Page 31 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin (Ton’s Wolves #3)

CHAPTER 31

O f all the people he could have come across that night, the woman he had almost married was the last one he expected—or wanted—to see.

But Miss Delaney was standing before him. She had lost some weight, it would seem, for her face was more gaunt than when he had last seen her. Her eyes seemed to have hardened, her smile carrying a bit of sorrow.

And most of all, her condition was very, very plain to anyone who had eyes. Even the slightly loose dress could hardly hide the roundness of her belly.

When his gaze dropped to where her child was cradled in her body, her hands automatically went up to her abdomen self-consciously.

“I was not expecting to see you tonight,” he told her stiffly. “I was under the impression that you had retired to the countryside with the rest of your family.”

Those were his instructions to the Baron Latimer, and he had hoped that the man would have better sense than to subject his daughter to the harsh judgment of Society. However, against his better judgment, the foolish Baron had indeed returned to London without his wife and his daughter in a fruitless effort to salvage the family’s fortunes.

And now, Miss Delaney had made her appearance as well.

Just what is going on here?

The disgraced young lady looked at him regretfully. Her sorrowful smile was enough to garner the pity of anyone who looked at her. Had it been anyone, they would have been moved to sympathize with her.

However, Ethan could only see her duplicity and how she once intended to entrap him in a marriage with a child that was not his.

“I apologize for everything that happened between us, Your Grace,” she managed haltingly.

He looked at her coldly. “ Nothing happened between us, Miss Delaney.”

The young woman turned pale. “Indeed, Your Grace. It is as you say.”

He glared at her accusingly, and she seemed to shrivel under his stare.

There was no trace of her usual hauteur in her demeanor, but strangely enough, Ethan found no pleasure in that. There was simply no satisfaction to be had in kicking an opponent who had already sunk to the ground on their knees.

In fact, it could even be said that he felt close to nothing but a mild annoyance upon seeing the woman he had once led to the altar.

“Thankfully, my wife had been watching out for me,” he replied in a clipped tone, his patience wearing thin.

He had told Phoebe that he would follow after her shortly. He had no intention of breaking that promise to her, even if he had to jostle the very pregnant Miss Delaney aside.

“You are truly fortunate to have found Her Grace,” Miss Delaney said mournfully. “She has always been… very kind. But…”

“But what?”

Ethan looked at her, and while he once might have found her passably pretty, now he could only see the lies she had spun around him. Had it not been for Phoebe’s intervention, he would have married her and lived the rest of his life in misery.

“I had hoped that the child was yours,” she told him brokenly, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Truly. I wished it was so.”

“Why?” he sneered. “So that you could become a duchess and receive all the glory and wealth that comes with the title?”

Miss Delaney turned a shade paler than she already was. “No,” she murmured, shaking her head. “If you had been the babe’s father, then I would have been assured that he or she would be taken care of. That you would not abandon his mother simply because his conception was an inconvenience to you.”

Ethan looked at her closely, expecting to see the sharp gleam of a lie in her eyes. She had fooled him once. He would not allow it a second time.

However, there truly was nothing but regret in the broken young woman before him. She had been well and truly deserted by the man responsible for her condition, and no doubt her family blamed their current hardships on her, too.

The Baron Latimer had not found success with any of his investments, and none of the other noblemen wished to do business with him. The Baroness’s name had also been struck out of the guest lists of many of London’s finest households.

Worse, Miss Delaney had a younger sister who was supposed to make her bow in two to three years. Now, the poor child will hardly be able to hold her head up high in Society after what happened to her sister.

“I am truly sorry for what happened to you, Miss Delaney.” There was no resentment in his voice, only the pity of a stranger. “As to your sudden appearance here, of all places, I simply do not understand what you hope to achieve.”

She smiled sadly at him, her hand cradling her slightly protruding belly, which now housed a growing, living child.

“I managed to escape from my family,” she said softly. “Papa went out to gamble once more, and Mama has taken to her rooms with her hartshorn after Lady Merryton refused to see her this afternoon.”

And from the state of her attire, he could tell that she was not invited to the ball either.

Indeed, the family’s woes seemed to never end. It was almost impossible to believe that not even two months ago, they had received the awe and congratulations of every single one of their acquaintances, back when their eldest daughter was poised to become a duchess.

It was quite jarring to see how quickly the ton could turn on one of their own, but such was the cruelty of Society, and those who dared to fly too high, as the Baron Latimer and his family did, often found themselves burned when they soared too close to the sun.

