Page 35 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction (Dukes of Passion #3)
CHAPTER 35
“ A letter for you, Your Grace,” Henderson announced, extending a silver salver with a single folded note. “It was delivered by hand though the messenger departed before Matthews could inquire after its origin.”
Marina looked up from her untouched breakfast, her eyes shadowed from a night of sleepless grief. “Thank you, Henderson.”
The butler hesitated, his usual composure faltering slightly. “If I may inquire after Your Grace’s well-being this morning?”
“I’m well,” Marina replied automatically although the hoarseness of her voice betrayed her. She reached for the note, more to end Henderson’s concerned scrutiny than from any genuine interest.
“Has there been any word from His Grace?” The question escaped before she could stop it, her fingers crumpling the edge of the unread note.
Henderson’s face softened with unexpected sympathy. “Lord Crawford’s butler sent word that His Grace would stay there for several days while attending to business matters.”
Business matters. Marina’s throat tightened. So that was the excuse Leo had chosen. “I see. Thank you, Henderson.”
Only when the butler had withdrawn did Marina unfold the note, expecting perhaps formal communication from Leo regarding their new arrangements. Instead, she found an anonymous message with the letters cut from newspapers and pasted to form crude words:
YOUR SECRET IS KNOWN. PAY 500 POUNDS OR ALL OF LONDON WILL LEARN THE DUCHESS WRITES FILTH. INSTRUCTIONS TO FOLLOW.
Marina’s hand jerked, splattering tea across the white tablecloth. She stared at the blackmail note, its ugly message a stark contrast to the elegant morning room. After everything that had happened between Leo and her, this felt like a final, vicious twist of the knife.
Her first thought was of Giles. Despite Leo’s settlement of the debt, the man might have seen an opportunity for further extortion. Her second thought was more alarming. What if this was someone else? Someone who had separately discovered her authorship?
Marina rose, abandoning her breakfast entirely. If this threat was real, she needed to act quickly. But first, she needed to confirm her suspicions about Giles.
In her chambers, she found Betty arranging her evening gowns that were moved back from the Duke’s rooms the previous night in a painful ceremony neither of them had acknowledged directly.
“Betty, I need to go out this morning,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “Please have the carriage brought around.”
“Alone, Your Grace?” Betty looked concerned. “Perhaps I should accompany you.”
Marina shook her head. “This is a matter I must handle personally.”
An hour later, her carriage stopped before Giles’s offices near the Exchange. The clerk’s eyes widened at the sight of the ducal crest, his stammered greeting suggesting that Marina’s elevation in status had not gone unnoticed.
“I wish to see Mr. Giles immediately,” she stated, her tone allowing no argument. “It concerns a matter of some urgency.”
Giles’s face when she was shown into his office reflected genuine surprise, followed quickly by poorly concealed apprehension. He rose, offering a bow that stopped just short of obsequious.
“Your Grace, what an unexpected honor. I wasn’t aware?—”
Marina placed the blackmail note on his desk, cutting off his platitudes. “Did you send this?”
Giles’s confusion appeared genuine as he picked up the note, his brow furrowing as he read the crude message. “I assure you, I did not. Whatever this refers to?—”
“It refers to my writing,” Marina interrupted. “The anonymous stories you once threatened to expose.”
Understanding dawned in Giles’s expression, followed by something that looked remarkably like fear. “Your Grace, I would never threaten the Duchess of Blackmere. The Duke explicitly outlined the consequences of any such action when he paid off your late husband’s debt.”
Marina studied his face, looking for signs of deception. “You expect me to believe you’ve suddenly developed scruples?”
“Not scruples, Your Grace. Self-preservation.” Giles straightened his waistcoat nervously. “Your husband made it quite clear that any further attempt to extract money from you would cause my financial and social ruin. I might be many things, but I am not idiotic enough to cross the Duke of Blackmere.”
The genuine fear in his voice made Marina pause. Leo must have been extremely convincing in his threats. “If not you, then who?” she demanded, more to herself than to Giles.
The businessman shrugged, visibly relieved that she seemed to believe his denial. “Perhaps someone else who knows of your… literary endeavors? Your publisher, perhaps?”
“Mr. Lupton would have nothing to gain by exposing me,” Marina said though the suggestion made her consider other possibilities. “He earned more than enough when I wrote for him.”
“Then I suggest you look for someone who might profit from your disgrace,” Giles offered, clearly eager to be helpful now that he understood he was not the primary suspect. “Or perhaps someone with a personal grudge against you or the Duke.”
Marina retrieved the note, her mind racing. If not Giles, then who? And more importantly, what did they truly want?
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Giles,” she said, rising to leave. “I trust you’ll keep our conversation private.”
“Absolutely, Your Grace.” Giles bowed deeply. “I wish you success in resolving this unfortunate situation.”
Marina’s next stop was Caroline’s townhouse. Her friend rushed her into the private sitting room the moment she arrived.
“You look awful,” Caroline said, taking her hands. “What’s happened? The servants are saying Leo’s moved to Noah’s house.”
“We had a fight,” Marina said, the words nowhere near enough to describe last night’s devastation. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
She pulled out the blackmail note and watched Caroline’s face drain of color as she read it.
