Page 18 of Duke of Eccess (Seven Dukes of Sin #4)
The Duke of Enveigh nodded, clearly hiding disappointment at her reaction.
Temperance tried to smile. “However, I would appreciate it if you could pass a letter to my solicitor, Mr. Barton. I’m afraid to send it by the regular post, as his clerk, Mr. Stokes, or someone else watching the offices might intervene. But if you could hand it to him personally…”
The duke nodded. “Of course, anything you wish. Do you have the letter with you?”
“No, but I will write it now and give it to you.”
Though every instinct urged her to flee, Temperance retrieved a notepad and a pencil from the bureau in the corner, chose a seat where she could maintain watch over the children.
and began writing. She swiftly tore the page free and folded it, addressed it to Mr. Burton, and stood to hand it to the Duke of Enveigh.
He nodded and promised to help. With that concluded, she excused herself to take her seat once more.
Temperance settled deeper into the chair, letting her shoulders drop and her breathing return to normal as she noted how well the children were doing.
“Her Ladyship, the Countess of Auster, and Bartholemew, Lord Langston!” announced the butler, and Temperance’s whole being went rigid and cold.
No. No, it couldn’t be possible.
The countess was a regal woman who appeared sweet and plump and so trustworthy.
With her sweet smile and long eyelashes, she looked like a wise and warm porcelain doll.
She was beautiful and elegant, with platinum silver-blond hair done in a perfect chignon with silk flowers and pearls, and a diamond and sapphire brooch Temperance had never seen before.
Lady Auster had always possessed the fine jewelry Papa had gifted her, but this one had an elaborate setting and stones that caught the candlelight like stars, clearly new and far more extravagant than anything she’d owned during Papa’s lifetime.
It was something a woman bought to show the whole world she was wealthy.
She had such a misleading way about her, being able to charm anyone easily, appear kind and understanding. Temperance herself had trusted her.
A grave mistake.
Lord Bartholomew Langston was right next to her, his broad back proudly straight, his chin up like a true aristocrat. He had pleasant features framed by golden locks, bright blue eyes, and just like his aunt, he had a young, almost childlike face despite the fact he was five and twenty.
The pair of them proceeded into the room, looking around, and Temperance jumped to her feet.
They hadn’t seen her yet, God in Heaven.
She couldn’t feel the floor under her feet, couldn’t draw in enough air to think straight. They were here.
The Duke of Enveigh caught her gaze across the room, his eyes wide. He hurried towards Lady Auster and Lord Langston and greeted them, standing in a way that positioned their backs towards Temperance.
Gratitude spilled through her. He was helping her—perhaps she could trust him after all.
But she needed to leave, to make her way out of the room and disappear…
hide. This was exactly why she had been afraid to take this position and her worst fear had come true.
She carefully made her way along the wall, wishing she had the ability to become one with it.
Her gaze never left her stepmother and Langston.
Her heart was a bird beating hard in her chest as she took three more steps towards the next window, her gaze fixed on the backs of their heads. Could she avoid them? Keep hiding here if they clearly knew the Duke of Eccess?
The main staircase lay directly behind them. She’d have to walk past her stepmother and Lord Langston to reach it—and any sudden movement up the stairs would surely draw attention from the entire room.
And what if they saw her now?
A shiver ran through her as Temperance took two more steps.
She was tired of running, of feeling afraid. There was one more card she could play, but it was too risky. The pawn ticket, which was hidden in her father’s London house—it was close enough to get there on foot.
If she could retrieve the ticket, she could confront Lady Auster and Bartholomew. She could threaten to start a criminal case against him and send a copy to the newspapers, something her father had been too kind to do.
But trying to break into her papa’s house was extremely dangerous. She could get caught. Her stepmother, Bartholomew, or even one of their loyal servants could see her, and then all her hopes would be dashed.
She needed to be Temperance Fields, not Lady Agatha. She had to be careful, logical, and avoid risks. All she needed was to wait it out, stay safe until Christmas.
But if these two were to become frequent guests of the Duke of Eccess, there was no way she could avoid them forever.
Panic made her stomach turn inside out, her mind go blank.
