Page 17 of A Bride for the Scottish Duke (The Gentleman’s Vow #5)

CHAPTER 17

Eammon

“S o, you have made your peace with her then?” Thomas asked later that afternoon as they sat in the study together, going over paperwork for their business. He had recounted what had occurred, how he had caught her in his study, leading to their visit to the stables. As expected, Thomas read more into the situation than was actually there.

“I would hardly say we have made our peace. We were cordial. She has agreed to dine with me, which is just as well because, as you know, the servants talk, and rumors spread. When that happens, people in town will start saying that the Duke of Leith and his wife don’t dine together, and wonder what else is wrong. They might suspect. And then, we have a scandal.”

“Well, yes, but given how contentious she was before—at least, from what you’ve said—that is a significant improvement in just 48 hours.” Thomas took the ornate wooden box in which Eammon kept his comfits and dropped one into his mouth as he tilted back his head. Thomas had always had a theatrical way about him.

“I dare say that getting her horse for her has done wonders to make her more courteous. Still, I must tread carefully. I cannot risk her discovering my secret.” Eammon said, snatching the box and taking out a comfit as well. The peppermint stung as he let it dissolve in his mouth, while Thomas bit down on his, creating a most unpleasant sound.

“Do you not think it would be easier if you told her?” Thomas asked, crossing one leg over the other and folding his arms. “She is your wife.”

“She is my wife out of convenience, not out of love. I do not owe her any explanations. I needed her, and though she doesn’t know it, she needed me.” He shrugged, not sure why Thomas had even suggested such a thing.

“And yet you are tied together for life now. Surely it would be better if she knew the truth,” Thomas insisted. “So she is not blindsided if someone else should tell her first.”

“Somebody else?” he replied, bristling. “Who would say something to her? Who would know other than immediate family? None of my family would say a word. Among all my cousins, you’re the only one who knows the truth anyway, and none of my uncles would utter a peep.”

He was absolutely certain of this. In fact, the only people left alive who knew his secret were his aunt and uncles: Arabella, Harry, Edwin, Hannah, Emma, Evan, and Louisa. Even his mother’s younger sisters did not know. Besides Thomas, none of his cousins had uncovered the truth; they had all been fed the lie and believed it.

“I mean to say there will be people who shall continue to prod and investigate. You know that has always been the case?—”

“Even now, there have been rumors. Some have thought me illegitimate, not because they suspected that my father made up my entire lineage, but because they were upset that my father had supposedly once married a Catholic woman and fathered a Catholic child. It did not matter that I was raised Anglican since I arrived here.” He sighed and ground his teeth. It had been vexing to have such stories on his back his entire life because people insisted on being small-minded.

“That is how people are,” Thomas conceded.

“People suspected me of being a secret Catholic. Although now, when Catholics can sit in the House of Lords, that has been a thorn in my side even though it is not true. Imagine what would happen if they found out that not one but both my parents were not only Catholic but also Irish and common.”

“The ladies would clutch their pearls and call for their long packed away fainting couches,” Thomas said with a chuckle.

“It is not amusing for it is true. And it is the gentlemen who I am concerned about. They would strip me of everything I have, everything I am. Queen Victoria would make an example out of me,” he said, feeling his throat close up as he thought of the possibilities.

“And there are those who would enjoy nothing more,” Thomas said, rubbing his chin.

“Have you heard anything?” he asked, immediately suspicious.

Thomas shrugged. “Not specifically. Markham was at the club this morning. He looked dreadful. I dare say he has been drowning his sorrows since the night at Stafford House. I suspect he was in his cups this very morning. He rambled and ranted, claiming that your marriage is a farce and there is no way Lady Pembroke did not know about your union. He intends to prove it and free Charity from your grasp.”

“Free Charity from my grasp?” he exclaimed, banging his fist on the table so hard that the brandy in his cup almost splashed over the edge. “She wanted to be free of him!”

“I know,” Thomas said, raising his hands to calm him. “And that is why I am saying that perhaps you ought to consider telling her the truth. Markham will cause you both trouble in future. She ought to be prepared.”

“I will not,” he said emphatically. “I cannot. When I came into the study, she was looking at the painting, and do you know what she said to me?”

Thomas shrugged again. “As I was not present, I dare say I do not know.”

“There’s no need for the sarcasm,” he shot back. “She said that I did not look like my family. When she realized my discomfort, she attempted to amend her statement by saying I must resemble my grandfather, but you and I both know that I do not—certainly not my Hayward grandfather! She’ll know it soon enough, since his portrait is hung up in the hall.”

“All the more reason to tell her the truth,” Thomas replied, leaning back and crossing his arms.

He couldn’t tell her. Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t. His secret was too dark to share, and too dangerous. It was better for her to remain unaware. If she learned the truth, she might inadvertently place herself in a precarious situation. If someone like Markham was determined to uncover secrets, he might use her as a means to that end. No, it was better for everyone—especially her—that she remained blissfully ignorant.