Page 24 of The Duke’s Indecent Scandal (Indecent Dukes #1)

Chapter Twenty-Three

G regory

The morning after his engagement ball, Gregory woke from a wildly tantalizing dream about his bride-to-be, the phantom taste of her lingering on his lips. God, he loved the taste of a woman, of bringing her to pleasure with his tongue over and over, and it had been far too long since he’d supped on ambrosia. It had also been too brief. Too quiet. He wanted to hear her gasps, her moans, her cries of passion. Both the quickness and the silence had been necessary evils. He wished he’d been able to watch her climax for the first time, though part of him was also appalled that it was the first time. If he’d known…

This was why he did not seduce debutantes. He’d always preferred experienced women. Women who knew what they wanted. Women who knew what was possible and were looking to achieve it. Women who would not demand anything more from him than that price of pleasure.

But with Tiffany… her inexperience did not feel as much of a barrier. Perhaps because she was so responsive to him despite her lack of knowledge. The attraction between them had only grown stronger over the days since he’d first seen her in the library, as had his desire to protect her, to claim her. He’d been amused at her brother’s protectiveness last night and far less amused at the way some of the wolves of the ton had started eyeing her.

Once they were married, once she’d produced an heir, those wolves would descend. Some of them liked to plan far in advance, apparently. Gregory would need to be on his guard to keep the wolves from hunting his sweet swan.

Fidelity.

That was what he had wanted from his wife from the beginning. To his relief, Tiffany did not seem inclined to give her attention to anyone but him, and he was determined to keep it that way. What surprised him was his disinterest in anyone but her . Was it the novelty? Was it the enforced wait until he could have his fill of her?

He was not sure. He had the uneasy feeling that even after their wedding night, his fascination with her would continue. What she would make of some of his proclivities… that he did not know. Not that his desires were as extreme as some of his brethren, but she did not have any experience to draw upon, much less knowledge of some of the more indecent activities a couple could engage in.

On the other hand, perhaps that could be a boon.

She would not know that the things he wanted to do to her, the activities he wanted to initiate her in, were considered perversions because she did not know anything about any such activities.

Which was certainly an interesting thought that put a smile on his face first thing in the morning.

Unfortunately, his smile only lasted through breakfast, at the end of which, his mother came barreling into the dining room in a fluster, waving a piece of paper in her hand.

“He’s gone! He’s gone! I do not understand!” She looked ready to burst into tears.

Gregory did not understand either. He’d jumped to his feet when his mother had barged through the door, and now he hurried to her, holding his hand out for the paper she was waving about.

“Who is gone?”

“Montblanc! He says it is his fault. I do not understand!” His mother wailed out the words, and Gregory took a moment to wrap her in his arms, propping his chin on her head while she sobbed into his chest so he could still read the note he held in one hand.

It was written in Montblanc’s hand, the penmanship scrawled over the page in a far less fluid manner than Gregory normally saw from him.

My dearest Duchess,

I must apologize.

You deserve so much more than a humble man like myself, yet also so much more than the manner in which a duke treated you. I never wanted to cause you a moment’s distress, yet I fear that is what I must do.

It has been my honor to watch you enjoy life again, no longer buried in the country under the mandate of your late husband. I wish you nothing but joy going forward in the future.

But I must still apologize.

I did not know what I was becoming involved in or where all of my actions would lead. Indeed, had I known, I do not think I would have changed my course.

My Betty deserved justice, and so did you, and no court in the land would have granted it… not when the perpetrator was a duke. Taking matters into my own hands had unintended consequences, but I cannot regret them.

I regret only whatever pain I have caused you.

Please show this note to your son and assure him that I have no ill intention toward either him or his bride. As far as I know, neither do any of the others. But now, for my own safety, I cannot remain.

Tell him to cease his investigation, or my reassurances may no longer hold true.

Your devoted servant,

Arthur

Staring at the note, Gregory felt his heart thudding in his chest where his mother had her cheek pressed against it. His jaw felt locked into place as his mind whirled at the implications.

“He is saying what I think he is… is he not?” she whispered. “He is responsible for your father’s death… and for the others.”

At least partially responsible from what it looked like. And now that he was paying particular attention to the handwriting, or perhaps because Montblanc’s normally elegant hand had been so hasty, he could see the markers that Sebastian had caught in the threatening notes. Montblanc had been the one to send them to Gregory’s father, he was almost sure of it, though he’d want Sebastian to look them over as well. A secondary opinion to confirm the supposition.

“I think so, yes,” Gregory replied grimly. “What is this about ‘his’ Betty? Did they… were they…” His voice trailed off as he tried to think of a way to delicately state his suspicion to his mother. There was a vast difference in years between Montblanc and Betty after all. From the letter, he also was now wondering if Montblanc had hidden a tendre for the duchess. Which also made him more confused about a connection between him and Betty.

“I do not know.” His mother stepped back, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. “I… I do not know what to think. I thought I knew him, but now I feel as if I did not know him at all.”