Run , thumped a voice in her head. Run, you have to run.
She needed to quit today.
Lady Auster began turning her head towards Temperance, and she reacted instinctively, darting towards the tall French doors that opened onto the balcony, slipping behind the heavy velvet curtains that framed them.
The thick fabric provided a momentary sanctuary as she pressed herself against the cold glass, struggling to control her rapid breathing.
Relief washed over her, but it was short-lived.
Steps passed by on the other side of the curtain and a sudden, sharp pressure against her foot startled her.
Something had collided with her slipper, which extended just beyond the curtain’s edge.
Before she could react, the pressure was gone and a masculine voice yelped in surprise.
The distinctive sound of crystal rattling against silver followed, then a suspended moment of terrible silence before?—
The crash that followed seemed to echo through the entire salon.
Collective gasps and a shocked cry rose from the assembled guests.
Heart pounding, Temperance dared to peer through the smallest gap in the curtains.
A footman was sprawled on the floor, surrounded by shattered crystal, a silver tray, and spreading red wine.
Standing directly in the path of the calamity was Robert Jenkinson, Earl of Liverpool and the prime minister of the United Kingdom.
He remained rigid as burgundy liquid dripped down his face and soaked his pristine white cravat and shirt.
To Temperance’s horror, standing next to the curtain, right where her foot had been, was James. She couldn’t see his face but his shoulders were raised high, his back tense, and she could see red spreading over his cheeks.
“James!” Octavius’s voice cracked like a whip across the shocked silence. “Not again!”
“But I didn’t—” James muttered.
“My profound apologies, Lord Liverpool,” Octavius interrupted, striding forward, his expression thunderous. “My ward has a regrettable history of similar incidents.”
“I thought you were to create an impeccable event, Your Grace,” muttered Lord Liverpool.
The Duke of Eccess looked clearly distressed as his gaze flickered around. “Where’s Miss Fields, James?”
Temperance’s stomach twisted in fear. Her heart was drumming so fast she couldn’t hear her own thoughts.
James hung his head helplessly. “I don’t know… I thought I saw her here. I came to ask her?—”
Oh, no, it was all because of her.
Just in case things could not get any worse, Lord Bartholomew Langston appeared through the crowd and handed the prime minister a pristine handkerchief.
“How unfortunate, my lord. One might observe that the quality of a household’s management often reflects its master’s attention to…
detail. Something I believe is equally important in matters of state and trade . ”
The implication hung in the air like the blade of a guillotine. Mortification washed over Temperance.
As James looked around, his gaze met hers directly, and a terrible decision was presented to her.
If she stayed hidden, the boy would be forced to take the blame for her mistake.
But if James betrayed her presence behind the curtain or she stepped out to accept responsibility, they’d catch her, reveal her as the Mad Heiress, lock her away…
Run. Run!
Driven by panic, not logic, Temperance opened the balcony door and stepped out.
Outside, it was dark. Only the golden glow of candles from inside threw light on the snow collected on the balcony floor.
The December storm pierced her clothes like knives.
Wind threw handfuls of sharp snowflakes into her face as it howled.
Inside, the warm light illuminated laughing, talking, gossiping faces, glittering jewels, shiny chignons, and clean-shaven chins as the party recovered from the interruption.
She was alone, outside, a freak of society…the Mad Heiress. She was mad indeed if she thought she could escape, if she thought being a duke’s governess was a smart plan to avoid her hunters.
Temperance looked around. And there was no other way in.
She’d need to climb down.
Heart hammering, she swung her leg over the iron balustrade, her fingers numbing against the ice-covered railing.
Temperance maneuvered her second leg over and lowered herself to grasp the very bottom of the iron railing.
The drop below seemed far, snow swirling and biting her eyes.
She grasped the railing as firmly as she could, then let her legs dangle in the air.
She estimated it would still be at least ten or twelve feet between her toes and the ground.
She asked her papa for support and released her grip.
A terrifying moment while she was falling through the air…
Her skirts flew up… Then the ground met her with a sharp, twisting pain in her ankle.
Temperance silenced her yelp as she gathered her breath. She didn’t even feel the cold, her heart was thumping so hard in fear.