Page 25 of The Duke’s Indecent Scandal (Indecent Dukes #1)

Chapter Twenty-Four

G regory

The days until his wedding passed by in a blink. He and Sebastian spoke to the dukes, showing them the letters. They all agreed that it appeared Montblanc had been part of a larger group effort, which made sense, considering all it would have taken to organize such a massive project. It did not sound as though he was the mastermind behind the murders, but clearly, he did not want to be made to turn on his co-conspirators, or else he would not have fled.

Discovering his own father’s culpability, what he had done to Betty… it turned Gregory’s stomach. He had been unable to visit the nursery for days until Priscilla escaped from the room when her mother was distracted and came looking for him. It had thrown the entire household into a tizzy before she’d been found. Holding her, faced with her unwavering affection for him, had healed something inside him. And when he’d handed her back to her mother, Betty had actually smiled at him in relief.

She did not blame him for not knowing. Neither did any of his sisters’ mothers.

To save his own mother some distress, he’d given her only the bare bones of the matter. Betty was Montblanc’s niece. Since his mother had been the force behind ensuring her husband’s by-blows were located and returned to the fold to be cared for, he let her think that had been the only reason for Montblanc’s revenge.

He did probe gently to discern whether his father’s abuse of her had ever turned physical. Realizing his direction, his mother reassured him that he had not. Though she’d been shut away in the country, she had relatives who would have come rushing to her aid if she’d been able to make some kind of physical complaint. They were already unhappy with how she was kept from Society, though there had been nothing they could do about it. His father had not needed to lift a finger to make her miserable; he used his words and his power to grind her down. Something Montblanc had obviously realized.

All he could do now was try to repair what his father had done and ensure that they were all cared for and safe within his household.

If it had only been his own father who had died in the explosion and subsequent fire, Gregory might have been tempted to let the matter drop and allow Montblanc’s disappearance to be the end of things. But there were seven other dukes to consider. Seven other sons—and some daughters—left fatherless.

Justice might have been served on his father, but there was yet justice to be served for the deaths of the other dukes. Gregory could not believe all of them guilty of such crimes.

The threat that Montblanc mentioned, the idea that there were those who would not want them to investigate, did not stymy any of them. For now, they could hide it behind a search for Montblanc himself, which was what they did. Two Bow Street runners were hired, as well as a private investigator Drake said he had used in the past.

Without knowing who else might have been involved with Montblanc, it was important to project the proper image to keep everyone safe and suspicions low. No one wanted to ignore Montblanc’s warning against continuing the investigation, but of course, they could not stop, either… they just had to be discreet.

In the meantime, Gregory had been caught up in the social whirl that was required of a man of his status when preparing for a wedding. That was the best way to throw anyone off the scent of the investigation. The purported love match between him and the sister of the Duke of Bolton had caught the ton ’s interest, and that interest had solidified during the engagement ball.

The waltz, their brief disappearance, then Tiffany’s pink cheeks when they’d reappeared had set tongues wagging. It appeared to Gregory that it was his lot to be a distraction… which would have been far more enjoyable without Sebastian hovering over his every move.

Despite Gregory’s desire to get his fiancé alone again, neither Sebastian nor his mother seemed to appreciate the brief sojourn they’d been missing during the engagement ball. His own mother seemed to have taken it upon herself to keep the Duchess of Bolton preoccupied, but there was nothing he could do about Sebastian but grin and bear it.

Now, today, at least he was going to be able to have Tiffany all to himself. He just had to get through the ceremony and the wedding breakfast, then the first order of married business was to lock himself and his new wife in her bedroom and spend the remainder of the day in bed.

He met his mother in the front hall, elegantly turned out in a navy-blue silk dress that matched his waistcoat and pocket square. Gregory frowned as he recognized the box that held the sapphires Tiffany had worn for their engagement ball.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, nodding at the box, finishing tugging on his gloves as he did so.

“If you mean Tiffany’s sapphires, yes,” his mother replied serenely. She smiled, but there was a sharpness to her gaze. “She returned them to me the morning after your engagement ball and asked that I hold on to them until today. She said she did not want to risk losing them.”

