Page 37 of Courting Scandal With The Duke

A s Xavier left Miss Lowell’s presence, he could not rid himself of the feeling that something was wrong. Yet why would it be? Lady Wells was the woman with March at the theatre, he recalled, and must be a family friend.

Damn Barbara for making such a spectacle of herself and then running away without giving him a chance to talk to her!

It was partly his own fault. He should have known she’d balk at all those rules and conditions. Rules and conditions he hadn’t a hope of enforcing.

Well, he couldn’t force her to talk to him any more than he could force her marry him. And if she needed his help, surely she would have asked?

In his gut—no, in his heart, if the tightness in his chest was anything to go by—he knew he’d been dishonest with himself and, worse, dishonest with Barbara. He had been too cowardly to tell her that he didn’t simply want to marry her out of duty. He wanted to marry her because she made him…happy .

Happier than he could ever remember feeling.

Had his idiotic proposal really led to her extraordinary appearance at Jackson’s earlier today?

The expression he’d glimpsed on her face, guilt tinged with desperation, haunted him.

And now she was gone?

And she had gone with the Count. For some reason, the longer Xavier knew the Count, the less he trusted him. It was he who seemed to lead Barbara from one scrape to the next.

What was it that troubled him about her departure? For one, he had never heard of this Lady Wells until she had appeared with Ambassador March, so clearly she wasn’t the best of ton .

Barbara’s aunt had, after several long minutes of searching, found the woman’s invitation and thus her address. She did indeed reside in Greenwich.

And Greenwich wasn’t a terribly long way from Mayfair.

Despite all Xavier’s good intentions not to interfere in Barbara’s affairs, he changed course and headed home. By hell or high water, he intended to know that Barbara was safe. If she was safe and happy, he would have nothing more to say about it.

But he could not disabuse himself of the notion that he needed to make haste.

Which meant driving his curricle at speed.

When he arrived home, it did not take long to have his horses set to, his overnight bag packed and to yield to the insistence of his groom, Dirk, that he must come along too, despite being told he wasn’t needed.

Xavier did not have time to argue.

Of course it was raining, more a light drizzle, but his driving coat was waterproof, as was Dirk’s, and once clear of town traffic, he made reasonably good time.

Even so, it was past eleven when he arrived at Lady Wells’s address.

There was no sign of any sort of ball going on, though there was what looked like a hired coach standing on the drive, clearly ready to leave. The coachman was likely somewhere indoors taking refreshment.

Strangely, there were also no lights showing in the windows, though perhaps this was because the shutters were closed…

Odd.

Worrisome.

Xavier pulled up well before he reached the front entrance of the house. ‘Turn the carriage around, please, Dirk,’ he said. ‘We will not be staying long.’

Dirk, already at the horses’ heads, touched his cap.

‘Try not to attract anyone’s attention.’ He wasn’t sure why he added that, but it felt right somehow.

‘Right you are, Yer Grace.’

Perhaps the party was at the back of the house, he mused. Instead of knocking on the front door, he made his way around to the rear.

It was equally as silent back here. A light emanated from a room overlooking a stone terrace.

He could hear voices from within. Nothing like the sounds one would expect if there was a ball going on, however.

Remaining in the shadows, he walked quietly up onto the terrace and discovered the French doors slightly ajar. He peered into the room.

‘He should be here very soon,’ the man with his back to Xavier said to someone else hidden by the drapery from his view.

Xavier shifted to see if he could get a better look at the occupants.

Something hard pressed into his back. A gun?

‘Don’t move,’ a rough voice said. The owner of the voice reached around Xavier and pulled the French door open.

‘Guv,’ he said loudly. ‘We got an intruder.’ He pushed Xavier across the threshold.

Xavier cursed his carelessness.

He strode into the room, removed his hat and looked around with a frown. ‘What the devil is going on here? Where is Barbara?’

‘Thank you, Ball,’ Charles said. ‘Please see that His Grace does not cause any problems.’

Xavier turned his glare on the burly man who had followed him in. Ball, dressed like a groom, was indeed holding a pistol. A cocked pistol. The man kept a wary distance, but did not lower his weapon.

In the meantime, March was staring at Xavier in horror. As well he might. Holding a Duke at gunpoint was not exactly a good career move for a diplomat .

‘Your Grace. I— Well—’ the Ambassador stuttered, apparently at a loss for words.

Charles stepped forward with a smooth smile. ‘Good evening, Xavier. We were not expecting you.’

