A Duke in Time--The Widow Rules

by Janna MacGregor

  “May I ask another question?”

  “Of course,” she said, folding her hands together on the desk.

  “Did Meri purchase a set of your linens? I seem to recall a bill from your shop.”

  When she laughed, the bright sound filled the emptiness in his chest. “He did. That’s how I met him. I allowed him in the shop.”

  “Perhaps you’ll reconsider and allow me the opportunity to shop in your fine establishment, then?” He waggled his eyebrows. “If we’re going to promote each other’s businesses, I’d like to have the experience of sleeping on your linens.”

  She nodded in agreement. “You should.”

  “Is that an invitation to sleep in your bed?” He tilted one side of his mouth upward.

  “Behave,” she scolded with a grin.

  “With you, I find it impossible,” he answered.

  She laughed, and her eyes flickered with mirth. He wanted to make her laugh every day and be the man who gave her pleasure in every way. His reward would be her smile and the sparkle in her eyes that lit them from within.

  “Now, sir, what are those piles of papers in front of you?” She pointed toward the papers.

  Christian picked up the three separate packets. “Meri has assigned a packet of receipts to each wife.” He handed one to Kat. “This one is yours. The others are for Constance and Beth.” He shrugged slightly and frowned. “I’ve glanced at them. They’re nothing but receipts and records of transactions. Some deal with the sale of horses and livestock. Some are auction receipts. Others are some type of mineral leases. Frankly, I can’t make heads or tails of them. Nor does it make any sense why they’ve been separated for each wife. They’re all from the last year.”

  Kat untied the bundle and rummaged through the pages. “You’re right. They appear to be transactions of some sort or the other.” Her brow creased as she regarded Christian. “I’m not really certain what it all means. If you’d like, I’ll take the ones for Constance and Beth.” Kat tied up the pile and retied the leather strap around hers.

  “If it wouldn’t be much trouble.” He slid the remaining two packets toward her, then drew the bag toward him. “I think that’s all the papers here.” He slipped his hand in the bag again, where he discovered a hidden pocket sewn into the leather. Inside was a folded piece of paper. When he brought it out, he discovered it was a letter.

  For Katherine, in the event of my death.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Christian held out a letter. His large hands made it seem insignificant. “This appears to be for you.”

  Katherine narrowed her eyes but didn’t reach for it. For some odd reason, all she could think about was how neat and proper her husband’s handwriting was. The letters could only be described as elegant and bold—just like Meri.

  A dark, portending fear wouldn’t leave her be. It rippled through her, leaving in its wake a coldness that made it hard to breathe. Whatever Meri had written, she would not allow it to upset her. He was gone forever and had left her in a perilous position.

  It defied explanation why the note was even here. He had posted letters to her throughout the last year. Why hadn’t he posted this one?

  Perhaps he had confessed his sins or tried to rationalize his actions.

  With a surprisingly steady hand, she reached for the note, then slipped one finger beneath the wax seal, breaking it in two.

  My dearest Katherine,

  If you’re reading this, then you’ve been told of my death. More than likely, you’ve also been informed that I have two other wives. Words cannot express the sorrow I’m suffering now. Of course, that’s not true. If I’m dead, then I’m feeling nothing at all.

  Never fear, my dear. I am heartsick and deeply ashamed. If it’s any consolation, you were the first wife, if you want to refer to yourself as such. But I digress. Please allow me to explain what happened.

  Do you recall the kind, young vicar who married us? When he said, “I now pronounce you man” and before he said, “and wife,” I was hit by a force—much like a lightning bolt when it slams against a lightning rod.

  It reminded me of the day I met you. You were a spectacular vision of loveliness in your shop window. I was riveted. Within days, I had asked you to marry me on a lark. When you said yes, I thought our marriage would be my opportunity to change for the better.

  I wanted to make you happy. You seemed eager to be accepted within society. I could provide that entrance for you. It was such a little thing, but I wanted to do that for you.

  But alas, we should have never married.

  Such a realization couldn’t have come at a worse time. We’d just said, “I do.” Truly, it was fate playing a cruel and shocking joke on both of us. Not to mention, it was horrible timing. However, I made a gallant attempt as your husband.

  Gallant attempt?

  He called six hours of marriage in her company a gallant attempt?

  Absolutely still, Katherine paused in her reading, determined not to divulge the emotions that churned inside her, ripping her heart to pieces. The feat was monumental since the overwhelming urge to scream at the piece of paper in her hands was nigh impossible to ignore.

