Charming the Duke (22 page)

* * *

“I’m not receiving any visitors, Wilcox.”

“It is Mrs. Smithley, Your Grace.”

“Send her away.”

Thornsby heard the door to his rooms close. He reopened the book in his lap and flipped through the pages determined to get lost in the story. He had been admittedly glum and low for days following the humiliating scene with Matilda. He could not rouse himself, even to consider that he was but one month away from losing his inheritance. He thought perhaps he would sell off the estates, including Winterbourne, he’d certainly not have the money for its upkeep, and take a long trip, perhaps to America.

It was an odd feeling, mourning something that was never really his. And his dreams and desires that he should like spending his life with Matilda were never expressed to her. There hadn’t been time, between the misunderstandings and the drama of the children and their arguments. But that was certainly what he had intended to say that day. He had rehearsed in his head what words he would use and how she would reply. After their last outing he was certain she would be open to his addresses.

Despite their bickering, their differences, and the short nature of their acquaintance, he could not imagine anyone but her by his side, and was worried that he may, in fact, never marry, never get over the loss of Matilda. Other women were simply not her, and the thought of talking to another woman on any personal level was nearly repugnant to him.

The door to the salon leading to his bedchamber banged open.

“Frederick Wilcox!” Athena shouted. “You will not turn me away yet again.”

“These rooms are mine, Athena. They are private and I have no wish to see you!” he bellowed through the dressing room.

Athena marched through the adjoining rooms and plopped herself across from him in the chair in front of the fireplace. Smithley strolled in behind and stretched out on his bed.

“I will not be deterred.”

“Go hang yourself, Athena,” he said bitterly. “Get out. Both of you.”

“No need to malign your sister, you daft oaf,” Andrew said.

“What is going on with Matilda Sheldon?” Athena asked. “I have been told she refused you.”

“Miss Sheldon was very explicit. She has never had any interest in me and does not want me to bother her again.”

Smithley whistled. “That had to hurt.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Athena said. “I’m a good judge of character, especially women, and I think Miss Sheldon is very interested in you. More, in fact, than she may even admit to herself.”

While hearing Athena’s comments buoyed his ego and hopes, he was no one’s fool. “She was very clear, utterly unemotional.”

“I’ve heard today she’ll be attending the garden party at Herndon,” Smithley said. “Maybe she’s not as keen on Freddy as you think, Athena.”

“Really, Andrew,” Athena said.

Thornsby stood and wandered to the window. What would take Matilda, willingly, to a house party, he wondered?

“Andrew and I are going to Herndon. Why don’t you come with us?” Athena said. “Can’t hide yourself in your bedroom forever.”

Thornsby shook his head and turned when he heard Wilcox clear his throat.

“My apologies, Your Grace. I know you are not to be disturbed but you have a visitor that will not leave.”

“Let them wait,” Thornsby said. “I’m not coming down.”

Wilcox was silent a long moment. “Shall I tell the Dowager Countess of Bisset to wait in the Blue Room, Your Grace?”

“The Dowager is here!” Athena said as she stood. “This is interesting. Tell her I will attend her shortly, Wilcox.”

“What could she possibly want?” Andrew said.

“I don’t know,” Thornsby said.

“Are you coming?” Athena asked.          

“Lady Bisset,” Thornsby said just a few moments later as he strode in the room and made the introductions. “My sister, Mrs. Smithley and her husband.”

“How do you do, ma’am, and to what do we owe this honor,” Athena said as she seated herself. “Andrew? Please do call for tea.”

The Dowager turned a pinched face to Thornsby. “What have you done to cause my favorite granddaughter so much unhappiness?”

“I have done nothing but ask her to go walking with me where I intended to declare my intentions. I realize now perhaps I should have spoken to her father first,” he replied.

“And you believe that Matilda would be influenced by her father?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t,” he said. “But that does not mean I shouldn’t have been proper in my addresses to her. I intended to make her my Duchess.”

“And what are your intentions now?” she asked.

Thornsby sat down, crossed his legs, and stared off as he thought about that long trip he’d been considering. Thought about his life without Matilda. “I don’t know.”

