Page 38 of The Duke’s Indecent Scandal (Indecent Dukes #1)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

G regory

To Gregory’s surprise, after her tea, Tiffany was far more excited about their evening—she’d chosen to attend the Chesterham soiree, one of the smaller balls, rather than the larger event at Donning House. When he’d inquired why, she’d tipped her chin up in a move rather reminiscent of Lady Astrid and informed him that she would only be attending events where her friends were welcome, and the Littles had not been invited to Donning House.

Gregory had grinned, given her a kiss on the tip of her upturned nose, and agreed. His mother would certainly approve as well. He had a feeling that Lady Astrid had already been making such decisions. Adding two more duchesses to the cause would very likely tip the ton’s hostesses in favor of sending invitations to the Little’s least-favorite son and his family.

He decided to add his own ducal weight by sending messages to his friends about where he would be that evening and encouraging them to join him there. When one had six other dukes to throw, might as well chuck them at a good cause. Whether or not they chose to attend was up to them, but he’d made the effort.

Nathanial may or may not. Upon hearing the whole story about Miss Little’s father and his family, he had turned very thoughtful and rather resigned. Gregory had felt bad, but Nathanial had more considerations than just a lady’s dowry to his choice. He had the right to make a fully informed one, and Gregory would not be a good friend if he had not ensured his friend was in possession of all the pertinent facts.

To his and Tiffany’s delight, upon arriving at the Chesterham soiree, they found that Zachary, Matthew, and Christian had already arrived before them. Lady Chesterham was also delighted when she greeted them, in alt to have such an august crowd on a night when the majority of the haut ton were gathered elsewhere. Monkey Sinclair had also accompanied Zachary and was currently seated on his shoulder, warily watching those around them.

“I say, good idea to attend one of the smaller events for a breather,” Christian said when he greeted them. “And if we all do it together, the larger hostesses cannot complain. Strength in numbers and all that.”

“Well, that’s not the reason why,” Gregory admitted and explained the situation in a quiet voice. Tiffany was too enthralled with monkey Sinclair, trying to tempt him into accepting a small piece of fruit from her to overhear, which allowed him to be blunt and quick.

Unsurprisingly, Christian was all too happy to take up the cause as well. Setting a cat amongst the pigeons was very much suited to his personality, and he seemed eager to enjoy the invariable squawking that would occur. Matthew was less enthusiastic, but, of course, he’d flipped his coin, and it had directed him to follow Gregory’s request.

“Do you know if the others are coming?” Gregory asked, and they all shook their heads.

Still, four dukes and two duchesses present was a goodly number. His mother, being a dowager duchess, did not take anything away from her rank. And when the Little family arrived shortly after, they all made it clear that the family’s attendance was why they had chosen to appear. Gregory was more than a little gratified when the rest of those present followed their lead.

Likely, Lady Chesterham had invited the Littles for the same reason they’d received invitations elsewhere—a little bit of scandal present always added spice to an event. Or perhaps he was not giving her enough credit, and she had sent the invitation after noticing his mother’s interest in the family and wanted to show her support as well. She had a reputation for being very kind-hearted. Regardless, it was very clear that even if the Earl of Stilton and his heir were giving the youngest son and his family the cut, they had even higher-ranking connections.

Mrs. Little brightened when she saw Gregory’s mother, and the two immediately began talking as Miss Little joined Tiffany’s circle of gentlemen. They stayed close by to chaperone, of course, but it was clear to everyone watching that both ladies were friends with the Duchess and Dowager Duchess of Clarence. Not only that, but the Dukes of Clarence, Montagu, and Grafton all asked for Miss Little’s dance card.

The Duke of St. Albans did not immediately ask Miss Little to dance, but no one would make much of that. The Lord of Luck’s erratic behavior was common knowledge, even if the reason for it was not. Gregory’s lips quirked when a surreptitious coin flip had Matthew engaging her younger brother in conversation instead.

Mr. Little had puffed up his chest, watching everything with understandable relief and calculation. He knew what was happening, and when he turned his gaze to Gregory, his abject gratitude shone in his eyes. Gregory just smiled and nodded his head in silent acknowledgment.

Those present were agog, Lady Chesterham’s ballroom fair buzzing with the gossip that would be flying the next day.

The only minor hiccup was when Baroness Ashfield arrived in the company of Lady Astrid and her mother. Lady Blackstone immediately joined Gregory’s mother and Mrs. Little, and Lady Astrid and the baroness went to join Tiffany and Miss Little… which made Zachary go stiff as a board.

