Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
“These girls deserve so much more,” Deena murmured to herself, making notes in the margin.
She sat curled on the settee in the drawing room, a stack of papers spread across her lap. The school’s requirements were far more extensive than she expected. Lists of books, slates, chalk, sewing materials, blankets for winter, and even a request for a proper roof repair lay all around her.
“What can I do?”
She felt fulfilled carrying out such compassionate duties and could not wait to tell Selina and Penelope all about it.
I am no longer a burden.
Deena’s smile faded when the door suddenly burst open.
She jolted upright and papers scattered to the carpet. She was surprised to see Austin striding in, his expression thunderous, followed by an elderly man who looked as though he might faint at any moment.
“Austin?” she breathed, rising quickly. “What—”
“This is Mr. Whitman,” Austin said tightly. “My solicitor.”
Mr. Whitman bowed stiffly, his face ashen. “Your Grace. It is an honor to finally meet you.”
She smiled, but her gaze darted between them. Austin’s jaw was clenched, and his eyes were darker than she had ever seen before.
“It is an honor to meet you, too,” she said softly to Mr. Whitman. “Please, sit.”
They sat as she picked up all her papers clumsily.
“Leave that be,” Austin said firmly.
Deena stopped and lowered herself into the chair beside him. Her pulse quickened as she felt the unease around them. She looked at Austin, but he was glaring at Mr. Whitman. She waited for him to reach for her like she usually did, but his fists were clenched and braced on his knees.
Something is wrong.
“Tell her,” Austin spoke coldly towards Mr. Whitman, who shook his head nervously before he began.
He turned slowly towards Deena. “Your Grace…I am afraid I bring grave news.”
Austin let out a low growl beside her that sent a cold shiver up Deena’s spine.
“What has happened?” Panic gripped her, but she tried her best to remain calm.
The solicitor swallowed. “Someone has published… proof. Proof claiming that His Grace is not the legitimate heir.”
Darkness fell upon her like a blanket. She knew something was wrong and that the blackmailers had been quiet for too long.
Austin leaned forward. “Explain to her exactly what you told me.”
Mr. Whitman wrung his hands, and Deena felt bad for him. “An article was printed this morning in The Daily Scribe. It contains… documents. Birth records and a certificate. All suggesting that His Grace was born before his father married his mother.”
Deena stared at him, stunned. “But that is impossible.”
“I’m curious, Mr. Whitman.” Austin’s voice sharpened. “Why did your investigator not find this? You advised that he would be stationed at the Scribe’s offices.”
Deena looked at Austin then. She was unaware of how far he went to protect them from the blackmailer.
Should I have done something too?
“I—I do not know, Your Grace,” Mr. Whitman stammered. “The article appeared without warning. No one saw the writer enter. No one saw the documents delivered. I am deeply sorry.”
Austin surged to his feet, and Deena gasped when the chair crashed loudly beside her. “I warned you what would happen, Whitman! I warned you that if Deena was placed in a dangerous position, you would pay for it!”
His voice cracked like a whip and echoed around them. Deena flinched at the sound. She had never seen him lose control. Not like this. It frightened her.
“Austin,” she said gently, rising and placing a hand on his arm. “Calm down, please.”
He looked at her, chest heaving, and after a long moment, he picked up the chair and sank back into it. Deena stood behind him and kept her hand on his shoulder until she felt the tension ease slightly.
“Mr. Whitman, show me the article,” she said firmly.
Mr. Whitman nodded and pulled a folded newspaper from his case. Deena took it with unsteady hands.
The headline screamed across the page:
A Bastard wrapped in Velvet
Her stomach dropped as she read on.
It is with great reluctance, and greater duty, that I reveal the truth the ton has whispered for years. His Grace, the Duke of Windemere, may not be the rightful heir at all.
Official birth records, obtained through diligent investigation, show that the duke was born several days before the late Duke of Windemere wed his duchess.
A certificate, signed and sealed, confirms the timeline.
Was the late Duke simply paying a debt or saving a Lady in distress?
