Page 35 of Unraveled by the Duke (Scandalous Duchesses #1)

“ Y our Grace, a note from Cheverton. From Lady Hyacinth!”

Peggy hurried into Celia’s rooms bearing a folded piece of paper.

“One of the boys brought it over in Her Ladyship’s carriage and is waiting for your reply.”

Celia had been drawing, but no image that began to emerge under her pencil brought satisfaction. Her window sill, which had become her customary seat, was strewn with aborted sketches. Most had the same subject.

“Is that His Grace?” Peggy asked with curiosity, picking up one of the papers.

“An attempt to capture his likeness, though I am unhappy with all,” Celia said.

“I think you drew him to a tee, Your Grace. That hard quality he has—hard as nails made of granite, I always thought—you captured it perfectly, I’d say.”

Celia picked up one of the sketches and examined it critically. “I do not think so. I mean, I see the hardness, but I disagree that it is his prime quality. It is simply the image he projects, though I cannot fathom why.”

“He wasn’t always like this, Your Grace. He was a sweet boy when his mother and father were together. If you ask me, his mother’s passing was what hardened him. He was never the same after that, poor lamb.”

Abruptly, she seemed to recall to whom she was speaking and about whom. She colored to the roots of her gray hair and hurriedly tidied up the discarded sketches.

“I am so sorry, Your Grace. I quite forgot who I was talking to for a moment there. Clean forgot. It’s your manner, Your Grace. You’re very personable, like talking to someone of my own station. If you don’t take offense at that description.”

“I don’t, Peggy. Please don’t worry,” Celia assured her, helping to gather up the sketches. “I would like to keep these for now. Please put them on my bedside table, and let me read this message.”

She took the letter, broke the seal, and unfolded it.

“Lady Hyacinth has invited me for dinner this evening at Cheverton!” she exclaimed.

“Very good, Your Grace. Should I tell the boy that you accept and to wait?” Peggy asked.

Celia considered for a moment. Alexander had not spoken to her after the carriage had arrived at Finsbury, though he had earned glares from his stepmother. He was now at Cheverton. She wondered how he would react when she arrived for dinner.

But then I have been invited. I am not imposing as I did previously. The Dowager Duchess likes me, and her stepson liked me. Then disliked me. Then liked me again. Oh botheration! Why will the man not decide how he feels once and for all, then explain it to me in unambiguous terms?!

“Yes, you may, Peggy. Then, return to help me prepare.”

“Alexander, whatever is the matter? You look positively done in!” Hyacinth exclaimed in typically blunt fashion at the sight of her stepbrother walking through the front door.

“Really, Hyacinth,” Violet chided. “Please try and avoid using slang. I do not think your governess educated you to speak so.”

Alexander ran a hand through his hair.

Clearly, I look as I feel—exhausted. I do not know why I feel so. It has hardly been a physically taxing day.

“Thank you, Hyacinth,” he returned wryly. “I do look forward to coming home.”

“I was educated not to use slang, Mama. And I learned it from my contemporaries. It is the way of things among the young,” Hyacinth said airily.

“Well, it is not the young who make the rules; it is the old. And this old woman does not like it. Kindly refrain.” Violet swept through the hall, divesting herself of her hat and gloves, putting the latter inside the former and tossing it to a waiting servant.

“The trip to the Gallery has quite whetted my appetite. I will be in my studio, should anyone want me. I hope no one does until dinner.”

The servant nodded and hurried away.

“I am glad you’re home, Xander. But you do look tired,” Hyacinth noted, hugging her stepbrother.

Alexander relished the embrace for a moment, innocent and simple as it was.

It was a relief to understand a relationship completely. He loved his sister, and she loved him. He would and was doing anything and everything to ensure that she got the best start to her social life.

Alexander knew that Hyacinth would do everything in her power to help him. In fact, if she realized the lengths he had gone to for her, she would insist on having no debut in order to spare him. Even though she knew that it would be social suicide and condemn her to spinsterhood.

“I do believe I am tired,” Alexander sighed.

They walked through the hall in the direction of the staircase.

“Then you should rest. Will Celia be joining us?” Hyacinth asked.

“She will not be joining us. She will remain at Finsbury,” Alexander said firmly. “And I will rest later. I have work I must attend to in my study.”

“Oh boo. Why must Celia remain all the way across London in that gloomy place? You are married, after all.”

Alexander was at a loss. He didn’t have the words to explain the situation to someone he had never lied to.

“That is more complicated than I have time to explain to you, dear one,” he said. “Suffice to say that her presence here would be welcome to you and… problematic to me. Now, if you will excuse me, I will see you at dinner.”

He kissed her head and then ruffled her hair, as he had done since she was barely old enough to walk. She smiled.

“If this continues on much longer, I will go to Finsbury and bring her back here with me,” she declared.

Alexander forced a laugh to disguise the eagerness that soared within him at the notion.

If Hyacinth actually did that, I think I would be angry. But it would bring Celia here, and by no action of mine. The choice would be taken out of my hands.

“Do not do that, I beg you,” he said fondly. “One day soon, I will explain everything to you concerning the events of the last few weeks. Then, you will understand.”

Hyacinth looked at him skeptically, tilting her head to the side and narrowing her eyes. “Do you promise, or are you just saying that because you do not believe you will ever need to prove it?”

