Chapter 11
William woke earlier than usual, long before the rest of the household stirred.
He lay still for a moment, aware that sleep had done nothing to calm him.
The room was dim as the morning light only began to reach the edges of the curtains.
He listened to the quiet, hoping it might bring him some peace, but his thoughts were still racing.
He rose and dressed with deliberate movements, fastening his cuffs with more care than usual, or even necessary.
He paused halfway through the motion, aware of how tightly he was holding the fabric.
It was unlike him to linger over such a simple task, yet he could not bring himself to move faster.
His daily routine usually helped him feel focused and in control, but in that moment, it did not.
He crossed over to the window, drawing the curtain back just enough to see the faint outline of the east lawn. The estate was quiet, the air was cool, and the sky was pale with the first signs of dawn. He watched the faint light gather along the horizon, noting how slowly it spread across the lawn.
He closed the curtain again, pulled his shoulders back, and quickly turned toward the door. The day would begin soon, and he needed to keep his composure. But even as he reached for his coat, he knew it would be a difficult day.
William went to his study, determined to address the pressing business. The papers were where he had left them the night before, neatly arranged across the desk. He sat, opened the ledger, and tried to focus on the figures in front of him. Within minutes he realized it was useless.
He leaned back in his chair, letting his hands fall to his sides. The figures on the page blurred together, refusing to hold his attention. He tried to force himself to read another line, but his thoughts pushed past it, returning to the same unwelcome concerns.
He closed the ledger, pushed it aside, and stood up. The room felt too still. He rolled up his shirtsleeves as he walked toward the door, deciding that work outdoors would serve him better than another hour spent trying to quiet his thoughts.
Outside, the air was cool and clear. He crossed the yard and walked toward the small outbuilding where he kept tools and estate records. He checked the fencing plans, inspected the supplies, and tried to concentrate on the tasks that needed attention.
But even there, with the open sky above him and the familiar rhythm of work at hand, the unsettled feeling remained.
Every attempt to focus slipped away, replaced by the memory of the previous night’s remarks and everything they implied.
He set the tools aside, realizing he had checked the same measurements twice without absorbing any of them.
He looked out toward the road that led away from his estate, and he instantly knew what he needed to do. It was not a matter of pride or curiosity. He needed to understand what had been said and how far it had traveled. The thought of waiting even an hour longer felt impossible.
He needed to know what had reached Lady Vane’s household. More importantly, he needed to know whether any of it had reached Mrs. Shaw’s ears. The idea of her hearing distorted versions of his actions, or being judged for them, made him feel uncomfortably anxious.
He quickly returned to the house, collected his coat, and left without alerting anyone.
The ride to Lady Vane’s house was quiet, the morning light growing stronger as he approached the estate.
His thoughts stayed fixed on what he intended to say, though the closer he drew to the familiar gates, the more his heart pounded.
When he reached the front steps, he dismounted and handed the reins to a waiting servant. The young man took them without meeting his eyes. His posture was stiff, and his expression was carefully blank. William noticed the avoidance immediately, and it confirmed what he already suspected.
He walked up the steps, each one feeling heavier than the last. At the door, another servant greeted him. “Your Grace,” the man said, bowing slightly. The greeting was correct, but the tone was strained, as though he were unsure whether he ought to speak at all.
William nodded slightly. “Good morning.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The servant stepped aside stiffly.
The tension in the atmosphere only increased the further he went into the house.
Conversations halted too quickly, and the servants moved with unusual formality.
A maid carrying linens paused mid-step, then lowered her eyes and hurried on.
Two footmen near the corridor exchanged a glance before pretending to busy themselves with the sconces.
William removed his gloves slowly, aware that every movement was being watched, and that whatever he had come to say would be far more complicated than he had planned.
A footman stepped forward, bowed, and said quietly, “Your Grace, Lady Vane has been informed of your arrival.”
“Thank you,” William said, nodding briefly. “I will see her.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” The footman hesitated, then added, “She asked that you be shown to the morning room.” He gestured toward the corridor, and William followed, noting how the servants along the passage straightened themselves as he passed.
The footman opened the door to the morning room, stepped inside ahead of him, and announced the duke’s arrival.
Lady Vane turned from the window. Her expression was composed, though unmistakably uneasy. “Thank you, Collins. You may leave us.”
The footman bowed and withdrew, closing the door behind him. The quiet that followed made it clear she wanted no one else present.
Lady Vane stood near the window, composed as always, though her expression was uneasy.
“Your Grace,” she said, turning slowly, “I must speak plainly. Your generosity has caused difficulty.”
William remained where he stood, his gloves held loosely in one hand. “In what way?”
Lady Vane kept her place near the window, one hand resting lightly on the back of a nearby chair. “Mrs. Shaw has encouraged improper familiarity.”
“She has done no such thing,” he said at once, shaking his head.
He kept his voice even, although the accusation struck him sharply.
He knew Mrs. Shaw’s conduct, and he knew his own.
There had been nothing improper. The suggestion alone felt unjust, and he struggled to keep his frustration from showing.