  A horrible nag awoke from a deep sleep and stretched. She’d thought she’d finally rid herself of that vile feeling, but suddenly, its claws were sinking into her once again and drawing deep wounds, the kind that could slice her open. Her shame would be bare to all, and Christian would have a front row seat.

  The reproach and degradation she faced as a little girl when others had discovered she didn’t have a father roared through her again. They ignored her as if she weren’t there. They pitied her, then whispered behind her back. A bastard. A nothing. A whore’s spawn. All those names hurt and stripped her of her humanity.

  Her stomach tangled into a knot while her cheeks heated in disgrace. The crushing impulse to hide materialized from nowhere.

  That was nothing compared to what she had done to herself. She’d ruined her own reputation after her mother’s death by being declared a thief.

  The inclination to throw the letter in the fire grew, but she refused to act upon it.

  Katherine didn’t dare glance at Christian, but she felt him studying her, wondering what in the world was going on. How much time had passed? A minute or two? Surely, it hadn’t been an hour, though it felt like an eternity in hell. Without looking at the duke, she stood and quietly walked to the window while clutching the letter in her hand so hard that her fingers ached. A heat hotter than Hades rolled through her, causing her cheeks to flame. For a moment, she gently fanned herself with the godforsaken letter.

  Christian might have been able to see her turmoil at the table, but if she stood with her back to him, she could hold the shame close and not let it escape.

  Katherine faced the private courtyard, where the beautiful view was wasted on her. All she could see was the letter she held in her trembling hands. She blinked once in a desperate attempt to wipe away the dishonor and humiliation that was her due. She didn’t ask to be born a bastard. Yet she wore it because it belonged to her.

  But the title of thief? She’d earned that all by herself.

  The trigamist had left her hours after the ceremony, and he didn’t even know the truth about her. But he was correct when he said he saw desire in her eyes. Oh, how she’d wanted to be considered a proper lady who didn’t steal or pretend to be someone else.

  What would Helen, Constance, and Beth do if her stealing past came to light? Would they protect her like she had protected Meri and his reputation after he’d left? Her heart froze in her chest. What would Christian say? Would he turn his back and not have anything to do with her ever again? If that happened, would it hurt more than the humiliation she had felt when she’d been caught with that apple?

  She clutched her fist to her heart, a pitiful attempt to keep the pain from escaping.

  Lothario described Meri perfectly. A man who loved many.

  But the undeniable fact was that s
he wasn’t any better than her husband. They both lied and pretended to be someone else. He, a supposed honorable lord, had bestowed upon her the title of lady.

  And she had proudly used that title to her advantage every day after watching him ride off on his white horse.

  His letter was a confession of his sins. After he’d written it, had any of the weight lifted from his shoulders? God, she’d give anything to be free of her burden.

  She studied the subtle embroidery on her hem, hoping she could find the strength not to crumble. For God’s sake, she didn’t want to cry. She willed herself to keep her emotions contained. Eventually, her faithless gaze drifted back to the piece of foolscap in her hand.

  Katherine, my darling, when I met the others, I had to marry them. They’re beautiful and humorous and women of outstanding character. I hope you meet them one day. I think you all would share a good laugh over our circumstances. Maybe you’d even say something nice about me.

  The truth? I just couldn’t keep from saying “I do.” Who knew that those two words were so addictive?

  I did us both a divine favor by leaving. If I’d stayed, I’m afraid I would have wilted like a flower deprived of water. And a wilted flower is so needy and ugly. So, I replanted myself.

  Perhaps you can do the same.

  I hope you can find it within your heart to forgive me one day. I truly am sorry.

  You are a beautiful, successful, and self-assured lady. I have every confidence you’ll have a happy life.

  Fondly,

  M

  Without saying a word, she let the letter slip from her fingers. It floated to the ground, much like a feather caught in a gentle breeze.

  What a bloody waste of a marriage.

  And what a bloody waste of a dream.

  She had no one to blame but herself. She was the one who’d damned her own future.

  At that moment, she’d give anything to feel a gentle wind across her face because all the air had been sucked out of her. Her chest tightened as if held in a vise, but she managed the incredible feat of bending down and retrieving the letter. Desperate for air, she silently gasped and stuffed the offensive missive in her pocket.

  “Kat, what is it? Are you all right?” The alarm in Christian’s voice rang across the room.

  She couldn’t answer, even if she wanted to. She had tamped down her emotions so tightly, she’d lost her voice.

  “Kat?” Christian asked gently.

  Without taking her leave, she walked out the door, right past the duke, whose eyes had widened.

