Chapter 6
Chapter six
As they exchanged looks, Tillman was sure Winton stumbled with a surprise as deep as that which made the duchess’s knees buckle and sent her to the ground, although Winton regained his composure faster.
Winton William West, the duke’s first child, born out of wedlock to the woman William had loved fiercely but had never been brave enough to marry, surveyed the scene.
He tipped his hat and bowed. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you, little brother. Don’t be shy, now.
’ And he ascended the stairs and disappeared through the doors of the club like the man of wealth without responsibilities that he was.
The Duke of Stoneleigh grabbed Tillman by the arm. ‘Take her away before she embarrasses herself further. And you.’ He turned on the boy. ‘We need to talk about expectations.’
‘Arley?’ Lorelei reached for her son. She closed her eyes and drew a shaky breath, but when Tillman came to help her stand, she brushed him away.
Her eyes had gone dull, and the soft light that had been shining in them as they searched the streets had evaporated.
Once again, she appeared as she had for the better part of the past decade—thin, grim lips, raised chin, and a stiff stance.
‘It must have been the heat. And the… and the worry. Get in the cab. Please.’
Arley hauled himself in, threw himself against the far window, and crossed his arms over his chest. Tillman helped the duchess into the conveyance, then jogged up the stairs of the club.
He spoke a few curt words to the doorman to hopefully discourage him talking, then slipped him a coin as further encouragement.
He threw the cab driver another. The Duke of Stoneleigh had disappeared, likely gone to smooth over any potential gossip circling inside.
He certainly wouldn’t see to his daughter.
Tillman cast his eye over the world before him to check that there was no mess he’d missed.
That’s what he did—he cleaned up William’s messes.
Back at the carriage, Tillman placed his foot on the step.
The young duke’s voice rang out from inside with a formal, whiny edge.
It wavered between high and youthful and the occasional dip into a lower register of almost breaking.
‘There was no point asking you, because you don’t say anything when I do ask, and you would have said no.
So would Grandfather, and I didn’t have much choice—’
‘Arley. Not in front of the staff.’ Her Grace sat in the centre of the cab, facing forwards. She kept her eyes down. Her thumbs rolled one over the other, but apart from that small movement, she remained motionless. Silence descended in the small space as the boy huffed against the window.
Tillman slammed the cab door closed. He climbed up the side to sit beside the driver, ignoring the man’s confused look. ‘Honeysuckle Street,’ he said, and the man nodded. ‘The big house at the end.’
The cab door opened before Tillman could climb down and hit the gravel.
The young duke launched himself out of the conveyance, shouted, ‘Leave me alone!’ over his shoulder, and stormed through the front door, muttering something that sounded like, ‘Should have known, should not have bothered,’ under his breath.
Tillman descended from the seat and brushed himself off. He pulled out the steps and extended his hand. Waited.
Waited.
Waited…
He leant forwards to peer into the cab. ‘Your Grace? We… We’re back at the townhouse.’
She had barely moved during the drive. Her back curved into the same bow of penance, her toes poking from beneath her skirts, and her eyes were cast down, her neck long and her chin dipped into her chest.
‘You knew.’ She formed each word with a perfect roundedness. Each syllable that dropped from her lips was as cold and clear as crystal.
‘I didn’t know where he was,’ he said, although his next breath came in by halves. ‘I would have searched every house in London if needed.’
‘That is not what I mean,’ she said, in that same, low tone. ‘You knew about William’s other son. He looks just like him. Just like him. And not only the other boy, the other her. She didn’t come after me. She came before. And you knew.’
Her fingers walked over her dress, gathering little folds of fabric into her palms. She didn’t change her posture, but everything about her seemed to tighten. Her breaths shortened, and she blinked faster than the second on a watch could tick.
‘I did,’ he confessed, his voice cracking.
‘All those years as I tried to win him over. To be good enough. And no one told me how ridiculous I was. That it was pointless. How long did you know?’
He hung his head. ‘I was there when they met. She was from the neighbouring village. I arranged her cottage and payments for the boy. He was worried it might ruin his career if he married her. He was worried what people would think.’