“Hmmm,” the Dowager Countess said as she sipped her tea.

“Do you think Thornsby should address Miss Sheldon again? With the hopes of a different reply?” Athena asked.

Thornsby held a breath, waiting, he supposed, for some hope that he could mend this breach. But the Dowager shook her head.

“No,” she said. “No, I do not.”

Athena’s shoulders dropped as did his stomach on the Dowager’s reply and he stood up from his chair. “Then why did you come here?” he said, more sharply than he intended. “Was your intent to make me out to be a cad or a fool?”

“Thornsby!” Athena said with a soft protest.

The Dowager harrumphed. “Sit down, young man. I’ve had an interesting bit of news from my lady’s maid this morning.”

Andrew sat down on the arm of the settee beside Athena. “Do tell. Servants’ gossip always is often the most reliable and certainly the most interesting.”

The Dowager looked up at Andrew from under her brows with a frown but turned her attentions back to Athena. “My maid, Effie, has been with me for well over two decades. She is just back from spending the day with her brother’s widow, a Mrs. Brewer.”

Thornsby looked up to see the Dowager staring at him. “Mrs. Brewer? The Mrs. Brewer that is employed at Miss Sheldon’s orphanage?”

“The very same. Apparently there was a visitor to see Matilda very shortly before you arrived the day that she sent you scurrying. Tail between your legs, I might add.”

“Hardly the case, ma’am,” Thornsby said. “Your granddaughter stated her wishes and I meant to honor them.”

“Went down without a fight, I’d say,” the Dowager said and stared at him. “If my granddaughter is worth having, then you had best go after her, especially after hearing whom it was that visited Matilda.”

“Who was it?” Athena asked.

“Countess Rundel.”

Athena gasped, and Andrew whistled. Thornsby felt a great red anger descend on him, and it was muting the conversation in the room. He stood and shouted a vulgarity.

“Thornsby!” Athena said.

“That is the first real sign I have seen that the Duke has some passion, Mrs. Smithley,” the Dowager said and placed her teacup on the cart beside her. “Let him stew a moment.”

Thornsby had spent countless hours trying to understand Matilda’s apparent about face and had been left to think that he had somehow insulted her or misread her actions and words. But none if it made sense and if Matilda Sheldon was anything, she was sensible to a fault.

“What did Mrs. Brewer say?” Athena asked.

“Mrs. Brewer said that Matilda was in high spirits and looking remarkably well before the Countess arrived and was white-faced and looked quite ill after she left.”

“But she heard none of the conversation between Millicent and Matilda?”

“Just one snippet, according to Effie,” the Dowager said. “Mrs. Brewer said she was on the way up the staircase when she heard the Countess say ‘. . . throw away the happiness of your dear sisters over a man you are not meant to have.’”

“What is she planning?” Andrew asked.

“Or what is already planned?” Athena said.

“She threatened me, but I didn’t take her seriously,” Thornsby said.

“Matilda has been in a high dudgeon all week and is most anxious about this outing to Herndon. She has suggested that none in the family attend and the next morning said they were
all
going. Even as much to insist that her younger brother come home from University to attend and that I must go,” the Dowager said. “I suspect that the Countess is intending to make mischief during the Hereford garden party.”

“I overheard some talk at my sporting club the other day about Hereford’s heir, George Tramontin. It seems he has decided it is time to take a bride, and one of the ladies he is considering is Juliet Sheldon, Matilda’s older sister,” Andrew said and leaned back in his chair.

“Juliet is sweet, well-bred, lovely,” the Dowager said, “and none too bright. She would be a perfect match for the Marquess and Marchioness’s son. Handsome the Tramontin’s are, but not terribly clever. Although I think that he is quite the matrimonial prize.”

“But what would Millicent be planning?” Thornsby asked. “Is there something at Maplewood that would make Millicent think she could blackmail Matilda or expose your family in some way?”

“Highly unlikely,” the Dowager said. “The Bissets may be dull, but we’re proper to a fault.”

“Nothing that the young one still at the University could have done that the family would prefer to keep quiet?” Andrew asked.

