The Seduction of a Duke (40 page)

They drank. “You are returning to American shortly, Mr. Stockwell, are you not?” William asked.

“I’ve booked passage for next week,” Randolph replied.

“Please let me know if you need assistance to make that departure,” William said. “I know my wife has enjoyed your company these past two weeks, and will be sorry to see you leave, but all good things must come to an end.”

“Sage advice, Your Grace,” Randolph replied, with a steady stare. “You may call it to mind in the days ahead.”

It was spoken as a challenge, a glove slapped across the face, but William hadn’t a clue what the lad was suggesting, or why. The sooner Stockwell returned to New England, the better.

The Prince, watching the confrontational play, squinted down the table. “Mandrake, are you feeling all right? Are you still with us?” He glanced at William, dropping his voice. “The man looks like death.”

The dinner party was perfect, as was the private celebration in the bedroom after. Though if someone had told him it was the last time he would see Franny, he would have made it last a lot longer.

THE NEXT MORNING, FRAN HAD BARELY TAKEN TWO steps from her bedroom when she noted the door next to hers was open. She went to the old Duke’s room to investigate and was quickly pulled inside by Lady Mandrake. Randolph shut the door behind her.

“What is the meaning of this?” Fran asked, her gaze alternating between them. “What are you two doing in here?”

“We needed to talk somewhere private,” Lily said. “Somewhere where we won’t be overheard.”

Fran glanced past Lily and noted the giant blue spot and an open safe inside it. That ominous feeling inspired by the room hit her triple-fold. Her gaze narrowed on Lily. “What is this about?”

“I found something.” She picked up what looked to be a diary from the desk. “Something that will ruin Bedford.”

Her blood turned to ice. Gooseflesh rose on her arms. “Ruin? His reputation is impeccable. What could possibly ruin the Duke?”

“Perhaps the information that he’s not really a duke.” Lily’s lips spread in a wicked smile, savoring Fran’s shocked expression. “He’s not, you know, not really.”

“Of course, he’s a duke. Did you not hear Bertie say as much?” Fran scowled. As much as she disliked Lily Mandrake, the woman was not an idiot. What was she up to?

“That’s because Bertie doesn’t know what I know.” Lily settled down on a chair. Randolph paced behind her. “If you don’t do exactly what I say, I will inform Bertie and the rest of your guests of the information that has recently come into my possession.”

“What information?” Was she purposively speaking in circles? Or was it Fran’s head that spun with the implied threats to William’s reputation?

Lily tapped the book. “It says here that the old Duke couldn’t get children on his wife, something about a childhood illness. He wanted an heir so he told his wife to find someone else. Someone who knew how to keep his mouth shut. Someone who would be willing to pump up a lather in the Duchess till she bore his bastard.”

“That is absurd,” Fran protested with a laugh. “One has to only look at the Duke and Lord Chambers and know they are brothers. They are years apart, yet look so much alike that they must have the same parentage.” She thought of the locket she’d fastened to a chain and wore today near her hip. “And there’s a sister as well.”

“They all have the same parentage, but none of it comes from ducal bloodlines. Once the Duchess had sampled his sausage, she went back for more. They’re all bastards. Sprung from the Duchess and the seed of . . .” She opened the diary to a place marked by a ribbon, then glanced at Fran. “Could be anyone . . . a laborer, a servant, a farmer.”

Lily laughed, a diabolical sound. Randolph smirked behind her.

“It’s no wonder the Duke can plow straight and true and . . . deep.” She glared at Fran. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Heat spread across Fran’s cheeks, but refused to be embarrassed by Lily’s crude sexual innuendos.

“It’s all here,” Lily assured her, waving the book. “Here in the Duchess’s diary.”

“I don’t believe you,” Fran said. “Is that a book of fairy tales? Where else would you find such a fantastical story?”

“Read it for yourself.” Lily handed the book to Fran. “Start here, but don’t leave the room. We’re watching you.”