“How could she lose them?” He frowned. Nothing about Tiffany had ever made him think that she was so flighty that she would accidentally misplace something as important as the Clarence sapphire set.

“Perhaps she was less concerned with losing them than with having someone take them from her.” His mother sniffed, a tic that he was becoming accustomed to seeing whenever the topic of the Duchess of Bolton arose. Who the ‘someone’ might be was very clear.

Bemused, Gregory stared at his mother.

“Are you insinuating that the duchess would take the jewels from her own daughter? For what purpose? They are hardly in the weeds. The Bolton accounts are as flush as our own.”

“For what purpose indeed,” his mother muttered darkly.

He understood that she had taken a dislike to Tiffany’s mother, but this was taking it a bit far. On the other hand, if Tiffany had given them back to his mother, doing so must have set her mind at ease for some reason.

“That is why we must hurry over, though. I want her to have time to put them on and set the tiara perfectly in her hair before the wedding.”

“Very well.” Gregory held out his arm. It was not as if he had anything better to do. They would make a stop at Clarence House so his mother could pass off the jewels, then it would be on to St. George’s Cathedral, where he would wait for his bride’s arrival.

The excitement he felt surge in his chest was not entirely unexpected, but the force of it was rather unanticipated. A month ago, he would have bet his entire fortune that his wedding day would be pure duty and not particularly exciting. Yet, here he was, about to become a married man, and rather than needing to be dragged to the altar, he was more inclined to hurry.

Fate was fickle that way.

Tiffany

She did not recognize the woman in the mirror.

If the blue ruffle had made a difference before… this… this was… Tiffany inhaled, staring at herself. The new undergarments Astrid had ordered be made to go with the altered design of the wedding dress and her trousseau were so much more comfortable than what she’d been wearing. She had grown so accustomed to the discomfort that she had not realized how uncomfortable she had been until now.

She’d thought it had to be that way.

But it did not.

The neckline of the dress was broad, dipping down to give just a hint of her cleavage, the size of her breasts emphasized by the flounce of Honiton lace that draped across from shoulder to shoulder. It hung down from her bosom, revealing a narrowed waist beneath, the streamlined corset nipping in, the bottom of it coming to a sharp point in the center of her body. The bottom of the corset was decorated with a narrow band of cord that matched the color of her dress exactly.

More lace fell from the bottom of her puffed sleeve, covering her elbows and adding another touch of decoration to the dress, which was otherwise all Spitalfields silk.

Her skirt puffed out from her narrowed waist, emphasizing her hips, the pleats in the fabric drawing attention to her hips, then spreading wider farther down the length of her skirt.

The cool, icy white of her wedding gown with just a hint of blue in its tone made her skin appear brighter, creamier. Her cheeks looked pinker. Even the color of her hair was much improved, appearing richer and brighter. Harleen had done it before Tiffany dressed this morning, before rushing off to assist Tiffany’s mother, and she had done a lovely job. Combined with the dress, Tiffany looked like a fashion plate.

She could not stop looking at herself.

At least she was alone, so that she did not have to listen to her mother scold her over vanity. She was also nervous about her mother’s reaction to seeing her today of all days. Her mother had immediately gone downstairs this morning to oversee the preparations for the wedding breakfast. She still did not know about the changes to Tiffany’s dress. Ever since the engagement ball, she had mostly ignored Tiffany in favor of focusing on planning, as though now that the ball was past, she had relinquished responsibility for guiding Tiffany in her dress, conversation, and behavior.

Part of Tiffany had felt adrift without her mother’s constant supervision. Another part of her had felt relief. Especially as someone else had always been there to support her at the various soirees, balls, and musicales, whether it was Sebastian, Gregory, or Gregory’s mother. A few times, it had been Lady Astrid, and she’d managed to pass along the news about Montblanc’s note, his reasonings, and subsequent disappearance.

Astrid had not known what to make of that any more than Tiffany and the others had.

A knock at the door made Tiffany jump, her heart fluttering up to her chest. Was it her mother?

