Chapter 28
“Your Grace, I must speak with you,” said the distressed Mrs. Barnes, stepping out to the paddock where Cecily leaned against the fence, watching Lilian pet her two new white ponies, Snowy and Sugar, in the company of one of the grooms and Miss Osborne.
“Hmmm?” Cecily turned to the housekeeper rather dreamily, wondering what could be the cause of the urgency on the older woman’s face. “Is something wrong, Mrs. Barnes?”
Nothing felt so urgent to her today. The whole world seemed right. Nothing was impossible or insoluble as long as she and Nathaniel were together, sharing the same understanding they had reached last night.
They had danced together only once at the Caruthers ball, both somewhat disheveled after their lovemaking despite their best efforts to tidy themselves. They had left early after that, unable to keep their hands off one another or their lips apart.
Cecily had lost count of how many times they had come together, first in that sitting room at Caruthers House, then in the carriage, and again and again in Nathaniel’s bedroom back at Greyhaven Park. Fed only by kisses and short interludes of sleep, their desire seemed inexhaustible.
Unfortunately, after receiving a letter with the breakfast tray he’d had brought to his room, Nathaniel had dressed and hurried away to London.
“I have important business to attend to, sweet Cecily, but I will be home again at the earliest opportunity. I expect to find you naked and ready for me again, here in my bed…”
Cecily sighed and blushed as she remembered her husband’s parting words and kisses, his hands wandering over her curves as he spoke.
Whatever business had called him back to London, she hoped it would not take the entire day.
She longed for the weight and strength of his body, the tenderness of his lips, and the knowing touch of his fingers in contrast to the demanding thrusts of his—
“Your Grace?”
Mrs. Barnes’ anxious voice pulled her out of her erotic daydreams once again. She saw that the housekeeper had what appeared to be a letter in her hand and a printed pamphlet.
“This came with the other messages, Your Grace. The note was not signed. It came from London, like the pamphlet, but that is all I know.”
“A pamphlet?” Cecily repeated, baffled as to why any of this should be of concern to Mrs. Barnes and even less to her.
“You must read it, Your Grace, I am sorry to say. Thank goodness I opened this message and not any of the junior servants. I would have just burned it right away, but then you wouldn’t be warned.”
Warned of what?
Finally, Cecily’s eyes drifted down to the address on the letter. It might not have been signed, but she knew her uncle’s hand at a glance. Cold foreboding began to seep into her veins as she reached for both the pamphlet and the letter.
The covering message had been addressed only to “Greyhaven Park, household staff” and was both brief and pointed.
You will doubtless be interested to learn the true character of your new mistress, the Duchess of Greyhaven.
Turning her attention now to the pamphlet, Cecily let out a gasp, her trembling hand flying up to her mouth.
Oh God, what has he done?
The printed document was a scandal sheet of the lowest order, carrying gossip of the type that bordered on either defamation or fantasy, and sometimes both.
The main story was illustrated by a salacious sketch of a young man in military uniform, his breeches unfastened, gazing at the half-uncovered bosom of a flirtatious-looking young lady with a somewhat rounded belly as he helped her into a carriage.
Behind the pair, another young woman merrily waved them off from a bed, a large wedding ring on her finger and a ducal coronet askew on the head of the man snoring beside her.
“Dear God!” Cecily exclaimed, feeling all the blood drain from her face as she read the words beside the awful illustration.
She gripped the fence tightly and was grateful to feel Mrs. Barnes take her other arm, fearing that she might have otherwise collapsed.
“Cecily, Cecily! Look! Snowy ate a whole apple. They are good ponies, and Mr. Parsons the groom says I may ride them if you say yes.”
With difficulty, Cecily looked back at her stepdaughter and forced herself to smile. “Yes, you may, as long as you have a groom with you and Miss Osborne watches. I must go inside now, but I will come back to see you riding later.”
“Do you promise?” Lilian asked.
Cecily nodded. “I promise,” she replied, the words tasting bitter in her mouth.
“Come to the drawing room, and I’ll fetch you a brandy, Your Grace,” Mrs. Barnes said in a low voice. “Then, you must tell me what you want to do.”
What could Cecily do? Her uncle had evidently given this awful story to the ton’s worst scandalmongers, deliberately besmirching her and her sister.
Without naming them, it painted Cecily as a scheming woman who had pursued and caught the Duke of Greyhaven by blackmailing him about his brother’s indiscretion with Mary.
