Page 64 of The Duke of Seduction
“I assumed it was because of Priscilla. Because she broke your heart. You swore off marrying anyone.”
“That was sort of true. However, there was more to my bitterness. My sister Helen failed on the Mart.” He moved his gaze back to Felix’s as darkness moved through him. “It was more than that, however. People were cruel, and I’m starting to wonder if she was pursued by a knave who drove her to the unthinkable.”
Felix paled. “Your sister died. You’re saying she—?”
Beck hesitated, even though it seemed Felix had deduced the truth, which he should have after what Beck had said. Still, it wasn’t something his family discussed, and to say it out loud brought his family’s shame into the light. Beck hadn’t even known what had really happened until after his mother had died a few years later. Then, in a fit of despair, his father had revealed everything.
“Yes, she was poisoned and likely by her own hand. Or so it seemed to my parents. She’d spoken of not wanting to endure another Season and of an end to her loneliness and suffering. She’d always possessed a dark nature, and it seemed to engulf her.” Beck’s throat tightened. He recognized that feeling of loneliness, of helplessness, of utter darkness. But it didn’t swallow him. Not yet, anyway. Not as long as he had music and words to keep himself from the abyss.
“She killed herself.” Felix wiped his hand over his brow. “I’d no idea. And why should I—you wouldn’t want that getting out.” He leaned back against the seat. “You think a man pushed her to do it?”
Beck rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t know what to believe. I only know two women told her she’d be better off dead, some man was pursuing her, and then she died of poison. It never sat right with my father.”
“You’d like to know what happened,” Felix said softly.
Beck lifted his head slightly and peered over at his friend. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes. How can I help?”
Exhaling, Beck dropped his head back to his hands. “I don’t know. Today, I found out who those women were. I’d like to ask them what they know. I want to know who this man was.”
“I would too,” Felix said. “Who are these women, and how can we get information from them?”
Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Beck tipped his head back against the squab. “I’ve been thinking about that—hence my broodiness.” He said the last with a wry tone, provoking a brief smile from Felix. “I think I’m going to write a poem addressed to them.”
“Hell, that’s brilliant.” Felix sat straighter. “Not your typical poem, of course.”
“No. This one will carry a far different purpose.”
“How will that get them to talk to you?” Felix asked. “You’ve kept your identity secret, and I can’t imagine you’d want to reveal yourself over this.”
“No. That’s the part I’m trying to work out.”
Felix cocked his head to the side. “What if you use the poem as leverage? Threaten to continue to write them unless they tell you what they know about Helen.”
It wasn’t a terrible idea. “And how will I communicate that? I can’t put that in the newspaper.”
“No, but you can send them a letter via the newspaper—so they won’t know who wrote it.”
It also wasn’t a great idea. “If I ask about Helen, don’t you think they’ll puzzle it out?”
“Damn. Of course they will.” Felix banged his head back against the cushion. “You need an intermediary—someone who can ask them what they know without leading back to you.”
“Well, if you think of something, let me know. In the meantime, I wrote to my sister Margaret and asked if she recalled a gentleman who may have been paying attention to Helen. They corresponded regularly, and I’m hoping Helen might have told her.”
“I shall hope so too.” Quiet reigned for a moment before Felix asked, “Then what will you do?”
Once he found out who had wooed his sister and perhaps driven her to kill herself? He didn’t know. “I want the truth. Until I have that, I can’t say what I’ll do.”
Felix nodded slowly. “I’ll stand at your side no matter what.” He said this with such ferocity that it warmed Beck’s chest.
“Thank you.”
“Now, about Lady Lavinia,” Felix said, abruptly turning the conversation in a far lighter direction. Or was it? Beck had overstepped propriety in spectacular fashion and feared he would eagerly do so again. Which meant he should stay away from her. Hell, he should stay away from her anyway. Sir Martin was going to call on her, and a week from now, she could bloody well be betrothed. Their faux courtship was no longer necessary.
“There’s nothing about Lady Lavinia. I told you—it was a fake courtship.”
“There’s nothing fake about disappearing with someone for a quarter hour,” Felix said with a sardonic arch of his brow.