“You should make yourself scarce before anybody sees you,” he advised her. “They… will not be kind if they see you in your condition, Miss Delaney.”

Alice would not be so cruel as to turn away a disgraced young lady, but Ethan could not be certain about the other guests. He did not mean to be cruel—the truth was already far worse than he could ever be.

Miss Delaney smiled slightly at him, and in that instant, he could see the vivacious young lady she had once been. All that remained of her now was a husk worn down by her miserable circumstances.

She shook her head. “I have no intention of catching anyone’s eye, Your Grace. I… I merely wanted to see my baby’s father once more…”

The admission seemed to have been drawn out of her with much difficulty as she looked down at the hemline of her dress—one that had not been mended enough to be considered fit to wear outside of one’s home.

It was a dire enough situation for any family of the ton when an unmarried daughter had to make do without her maid.

Ethan nodded at her in dismissal when he heard a slight scuffle from the balcony. Miss Delaney seemed to hear it, too, for she turned in the direction of the sound, jumping like a mouse frightened of its own shadow.

Ethan narrowed his eyes at the balcony, his hands clenched into fists. He waited for someone to appear.

Nobody did.

He frowned as he turned towards Miss Delaney. “Well, I hope that you find what you are looking for,” he told her. He bowed to her, ever the gentleman. “Good night, Miss Delaney.”

He turned to leave when he felt her hands clutch at his arm desperately. He glared at the offensive appendages coldly, a silent warning in his eyes for her to release him.

Miss Delaney did so with a frightened look and a tremulous smile. “I do not mean to impose upon you, Your Grace. I simply hoped that Lady Phoebe?—”

“That is Her Grace to you, Miss Delaney,” he reminded her coldly.

Why was it so hard for everyone to remember that Phoebe was no longer Lady Phoebe Barkley , but Phoebe Barkley Audley, the Duchess of Sinclair?

The young woman’s smile wavered. “I hope that Her Grace is worthy of your affections for her,” she whispered sadly. Then, she took a step back and bobbed a perfect curtsy. “Farewell, Your Grace. I hope we never see each other again.”

Ethan watched as she walked away, her shoulders slumped. There was no trace of the prideful young woman who once declared to all the ton that she was going to be the Duchess of Sinclair.

He wanted to say that she deserved everything that happened to her, but all he could feel for her was pity.

Miss Delaney had clawed her way to the top with deception and manipulation. She seized with both of her hands, only to realize that she had been grasping at air.

Now, everyone who used to look at her in admiration regarded her with cold disdain.

Such was the price of those who lost when they gambled too much.

Or when they dared to scheme without a thought for the consequences of their actions.

Society had never been kind to those who fell from grace.

No, it was downright cruel.

Phoebe’s heart exploded with pain as she held her fist to her mouth to keep herself from crying out loud.

She had not meant to listen in on anything—she merely went back to find Ethan when he failed to return to the ballroom after some time had elapsed.

Who would have thought that she would chance upon him talking with the woman he very nearly married?

The same woman who supposedly carried his child before Phoebe caught her admitting to the fact that it was not his at all, but some other man’s.

When she saw Miss Delaney, her heart could not help but pity the young woman for how far she had fallen from grace. Her dress appeared to not have seen the mending hands of a skilled maid or seamstress, and her hair was not even artfully coiffed—it looked as if she tried her best to do everything by herself.

But worst of all, when she heard the Baron Latimer’s daughter sadly tell Ethan how she wanted to at least catch a glimpse of her baby’s father…

It was precisely at that moment that Phoebe felt as if she was stabbed in the heart.

Poor Miss Delaney had braved the open disdain of people who were once her peers, all for a glimpse of the man who had ruined her and now refused to take responsibility.

Or could it be that the fault could be laid solely at Phoebe’s door all along?

She pressed her back against the wall as she tried to swallow the bile rising in her throat.

Miss Delaney had no more cause to lie—Ethan was already married, after all. She would have been far better off if she claimed that the father of her child was someone else.

Someone unattached.

But no. She had braved everything, risked it all just to see him once more.

Ethan, the man who had refused to marry her after Phoebe told him the truth about her pregnancy.

But what if they had been wrong all along?

What if it truly is Ethan’s child and I have deprived it of a father and a loving home?

So, Phoebe did what any sane person would do if the weight of the world came crashing down on them.

She ran from the scene.