She hoped it was Sebastian.

“Lady Tiffany, the Duchess of Clarence, Lady Tremaine, and Lady Louisa are here to see you.” She recognized Polly’s voice. The maid must have been sent to guide them since the rest of the household was preparing for the day.

Relief poured through her, so strong that it made her sag in place. It was not her mother. The thought did occur to her that she should not feel so relieved it was not her own mother at the door, but she did not have time to contemplate the fact.

“Yes, of course, let them in, please,” she replied, turning away from the mirror to face the doorway.

The door opened to reveal the maid and the three other women, and the expressions of astonishment on their faces matched the way Tiffany felt.

“Oh my goodness, my dear.” Gregory’s mother rushed forward, holding her hands out in front of her to take Tiffany’s. Tears sparked in her kind eyes. “You are a vision.”

“Truly, an incredible change,” Lady Tremaine agreed, stepping into the room. Louisa followed her, the slack-jawed shock on her face now hidden as she looked away. “I did not realize…” Her voice trailed off, then she gave her head a shake. “You look stunning, Tiffany.”

“You do, but you are missing something.” Duchess Clarence turned and gestured to Polly, who hurried forward to give her the velvet box she was holding for her. Polly beamed as the duchess opened it, revealing the full set.

“Yes, perfection,” Lady Tremaine said. Louisa, as pretty as ever, stood off to the side, appearing sulky as her mother cooed over Tiffany. Despite everything, Tiffany could not help but feel bad for her. She knew what it was like to desire her mother’s attention and approval.

“You look lovely as well, Lady Louisa,” she said, smiling at her. Louisa’s head jerked up, her startled gaze meeting Tiffany’s. “The gown you chose suits you.”

“Thank you.” Lady Louisa’s smile was small but appeared sincere. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” The acknowledgment from her sometimes rival made Tiffany’s chest warm in a manner that even the duchess’ and Lady Tremaine’s had not.

“You will have to crouch down a bit, dear, so I can fasten the necklace,” the Duchess of Clarence said, gesturing.

Tiffany did as she bade. The heavy coolness of the necklace took her immediately back to the night of her engagement ball when she truly had felt like the belle of the ball. She remembered the look in Gregory’s eyes when he’d seen her. She could not wait to see how he looked at her today.

The earrings went on and the bracelet, then the duchess and Lady Tremaine combined forces to affix the tiara to Tiffany’s head when there was another knock at the door.

“Tiffany, are you ready?” Her mother’s sharp tones made Tiffany hunch for a moment before she quickly straightened. The Duchess of Clarence gave her a sympathetic look, though Lady Tremaine appeared not to notice.

“She is, Susan. You must come see,” Lady Tremaine replied, obvious pride in her voice, though she had not done much more than assist with the tiara. Though Tiffany supposed, she might think to be taking credit for the dress as well, since she had been the one to initially suggest to Tiffany’s mother that she should wear more blues and greens.

There was a very brief pause, and Tiffany wondered if her mother knew that the other ladies had arrived and joined her. Perhaps she did not. Though she had not ventured downstairs, she could only imagine it was rather chaotic as the house was prepared for the important event.

Then the door opened, revealing her mother on the other side.

Her jaw dropped as she stared at Tiffany, something flashing through her eyes that Tiffany could not define but she instinctively started to hunch in again.

“Does she not look lovely, Susan?” Lady Tremaine asked fondly. She had already turned toward Tiffany again and reached up to smooth some of the hair over where the tiara rested on her head. “Like a princess.”

“I…” Tiffany’s mother struggled with what she wanted to say.

“Just like a princess,” Duchess Clarence agreed, patting Tiffany’s hand encouragingly. “The dress is perfect on you. The style, the color… Lady Astrid’s influence was inspired.”

“Oh, I almost forgot Lady Astrid was there to tender her opinion,” Lady Tremaine said. “No wonder it turned out so well. She never misses a trick, that one. Sheer genius when it comes to fashion. And look at how well Tiffany turned out! Such a credit to you and the Bolton family.” Lady Tremaine turned back toward Tiffany’s mother, who was still staring at Tiffany with an oddly blank look in her eyes.

