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For some reason, the matter of his marriage was taking a while to disappear into oblivion.

Hector had intended to ignore it, but as it was starting to affect his businesses, he was left with no choice.

“Do some digging around, covertly, mind you, and find out why and how these rumors are still being kept alive. And do it soon before whoever is responsible manages to ruin all that I have built.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“And be discreet about it. I do not wish to alarm my wife,” Hector added.

Once the solicitor left, the Duke began to think of the reasons why someone might be so dead set on his ruin. He had lived a sinful life in the past, but he wasn’t foolish, and he knew that the cost of having enemies was usually taken from one’s future. He’d kept few friends and had even fewer enemies, more often breaking up fights among his peers rather than causing them.

Hector had absolutely no idea who might bear such ill will against him, nor the reasons why.

“No matter,” he mumbled quietly, clenching his fists on the table. “You will be found. And I willendyou.”

CHAPTER 31

“Aletter has arrived for you, Your Grace.”

Juliet collected the letter from the butler, thanking him absentmindedly as she inspected the envelope. It was suspiciously nondescript with nothing more than her name written in a hasty scrawl.

“Do you have any idea who it might be from?” she asked Worthington, staring at the letter with an odd feeling of unease.

“I was told by the postman that it came from St. Catherine’s, Your Grace.”

Juliet’s heart sank so fast it left her feeling dizzy.

Quickly, she opened the letter, and the first sentence brought tears to her eyes.

To our dearest Juliet (now Duchess),

We were delighted and relieved to receive your letter. We had gotten word of your wedding and prayed that God would bless your union greatly. We hope that your marriage is flourishing under the great, abundant love of Christ.

We wish we could write back to you with happier news rather than one of despair, but things are currently rather dire. Our supplies are entirely depleted, and we can barely afford to eat once daily. Mary did send us what she could, and we were able to procure some food, but with so many mouths to feed, so many of whom are still gravely ill, her offering did not last.

We are in desperate need of help, Your Grace. The abbey crumbles a bit more each day, and it is getting dangerous to remain within these walls. The lives of the girls are at risk, and we are not sure that we can survive for much longer. Little Sonya grows weaker by the day, and we fear that she might pass any day now.

Please, Your Grace, whatever you can offer us shall go a long way. We are sorry for placing such a great imposition upon you.

We hope and pray that you and your husband are well.

Sincerely,

Sister Beatrice of St. Catherine’s.

Juliet sat there for a moment, letting the words she had read sink deep into her mind.

Things had worsened far beyond her imagination. The girls were now suffering even more, condemned and abandoned to slowly die, all alone, without any form of support.

No. She could not simply sit still and do nothing.

Quickly, she rose to her feet and left the drawing room, heading straight for her husband’s study.

Hector was in the same position she had left him when she’d slipped out of his study nearly an hour ago, his head bent over some documents on his desk, scribbling occasionally. She almost did not wish to bother him, but the urgency of the matter led her to call out to him.

“Hector.”

He raised his head immediately, frowning when he saw her expression.