‘So why post a guard? Tell your man to put his weapon down so we can talk in a civilised manner.’

Charles winced as he glanced over at the groom and back to Xavier. ‘Perhaps once I have explained, Your Grace, you will be content to return to your carriage and to London and forget all this unpleasantness.’

He did not, however, ask the groom to lower his gun.

Xavier gritted his teeth. ‘Then explain quickly, for I find that my patience is short. Where is the Countess?’

‘Now, now, Your Grace,’ March said, clearly having regained some of his wits. ‘This is a private family gathering. Nothing that need concern you.’

‘Indeed,’ Charles said quickly. ‘In fact, I rather think I am doing you a favour.’

Xavier looked down his nose at the fellow. ‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’

‘Really?’ Charles spread his fingers and looked at them quizzically before raising his gaze to meet Xavier’s.

‘I would say that the Countess was about to find herself at the centre of a major scandal when your rather sordid affair became common knowledge. Especially after her appearance at Jackson’s saloon.

By wedding her, I will relieve you of that embarrassment.

Indeed, it seems your arrival is most fortuitous: instead of Ball here, you can stand as witness.

No one will argue the validity of a wedding if witnessed by a Duke. ’

Wedding her? Xavier’s chest felt as if it was bound in iron. He forced himself to take a breath. ‘You and Barbara are getting married?’

‘As soon as the vicar arrives.’

That Barbara liked the fellow, Xavier knew, but he had never seen her show him any sort of warmer emotion.

If it was so, then everything between her and Xavier would have to have been a lie. His stomach dropped.

He could not have been that stupid, surely?

‘And she has agreed to this wedding?’

March shifted his feet. His hands shook as he tugged at his cravat and smiled reassuringly. ‘My daughter has always been headstrong, but she knows it is the best solution.’

The words rang patently false, and Xavier’s heart seemed to lighten.

‘The best solution for whom?’ he asked.

‘Let me find Lady Wells and make sure all is ready,’ March said. He left rather hastily.

‘Sit down, Your Grace,’ Charles said. ‘We will not take too much of your time.’ He gestured to Ball. ‘Give me the pistol and go ready the horses. We leave within the hour.’

His henchman handed over the weapon and left.

Xavier eyed the gun.

Charles shook his head. ‘Do not think about it, Your Grace. Killing you will make everything extremely difficult. But I will do it if I have to.’ He gestured for Xavier to sit.

‘While we are waiting, allow me to explain how the dear Countess stole my family jewels. Then you will understand why this is necessary.’

Xavier sat and leaned back casually against the chair back. Sooner or later the fellow would make a mistake, and he would be ready.

Because whatever Barbara was, one thing he knew, she was no thief.

Barbara’s heart raced uncomfortably in her chest. She still could not believe this was happening, and with her father’s approval. This was beyond anything he had done to her in the past.

She glared at Lady Wells standing at the dressing table opening the jewellery box. ‘I will not marry Charles,’ she said, for about the tenth time.

Lady Wells shrugged. ‘Stop making such a fuss and do as your father bids.’ She picked up the necklace. ‘It is so beautiful. Do you not realise how fortunate you are? Come here. I will fasten it for you.’

Barbara glanced at the door. Lady Wells had asked the footman to wait in the hall. There was no point in making a run for it that way. At least, not until the woman left. And Barbara needed her to leave.

She tried to look meek. ‘You think I am fortunate?’

‘I do. The Count is as handsome a young man as you could wish for, and very pleasant.’

Hah! That was what she had thought about his brother. ‘Well…’ she said doubtfully.

‘All will be well. Did your father not say so?’

Her father only cared about what he wanted. ‘I suppose so.’ Barbara joined the woman at the dressing table.

‘That’s better.’ Lady Wells smiled at her, draped the necklace around her neck and fastened it. Then Barbara put on the rest of the parure, the bracelet, the tiara. It was a beautiful set. No doubt about it.

Together they looked at her image in the mirror.

‘Lovely,’ Lady Wells said.

All Barbara could see were bonds where once she had seen the chance to live her own life.

Her stomach felt hollow, her chest empty. Would she ever be free? Rage rose up like a hot tide.

How could Father do this to her? Again.

She would not let him.

‘Wait here until we are ready for you,’ Lady Wells said. ‘Do not try to leave—Jack will remain outside until I come for you.’

Barbara nodded and sat on the chest at the foot of the bed, hoping her anger was not visible on her face.