“This is horrible,” Caroline whispered. “Who would do such a thing?”
“I thought Giles at first.” Marina sank into a chair, suddenly exhausted. “I just came from his office, but I believe him when he says it wasn’t him. He looked genuinely scared of crossing Leo again.”
“What about Lupton?” Caroline asked, folding the note. “He knows who you are, and he’s hardly a man of principle.”
Marina shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense. If he exposed me, people would stop buying the stories. He’d lose money.”
“Unless he plans to keep blackmailing you while publishing your work.”
“Maybe.” Marina rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on. “You should tell Leo,” Caroline urged. “Whatever happened between you, he wouldn’t want you facing this alone.”
Marina’s chest tightened at his name. “I can’t. Not after last night.”
“What happened?” Caroline moved beside her on the settee. “Two days ago, you seemed fine.”
The concern in her friend’s voice broke through Marina’s composure. She told Caroline everything—the watch, Leo’s strange reaction, how he’d pulled away, and finally their confrontation.
“He said he can’t give me what I’m asking for,” Marina finished, fighting tears. “As if loving him was too much to ask.”
Caroline squeezed her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“The worst part is I still don’t know why. One moment we were happy, really happy, and the next he looked at me like I was a stranger. Like I’d betrayed him somehow.”
“Men can be idiots about their feelings,” Caroline said. “Especially men like Leo who’ve built walls around themselves.”
“I never asked him to be vulnerable. I just wanted him to let me love him.”
“And that’s exactly what scares him, I think.” Caroline sighed. “From what you’ve told me about Felicity and his brother, Leo’s built walls to protect himself. Your love threatens those walls.”
Marina left Caroline’s with a promise to consider telling Leo about the blackmail though she had no intention of doing so. His rejection had cut too deep. The thought of going to him for help, of being a supplicant needing his protection again, was unbearable.
When she returned home that afternoon, Henderson waited in the entrance hall with a grave expression.
“Another delivery for you, Your Grace,” he said, presenting a folded note on a silver tray. “Again, the messenger left without identifying himself.”
Marina’s heart sank as she took it. “Thank you, Henderson. That will be all.”
Alone in her sitting room, she unfolded the paper with shaking fingers. The same crude cut-out letters stared back at her:
BAD IDEA SHOWING THE FIRST NOTE TO LADY CLARKSHIRE. KEEP QUIET OR FACE CONSEQUENCES. brING 500 POUNDS TO THE ABANDONED THEATER ON DRURY LANE TOMORROW AT MIDNIGHT. COME ALONE OR YOUR SECRET GOES TO EVERY DRAWING ROOM IN LONDON.
Marina collapsed into her chair, cold fear washing through her. The blackmailer had been watching her—had seen her visit Caroline. This wasn’t some distant threat but immediate danger from someone tracking her movements.
For a brief, desperate moment, she considered seeking Leo’s help. Despite everything, she knew he would protect her from this threat.
But the memory of his cold voice, I can’t give you what you’re asking for, stiffened her resolve.
She had survived Henry’s neglect, society’s condemnation, and near-destitution. She would handle this new threat without running to the husband who had made it clear he wanted nothing of her but her physical presence.
Marina moved to her writing desk, unlocking the drawer where she kept her savings—the money Leo didn’t know about, earned from her stories and carefully hoarded against future need. Five hundred pounds would deplete most of her reserve, but she saw no alternative. Once the blackmailer was paid, she could decide her next steps with a clearer head.
As she counted out the notes, a terrible thought occurred to her.
What if payment didn’t end the demands? What if this was merely the beginning of an ongoing extortion?
She would be trading her financial independence for a temporary reprieve with no guarantee that the blackmailer wouldn’t return for more.
Yet what choice did she have? If her identity as the author of the stories became known now, when she and Leo were so publicly estranged, the scandal would be devastating. The ton would assume she had continued writing against his wishes, defying her husband in the most public way possible. Leo’s reputation would suffer along with hers.
Despite everything, she couldn’t bring herself to cause him such embarrassment. It was a weakness she despised in herself—this lingering concern for a man who had rejected her—but she couldn’t deny its existence.
Marina secured the money in a small pouch and returned it to the locked drawer. Tomorrow night, she would face this blackmailer alone as demanded. She would pay the price required to protect her secret, and Leo need never know how close his temporary wife had come to causing him further scandal.
The thought brought little comfort as she prepared for another solitary night in chambers that felt emptier than they ever had before their brief marriage.
The clock in the hall struck midnight as Marina fastened her darkest cloak around her shoulders. She had waited patiently for the household to settle into silence, her nerves growing more frayed with each passing hour.
The blackmail note lay burned in the fireplace, its demands seared into her memory. Five-hundred pounds, the abandoned theater on Drury Lane, come alone.
Her hands remained steady, betraying none of her anxiety, as she took the pouch from its hiding place and tucked it into her gown. The weight of her choice pressed down on Marina as she slipped away into the shadows. Better to face this unknown threat alone than risk entangling Leo in more scandal. Especially now, when the fragile bond between them had already shattered.