, “Even my father wasn’t fool enough to fuck her.”

Turning sharply, Edward took one step back into the breakfast room. Fairfax’s hand caught his arm, but he shook it off and crossed to the duke, whose show of resolve faltered. When Edward reached out one hand, Langerton flinched.