Page 22 of His Scandalous Duchess (Icy Dukes #4)

Cecilia nodded slowly, pulling herself together.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll speak to the duke about this first. He is out on a short business trip, and he will be back in a few days.

Once I talk to him, I’ll go speak to Aunt Marianne.

If only to protect what’s left of my name.

I will also try to find Lucy and speak to her.

But if Aunt Marianne throws a slipper at me, like she used to do when we were little, I’m holding both of you responsible. ”

At that, Cecilia drew in a breath as her siblings giggled and gave a small shake of her head, as if tossing off the heaviness that had settled in the room.

“Well,” she said, rising to her feet with an exaggerated stretch, “Now that you’ve delivered your scandalous gossip and made me cry, I think it’s only fair that I bribe you with tea and something sweet for this vital information you traveled several hours to deliver.

Come. I’m sure Cook has tucked away different assortments of cakes if we ask nicely. ”

As she reached the door, she paused and glanced back at them. “Also, you’ve not met Abigail yet. I must introduce you before you leave. You’ll adore her. She is wonderful.”

Phillip raised a brow. “The duke’s daughter?”

“Yes,” Cecilia said. “She’s sharp as a whip and entirely too clever for her age. Much like you, Phillip.”

“So, are you saying that I’m not clever?” Dorothy questioned and crossed her arms.

Phillip turned to her with a smug grin. “I believe the implication is that I’m the clever one. As always.”

Dorothy scoffed. “Please. The last time you tried to fix the latch on a window, you nailed it shut and blamed the draft on spirits.”

“That was strategy,” he retorted. “I was thirteen and innovative. Also, the ghost thing made you scream, which was a bonus.”

“You make thirteen sound like ages ago. That was just three years. You’re still the same idiot now.”

“You wound me, sister,” Phillip said with exaggerated flair, clutching his chest as though she’d delivered a mortal blow.

Cecilia stifled a laugh as they turned into the hallway. “Honestly, I missed this.”

Dorothy raised a brow. “You missed Phillip being insufferable?”

Cecilia grinned. “Surprisingly, yes.”

“Well, brace yourself,” Phillip added, stepping ahead. “Because the best part of our visit is yet to come.”

Dorothy shook her head. “God help Abigail.”

“She’ll adore me,” he said.

“She’ll see right through you,” Dorothy countered.

Cecilia opened the door with a chuckle. “Well, we will find out. Now, come. Quietly, or else no more cakes for any of you.”

Cecilia looked back at them and smiled to herself.

Despite the dark clouds their visit had brought, their presence was a balm.

For the first time in weeks, she felt lighter.

She felt like herself again. The trouble with Aunt Marianne still loomed in her heart, but for now, Cecilia felt steady again.

“Can I talk to you, Your Grace?”

The door to the study creaked slightly as Cecilia stepped inside. The hearth was unlit despite the chill in the air, and the curtains remained drawn, casting the room in a dusky amber hue. Valentine sat behind his desk, a hand resting on a closed ledger, his shoulders slightly hunched.

He looked up, slowly, at the sound of her voice.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly. Almost too softly that it surprised her.

Cecilia stood in front of the desk, tracing the edge with her fingers. “How was your trip?” she asked.

Valentine’s eyebrows pulled together, and he shut his eyes briefly. “It was bearable,” he answered huskily.

She took a few steps closer and paused, assessing him quietly. The sharpness in his expression was duller today, and there was a faint pallor in his cheeks that hadn’t been there the last time she saw him.

“Your Grace, are you feeling all right?” she asked. “You look unwell.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” he answered and adjusted in his seat. “Did something happen?”

Cecilia tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing. “You sound like someone who is not perfectly fine.” She stepped closer now, eyes narrowing on him. “Are you unwell?”

“If I say I’m only tired, will that satisfy you?” he questioned.

“No,” she said simply. “But it will keep me from calling for the physician for now.”

He smiled faintly and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

Cecilia hovered by the edge of the desk. “Can I sit?”

He nodded once, and she lowered herself into the chair opposite him, smoothing her skirts as she settled in.

“Did something happen to Abigail?”

“No, Your Grace,” she answered. “My siblings came to visit a few days ago.”

That got his attention. His gaze lifted slowly to meet hers.

“Dorothy and Phillip,” she added. “Lucy didn’t come. They brought news of a sort.”

He arched a brow. “News?”

