Page 33 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction

Mrs. Higgins opened her envelope, her eyes widening at the sum within. “My Lady, this is too generous. You cannot?—”

“I insist,” Marina interrupted gently. “You have all been faithful beyond requirement. It is the least I can do.”

In truth, she had given more than she could truly afford, but the thought of sending them away empty-handed was unbearable. These people had stood by her when the ton had turned its back, serving without complaint even when payments were sometimes delayed.

The staff expressed their gratitude though the atmosphere remained heavy with regret. Marina arranged for them to remain until the end of the week, giving them time to seek new positions while ensuring she wasn’t left entirely alone.

As the others filed out, Betty, her lady’s maid, lingered behind. The young woman twisted her apron between nervous fingers.

“Begging your pardon, My Lady, but I’d like to stay on if you please.”

Marina sighed. “Betty, I appreciate your loyalty, but I cannot pay you properly, nor can I promise when that might change.”

“I don’t need much, My Lady,” Betty insisted. “Just room and board would suffice for now. I can’t bear the thought of leaving you alone with… with all your writing and such.”

Marina studied the girl’s earnest face. Betty was the only one who knew her secret—who had helped deliver manuscripts and kept watch for curious eyes.

“It wouldn’t be fair to you,” Marina protested weakly though relief flooded through her at the thought of not facing her troubles entirely alone.

“Please, My Lady.” Betty’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You saved me when no one else would take a chance on a girl with no references. Let me stay and return the favor.”

Emotion tightened Marina’s throat. She remembered when Betty had first come to her—barely sixteen, desperate and frightened after fleeing an employer whose son had made unwelcome advances. Marina had hired her despite the lack of references, recognizing in the girl’s determined eyes a kindred spirit.

“Very well,” she conceded, “but only if you promise to tell me immediately if you receive an offer of proper employment elsewhere.”

Betty’s face brightened. “I promise, My Lady. You won’t regret it.”

As Marina climbed the stairs to her bedchamber that night, exhaustion weighed on her shoulders. She had resolved one immediate problem, but the greater threat still loomed. One trusted maid wouldn’t be enough to help her face Giles and his demands.

She paused at her window, gazing out at the darkened street below.

Somewhere across London, the Duke of Blackmere was going about his evening, unaware that his literary alter ego had inadvertently led her into this trap.

Would he help her if he knew? Or would he consider it just punishment for using his likeness in her stories?

Marina turned away from the window.

She had one week to find five hundred pounds.

One week to choose between financial ruin and social destruction.

CHAPTER 12

“What were you thinking?” Leo said as he stormed into the parlor with a copy of Marina’s latest story clutched in his hand. “A library scene? During a ball? With nearly being discovered? You might as well have taken out an advertisement in the Times announcing our encounter!”

Marina looked up from her embroidery, her expression oddly blank compared to the fire he’d expected. “Your Grace. What an unexpected pleasure.”

“Pleasure?” Leo scoffed, tossing the pages onto a nearby table. “Is that what you call deliberately flaunting our agreement? I asked you to consider writing about someone else, and instead, you publish this—this embellished account of what happened between us.”

She set her needlework aside with careful precision. “We had no agreement. I told you I would consider it, nothing more.”

Leo opened his mouth to argue then paused, studying her more carefully.

Something was wrong.

The defiance Marina usually showed was gone, replaced by an odd, detached exhaustion. The usual sparkle was gone from her eyes, and her shoulders drooped.

“Are you ill?” he asked, his anger leaving him.