And is the current Duke of Windemere not doing the same with his new bride?
If this is true, and the documents speak loudly, then society has been bowing to a man with no legitimate claim.
What else, one wonders, has the Velvet Duke been hiding?
—Lady Veritas
Deena’s hands shook with anger. “This is… vile. Austin is the true heir of Windemere. This certificate could be fraudulent for all we know.”
“Yes, Your Grace, it must be fraudulent, but—”
“It does not matter now; half of London has seen this and will conclude it on their own. They do not give a damn about evidence.” Austin’s voice was flat, and Deena feared that he might have given up.
She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “We will fix this, Austin.”
But Austin merely scoffed and turned to Mr. Whitman. “Can you at least be useful and tell me how I can dispute it?”
The solicitor looked pained. “First, Your Grace… you and Her Grace must leave, immediately. For your safety. Only once you are secure, we can we begin building a case.”
Fear gripped Deena. “Our safety? Are we in danger, Mr. Whitman?”
“I am afraid so, Your Grace. The blackmailers could be anywhere, and society would…not be so kind towards you two.”
Austin tensed again but remained silent.
“How much time do we have?” Deena continued.
Mr. Whitman hesitated, then pulled out another piece of paper from his case. “This arrived at my office an hour ago.”
Austin snatched it from his hand. His eyes scanned the page, and he froze.
“What is it?” Deena whispered.
He handed it to her.
Her vision blurred as she read:
By order of the Court of Chancery, the Duke of Windemere is hereby stripped of temporary control over all estates, properties, and titles pending investigation into his legitimacy.
Her knees nearly buckled.
“There must be some kind of mistake…” she breathed.
Austin looked at her then, and the fury in his eyes made her blood run cold.
Is he angry at me?
She felt an uneasy tension build in the room. She would understand if he hated her. Their rushed marriage only saved her and not him. It was not fair. Deena felt faint as she tried to think of a way to help Austin, but no plan came to mind.
What will we do?
“Deena.” His icy tone reeled her in. “Send word to Dominic. Now.”
Deena pushed aside her fear and did not hesitate. She rushed to the door, calling for their footman and praying for help.
How could you do this to me? I loved you!
Austin had not slept as his mind was plagued with memories of his mother and father.
He sat in Dominic’s London drawing room, staring into the cold fireplace as dawn crept weakly through the tall windows.
The house was too quiet for a home that usually echoed with children’s laughter.
But Mary and Percy were safe at Greystone Estate with Dominic’s most trusted maids and guards.
He missed their presence; it made the house feel hollow.
Could my mother have had a lover?
His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to his parents again.
The late Duke of Windemere had been a man of charm and ruin in equal measure. A rake of the highest order. A man who collected lovers the way others collected books. He broke hearts as easily as he breathed.
And his mother… God, his mother.
She had loved him. Loved him with a devotion that made no sense to Austin even now.
She forgave every betrayal, every whispered scandal, every night his father did not come home.
She smiled for society, held her head high, and pretended that she did not bleed or cry.
And here he was, questioning whether she was as loyal as he believed she was or if he was just a product of a grudging affair.
A bastard.
He closed his eyes tightly, praying that this would all somehow go away.
“Thinking yourself into an early grave, are you?”
Dominic’s voice broke through the fog. Austin blinked and looked up as his friend, his brother in all but blood, crossed the room. Dominic clapped a firm hand on his back.
“You’ve been staring at that fireplace for a while,” Dominic said. “It’s not going to speak back.”
Austin huffed a humorless breath. “I wouldn’t mind if it did. It might give me better answers than we have found.”
Dominic squeezed his shoulder. “We will sort this out, Windemere. You have a family now. You are not alone.”
The words hit harder than Austin expected. He had never dared rely on family before, but Dominic proved his loyalty time and time again.
He nodded once at his friend, unable to speak what he felt, but Dominic understood him without any words.
The room door opened, and the rest of the household filed in.