She hesitated, then gave a little sigh. “It’s about my aunt. Aunt Marianne. She’s been spreading rumors,” Cecilia said. “About the wedding. She claims Lucy was the one who rejected you, and that you married me out of spite or embarrassment.”

Valentine gave a vague nod, eyes still fixed on the papers in front of him.

“They came to warn me,” she continued. “About the rumors. It’s spreading across London and people are starting to believe it.”

At that, his gaze lifted, brows drawn faintly. “Is that all?” he asked.

Cecilia stared at him. “You don’t think that’s a problem?”

“It’s idle talk,” he said with a shrug. “Everyone gossips. They’ll move on.”

“No,” she said, firmer now. “This is different. She’s determined, and people are starting to listen.”

“She’s a petty woman grasping for relevance,” Valentine said coolly. “It doesn’t concern me.”

“Well, it concerns me,” Cecilia replied. “It’s about my reputation. I don’t like it when people talk about me and my family. We have been through that in the past, and I don’t want a repetition of it.”

“It is not a big issue, Duchess,” he said. “People will always have something to say. Why does this bother you?”

“You’re not listening to me,” she said quietly.

Valentine looked up at her then and locked eyes with her. “I’m listening.”

“You might think it wouldn’t affect you, but it will.

You should be worried. Because when they start to discuss you, it reaches Abigail.

If it doesn’t reach her now, it will in time.

I don’t want that. I don’t want her to hear any of this.

If they say I trapped you, what will she believe?

What will she think of me? What of you?” she pressed.

“You may think your name is untouchable, but people find ways to ruin even the highest houses, and it’s always through whispers that no one bothers to stop. ”

“What would you have me do?” he questioned and sat back. “What do you want, Duchess?”

Cecilia hesitated, then leaned forward, resting her hands lightly on the arm of the chair. “I want to speak with her. Aunt Marianne.”

Valentine’s expression barely shifted.

“She’s the one fueling all this,” Cecilia continued. “I thought maybe if we invited her here to the estate, had her to dinner, spoke plainly, calmly, we might be able to clear the air. Put everything behind us.”

“You want to host the woman who’s tarnishing your name?” he asked.

“I want her to see what she’s doing,” Cecilia said softly. “I want her to look me in the eye and understand that she’s hurting her own family, and if there’s a chance that speaking to her as someone who’s been hurt by her words will change something, I think I need to try.”

Valentine stiffened in his chair. The shift was slight, but unmistakable. His shoulders drawing back, his jaw setting like stone. “We will not bow to idle gossip, Duchess.”

“We are not bowing,” Cecilia said sharply.

“We are managing it. You don’t know what it’s like in London, Your Grace.

You’ve never had to be the person at the center of the whispers, the glances, the way people pretend not to care, and then ruin you with a smile.

It’s...it’s humiliating. It’s depressing.

I don’t want my family to suffer for something I did not plan. ”

“Dorothy is going to debut soon, and if Aunt Marianne’s story keeps growing legs, it will follow her into every room she enters. The girl whose sister stole someone’s place, they’ll say. The family that schemed for a title.”

“That is absurd,” he said to her. “Surely, as my wife, you should know better than to suggest we pander to such weakness. It is bait. Only a fool takes an obvious bait.”

Cecilia held her breath for a moment and glared at him. “I thought I wasn’t your wife. I was Duchess of Ashbourne. Only here for Abigail.”

The silence that followed was taut, brittle. The air between them seemed to thicken, as if the room itself held its breath. Her words hovered like a drawn curtain before a storm, simple, but impossible to ignore.

Valentine didn’t speak at once. But something in his eyes sharpened, and for the briefest second, almost a heartbeat, no more, his gaze dropped to her lips.

“We have been invited to a ball,” he said, changing the subject. “At the Wentworth’s. Four nights from now.”

A ball?

She blinked, startled by the sudden announcement. “Your Grace–”

“I need to rest, Duchess,” he said and rose to his feet. He didn’t look at her as he crossed to the window, hands folded behind his back. “Your gown will arrive in two days,” he added coolly.

Cecilia drew in a breath, slow and controlled. “Of course, Your Grace.”

She didn’t wait to see if he had anything more to say. Quickly, she rose to her feet and walked out of the room, hurt by the dismissal. As much as she understood where Valentine was coming from, she disliked the fact that he didn’t hear her side.

By the time she reached her chambers, she was panting, saddled with frustration. She muttered under her breath as she pulled her shawl off, tossed it across the foot of the bed, and made her way to the dressing table to take off her jewelry.