Page 39 of The Lady Was Lying (Greydon #3)

I t was nearly dark when the carriage came to a halt.

After multiple days of travel and a hasty wedding, they were all rather rumpled when they tumbled out into the brisk evening air.

Edward and Violet allowed themselves to be ushered inside by a servant, but Belinda paused to survey her new home.

She had been hovering in a state of incredulity all day, and it spiked as she viewed James’s ancestral seat.

Not only had she become duchess that morning, she had also become the mistress of a veritable castle.

Constructed entirely of rock, it was massive, extending in both directions with tall, arched windows that sat high above the ground.

It was less ornate than Greydon Hall but more intimidating.

A bubble of laughter threatened, and even though she had no regrets, she was relieved when James wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

His touch anchored her. “It isn’t as daunting as it appears. ”

“It is very grand though.”

With all the nooks and crannies, it would be the perfect setting for a haunting, and while she’d never considered herself particularly squeamish, she wouldn’t be venturing around at night until she had a better sense of her surroundings.

“I hope you like it here,” he added.

“You are here, therefore I will like it.” She probably sounded too sentimental, but she didn’t care.

“James,” a feminine voice called, interrupting the moment.

Belinda hadn’t noticed the first time they met, but James looked nothing like his mother.

Dainty, with mostly white hair and a regal bearing, the Dowager Duchess of Avondale approached at a brisk pace, halting directly in front of them and eyeing her son with what appeared to be annoyance. “You got married without me.”

He winced. “Apologies. It was spur of the moment.”

“It was not,” Belinda disagreed.

The dowager raised her brow.

“He kidnapped me,” she added, realizing a moment too late that the truth might not be something the dowager needed to know.

The other woman didn’t seem the spiteful sort, but Belinda’s mother had revealed her secret, and she might feel as if she had nothing to lose by soiling Belinda’s reputation.

“It wasn’t as lurid as it sounds,” James argued.

His arm tightened slightly around her shoulders, as if he thought Belinda required his strength to bolster her own. She let her weight settle more firmly against his side. Just because she didn’t require his support didn’t mean she didn’t want it.

The dowager scanned her from top to bottom. “You don’t appear to be under duress.”

“Turns out that I’m amenable to kidnapping.” At least by James.

“Apparently.” The dowager pursed her lips and turned to her son. “I can’t believe I missed the wedding. I would have liked to be there.”

“We should have stopped here first.” He massaged his temple. “I was eager and didn’t consider your feelings.”

Belinda felt an unexpected pang in her chest. “Perhaps we could plan a little soiree here at Bramblewood to celebrate.”

The dowager brightened. “That is a fine idea. A welcome ball for our new duchess. It’s been some time since we’ve entertained, but I’m sure we can manage to do you justice.”

Belinda balked. “It doesn’t need to be anything extravagant.”

The dowager waved her hand in the air. “Nonsense.”

“I don’t enjoy large parties,” she interjected, unsure whether she would feel different with James by her side but overwhelmed by the prospect regardless.

The dowager paused. “You don’t?”

Belinda fought the urge to squirm. “Not particularly.”

“We will figure something else out then. Something you are more comfortable with.”

“Truly?” It was rare for Belinda to be surprised, but the dowager’s easy acceptance shocked her, because she’d anticipated more of an argument or at a minimum some pointed questions about her suitability for her new role.

Ladies were not allowed to dislike parties.

“I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable,” the dowager replied.

“That is very kind.” It wasn’t a sentiment she was used to associating with mothers. “I’m sorry about Vivienne. My mother has never been good at tempering herself and it probably never occurred to her that others didn’t know.”

“I harbor no ill will toward your mother,” the dowager responded. She appeared earnest, but Belinda had a difficult time believing her. She had every reason to be angry.

James put his hand on his mother’s arm. “How are you dealing with the scandal?”

“Better than expected. When Mr. and Mrs. Lancaster explained what happened, I left London as soon as I could manage it. If there is gossip, I am not privy to it, and I see no reason to seek it out.”

“You seem remarkably unbothered,” James murmured, shaking his head.

“I suppose that I am. You are married now, so there is no need for me to return to London. Maybe the whispers will follow us here, but if they do, I can’t imagine anyone will believe them.

This has been my home for over thirty years, and the people here saw how much your father loved you.

They accept you as duke, and London gossip won’t change their mind. ”

His brows pinched together, and it was Belinda’s turn to hold him closer. “But you acted as if the world would end if anyone suspected the truth.”

“I know, but the world hasn’t ended. Mrs. Lancaster was remarkably blasé about the whole thing.

No remorse at all. I was working myself into quite a state of panic imagining all the things that might happen, and she patted me on the shoulder and said, ‘The beau monde loves nothing more than to judge. They call me a harlot and worse in whispers plenty loud enough to hear, and I allow it because their opinions don’t matter.

My late husband the earl adored my brazen nature. Mr. Lancaster feels the same.’”

Belinda huffed. “My mother made you feel better?”

“Not at first,” the dowager replied, “but the more I thought about it, the more I realized she was right.”

“Was she?” Belinda couldn’t hide her skepticism.

“The duke adored me. James was his son. A little gossip can’t erase our happiness or change our past.”

“What if it isn’t a little gossip?” James asked.

“I shall ignore it. If Mrs. Lancaster can thrive after being labeled a harlot, why can’t I?”

Belinda reeled at the absurdity of Vivienne setting an example. Her mother had always been a mess of contradictions. Entirely selfish most of the time, but startlingly accurate about so many things.

Belinda harbored a list of complaints as long as her arm of her mother’s many failures, but perhaps the dowager made a good point. For all her mother’s faults, she was happy.

“They are calling you a harlot?” James asked, sounding aghast.

“I don’t know what they’re saying, and I don’t care.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more careful. I promised I’d protect you and I failed.”

His mother reached up to cup his cheeks. “It isn’t your job to protect me. I was supposed to protect you.”

“You did. My childhood was ideal. My future is bright. I have no complaints.”

Belinda’s heart swelled. Would his happiness always spark her own?

The dowager’s left hand reached out and cupped Belinda’s cheek while her right one stayed on James’s. Her gaze darted between the two of them. “I want you to be happy together. That is what matters most.”

“We will be,” James vowed.

“We will be,” Belinda echoed.

She’d never been more certain that she was exactly where she was meant to be. Her life had not followed the path that she had assumed it would, but she had still found her way.