Alexander began ascending the stairs, feeling as though every step was against twice his weight. He threw back his head and laughed.

“When did you become so cynical?” he asked.

“When I had my seventeenth birthday, I think, and danced my first dance with a handsome young man.”

Her answer was so coquettish that he looked back at her questioningly.

“Do not let your mother hear you say that, young lady. You will find yourself enrolled at a convent in the north before you can blink. Go, be innocent for a while longer.”

She tittered and skipped away.

Before she was out of sight, though, Alexander called out, “If I find out the name of any handsome young man who has been dancing with you, I will make him wish he had never been born.”

Laughter was her answer.

Alexander found himself smiling and shaking his head.

He continued to his study, tossing his coat on an armchair and sitting down behind his desk.

It was covered in ledgers and accounts, copies of those accounts his solicitor had readied for Celia to inspect.

If she ever allowed that event to take place.

A letter sat atop them, left there by the servants with the morning post. He used a paper knife to open the envelope and unfolded the paper within.

To His Grace the Duke of Cheverton,

It is with the greatest regret that the Grimaire Bank of London and Paris informs Your Grace that with immediate effect, the monies loaned to Your Grace, which are itemized in the attached appendices, must be repaid without delay.

No further lines of credit can be extended, and no further extensions on credit granted can be given.

We regret to inform you that all business between Grimaire and Cheverton will cease from the date of this missive.

Sincerely and with regret,

Sir Nathaniel Grimaire.

Alexander read the letter again, but the meaning was clear and expressed in a brutally simple way. Grimaire was calling in the debts owed by Cheverton. Debts his father had accrued with no means of repaying them. Debts that exposed his family to disgrace and ruin.

Alexander had been forced to grievously offend the Grimaire family by defending Aurelia Frid, and this was the consequence.

Ruination. He could not pay off those debts if they were all called in at once. He certainly would not be able to secure the debut Hyacinth deserved. Even Celia’s dowry would not be enough.

He sat back in his chair, the letter falling from his fingers. A terrible fatigue sank into his bones. He wanted to give up, to stop fighting and let the world spin on around him.

No, I will not give up. I will not stop.

As his shoulders slumped and his head fell, he forced himself upright. His hand rested on the desk, and his arm straightened, holding his body up. He looked ahead, clear-eyed and determined.

Cheverton has faced worse tribulations than this.

I will pull through. This actually simplifies things greatly.

The dowry is academic; it cannot solve my problems. The only way to do that is to negotiate with Grimaire, win him over, and work like a dog to build my fortune enough to pay him back.

Father, I swore an oath to protect your name, and I will make good on that oath.

He realized that, if he wished it, he was now free of his obligation to Celia.

He had married her to squash the scandal and secure her dowry.

Now, the scandal and her dowry were both academic.

What, then, would be the consequences of taking Celia up on her offer and quietly annul the marriage? None. Except…

Except I would be without Celia. She would leave my life and never return. Which is what I have wanted all along, isn’t it?

The idea left a yawning, cold chasm within that could never be filled.

What was happening to him? He could live without a woman to love or be loved by. He was sure he could have any woman he wanted, for sport. He had never wanted more from a woman. Why did the prospect of losing this troublesome, irritating, frustrating woman chafe at him so?

His eyes fell on the next envelope in the pile and caught the same handwriting in the letter he had received from Nathaniel Grimaire, father to Phillip Grimaire. He reached for it and sliced it open.

Cheverton,

You have insulted my son, and I cannot ignore that.

But I am not so foolish as to call you out.

That would result in my death, I am sure, or my son’s.

I will offer you the chance to settle this matter like gentlemen.

According to a trusted source, your marriage is not all it seems. I understand you would not be unhappy to see it end.

You may consider all your family’s debts to Grimaire forgiven and forgotten if you are willing to accept the following proposal. You will give up your wife and let her marry my son, Phillip. He will swear to committing adultery with her, and your testimony will be enough to secure a divorce.

Celia Frid will then be offered the protection of my family from the scandal that will follow and make the previous scandals seem trivial. She will have no choice but to accept, or she will be destitute. I am sure her father can be persuaded to support our plan.

Failing that, Phillip has his eye on her younger sister. I believe her name is Aurelia. Assist in this matchmaking, and your debts will be forgiven. My preference is for Celia, but I understand that Aurelia may be the simplest target.

I leave the decision to you.

Grimaire.

The letter slowly crumpled as Alexander’s fist closed around it. His head fell, his eyes closing.

Grimaire had offered a devil’s pact. Alexander could right the wrongs his father had done, the wrongs he had done through youthful selfishness. The slate would be wiped clean for good, and he could be rid of a troublesome woman who had dared to worm her way into his heart.

His hand opened and dropped the ball of paper. He fell back in his chair, letting his head slump against the headrest.

A moment’s rest. A few minutes only to gather his thoughts and decide on the best course of action. A few minutes only.

A few minutes later, Alexander slept soundly. The only sound in his study was the steady ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece.

Down the hallway, Hyacinth sat at the desk in her bedroom, writing a note, which she folded and sealed with wax before ringing for a servant.

The letter was addressed to the Duchess of Cheverton, Finsbury House.