Up to that point, monkey Sinclair had been remarkably well-behaved, but almost as soon as the baroness joined the group, the monkey finally jumped from Zachary’s shoulder to Tiffany’s arm. His wife was thrilled, but the monkey was not there for the fruit she was holding. It ran up her arm to her shoulder and then launched itself at the baroness… who caught it against her chest, wide-eyed with shock.

It appeared that there were only two people in the world who monkey Sinclair was prepared to like on sight—Zachary and his former mistress. The awkwardness was… astounding. Gregory was quite sure that retrieving the monkey was the closest the two had physically come to each other since the baroness had been given her congé .

Drake came through the crowd, his gaze focused on Gregory, who straightened. While Drake was not the most expressive man, his face was not normally so blank.

“I have news,” he said as soon as he reached Gregory. “From Bow Street.” His gaze shifted to where Tiffany was standing beside him. She’d straightened as well, as she was standing close enough that she could not help but hear Drake’s statement, no matter how low he’d kept his voice.

“You can speak in front of her,” Gregory said quietly. “Her father was there, too. Besides, Sebastian and I have already told her everything.”

From the expression on Drake’s face, he did not approve, but neither did he quibble.

“The runners have been seeking out all the servants who were there and survived that night. Two of them have confirmed that it was your father’s steward, Montblanc, who directed the shipment of gunpowder and was insistent on where it should be stored in the house. However, they all also reported that he left the lodge long before the accident happened.”

A chill went through Gregory as he was metaphorically rocked back on his heels, his whole body tensing at the realization that his steward had been far more involved than he’d realized. It sounded as though he was directly responsible. Tiffany leaned in closer to him, taking his hand where her skirts would cover the movement and squeezing his fingers hard enough to hurt.

“This is not your fault, ” she said fiercely. “It is the fault of whoever planned it. I am not going to say that your father brought it on himself, but if he had not behaved in such a manner that he was so hated by his staff, if he had left Betty alone, Montblanc would likely have never acted. Absolutely none of that can be laid at your feet.”

The bands around his chest loosened. If she could say that, she who had lost a father she actually loved, maybe it was true.

Maybe his friends would not blame him.

He gathered his courage and looked back up at Drake, whose blank expression had softened a touch.

“She is correct. No one in their right mind would blame you,” Drake said softly. As he was one who had been particularly close to his father, that was incredibly reassuring to hear. “There is still a lot we do not know. I do not think Montblanc was the force behind the plot… I think he might have been a pawn, used to set things into place. Someone used his rage, his sense of justice, to push him into such a heinous act.”

“I think you are right.” Gregory rubbed his forehead with his free hand, holding tight to Tiffany’s fingers with his other. “I still have trouble believing he was capable of it… of my father, yes, but not of so many. Not with such risk to innocents. I cannot see that.”

Yet, Montblanc had done just that.

“I am going to tell the others,” Drake said quietly. Gregory nodded his understanding. He kept watch as Drake moved from one of their friends to the next. Each of them reacted differently… none of them looked up to glare at him the way he was afraid they would. Matthew and Zachary both shot him sympathetic looks. Not long after, Christian came over to reassure Gregory that he did not blame him in the slightest.

All of which was a relief, even though it left so many more questions.

The ballroom had been filling up and was enough of a crush that when he heard the Duke and Duchess of Bolton announced, Gregory could not immediately see where they went as they descended the stairs. Hopefully, Sebastian had been able to see them… and hopefully, he would lead his mother elsewhere before joining them.

Gregory sidled closer to his wife. It appeared as though tonight they would be supporting each other.

Tiffany

Spending the ball with her friends, having a purpose in helping to establish Miss Little, was making the entire evening one of the most enjoyable Tiffany had experienced. The only fly in the ointment was Drake’s news, but she had become very good at pushing aside her emotions so she could still enjoy the moment she was in. As much as she wanted to know more, like who else had been involved in her father’s death, it was not as though she could go out hunting them now.

Though she did quietly update Lady Astrid, whose narrow-eyed gaze immediately went to her betrothed. It seemed the Duke of Ormonde did not see fit to tell her the latest revelation. That did not matter because Tiffany would. It was all she could do for now. Later, she would talk to more of the servants, see if there was more she could find out now that she knew Montblanc had been present at the hunting lodge for a period of time.

