Chapter 35
Evelina. She was Stephan’s first thought when he woke in the morning. She was his first thought for the three days following. Stephan had decided to give his wife space. She had likely gone to her house, hoping to have some peace from him. He would allow her that. Stephan needed his own space.
The inaction was driving him mad, though.
When he could bear it no longer, Stephan decided that it was long past time for him to visit Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Rothbury.
If the woman had not worked so hard to drive a wedge between himself and Evelina, who knew what might have happened?
As the coach came to a halt before his grandmother’s familiar townhouse, Stephan clenched his jaw.
He dared imagine a world wherein he and Evelina had met at the tavern, fallen in love, and courted one another for years.
Stephan imagined them eventually marrying without the stipulations of the contract always hovering over them.
At least, in that imaginary world, Stephan would be allowed time to realize the depth of his feelings for Evelina. He cleared his throat and straightened his jacket as the footman opened the door. “We are here, Your Grace,” he said, bowing deeply.
“So I see.”
Stephan stepped from the coach. He had been right about one thing; Evelina did not know his father nearly as well as Stephan himself did.
However, she did make an excellent point; his grandmother was deceitful and cunning.
Forging signatures sounded like something she might try in order to keep the dukedom.
He had no proof that the Dowager Duchess had done anything of the sort, but once Evelina had suggested it, Stephan could not manage to vanquish the thought. His instincts told him that she was right and that he would be a fool not to treat her suggestion seriously.
Stephan set his shoulders back and his spine straight. Then, he walked to the house. This plan was not his best, but if Evelina was right…
The door opened, and the butler bowed deeply. “Good morning.”
“I wish to see my grandmother,” Stephan said without preamble. “I am the Duke of Rothbury.”
Recognition flashed in the man’s eyes. “I will see if Her Grace is prepared to receive calls.”
Stephan already knew that she was. It was the appropriate hour for paying calls to ladies, and Her Grace had never missed the chance to gossip with the ton, at least not in his youth.
He very much doubted that she had changed her habits during his long absence, given her penchant for causing trouble and her love of gossip, which was often the closest that women came to having real power.
Still, he waited in the entryway until the butler returned, his smile strained. Stephan wondered at that; perhaps his grandmother was displeased with his interruption. A small, petty part of him hoped that she was.
“Her Grace shall see you,” the butler said.
Stephan followed him into the drawing room, where his grandmother sat primly on the edge of her chair. She was embroidering, her young lady’s companion seated nearby. “My dear grandson,” she said, smiling like a wolf. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Is it?” he asked.
“Indeed,” she replied. “Given how much difficulty you appear to be having with your wife, I would have thought you would be trying to find her rather than paying visits to me. That is, unless you have come for advice. I knew that you ought not marry her.”
Stephan ground his teeth together as he dropped into the vacant chair.
So she had heard about his quarrel with Evelina.
That was not entirely surprising, and he knew that his grandmother had only mentioned it in the hopes that she would upset him.
Stephan must force himself to be unaffected.
While it was true that Evelina was frustrated with him and that she was gone, that was damage that could be repaired. He would see to it.
Stephan could not fall into his grandmother’s trap. If he did, he might do something he regretted later, or worse, he might leave without even trying this brazen, reckless plan of his.
“I was right about the dukedom, too,” she added. “How could you be expected to manage the dukedom if you cannot even manage your own wife?”
“Are you quite finished?” Stephan asked coolly.
“Oh, I suppose,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “It seems as though you are in some great hurry, so I suppose I will indulge you. What do you want?”
“Answers,” he said.
Her Grace merely raised a brow and looked at him, as imperiously as an empress on her throne. She set aside her embroidery. “And what answers do you believe I have?”
“I would like to know how long you planned on continuing with this charade,” Stephan said, choosing his words carefully. “Did you truly believe that you could forge those signatures on my father’s will and not get caught?”
His grandmother had already been still, but somehow, she seemed to grow even stiller at his question. Her brow furrowed, and her eyes narrowed. Stephan waited, watching her face for any sign of trickery.
Then, she laughed. It was an edge, an uproarious sound that echoed around the room. “Forgery?” she asked. “Of all the schemes to try! I expected that you would try to avoid fulfilling your father’s conditions, but never in this absurd way! What a story you have concocted for yourself!”
An icy thread of doubt traced the path of Stephan’s spine, but he had to continue. At the moment, he had the advantage of surprise, and that would be lost if he did not soldier onward at that very moment. His instincts had saved him many times, and this—
Evelina might be right. He could not retreat until he knew the truth.
“A story,” he said, keeping his voice neutral. “That is a strange way of saying the truth. Marrying Evelina had some unexpected benefits. Given how much you seem to know about my life, I am certain you know that my wife introduced me to a gentleman who makes a living by investigating inquiries.”
His grandmother’s vicious smile faded. “A profession investigating inquiries. How strange.”
Stephan was lying. There was no investigator.
If he was going to force his grandmother into admitting to forgery without any evidence, Stephan needed some way of convincing her that he had something.
The only reason Her Grace would ever admit to deception would be if she believed keeping her secret might be worse than the consequences for it being revealed to the ton.
“Indeed,” Stephan said. “The man is quite competent, and he has proof that you forged the signatures on my father’s will.
There was no stipulation that I be married and produce an heir in such a short time.
You created that forgery yourself in the hopes that I would fail, and you would seize the dukedom. ”
His grandmother clasped her hands tightly together. Her eyes darted away from him, tension tracing her limbs.