Randolph offered Fran a seat on a hard wooden chair, all the while averting his gaze. As he should. She would have a word with him later, after she dispelled this ridiculous story. She sat with the diary on her lap. Beginning at the place indicated by the ribbon, she read of the Duke’s demand and the Duchess’s reluctant obedience. She went to someone she’d known from her childhood. Someone who could use the money the Duke had offered and provide her the emotional refuge the Duke couldn’t.

As she turned the pages that bled frustration, fear, pain, and . . . eventual acceptance, it became clear that Grace Chambers, the Duchess of Bedford, was falling in love with another man at the behest of her own husband. Fran didn’t need to read it all to see the damage the diary would cause her husband. Lily’s snickers and crude comments would be whispered behind screening fans and palms across the ton. William would become the source of jibes and laughter.

“Where did you get this?” Fran demanded.

“In a sense, you gave it to me,” Lily said, enjoying her moment of importance. “When you had that hideous crest pulled off the wall, I discovered a safe. Inside, I found this diary, the portrait of the Duchess, and a box of records showing payment of ‘stud fees.’ ” Lily snickered, then looked at the portrait of a beautiful woman with sad, compassionate eyes. “It must have made the Duke furious that his pretty little wife was being used like a bit of tail. That must be why he locked her portrait in the safe, then buried it behind that crest.”

“What do you want for the lot?” Fran asked, looking inside the diary for verification of its owner. Unfortunately, it was on the first page. She marshaled her skills as Frosty Franny to keep the panic screaming inside her head from revealing itself on her face. “William cannot know about any of this. I’ll pay whatever you want.”

Dear heaven, the revelation would kill him. His entire life revolved around being the proper Duke and meeting the obligations tied to the title. And to think she had inadvertently led to this discovery. Guilt joined the churning vile mixture in her stomach.

“Oh, you will pay. I want money and more.” Lily smiled. “It’s a shame, though, that you don’t have any money, not anymore. Everything that was yours, now belongs to Bedford.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Fran was adamant. “I’ll find a way to get what you want. I’ll sell my jewels. I’ll speak to my parents. Just tell me what you want.”

“I want you to leave your husband,” Lily said.

Fran gasped. “What do you mean?”

“How much clearer can I be?” She raised her brows, feigning a look of innocence. “I want you to leave today with Stockwell and go home to wherever you came from. Once you’re gone, I’ll tell Bedford that you’ve run off with your lover and eventually convince him to divorce you.”

“Lily, it will kill him.” Her whole body shook with her fury at what Lily required. “It’ll break his heart. If you care at all for him, don’t do this. Let the dead keep its secrets.”

“Nonsense,” she scoffed. “You know his first wife cheated on him, yet he survived. When you desert him, he’ll survive again. That you ran off will upset him but not as much as this.” She raised the diary as if Fran had somehow forgotten its existence. She would never forget that diary as long as she lived.

“This will ruin him, his brother, and his sister for the rest of their lives,” Lily said. “But if you disappear, you . . . you’ll be like that storm last night, loud and painful for a little while, then you’ll fade to a few low grumbles and then nothing. Bedford will still have your money, even if he doesn’t have you. That should give you some small comfort.”

She glared at Randolph. “How could you take part in this?”

“I’m really helping you.” He smiled in a feeble way. “By leaving with me, you’ll be protecting Bedford. He’ll never know about the diary. We’ll go back to New England and things will be as they were.”

Fran shook her head. “Things will never be as they were.” How could she have ever thought—in her wildest dreams—that she could love this . . . this weasel?

“And you”—she shifted her glare to Lily—“how will you profit? Bedford will have my money, not you.”

“I should be a widow in a week’s time,” Lily said, patting her hair. “I’ll be here when you are not. We’ll console each other regarding our losses. I’ll encourage him to divorce you, then I’ll marry him and become the Duchess of Bedford. I had him once. I’ll have him again.”