But right now, she needed to focus on what was happening around her currently. Her father would not want her to mourn forever. He would want her to find her joy where she could, she was sure of it. That she was happily married would make him happy. She wanted to live her life in honor of him, not mourning him.

And she truly was happy. Knowing her husband loved her, that Gregory had no eyes for any woman but her, made the evening far more enjoyable than previous ones where she had been so unsure of him.

It was easier to watch him and truly see how he interacted with the other ladies. They might flirt, but he did not reciprocate. He might be charming, but it was his natural charm, without any deeper intention. Now that they had said the words to each other, now that they both knew their pretend love match had turned into one for truth, the jealousy that had been gnawing at her was gone.

Which was why she felt no compunction about slipping away when she needed to use the retiring room. Alerting Astrid to her direction, Tiffany moved to the doors that led to the hallway. She felt as though she was walking on air, smiling and nodding as she made her way through the crowd, acknowledging those she passed. Her head was so in the clouds, she did not realize her mother had followed her out to the hallway until she was already there, alone, and a sharp grip on her upper arm made her yelp.

“Where do you think you are going?”

Spinning, wrenching her arm away from her mother, Tiffany lifted her hand to rub the spot where her mother had dug her nails in. She frankly stared. Though her mother looked as fashionable, as beautiful, as she always did, there was something very off about her. Something in the eyes, a kind of glassiness, which showed through even when her mother narrowed them.

Tiffany’s heart fluttered in her chest, but even as she felt the fear and trepidation that always came when facing her mother’s displeasure, there was a new emotion rising with it as well.

Anger.

For the first time she could remember, she felt truly angry with her mother. She lifted her chin in the air.

“To the retiring room, Mother, but I do not require your assistance.” Turning again, she began to sweep down the hallway, taking long, quick steps to try to get away from her own mother. It felt like fleeing, but Tiffany tried to tell herself this was the direction she would have been walking, anyway.

“Do not walk away from me, you haughty miss!” Her mother’s voice came closer, and she grabbed a painful hold of Tiffany’s arm again, in the exact place she had before. Tiffany bit her lip against yelping, once again, turning to pull her arm free.

“I am not being haughty. I am trying to get away from you.” She could not remember ever speaking to her mother in such a manner, and the look of shock on her mother’s face was exceedingly gratifying. Knowing she was going home to Clarence House, that her mother could no longer lock her in her room without supper, destroy her sheet music, or tear up her favorite things, made her far bolder than she could have countenanced.

Perhaps it was also the way Gregory had defended her earlier.

“You ungrateful little bitch,” her mother stepped closer, and Tiffany held her ground by sheer force of will. She and her mother were about the same height, but somehow, her mother managed to make it seem as though she was looming over Tiffany. Her mother’s hot breath wafted across her face, the odor of alcohol hanging heavy on it. Staring into her mother’s glassy eyes, Tiffany realized she was drunk. “Now that you’re a duchess, you think you are so much better than me.”

“No, I do not, but I also do not want to be around you, not when you keep saying things like that to me.” Tiffany shook her head, her anger rising up again. Why? That was the question she had for her mother, and she could hold it back no longer. “Why did you treat me so differently from Sebastian? Why are you so cruel to me? Why did you deliberately dress me in unflattering dresses?” She felt a sob rising up in her throat as the unfairness of it all threatened to swamp her emotions, to drench the flame of her anger.

“You think you are equal to your brother?” Her mother’s laugh was high and cruel, mocking her for daring to think such a thing. “He is a duke . He was born to be a duke. You are nothing compared to him. You never were.”

Tears sparked in Tiffany’s eyes. She sucked in a deep breath against the pain, doing her best to bolster her courage.

“I am a duchess now. Same as you.”

The rage that filled her mother’s eyes made Tiffany step back in shock, a new kind of fear gripping her. She had never seen her mother look at her so hatefully, loathing emanating from every fiber of her being. It was as if a mask had been ripped off, and the truth was finally allowed to surface.

“You are not the same as me.” Spittle flew from her mother’s mouth, tiny droplets dotting Tiffany’s face. She raised her hand to block it, backing away even more, but it did not matter because her mother was still coming toward her. “You will never be the same as me. You were not supposed to marry a duke!”

Her mother’s voice had risen to a shriek. Tiffany did not understand.

“You wanted me to marry well!”

“ But not above me.”