“I did not either, apparently.” Gregory stared at the note. He had trusted Montblanc. Been sure that he could trust Montblanc.

In some ways, he supposed that remained true. Montblanc had fled rather than trying to do Gregory or anyone else in the household harm.

Blast… had he taken Betty and Priscilla with him?

Fear clutched at Gregory’s heart, in large part for his half-sister and her mother. They had already been dealt a rum hand, and the responsibility he felt for them would not disappear even if they did. If anything, he would feel obliged to find them again to ensure they were cared for.

Thankfully, now that the initial outburst was over with, his mother was amenable to sitting down, and he called upon Mrs. Bryant to come and tend to her. The housekeeper would be better at soothing her rattled nerves than him. He quickly ordered one of the footmen to fetch Betty, if she could be found, and dashed off a note summoning Sebastian, telling him to come immediately as one of the culprits had been revealed but also escaped.

He did not reach out to the other dukes. Not yet. Not until he could talk things over with Sebastian.

Setting the hounds on Montblanc did not quite sit right with him. He wanted to know what the man had meant about Gregory’s mother and Betty needing justice. He wanted to talk with Sebastian about the alleged conspiracy that he was sure Montblanc was referring to. The man was not the only guilty party if Gregory was reading between the lines correctly.

Whatever he had done, he seemed to have felt justified in doing it.

Betty and Priscilla were located, and Gregory had the young mother sent to his study so that he could question her once he reclaimed his equanimity. It would not do to appear before her in an upset state of mind. He would likely frighten her, then questioning her for information would be impossible. She had enough difficulty speaking to him when everyone around her was calm.

Before he could go talk with her, Sebastian arrived… with his sister in tow.

Gregory stared at his fiancé, dumbfounded. She was wearing the mint green dress again, which he was beginning to think must be a particular favorite of hers.

“Ah…” He looked at Sebastian.

“Tiffany knows everything.” Sebastian appeared annoyed at the fact rather than smug, which helped Gregory feel a bit better about his own consternation. “Lady Astrid told her, then Tiffany came to me, and I felt obliged to inform her of everything I knew so she had all the information.”

“I see.” Gregory did not see. Why did Sebastian feel obliged to tell her? Then again, a sibling relationship had always been a mystery to him. Even now that he had sisters, the difference in their ages was far greater than between Sebastian and Tiffany. “This is not a conversation for the foyer. Let us go to the back parlor.” The parlor beside his study, where Betty was waiting for him, so she did not have to wait much longer.

Once there, he shared the note from Montblanc with the siblings, and both of them read it quickly, then sat back. He also handed Sebastian the original notes so he could compare the handwriting.

“I think they are the same,” Sebastian said, inspecting it, holding Montblanc’s note to the duchess in one hand and a threatening note to Gregory’s father in the other. “The only question is why? What does Betty have to do with anything?” He raised his eyebrow at Gregory. “And were you aware of his feelings for your mother?”

“Of course not.” Not that he would have stood in the way if his mother had returned the steward’s feelings. His rank was of no importance to Gregory if it was not to his mother. “I do not know why he mentions Betty. She’s in my study, waiting for me so I can ask her, but you two arrived before I could.”

“Your study is next door, correct?” Tiffany asked, looking up at him. She inclined her head in the direction of his study.

“Yes.”

Getting to her feet, she brushed off her skirts. Both he and Sebastian jumped up as well, their manners far too entrenched for them to remain seated when a lady stood.

“I will go speak with Betty,” Tiffany declared. “She seemed more comfortable around other ladies than other men, and as Montblanc’s actions were more directed toward your family than mine, she might be more amenable to speaking with me than you.”

About to automatically protest, Gregory managed to hold himself back when he realized she made sense. Betty was already acutely uncomfortable around him. If she did know anything, she was likely braced against an interrogation. Tiffany’s appearance would throw her off, and she would probably be more comfortable being questioned by another woman, as Tiffany had noted.

Besides, it would give him the time to ask Sebastian what the devil he was thinking, telling his sister everything.

“That sounds like the best course of action,” he agreed.

Tiffany

Letting herself into Gregory’s study, Tiffany looked around the room. It was strictly masculine, though richly furnished. Heavy mahogany furniture rested on a navy rug that featured a forest green, burgundy, and cream pattern. The curtains, drawn back from the window, were navy and cream brocade, held in place with golden ties that ended in large tassels. Not a room she would have felt comfortable sitting in by herself for very long.

Which was why her heart went out to poor Betty, who was hunched over in one of the large armchairs, making her appear even more slight than she had when Tiffany had first met her in the nursery.

“Good morning,” she said gently. Betty’s head swung up, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw Tiffany rather than Gregory or someone else. Tiffany smiled at her, hoping to put the young woman at ease, and was rewarded when Betty’s shoulders relaxed minutely. Then, remembering herself, Betty sprang to her feet and curtsied deeply.