No, it was worse than an indiscretion. The story implied that Mary had been repeatedly compromised and was now carrying Patrick’s child, this being the reason for his recently buying a military commission and aiming to leave the country.
It even hinted that Patrick was not Mary’s first lover and that Cecily was no better than her sister’s pimp.
“There, sit down, Your Grace,” the housekeeper soothed, guiding her to a chair in the drawing room and making sure that the door was closed before going over to the sideboard.
In a daze, Cecily lowered the papers onto her lap.
“How could my uncle do this?” she choked out. “We are his own flesh and blood.”
How could he do it? How did he learn about Patrick and Mary? How far was he prepared to go for revenge?
There were so many questions, each of them more terrifying than the last.
“Your uncle?” Mrs. Barnes questioned, although she was surprised only briefly. “Well, His Grace has the measure of that man. Don’t you worry. He will sort all of this out, I’m sure. He’ll not have anyone slandering you like this.”
Tears sprang to Cecily’s eyes, and she took the brandy blindly from the housekeeper without thinking to drink it. Suddenly, she was not as confident as Mrs. Barnes was about Nathaniel’s reaction to the pamphlet, especially given the threat in the closing paragraph.
Dear friends, watch this space for more news of the scheming sisters who have trapped a duke and now plan to dupe him into raising his brother’s bastard.
While we are not yet in a position to identify the poisonous pair behind this unscrupulous whoring, we hear that their names may soon be released to the London newspapers.
If their names were indeed published, and with such a story attached to them, Mary would be utterly ruined.
While Nathaniel himself might not care about reputation or society’s disapproval, Cecily supposed that he did care for his principles and sense of honor.
He also disliked inconvenience and anything that was tiresome or constrained his life.
Mary’s ruin and Cecily’s besmirchment could be nothing but a tiresome inconvenience.
Her mind raced frantically. What if Nathaniel kicked them both out?
As a duchess, and a notorious one at that, Cecily could not even look for work as a governess or companion now.
She and Mary would both be social outcasts with no way to support themselves.
Where could they possibly go in such a situation?
Did her uncle mean to force Mary back to his house, or even to the altar with Lord Ashworth, to avoid such a fate?
Cecily tried to tell herself that Nathaniel would not let this happen. He would not give up on her so easily, not after last night.
Last night!
An even more powerful thunderbolt hit her. What if she had conceived Nathaniel’s child? There was no escaping that risk now, for better or worse. He could not throw her out if she were with child, could he? But then, what of poor Mary?
Her gasps of horror caused Mrs. Barnes to take the brandy from her hand and raise it to her lips. “There, Your Grace. You’ve had a nasty shock, even more than I did. Take a good mouthful of this brandy, and you’ll feel steadier in a minute.”
Cecily swallowed a mouthful of the fiery liquid, although she did not imagine that anything could make her feel better in this awful moment.
A knock sounded at the door, and both women jumped. The maid who entered with a letter on a tray looked at their stricken faces curiously.
“A letter for Her Grace, Mrs. Barnes,” she said, evidently trying not to stare.
“Thank you, I’ll take that,” Mrs. Barnes responded, recovering more quickly than Cecily. “Her Grace had a bit of a turn in the heat and will be better after some brandy.”
The maid nodded and vanished again, hopefully believing the small lie.
Cecily stared at the letter that the housekeeper now held as though it would bite her.
“It’s in the same hand,” Mrs. Barnes warned her. “Do you want to open it? Or should we wait for His Grace to return?”
“Nathaniel might be in London all day,” Cecily rasped, swallowing her distress and holding out her hand. “I must read it now.”
With trembling hands, she broke the seal and read a letter that only confirmed her fears. After a polite opening, her uncle’s message was brief but pointed, clearly showing his desire for revenge and his determination to be compensated for his supposed losses.
If Mary returns home by noon tomorrow, no further discussion is necessary. The scandal sheet writers will forget their incomplete story, and your sister will be properly married to the Earl of Ashworth as previously arranged.
It was outright blackmail! The next paragraph made it even clearer.
Of course, if the Duke of Greyhaven would prefer to compensate me directly for my losses and keep Mary under his roof, this door is also still open to him.
You may be able to persuade your husband to this sensible course of action, where I have failed.
In this case, the cost of my cooperation would be…