Her mother had backed Tiffany up against the wall so she could not retreat any farther. An odd kind of anguish had arisen in her body. It felt like her heart was being torn asunder as she realized how much her own mother—the mother she’d tried so hard to please—hated her. That her mother had not wanted the best for her.

That her mother was angry that her daughter was a duchess because it meant they were societally equal in rank.

“You are a terrible mother,” Tiffany said through the tears that were beginning to slide down her face. It both hurt to say the words and felt like relief to finally be able to say them. “I am so glad I have Gregory’s mother because she is five times the mother you are.”

“I gave you everything, you ungrateful little harlot!” Her mother’s hand rose in the air and was descending downward when Sebastian appeared out of nowhere behind her, grabbing their mother by the wrist and pulling her away from Tiffany. The expression on his face was terrible to behold. The same pain Tiffany felt. His utter disillusionment. Fury he directed at their mother, who was staring up at him in shock. A grim kind of determination.

As he pulled her away, Gregory inserted himself in front of Tiffany, his broad shoulders easily blocking her view of her mother. Using his body as a shield between them. He looked down at Tiffany with pride, compassion, and concern.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded, stepping forward into his arms and burying her face in his chest. She was all right, now that he was there. She might have spoken in the heat of the moment, but what she’d said was true.

His mother was a hundred times the mother of her own, and henceforth, she was going to be the only mother Tiffany acknowledged. How her mother could be so awful, why she would care so much about her rank that she was willing to undermine her own daughter, she did not understand. Could not understand.

“Sebastian! What are you doing here?”

Now that her ear was attuned to it, Tiffany could fully appreciate how differently her mother spoke to her and Sebastian. Her entire tone was softer, more loving. Sebastian was her golden boy, her duke… and Tiffany was, in her mother’s eyes, some sort of rival. Even though she’d never wanted to compete with her mother; all she’d ever wanted was her approval.

“Gregory and I followed you to see why you were following Tiffany,” Sebastian replied grimly. “I wanted to know if they were telling the truth about the way you behaved to Tiffany after you claimed that she and Gregory had you thrown out of their house.”

“That was all lies! I told you. That’s why I’m so upset. I saw Tiffany here, and I could not help but confront her.” Her mother sniffled, sounding distraught. How she’d managed to change her emotions so quickly, Tiffany had no idea. “She said such awful things to me, I lashed out. I was so hurt, just like before. What kind of daughter is so disrespectful to her own mother?”

Tiffany felt Gregory stiffen and start to turn, but she held fast to him. It did not matter what her mother said. She knew he did not believe a word, and that was what mattered most to her. She hoped Sebastian knew her mother was telling falsehoods, but the far more important opinion belonged to her husband.

“I overheard quite a bit more than you apparently realized,” Sebastian said coldly. Tiffany had never heard him sound like that before, certainly not when speaking to their mother. “You and I are going home. Right now. We’re going to have a very long discussion about how things will be going forward.”

Moving to the side, so Tiffany could see her brother, she watched in utter shock as he gave her a grim nod of apology, then bodily began dragging their mother down the hall, despite her protests. Gregory’s arm tightened around her as they watched the pair go.

“I am sorry we did not intervene sooner,” Gregory murmured in her ear. “But I wanted him to see the fullness of her behavior.”

“How much did you hear?” she asked. She had been so caught up in the confrontation, she had not even noticed them there.

“We walked into the hall early enough to hear her call you a bitch.” The menacing rage that thrummed through his voice made Tiffany shiver. Her mother might be lucky that Gregory had let Sebastian hustle her out of there. “It was not easy to stay back, but your brother needed to know the whole of it. Needed to see and hear it for himself.”

Otherwise, it would be too difficult to believe, especially as her mother had been a very different person in his presence. Because his mother had never treated him that way.

“I understand.” Turning back into his arms, she rested her forehead against his shoulder and took in a deep breath before letting out a shuddering sigh. Part of her might have wished she had not had to hear her mother say those things, but in some ways, she was also glad she knew. She hurt for Sebastian, but she was also relieved.

While she would not have wanted him to feel the same way she did about their mother, it also felt so good not to be alone. To see him come to her defense. To know that he did not take their mother’s side.

Tilting her head back, she looked up at him.

“I want to go home.”

Gregory’s fathomless dark eyes met hers. He bent his head, giving her a gentle kiss that filled with warmth some of the cold spaces her mother had opened within her. She sighed, leaning against him. Her stalwart protector. Her anchor in the storm.

Her love.

His lips lifted from hers.

“Then let’s go home.”