‘In his will he thanked you for your loyalty. He left you something. That’s why you were there, to witness my humiliation.’ She raised her head slowly. ‘What did he leave you?’
Tillman swallowed a hard knot. ‘A thousand pounds.’
‘A thousand pounds.’ She rolled the words around her mouth. ‘A sensible man could build a new life with money like that. Could buy land or a business to last him the rest of his days. He wouldn’t have to answer to anyone. You stayed because I am an amusement to you.’
‘Never,’ he objected, his voice rising with fear.
She pushed off the seat and stopped in the cab door.
When he offered his hand again, she slapped it away, almost stumbling as she fought with her skirts to clear the cab.
But she recovered and launched herself up the stairs and through the wide-open front door and into the foyer.
‘You stayed because I am a monumental laughing stock, and you wanted to continue to entertain yourself at my expense.’
‘That is not why I stayed.’ He tried to keep his tone as low as hers as he followed, stiff and controlled, but he wasn’t made like them, and instead, his words barked out, harsh and full of rising fire.
A few of the staff drifted into the edges of the hallway, peering around doors, but damn it, let them gossip. He didn’t care anymore.
‘Then why did you stay?’ She spun, her black skirts fanning and fluttering with the abrupt turn. ‘You didn’t need the money. Why did you stay?’
‘I needed to look after you. I felt—I felt guilty.’
‘Why would you feel guilt? About what? About covering up the lies, about pretending to be my confidant when, really, you were a part of it all?’
‘Not for that. That was my job, to do what he asked. It was not my place to speak against it.’ Anger fuelled his tone, his voice rising.
His own suppressed feeling unleashed, years of quiet conversations about fields and markets, about intake and new advancements…
All of it for her. Wanting but never ever having, never even wishing.
Not only because she was a duke’s daughter, and a duke’s widow, but because, while she sat opposite him and followed his words, she always wore black.
‘Then what?’ she snapped.
‘I stayed because I killed him!’
She shook her head. ‘You were there, in the stables with me when they came with the news. He was three miles away when they found him. You couldn’t have.’
‘Not like that. Not with my hands.’ He looked down at them, blinking away the shame at what he hadn’t done. ‘I saddled his horse. I helped him into his seat. I passed him his reins, even though the clouds hung thick. I knew a storm was coming. Yet, I said nothing.’
‘Don’t give yourself airs, Mr Masters.’ Stiff and frosty, there was no compassion in her tone. ‘William was stubborn. If he had it in mind to set out, he would have gone no matter what you said.’
‘But I didn’t even try. I didn’t try because I didn’t want him there.
You were so much happier whenever he was gone.
And when you were happy… I was happy. The entire house was.
You want to know why I stay?’ He took a step towards her, his voice heavy and pleading.
‘Dear heavens, Your Grace, isn’t it obvious? ’
‘Stop it,’ she whispered, and backed away towards the hall. ‘You can’t. You don’t.’
‘I do. I always have. When the messenger came, I wasn’t happy, but I wasn’t sad either.
I’ve tried to shake how I feel, to remember the boy who was my friend, but I can’t, because all I see is you.
How you shrank when he was there. How he never tried.
And every day, I hope you will take your freedom and do something with it.
Run in the rain, plant a garden, start a charity he would have hated, anything.
But you don’t. You do nothing but roam around that house finding new ways to entertain a ghost. I couldn’t tell you before, because it wasn’t my place, and I didn’t tell you after, because you were not strong enough to know.
You don’t want to know, because even now, after almost ten years, you still wear bloody black for him! ’
‘How dare you presume to understand,’ she shot back, her tone low and cold as cracked ice.
‘I wear black for me. I wear black because in this, I know who I am. I wear black because if I began to wear colours, if I announced myself no longer in mourning, I would have every viscount, every earl, every damn honorary title with a rundown estate and their fathers’ debts chasing after me.
Because I am young enough to wed again, and it’s proven that I can make an heir, and everyone knows I am a fool who will not complain about a mistress because everyone knew but me.
This dress is my shield. It protects me because no one else does.
You are dismissed.’ She turned down the hall.
‘Dismissed?’ Fear wrapped around his chest and tightened his throat.
She huffed. ‘Not like that. Just go away. Leave me be.’