The thought of the two of them together made bile come up the back of her throat. “And if I don’t agree to this insidious plan?”

“Then I shall make the information public at the ball tomorrow night.” Lily smoothed out her skirt. “I must thank you for gathering so many of your neighbors and family to celebrate. It will make a most gratifying audience for the utter destruction of your husband. You’ll be able to measure the spread of the news by the looks of astonishment and the bursts of laughter.”

Tears blurred her vision; she couldn’t let that happen to him. “Why would you do this? Why can’t you just let him be?”

Lily scowled. “If you hadn’t come along, Bedford would have married me once I rid myself of the Viscount. You ruined that. Even if I can’t have the Duke, I’ll take comfort in your ruin. You have a choice. You can be perceived as a cheating and conniving homesick heiress, or a servant’s wife who won’t be received in the finest homes of London. The choice is yours.”

She had no difficulty being a servant’s wife, as long as the servant was William. She’d never wanted the title of duchess. But William could not be anything but a duke. It was bred into him, no matter who sired him. His greatest fear was not measuring up to his responsibilities. To take away his bloodlines would be akin to taking his very essence. She couldn’t be the cause of that.

If she left with Randolph, her heart would break. She could never love another man the way she loved William. But Lily was right. In time, he would forget about her. As Lily had so ungraciously explained, he’d been through this before. He had his family here to comfort him. Who would comfort her, she wondered? She could guarantee it would not be Randolph. But if she went home to Newport, maybe her father could help. He had influence. But could he fix this? Could anyone?

“How do I know that if I go along with your plan, you won’t still expose him?” she asked.

Lily laughed. “Why would I do that? I want to be the Duchess, not the wife to a man broken by scandal.”

Fran knew she would rather sacrifice herself than William. She supposed Lily knew that as well, judging from her she-wolf expression. William was important to too many people, while she was . . . important to only one, the man whose heart she was about to break. She consoled herself by thinking that if she went along, she might find a way out of this mess. But, Lord, she didn’t know how.

She stood. “I’ll have to pack.”

“No. No packing.” Lily grinned, gloating over Fran’s imminent destruction. “You will not say a word about this to anyone. You will go out on a ride with Stockwell, just as you’ve been doing all week. Only this time you won’t come back. By the time Bedford discovers you’ve gone, it’ll be too late.”

“It’s already too late,” Fran murmured, feeling life drain from her heart.

“One more thing,” Lily said. She handed her a piece of stationery Fran recognized as coming from her own desk. “You’re going to write a letter and I’m going to tell you what to say.”

 

 

ABOUT NOON, CARRUTHERS RAPPED HIS KNUCKLES ON the door frame to William’s study. “Beg your pardon, Your Grace, but your guests are beginning to arrive.”

William glanced up. “Already? Have you informed the Duchess?”

“That’s just it, sir. We can not find Her Grace,” Carruthers said in a level monotone.

“Can’t find her?” William grimaced. Franny had been preparing for this weekend for some time. He didn’t think she’d miss meeting the guests. She’d been memorizing the relationships as per that lineage tome just for this occasion.

“Check with the stables, perhaps she went out for a ride,” he said. “Meanwhile, I’ll play the role of affable host.”

Carruthers nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

 

 

AS SOON AS ONE CARRIAGE UNLOADED AND THE PASSENGERS welcomed to the abbey, another carriage replaced the previous. He had absolutely no time to inquire further about Franny’s disappearance and was getting damned tired of making excuses for her absence. Carruthers informed him that the Duchess had indeed gone out riding with her bushy-cheeked American friend earlier that morning. So where could she be? Totally irresponsible of her and downright inconsiderate. So very unlike the woman with whom he’d fallen in love. A growing concern jabbed at his gut. What if something had happened to her? The rain had made the grounds slick in spots. What if she’d taken another fall?