A Hint of Scandal (19 page)

“Do you really?” Bella questioned her contrite cousin.

“Yes, I do. I never thought my plan would go so awry. But I sincerely know that I should never have played so fast and loose with your future. I am thoroughly ashamed of myself and know that I shall never be able to make it up to you.”

For once, Bella did not see a hint of mischief or mockery in Triss’s eyes. But it was cold comfort. “You
should
be ashamed of yourself,” she replied, giving no quarter.

“Bella, setting aside your anger for one moment, do you believe that I intended you any harm?” Triss seated herself in the chair across from her cousin and looked at her with anxious eyes.

“Well, no, but that is beside the point. I still do not know what possessed you to play such a trick.”

Triss bit her lip and looked away from Bella for a moment. “In all honesty, I had noticed the way you and the duke had been looking at each other during dinner. I thought that it would be nice for the two of you to have a little while to speak to each other without Tommy or Uncle Alfred hovering close by. I truly thought Uncle Alfred would return home a little while later.” She finished her explanation with an apologetic look.

Bella said nothing. She and the duke
had
been looking at each other frequently during dinner at Penninghurst Park, but she had not realized that it had been noticeable to anyone else. But whatever had begun that night between
herself and the duke had been destroyed by the forced marriage, she realized.

“Since you admit that you know I did not intend any harm,” Triss said hastily to fill the ensuing silence, “do you believe that someday you will be able to forgive me?”

There was a long pause in the quiet room, while Bella thought over Triss’s words. “I expect I shall eventually find a way to forgive you,” she grudgingly admitted.

“Then I will gladly bear your anger for now,” Triss said with a new maturity.

Bella looked at her lifelong friend and decided that she would not continue to fan the flames of her resentment.

They sat together for some moments in silence, but this time the silence was not as strained.

“Bella, may I ask you a question?”

“Are you sure you would not be pressing your luck?” Bella cautioned with the merest hint of a smile.

“It is something I would like to know.” Triss forged ahead. “Do you think it is so terrible to be married to a duke?”

Bella stared at her cousin for a moment before answering. “Do you think your mama married your papa only because he is an earl?”

“No, of course not,” Triss responded with a note of confusion in her voice.

“Then do you think my mama minded that my papa was a second son?” Bella continued.

“No, Aunt Mary and Uncle Alfred were always very happy.”

“Why, then, would you, who were raised with me, think it would matter whether my husband was a duke or a second son?” Bella said succinctly.

Nodding her understanding, Triss looked at her cousin a little sadly.

“And how do you believe you would feel to know that the only reason your husband married you was because of a sense of duty and social pressure?” Bella asked.

Triss’s gaze dropped from hers, and Bella saw her swallow several times before she looked back up with tear-glazed eyes.

“Do not forgive me too soon, Bella,” she said with quiet sincerity.

*       *       *

After spending a comfortable night, the three ladies enjoyed a leisurely stroll around Green Park the next morning. Bella felt better than she had in a month, and was very glad that she had made the decision to come to London.

Upon their return, the ladies were taken aback when Hobbs greeted them at the door with the news that the Duchess of Westlake and Lady Edgeton were waiting in the sitting room for the Duchess of Westlake.

“I am
sure
I heard her grace correctly,” Hobbs assured Lady Penninghurst.

“I am surprised that they would come here in response to the note I sent over to Lady Edgeton’s,” Bella told the others as she removed her bonnet and pelisse. She had dashed off a note that morning, thinking the correct thing to do would be to let the dowager know she was in town.

“Please come with me,” she requested of her aunt and cousin, for though the dowager was very nice, Bella still found something about her intimidating.

The three ladies all went to the sitting room, where the dowager and her eldest daughter were seated, both with very erect postures, in the two chairs by the window. Bella saw that the dowager was wearing a beautiful afternoon dress the color of green apples, with a matching spencer trimmed with a triple fall of lace at her throat.

Bella turned to look curiously at Lady Edgeton. She found her to be very much like her brother, tall and very distinguished-looking. Bella might have considered her pretty if her countenance did not bear a certain look of condescension.

The dowager and Lady Edgeton rose as the three ladies entered.

Lady Penninghurst and Triss curtsied as Bella presented her relatives.

“How nice to see you again, Lady Penninghurst, Lady Beatrice. I should like you to know my daughter, Lady Edgeton.”

Bella was growing anxious, for there was definitely something disapproving in the dowager’s tone, and Lady Edgeton looked positively cold. After they were all seated, the dowager looked at Bella.

“Arabella, I see no reason not to speak plainly,” she began. “I was quite shocked to receive your note this morning.”

“But why, your grace?” Bella asked her mother-in-law in a startled tone.

“To be informed that you are here so soon after the wedding, and without my son… well, it’s just not seemly,” she stated bluntly. “I believe it would be best if you returned to Autley before the Season gets under way.”

“But I am to bespeak a wardrobe, your grace. And as Westlake is in Derbyshire on business, he could not come to London for at least a fortnight.” Bella refused to let a hint of doubt enter her words. She did not care what truth she needed to stretch; she was not going to go back to Autley until she absolutely had no choice.

The dowager and her daughter exchanged surprised glances.

“And why, may I ask, are you staying here”—Lady Edgeton glanced around the pleasant, but by no means grand, sitting room with a haughty look and continued—“instead of Westlake House?”

Not wanting to get off on the wrong foot with her sister-in-law, Bella decided to take no offense at the lady’s disparaging attitude.

“I saw no reason to stay at Westlake House by myself when I could stay with my aunt and cousin here.” Bella’s chin went up stubbornly; she was leaving out the simple fact that she had not even known that the duke owned a town house until yesterday afternoon.

“Definitely not good
ton,”
Lady Edgeton said to her mother with a sniff.