Tiffany did not dare say a word since she was not sure which way the chips were about to fall. Her heart was pounding in her chest like a racing horse, nothing like the excited flutter she’d felt earlier. The urge to hunch down was growing ever stronger, even though she knew that her mother would order her to straighten up again.

“Yes… yes, she is a credit to the family,” her mother repeated slowly. Her chin lifted, and she gave a nod of approval. “I daresay this will be the wedding of the year, and Tiffany acknowledged as the most beautiful bride of the Season.”

“You are certainly setting the bar intimidatingly high,” Lady Tremaine said approvingly.

“As are you,” Duchess Clarence murmured to Tiffany, giving her a final pat on the hand. “I must return to Gregory. He is waiting, very impatiently, in the carriage. I will see you at the church, dear.” Tiffany leaned down so the duchess could give her another cheek kiss, then she fluttered off through the door.

Watching her go would have given Tiffany a sinking feeling at being left alone with only her mother, Lady Tremaine, and Louisa, but as the duchess exited Tiffany’s room, she was greeted by a masculine voice on the other side. Sebastian had arrived at her door. Her mother frowned, turning her head, obviously aware of his presence as well, though Tiffany was surprised because she had never seen her mother unhappy over Sebastian appearing.

“Is that Sebastian?” Lady Tremaine asked, her face lighting up. She turned to address her daughter. “Louisa, go let him in.”

Tiffany’s lips twitched at the way Louisa jumped to obey her mother’s command, obviously posing as she opened the door for Tiffany’s brother. Fortunately for Tiffany’s peace of mind, Sebastian gave Louisa no more than a cursory greeting before looking past her.

His jaw dropped open.

“Tiff…” he sputtered. Actually sputtered, unable to form whatever words he was attempting.

Tiffany could not help but giggle, though she immediately suppressed it when her mother shot her a reproving look.

Sebastian gave himself a shake. “You look… there are no words. Gregory is going to swallow his tongue.”

The way he stared at her, as if he did not recognize her, was the way she’d been staring at herself before the others had come in, so she did not take umbrage. She’d gone through a transformation. She’d had no idea that such small changes could make such a huge difference to how she looked, but it was not all in her imagination. Everyone’s reactions proved that.

Tiffany found herself staring back at him. He looked so handsome in a dove grey morning jacket, a grey and forest green dapples waistcoat beneath it, and a matching forest green pocket square at his breast. The stiff white points of his starched shirt and the complicated knot of his cravat were snowy white, setting off his richly burnished brown hair as it waved away from his face.

He looked so much like their father, it made tears spring to her eyes. As much as she loved her brother and was so happy to see him, his presence was also a reminder of her father’s absence. It was supposed to be her father walking her down the aisle to Gregory.

Her mother clapped her hands together, making them all jump, and smiled thinly.

“Enough of that. We do not want Tiffany to get a swelled head.” She gave a light laugh that the other ladies joined as Sebastian chuckled. Tiffany smiled, though her chest felt tighter for some reason. “We must be on our way, so we are not late. It would not do to keep her bridegroom waiting.”

“Of course,” Sebastian said, turning to Tiffany and offering his arm. His expression changed again, his emotion rising in his eyes. Emotion matched by her own. They were both far too aware that the position he was currently taking was only because their father was dead. “I cannot believe I am about to give you away.”

Reaching out to touch his cheek with her hand, Tiffany smiled at him through the tears in her eyes.

“I will still be your sister, no matter what. And now Gregory will be your brother in truth.”

Sebastian huffed. “Don’t remind me.”

That made her laugh, washing away some of her sadness, as she slipped her arm through his. They were still family, no matter what happened, and she would not lose another family member. Not by any choice of her own.

The heartfelt moment buoyed her as they followed her mother and the other two ladies out the door. It was not until they were at the church and her mother had gone to be seated that Tiffany realized her mother was the only one who had not told her that she looked beautiful today.