The Dowager turned sharply. “That is my grandson you’re speculating about. While no angel, I’m certain his exploits pale in comparison to your time as a young man. And anyway, I pay handsomely to be kept abreast of any trouble that Fitzmaurice may be headed towards. There has been nothing more than an over-turned cart of turnips appearing on the steps of Chapel to be concerned about.”

“My apologies, ma’am,” Smithley said. “But
something
changed Matilda from being in high spirits to looking ill.”

“Would Matilda be sensitive to something that the Countess meant to reveal about our family, do you think, ma’am,” Athena asked.

“I think my granddaughter is in love with your brother, as highly unlikely a match as it may seem, I believe they would suit,” she replied. “Matilda is hardly affected by gossip. She doesn’t go out in society enough to be involved in the machinations of bored dilettantes. Even though she was hurt and embarrassed at the Benford Ball, she is not one to mull over someone as insignificant as Millicent Marsh, and had Millicent revealed something to her that your brother, or your husband by extension, had done that would be embarrassing to the Thornsby name, I don’t doubt that Matilda would ask your brother directly.”

“You are correct, ma’am,” Thornsby said. “Your granddaughter has not been afraid to confront me. That is not what I think is happening.”

“What, Freddy?” Athena asked. “Do you know what is going on?”

“I think we are making an error of assumption when we conclude Millicent is threatening Matilda with some unsavory, but
true
indiscretion,” Thornsby said.

“Something untrue?” Andrew asked.

Athena gasped. “She wouldn’t go that low, would she Freddy?”

“I think that is exactly what her plans are,” the Dowager said. “And I think something is going to happen tomorrow at Herndon.”

“Then we must be there,” Thornsby said and looked around the room. “I will not allow my past indiscretions to hurt Matilda or her family in any way.”

“Oh, bravo,” Andrew said.

“What can we do?” Athena asked.

“Today, we need to find out as much information as we can at our clubs and from acquaintances,” Thornsby said and turned to Athena and Andrew. “We will meet here this evening and put together what we have learned so we may be best prepared tomorrow.”

“As much as I am loathe to miss my chair and fire this evening, I will do my best to learn what I can and would join you for supper,” the Dowager said. “If, that is, I am invited.”

Thornsby sat down beside the Dowager. “Of course, you are invited. But I hate to involve you in to this affair. Knowing Millicent, it may be vulgar.”

“I am involved if Matilda’s happiness is at stake. And vulgar does not scare me,” the Dowager said and stood. “I’m off to a cribbage game I have an open invitation to, and just so happens to be at the home of one of the most notorious gossips in high society. Good day.”

Chapter Sixteen

L
ater that day, Thornsby went into his drawing room and found Athena, Andrew and the Dowager already there. They were deep in conversation but fell silent as he entered. It had been a most informative day and barring a few details, he felt he had a good idea of the mischief Millicent was up to. He’d tried desperately to tamp down any excitement he felt but he could not help that he was buoyed by what he’d found out. There may be hope for him and Matilda after all!

“You are all here,” he said and strode to a sideboard to pour himself a drink. “Very good.”

“What have you learned, Freddy?” Athena asked.

“I have learned that George Tramontin, the Hereford heir, is very close to declaring for your granddaughter, Juliet, ma’am,” he said. “And that his father the Marquess sees the match in a favorable light; however, the Marchioness does not. In fact, she has made her feelings very clear to her son.”

“Just as I heard,” Andrew said. “The Marchioness has it on reliable authority that the Bisset family is embroiled in a dreadful indiscretion that may taint the Hereford name by association.”

“The room fell silent when I walked into Lady Fulling’s salon,” the Dowager said. “But I soon joined said lady’s table, heard some interesting news and asked some pointed questions.”

“I imagine Lady Fulling was in her glory having a family member to interrogate,” Athena said.

“Very true, Mrs. Smithley,” the Dowager said. “I rather enjoyed being the center of a lurid tale. But the lurid tale does not involve George Tramontin, but rather, a young pup that was at Maplewood for weeks on end, a classmate of Franklin’s, William Berfine.”

“Exactly as I’ve heard,” Thornsby added.

“Was Juliet ever involved with Berfine?” Athena asked.

“Not that I’m aware of,” the Dowager said.