Page 7 of The Duke’s Indecent Scandal (Indecent Dukes #1)

Chapter Six

T iffany

Her mother’s screeching grated on her ears and did not stop the entire carriage ride home.

“How could you do this to me? The shame of it! What will people think of you? Of me? What were you thinking? You were not; of course, you were not. Oh, the shame! It will follow me to my grave!”

The diatribe went nonstop all the way back to Clarence House, by which time any excitement or enjoyment from Clarence’s kiss and the knowledge that two dukes thought she was pretty had been entirely erased. Now, she felt drained and like hiding under her bed, but that was not an option as her mother had to be physically assisted from the carriage. If she did not tend to her mother, it would make everything worse.

Thomas Coachman gave her a sympathetic look as he helped her down from the carriage, though he was wise enough to hold his tongue. Her mother was leaning on the two footmen who had come to greet them, and her ladies’ maid, Harleen, was hurrying down the stairs from the front door. The same age as Tiffany’s mother, Harleen was a stalwart presence in Clarence House, a master at deferring to Tiffany’s mother on some matters and guiding her on others.

She was a rock upon which the rest of the staff leaned when the duchess was in one of her many moods and often their shield as well. Her age and skills made her invaluable to the household, and even Tiffany’s mother did not push her too far. It was clear she’d been preparing for bed, her dressing gown flapping over her long, pale nightdress as she hurried down the stairs, a sleeping bonnet over her greying brown hair.

The expression on her face was one of extreme concern, as it should be. Tiffany’s mother had never made such a scene publicly before. She was far too cognizant of keeping up appearances. To be wailing and crying on the street was unprecedented behavior on her part. That it had begun at Richmond House was even more worrying. Tiffany did not like to think about what consequences her mother was going to devise for her once she was no longer hysterical.

“Oh, I am faint,” her mother wailed, falling upon Harleen and throwing her arms around the woman’s neck, much to Harleen’s shock. Tiffany’s, too. Her mother was not prone to speaking to the servants, much less touching them, and while her own ladies’ maid was one of the few her mother spoke to, it was not normally like this. “My own daughter… the disgrace… I cannot bear it.”

“What happened? Your Grace,” Harleen quickly tacked on, so surprised that she almost addressed Tiffany’s mother without the honorific. Tiffany came up on the other side of her mother, quietly helping support her toward the front door.

“I cannot speak of it.” Her mother let out another sob. “It is too awful. My own daughter, ruined! And at her very first ball! What will everyone say?”

“Ruined?” Harleen mouthed the word at Tiffany, and Tiffany shook her head as they made their way into the house. The front door closed behind them. Harleen raked her sharp gaze over Tiffany’s personage, taking in her immaculate dress. The skirt was not even creased. Harleen frowned.

“How will we ever find a husband for you now?” her mother wailed, even louder than she had when they were out of doors, or perhaps it was because her voice now echoed off the tiled floor and high ceiling of the foyer. Tiffany blinked in surprise before she realized her mother must not have heard everything that went on while she was in the hall—she had never made it all the way into the library. Whoever had told her that Tiffany was compromised had not seen the entirety of the aftermath.

Relief flooded her that she would be able to set her mother’s mind at ease.

“The Duke of Clarence and the Duke of Hereford both offered for me,” she said quickly. “That is why Sebastian did not depart with us. He is speaking with them.” Her heart fluttered at the reminder. Two dukes fighting over her! And Clarence one of them… For a moment, her lips tingled at the memory of his against hers.

Immediately, her mother straightened, eyes flashing.

“They what?” The screech was nearly as loud as her wailing had been, and for a moment, Tiffany thought her mother appeared angry, though she could not imagine why.

“That is wonderful!” Harleen said at the same time, beaming at Tiffany. “Is… did one of them…” She darted a look at Tiffany’s mother, quickly realizing how counter her reaction was to the duchess’, which was always a dangerous place to stand.

“Clarence,” Tiffany confirmed. “Hereford offered, though, saying he had already asked to speak to Sebastian about it.” Which made her feel… she did not know. Like floating on air. Though, if she were being truthful about the whole situation, it was Clarence who stuck in her mind.

She knew enough of men to understand that he had been rakishly flirting and that he had probably not meant a word of what he’d said, but if she married Hereford, she also knew she would never forget tonight or the way that Clarence had made her feel.

“I cannot think,” her mother said, reaching up to press her fingertips against her temples. It hid the expression on her face, and she pulled away from both Harleen and Tiffany. “It is all too much. I have a megrim, and I need to be alone. Harleen, you will attend me.”

Tiffany stood in shock as her mother rushed up the stairs, suddenly completely capable of moving on her own and moving quite quickly. Shooting her a glance Tiffany could not interpret, Harleen followed the duchess.

Well, then.

Looking down at her pretty dress, which had made her feel so wonderful, Tiffany stared at it for a long moment as the full implications of the evening all came crashing down at once now that she was alone.

She’d been kissed.

She was to be married.