Bella saw her aunt stiffen.

“Arabella”—the dowager was now looking at Bella a little more kindly—“I can understand your actions now that I have a better notion of your thinking. But this just will not do,” she stated.

Bella cast a quick glance to her aunt’s offended visage, and then to Triss, who just looked frightened. “I do not wish to give offense, your grace, but I am not taking your meaning.” Bella turned confused blue eyes back to the dowager.

Sighing, the dowager attempted to explain. “Again, I shall speak plainly. No matter what the circumstances of your marriage to my son are, you are the Duchess of Westlake.”

“I take leave to inform you,
your grace
, that it is through no fault of my niece that she finds herself wed to your son.” Aunt Elizabeth quickly came to Bella’s defense.

At this, Lady Edgeton gave another haughty sniff.

“Are you catching a cold, my lady?” Triss spoke up, and directed her sharp blue gaze at the dowager’s daughter.

Bella could not hide her smile. How glad she was to be with Aunt Elizabeth and Triss at this moment. The Tichley ladies had always stuck together.

“Oh, please do not take offense,” the dowager said impatiently. “When you understand the ways of the beau monde you will see that I am trying to help. As I was saying, you are the Duchess of Westlake, and as the wife of a leader of Society, certain behavior is expected of you. I shall send a note over to Westlake House and have the staff make the house ready. Of course, as there are more than twenty guest chambers, there is no reason why your good aunt and cousin cannot stay with you there.”

The Tichley ladies exchanged glances, and waited for Bella to make her decision.

“If you think it best, we will move to Westlake House,” Bella said, deciding not to further cross the imposing woman.

“Excellent,” the dowager said with satisfaction, rising from her chair. “My daughter and I have another call to make, so we will take our leave. No, no, do not trouble seeing us to the door, Lady Penninghurst. Arabella, please walk with me to my carriage,” she directed her daughter-in-law imperiously.

Bella jumped up quickly to do the dowager’s bidding. Lady Edgeton had reached the front door first, and as Hobbs opened it she swept past the stooped butler without a word of good-bye to Bella, and entered the awaiting barouche.

Pausing on the front step, the dowager turned to Bella. “My dear, under the circumstances it is imperative that you behave with all propriety, so please do not hesitate to ask
my advice on any matter.” The dowager’s tone was almost kind now.

Before Bella could respond, they both heard Triss’s excited voice emanating from the recently vacated room. “Just think Mother, Westlake House! We shall soon be all the kick!”

With an inward groan, Bella turned chagrined eyes to the dowager.

“I apologize for my cousin, your grace; she is a terrible snob.”

“Then she shall get along with my daughters famously,” the dowager replied with a hint of a smile before she turned to enter the carriage.

A
fter agilely jumping from the high-perch phaeton, the duke tossed the reins to Johnny. Taking the wide marbled steps two at a time to the front entrance, he handed his hat and gloves to Hollings.

Without a word to anyone else, he let his long strides take him up the grand staircase to the west wing. Rolling his sore left shoulder tiredly, the duke entered his bedchamber. He was glad to see that Wilkins, his valet, was waiting for him. Silently and with practiced efficiency, the valet helped him out of his formfitting coat of slate superfine.

Greeting his longtime manservant, Westlake took note that Wilkins was still wearing the injured expression he had nursed since Westlake had sent him home from the Tichley house. The duke smiled to himself as he began to remove his neckcloth, ignoring the sensitive servant’s aloofness. He knew from long experience how protective his valet tended to be and how easily he could get his nose out of joint.

Wilkins had served his master since the duke had been a very young man. He had not even left Westlake’s side during the war, when the duke had been only a marquess. When the duke had gone missing on the way to Tilbourne, Wilkins had been frantic with worry. Finally the duke had been located and everyone at Autley had rejoiced. Wilkins had set out immediately to tend his master while he recovered from his near-mortal wound.

When the dowager duchess had informed him that the duke would not need him and that he was to turn around and go right back to Autley, Wilkins could not believe he had heard the dowager correctly. It was inconceivable that the master would want to stay in some uncivilized backwater without him. But return he did, with his pride wounded and his feelings hurt.

The duke continued to remove his clothing in preparation for his bath.

“Wilkins, please have her grace informed that I will be available to dine with her this evening,” he directed as he removed his waistcoat.

Westlake was eager to speak with Bella. During the entire time he was in Derbyshire, he kept going over the near argument that had occurred between them in his library. He regretted using such a peremptory tone with her when she had brought up the absurd idea of an annulment. It had not set well with him to be the cause of the frightened look in her beautiful dark blue eyes.

He had been away from Autley longer than he had intended, but had taken a couple of extra days to go to Tilbourne. A number of weeks ago he had dispatched several men to the area to investigate the shooting. He had wanted to speak with them personally about their progress in finding the assailants.

He hoped his absence had given Bella enough time to get over her temper so that they could speak to each other in a reasonable manner.

“The duchess has left, your grace,” Wilkins informed his master in a stilted tone.

The duke’s hands paused in the process of removing his shirt, and he quirked a questioning brow to his stone-faced valet.

“Left? Back to Mabry Green?” he asked sharply.

“I believe to London, your grace. She has left a note,” the valet said, indicating an envelope lying on a silver tray on the table next to the duke’s bed.

Westlake walked over and picked up the missive. Looking down at it, he studied the handwriting for a moment, admiring the elegant, upright strokes of his name on the front of the envelope.

“That will be all for now, Wilkins. Thank you,” he said, not looking up from the letter in his hand.

“Very good, your grace,” Wilkins said quietly before leaving the room.

Stretching his stiffening shoulder again, the duke moved to sit on the bed before opening the letter. When he did, he read the words once through, then again, slowly.