First came Selina with her gentle smile, then the Dowager Duchess with her cane and sharp eyes, and Deena…
Deena, who looked pale since Mr. Whitman’s visit yet was determined.
Her hair was pulled back in a simple knot, and her gaze fixed on him as though she could hold him together by will alone.
They all took their seats. Austin remained standing, unable to sit still.
The Dowager sighed dramatically. “I am far too old for this nonsense. Blackmailers, scandals, and forged documents. In my day, people handled their problems with duels and brandy.”
Selina blinked. “Duels?”
“And brandy,” the Dowager added. “Brandy eased the pain after the duel, unless they died instead of getting injured. But the point stands—blackmail is the tool of weak people who cannot get their way.”
“Grandmother.” Deena gave her a stern look, but the Dowager simply shrugged and sipped her brandy.
Austin chuckled softly. “I agree, Your Grace. The question is, who wrote the column? Who knew about the whole mess?”
Selina stepped forward and bit her lip nervously. “Could it be… perhaps… an old lover of yours?”
The room went still. Austin’s stomach dropped.
He opened his mouth to answer, but his gaze caught on Deena.
A flicker of hurt crossed her face. It was quick but unmistakable.
And suddenly he was ten years old again, watching his mother sit alone in her room, pretending she wasn’t crying. Pretending she wasn’t breaking.
His fists clenched.
“Perhaps,” he forced the word out, though it tasted bitter. “I have made enemies. And many mistakes, so I would not be surprised if it is a lover from my past.”
Deena looked down at her hands, and something inside him twisted painfully.
I will make certain to apologize to her tonight.
He turned away, pacing to the window. The London streets were waking. Carriages rattled past, vendors shouted, and life continued as though his world had not just been ripped apart.
Dominic spoke next. “We need to focus. Whoever did this had access to records. They forged documents or stole them. They knew exactly where and how to strike.”
“And they struck well,” Austin muttered.
“We will find them, and we will fix this,” Selina said confidently.
Austin spun around, anger flaring.
“There is nothing to fix,” he snapped.
Silence crashed over the room. He took a deep breath in to calm himself, but it came out ragged.
“You all saw the paper. My father was a rake, and everyone knows it. He had lovers everywhere. It makes perfect sense that he had children out of wedlock.” His voice cracked.
“But my mother was not like him. And I have never questioned her loyalty until now. What if it is true and I am not my father’s true son at all? ”
Selina gasped softly. The Dowager’s eyes softened. Dominic’s jaw tightened. But Deena rose slowly from her seat.
“Austin,” she said quietly.
He shook his head. “Do not say anything, Deena. Please, there is just nothing we can do.”
“There is. You did not give up on me so we will not give up on you either. This will be fixed.”
She spoke fiercely. Her confidence both impressed and calmed him. He looked at her and felt a sense of hope.
He swallowed hard. “Deena—”
“No.” She shook her head. “I refuse to believe that you have given up because of a forged article. You know who you are, in here.” She placed a hand over his heart, and he felt her warmth spread all over him.
“We do not know that it is forged.” He felt the room fade around them. It was just her. Just her voice. And just her strength.
“My sister is right, Windemere.” Austin did not have to look to know that his friend was smiling.
He kept his eyes on Deena, feeling her hand rest gently on his chest as her wide green eyes met his with hope and the depth of an emotion he could not name.
His yearning for her grew constantly, occupying both his thoughts and heart, though he refused to acknowledge it.
Distrust held him back. He worried she might leave or that fate would take her away just as it had taken his mother.
The Dowager tapped her cane, drawing their attention. “Let us find this person, and I will personally throttle them.”
Austin let out a shaky breath. “The court already believes this—”
“Not if we prove otherwise,” Deena said firmly.
“And how do we do that?” he asked her curiously.
“Together.” She said simply. “No more secrets, between any of us. We will do everything together.”
The Dowager sniffed. “And if that fails, we bribe someone.”
“Grandmother!” Dominic groaned.
“Oh hush. It worked in my day.”