Lady Vane’s fingers shifted slightly along the chair’s edge.
She looked down briefly, then met his eyes again.
“I do not mean to argue with you. But I have heard it on good authority that Mrs. Shaw has been improper. Because of this, I have informed Mrs. Shaw that her services will not be needed after the end of the month.”
The words made William’s blood run cold.
“Who informed you of this?” he asked, fearing he already knew the answer.
Lady Vane took a quiet breath. “Your aunt. She spoke to me directly. She believes there is cause for concern.”
William lowered his gaze for a moment, absorbing the confirmation he had expected but hoped not to hear. His aunt’s influence reached farther than he wished, and her opinions carried weight in households like that one. He felt the consequences gathering around him.
William inhaled sharply and looked toward the window, unable to answer. For a moment he could only follow the line of the trees outside, trying to calm his thoughts.
So, it has reached her, he thought, placing his hand on the back of a nearby chair. Of course it has. My aunt never kept her opinions contained. She questioned everything I did, and she never approved of my visits here.
He remembered the conversations that had followed each visit, the pointed remarks and the quiet disapproval.
She had never understood his reasons, nor had she tried.
Her judgments had always been swift, and suddenly they had reached someone who had no defense against them.
He paced once across the room, then back again.
But this is no longer her private disapproval. She has carried it beyond her own household.
He stopped near the table and let his fingers rest against its surface.
And now Mrs. Shaw is the one bearing the cost.
He kept his eyes fixed outside the window, his jaw set, as the truth settled over him.
My position, my presence, and my disregard for the rules others live by have placed Mrs. Shaw in jeopardy.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
I assumed idle talk would never touch me, but I did not think about how easily it could reach her.
He turned back to Lady Vane, forcing himself to remain composed. “Is your decision final?”
“Yes,” she said. “It is.”
“Very well,” he said quietly. “You must have much to attend to this morning. I will not keep you.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said, giving him room to go.
He crossed the room without hurrying and let himself out. The corridor was quiet, and he did not look back as he stepped outside.
The air was cool, and he took in a slow, deep breath before starting down the front steps.
I thought I was only being kind. I never imagined it could cause trouble.
He walked down the lane toward the park, knowing James would be there. On mornings when he was not watching the inn, James preferred to sit on the long bench near the pond and watch the village move around him. William had joined him often enough that the path was familiar.
The park stretched across a wide green lawn bordered by tall elms. Their leaves moved lightly in the breeze, scattering shaded patches across the grass. A gravel path wound past a row of benches, each worn smooth by years of use.
Children played near the far end, tossing stones into the shallow water, while a few older villagers walked slowly along the path, enjoying the quiet. The pond reflected the pale morning sky, its surface broken only by the occasional ripple from a duck gliding across its surface.
James sat on the bench closest to the pond, his coat folded beside him. He looked up when William approached, his expression tightening at once.
“I can see you have not had much peace,” James said.
William sat beside him, resting his hands on his knees. “Lady Vane received me privately.”
James waited.
“She told me that Mrs. Shaw has been informed that her services will no longer be required at the end of the month.”
James’ head snapped toward him. “Already?”
“Yes.” William nodded once, keeping his eyes fixed on the pond. He did not trust himself to speak immediately. The speed of the decision confirmed just how quickly rumors could change everything. He waited until he could answer without letting frustration slip into his voice.
James shook his head as he slowly exhaled. “Because of the rumors.”
William nodded. “She said Sarah encouraged improper familiarity.”
James stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. “That is not her doing. You know that.”
“I told Lady Vane the same.”
“And she still dismissed her.”
William looked out at the pond, watching the ducks move in a slow line. “My aunt spoke to her. She told her there were concerns about my interactions with Mrs. Shaw.”
James leaned back, his jaw tightening. “Of course she did.”
William did not respond.
James continued, his voice low. “You understand what this means. It doesn’t matter how proper you’ve been. Society will always place the blame on a widowed woman with little protection rather than on a duke.”
William accepted the truth of what James said, even if he disliked hearing it. “I know.”
“No,” James said, turning toward him. “You need to understand it clearly. They will say she encouraged you. They will say she sought your attention. They will say she acted above her station. And they will believe it because it is easier than holding you accountable.”
William clenched his fists. “I’m sure Mrs. Shaw does not even know my aunt helped create this.”
“And she may never know,” James said. “People will not tell her the truth. They will tell her the version that suits them.”
William looked out across the park. A gardener trimmed the hedges near the gate, his shears clicking steadily as a pair of women walked past with baskets, speaking quietly. The village looked peaceful, but the calm only made his own situation feel starker.
“She is losing her position,” William said. “She has a child to support.”
“Yes.”
“And she has done nothing wrong.”
James nodded. “That is the part that should trouble you most.”
“It does,” William said gruffly.
He sat in silence for a moment, trying to get his thoughts in order.
Finally, he spoke. “I will not allow her to be left on the street. She is a respectable widow and a capable mother. I will fix this.”
James nodded once, steady and certain. “I am not surprised.”