“Your Grace,” she whispered.

“Not yet,” Tiffany replied, making a joke of it. “Not until after I marry his grace, that is. Right now, I am still ‘my lady’.”

“Yes, my lady.” Betty kept her head down.

“Please, sit.” Tiffany gestured to the chair Betty had just leapt up from and moved to the one beside it rather than taking Gregory’s usual seat behind his desk. Betty wavered on her feet as Tiffany sat down, and Tiffany nodded her head at the chair behind her. The young woman sank down as if her knees would no longer hold her up. Her head dropped down at the same time, fingers fidgeting together in her lap.

Leaning forward, Tiffany took Betty’s hand in hers, and the young woman froze.

“Betty, do you know why his grace wished to speak with you?” She kept her voice as low and gentle as she could. She felt very much like she was coaxing a wild bird to her hand, and to startle it would mean watching it flutter away.

“No, my lady,” Betty whispered, shaking her head.

“Do you know Arthur Montblanc?”

Betty nodded, pressing her lips together.

“Do you know where he went?”

“Where he went?” Betty repeated, lifting her gaze to meet Tiffany’s, fear filling her eyes. “He’s gone?”

“He left sometime in the night. And he left a note for the duchess, apologizing for… for an action which he said he took on your behalf and her behalf.”

“Uncle Arthur is gone,” Betty said quietly, more to herself than Tiffany, then she burst into tears.

Tiffany moved beside her to comfort her, putting her arm around the poor girl. It did not take her long to gently elicit the entire story from her. Montblanc was her uncle, and they had hidden the family connection because he’d been the one to get her a job in the household as a maid.

Which was why he blamed himself when she caught the eye of Gregory’s father, who forced himself on her. It had been Montblanc who had helped her and her daughter once she’d been discovered to be enceinte, and the duke had dismissed her from his household. From what Betty said, the other young mothers of Gregory’s half-sisters had found themselves in similar circumstances—pressured into the duke’s bed, then dismissed as soon as they were pregnant.

If it had not been for Montblanc, Betty and Priscilla would have been on the street before Gregory inherited and went searching for his half-sisters.

Tiffany’s jaw was set. By-blows were not unusual, but even she knew that they were supposed to be taken care of, regardless of their mother’s station. Apparently, Gregory’s father had felt he was above all that. And hearing Betty cry as she talked about how he’d held her down…

While she’d known, in a general sort of way, that being ruined involved touching a man, she was now far more aware of exactly what kind of touch that would be. She could extrapolate from her own experience how it might be to have a man who she did not like nor trust to touch her where Gregory had, in the manner he had. The very idea was revolting.

If the duke was not already dead, she might want to kill him herself.

The bloodthirsty track of her thoughts was nearly as distressing as Betty’s tears, but she could not help it. While she mourned her own father’s death, part of her could not help but feel relief that there would be no more victims of the former Duke of Clarence.

Montblanc had put a stop to it. Justice had been served.

But he killed my father, too.

She let out a long breath. No wonder she was feeling conflicted.

Once Betty got herself more under control, Tiffany released her. All Betty wanted to do was return to her daughter, and Tiffany was not going to detain her any further. She certainly was not going to make Betty repeat herself to two dukes. No wonder the poor girl was terrified of Gregory.

Well.

If she did nothing else as Gregory’s duchess, Tiffany would ensure that all the mothers of his half-sisters felt safe.

Head held high, she sailed back into the parlor to inform the men of what she’d learned. Watched as Sebastian’s expression turned to grim horror, and Gregory’s head dropped down with the weight of his father’s sins. She reached out to take his hand, giving it a squeeze. Felt him try to tug his hand away and held on even tighter.

His dark eyes lifted to hers, full of grief and shame.

“You are not responsible for his actions,” she told him quietly. “You are an honorable man.”

“You are,” Sebastian agreed, giving himself a shake as he realized how low the revelations had brought his friend. “Even Montblanc thinks so.” The jest should have fallen flat, but something about the gallows humor actually startled a laugh from Gregory, even as Tiffany shot her brother a reproving look.

She squeezed Gregory’s hand again, and this time, he squeezed her fingers back.

“Now, what do we do?” she asked.

Sebastian and Gregory exchanged a look.

“ We ,” Sebastian inclined his head at Gregory, “will inform the other dukes of this new development, then see where things lead from there.”

Tiffany pursed her lips but did not argue. If the gentlemen were going to leave her out of their plans, then she did not feel bound to tell them hers. They could speak to the other dukes. She would find an opportunity to speak with Lady Astrid.

Finding Montblanc would also be of utmost importance. Obviously, there was more he would be able to tell them, like who else had been involved and what the lingering danger was if they continued to investigate. She could not search herself, but everyone always forgot about the staff. They would be more than willing to help keep an eye out for Montblanc if she told them who he was and described him.

It might come to naught, but she could not sit back and do nothing as her brother and fiancé obviously expected her to.