She did not know either of her suitors.

Tiffany closed her eyes and took a deep breath, counting down from ten in her head, the way she’d done as a child when she was particularly anxious. Sometimes, it had been the only way to remain calm in the face of her mother’s emotions. Now, her mother had retreated, and her own concerns were bubbling up.

Married to a stranger, either way. Though, she trusted her brother to make the right choice for her. God, she hoped he made the right choice for her.

Hereford or Clarence? Which would be better? Or would it not matter at all?

Pressing her hand to her stomach, she wandered into the drawing room and over to the window seat. Perhaps any minute, she would wake and find that this entire evening had been a dream, that she had yet to attend the Duchess of Richmond’s ball… yet, despite how surreal everything felt, she knew it was not a dream.

Sitting down among the cushions, she pressed her forehead to the cool glass, staring out at the street. There would be no sleep for her tonight. Not until her brother came home and she learned her fate.

Gregory

Married.

On the carriage ride to Bolton House, which was not far from his own home in Mayfair, the reality seemed to hit Gregory, and his hands went rather clammy. It was not the idea of marriage that caused such consternation, as such, because he had gone into the Season prepared to marry, but somehow, there were so many things he had not thought of when it was a mere idea.

Like a wedding.

Like how to make a woman happy for more than a night.

He was not the type to keep a mistress; he’d always preferred lovers.

Perhaps he should ask Christian and Zachary how they kept their mistresses happy.

No, wait… he could not treat his wife as a mistress, could he? But then, all women liked jewelry. He was sure Christian and Zachary had spoken of how expensive their gifts of jewelry were. His own mother loved jewelry.

Damnation.

Mother.

He nearly groaned aloud at the thought of her reaction.

Not that she would be disappointed that he was to be married, but she was certainly going to scold him for the circumstances. And he was going to have to tell her, if she did not already know. She would likely scold him about the fact she’d had to find out from the gossip that he was sure had spread through the ballroom like the plague the moment the Duchess of Richmond had emptied the library.

He and Sebastian had decided not to walk through the ballroom but rather to slip away more discreetly while Nathanial returned to the throng to make their excuses. Under the circumstances, they felt their fellow duke would understand. Though it was not in Nathanial’s nature to enjoy being surrounded by a mob eager for gossip, it could only help him on his quest for a wife.

He might even be the one to tell Gregory’s mother that her son was now engaged in an utterly scandalous fashion.

Hopefully, Nathanial w as the first to reach her so he could inform her of the story they’d contrived. How the hell had Gregory forgotten about his mother at the ball when they’d been coming up with it?

Because I am not used to her being in London.

Because I was distracted.

Bollocks.

Tomorrow morning was going to be bloody horrific. Not tonight, because he was going to go home as late as possible to avoid his mother for as long as possible.

“You had better not be having second thoughts,” Sebastian said darkly from across the carriage, proving that his friend knew him all too well. “By now, Hereford has already told everyone that you and Tiffany are engaged and that it was all a misunderstanding.”

“I know. It is a good story. I am not having second thoughts.” Gregory clenched his jaw against saying anything else. Sebastian was not the appropriate party to spill his trepidation to. His closest friend was already upset with him. He did not want to provoke him further.

“Good. Because my sister’s happiness is in your hands, and I will not take it lightly if you do anything to cause her any more distress than you already have.”

The longer this carriage ride continued, the broodier Sebastian was becoming, and he was already a broody fellow. Gregory let out a long, slow breath. He was normally the cheerful one, but it was feeling rather difficult in the face of such monumental events and the growing knowledge that his friendship with the other man was at risk. Sebastian might not have realized his sister had turned out rather pretty, but he was still a protective big brother.

“I was thinking about my mother’s reaction,” he admitted. “What do you think are the chances that she left the ball before Hereford returned?”

Sebastian barked with sudden laughter as Gregory’s problem came to the fore.

“Very, very slim, my friend.” Sebastian’s grin flashed white in the dark confines of the carriage. “You are going to have a reckoning to face at home.”

“Truer words were never spoken,” Gregory muttered, relieved when Sebastian chuckled again. It felt like perhaps their friendship was righting itself through a few jokes, the kind they often exchanged. Yet, it felt like something had irrevocably changed as well.

There was a weight on their friendship that had not been there before.

The carriage came to a halt, and Gregory felt that weight settle into his chest. Would he be facing his bride and his future mother-in-law? He and Sebastian had agreed to work out the marriage contract tonight, to get it into place immediately. Also, Sebastian wanted him to propose properly to Tiffany. And they needed to ensure Tiffany and her mother were fully informed of the explanation he and Sebastian had devised.

Sebastian got out of the carriage first, and Gregory followed, looking up at the house. The windows in the foyer were brightly lit, the rest of the house dark, but there was just enough light from the streetlamps and the moon for him to see a figure in the front window stand up.

Tiffany.

He recognized her immediately. Not a maid. Not her mother.

My wife.

Waiting for him.

It was time to face the music.