Stephan stifled a gasp. Her Grace was visibly unsettled, rather than offended.
Was it possible that his instinct had been correct?
Had his grandmother truly forged the signatures on his father’s will?
It seemed impossible and likely all at once, and his heart beat so loudly in his chest that the sound reverberated inside his own skull.
“But then, it seemed as though I was doing too well,” Stephan continued. “I married and was working to produce that desired heir, so you came to my house in the hopes of intimidating Evelina. Did you imagine that she would leave me?”
“She has,” his grandmother said, the words emerging as a croak. “She has.”
“A minor dispute,” Stephan said.
He had erred in mentioning Evelina. Her absence was like a hole in his heart, deep and painful. It was best to leave her out of the conversation, especially when Stephan was on the verge of victory. He could sense it, and that old, wartime feeling of being so close to an end surged inside him.
“You have failed,” Stephan said. “Because you are my grandmother, I will not tell the magistrate and the rest of the ton what we both know you have done.”
“You cannot prove it!” the Dowager Duchess cried, all the color draining from her face. “It matters not unless you have evidence, and you have nothing!”
Stephan choked on his own breath. His grandmother’s words still rang in his ears. She had admitted it! She had truly forged the signatures on his father’s will!
Unfortunately, she was right. He had no proof that he could share.
It would be his word against the Dowager Duchess of Rothbury, and Stephan did not know who would emerge victorious from such a contest. If only he had the will that his father had intended to create, then it would have been such a simple matter—
She must have it, though, Stephan thought. Most women in her position would simply burn the real will, leaving no trace of what she had done, but not my grandmother. She would certainly keep it, just in case she ever needed to use it against me.
Stephan forced a laugh, and his grandmother shifted in her chair, her expression unnerved.
“You convinced me that my father did not love me for years, and you conspired to take my inheritance from me. Do you believe that I would make an accusation of forgery lightly? That I would have come here without irrefutable proof of what you have done?”
His grandmother’s nostrils flared. She straightened in her chair, like an old vulture watching a dying animal. “You cannot possibly have proof,” she said.
“But I do,” Stephan said. “So I will let you decide how we proceed. I can take this to the magistrate.”
Even if she believed he had no proof, Stephan still suspected that the Dowager Duchess of Rothbury would sooner die than have the ton know what she had done.
“When I prevail, which I will, you will be imprisoned or sent to the gallows,” Stephan continued. “I will tell everyone in the ton of your treachery and ensure that your reputation is left in tatters.”
Her Grace’s lips pressed in a thin line, as though she only disagreed with him over some trivial matter, but her eyes were wide with fear. For the first time, the Dowager Duchess of Rothbury appeared shaken. He smiled grimly.
“Or you can admit to me what you have done,” Stephan said, emphasizing every word quite carefully.
“You can admit to your treachery and give me the will that my father wrote and agreed to; I do not believe for an instant that you would have thrown it away. Then, you are to leave London; I do not care how you justify leaving to the ton, so long as you leave and never return. If you follow those conditions, I will consider the matter settled and let you leave with some measure of dignity.”
Her Grace said nothing. Stephan studied her face, trying to determine if her reticence stemmed from genuine disbelief or a desire to still somehow achieve a victory from the situation.
He was familiar with this game of hers. She would wait in silence, hoping that someone else would flinch and surrender to her the upper hand.
After what seemed like an eternity of waiting her out, the Dowager Duchess of Rothbury rose and walked across the room. She cast him a dismayed look over her shoulder. “I suppose I taught you too well,” she said.
If she meant taught him to see the worst in himself and everyone around him, Stephan supposed she was right. He smiled thinly.
“I suppose you did.”
The Dowager Duchess opened a chest of drawers and withdrew a folded paper, yellowed with age and sealed with wax. Stephan’s heart skipped a beat as he stared at it. That must be his father’s will. She had truly kept it.
Stephan had been right about everything. Evelina had been right.
He stood leisurely, doing nothing which might betray his delight at having won at last. “For what it is worth, you were a powerful opponent,” Stephan said.
“You and your war metaphors,” she scoffed, holding out the paper. “The will, untouched since the day your father signed it.”
Stephan snatched it from her and broke the seal, unfolding it. His eyes swept over the fine handwriting, which detailed every stipulation his father had wanted. There was no mention of a marriage or an heir. There was no mention of a trustee either.
Stephan eyed his grandmother over the aged paper. “Do you know what this document says?”
“Yes.”
The power between them shifted, and for the first time, Stephan did not see a cold and powerful woman who demanded respect and who resolved to rule his entire life. Instead, he saw someone old and defeated, who had bargained for everything and had lost it all.
Stephan deliberately folded the will and placed it in the pocket of his jacket. “I suggest that you leave quickly.”
“Where shall I go?”
“I care not,” Stephan said. “But if you remain here for any length of time, I will ensure that all London knows of your treachery.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away. Stephan smiled to himself as he crossed the threshold. Finally, his longest battle ended. Now, he just had to decide how to reconcile with his wife, if his wife still wished to be.
After all, they had agreed to this arrangement because of the contract. That was reasonable grounds for an annulment, something which he could share discreetly with only a few relevant parties. Evelina would be free, and so would he.
Why did the thought of returning to bachelorhood make his stomach lurch so violently, though? Somehow, that seemed like a fate worse than even death.