  She had to escape, but one part of the letter kept taunting her with each step she took. If only she could replant herself and bloom as an entirely different person. Never had she wanted that so much as now. She wanted to be someone else, someone who would be worthy of being a friend to the duke.

  Tears threatened in earnest this time. Undoubtedly, her cheeks were so red, one would likely have mistaken it as a fever. She didn’t even bother collecting her coat from the footman. Instead, she kept right on walking until she disappeared into the nameless London crowds.

  She felt as if she’d been stabbed in the heart.

  And she had been the one holding the knife.

  * * *

  As soon as Katherine had exited his study, Christian stood. Whether to follow, he hadn’t decided yet. Perhaps Katherine left because she was overcome by grief and needed a moment to herself.

  He straightened the three packets of receipts for the wives to give him something to do. Something caught his eye when he looked down. Meri’s letter to Katherine lay on the floor, open and inviting. He’d seen her put it in her pocket, but it must have fallen out. He picked it up, then sat at his desk with the paper in hand.

  Frankly, he was a bit terrified she might never return after he witnessed her red cheeks and the haunted look in her eyes. He didn’t doubt it was another fiasco that Meri had created.

  A brisk knock sounded on the door.

  Expecting Katherine, Christian called out, “Enter.”

  “Your Grace?” Wheatley asked in a quivering voice.

  Christian dragged his thoughts from Katherine to his butler, who stood sheepishly inside the study. “Where is Lady Meriwether?”

  “She left,” Wheatley murmured.

  “Left the house?”

  “Without a word, sir, nor did she take her cloak,” offered the butler.

  Stunned, Christian blinked. “Did she say where she was going?”

  “No, Your Grace,” the butler murmured. “When I went to follow, a delivery arrived.”

  “Have my carriage readied, please,” Christian said as he stuffed the letter in her packet. “I’m calling on Lady Meriwether. She forgot some papers.” Christian rounded the desk then stopped when he saw the sheer shock on his butler’s face. “What is it?”

  His butler’s Adam’s apple bobbed erratically. “You should be aware that another package, a bequest … err, some personal property from Lord Meriwether, has arrived from Cumberland for you.”

  “Put it in the attic—”

  A blood-curdling roar echoed through the first floor, followed by another somewhat more subdued growl. The ominous sounds were so disturbing, the birds in the courtyard abandoned their feeders to escape the menace.

  “What was that?” Christian asked as he walked toward the door.

  “Your Grace, it appears your brother started collecting tigers. There are two in the entry.”

  Christian stopped.

  Without breaking eye contact, the butler straightened his waistcoat and adjusted his cuffs as was his habit when he was nervous. “Apparently, Lord Meriwether favored having an actual tiger ride in the tiger’s seat of his yellow curricle instead of a young man.”

  “For the love of heaven.” Christian sighed, then cleared his throat. “Have their cage moved outside into the courtyard. Keep them away from the stables. I’ll deal with them when I return.”

  “They’re on … a leash.” Wheatley’s voice grew weaker.

  “I’ll go out and have a look. Do you think it’s safe for a footman to walk them to the courtyard? We can put them somewhere until I finish my call with Lady Meriwether.”

  “I don’t think so. The staff is frightened. They’re afraid to move.” Little beads of sweat dotted the butler’s forehead. “The animals are quite intimidating. Beautiful, but terrorizing. They keep licking their chops.” His voice cracked, and he paused for a moment. “I thought if we could have your calming influence, then the footmen and the rest of the staff might be persuaded to move.”

  “Of course. Come with me.” Christian walked out the door toward another snarl coming from the entry. “You were the only one brave enough to leave the entry?”

  Wheatley nodded once as he walked beside him. “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re a good man.” Christian patted the loyal butler on his back and offered a smile. “I could have used you over in France.”

  Wheatley beamed at the praise until another roar echoed through the entry.

  Christian wanted to roar himself. Meri’s mischief was keeping him away from Katherine.

  What in the devil was he going to do with tigers?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Several hours later, after pulling the recalcitrant animals to the courtyard where a suitable cage was hastily erected, Christian stood outside Katherine’s town house alone with her cloak folded neatly over one of his arms and the papers in the other. As he waited for someone to answer the door, he prayed Katherine was safe and well.

  The door slid open, and a spry woman stood before him. She was dressed elegantly in a spring green gown of the latest fashion.

  Christian tipped his hat in acknowledgment. “Is Lady Meriwether available?”

  “Which one?” she answered sweetly.

  “Katherine.”

  “Ahh.” Her eyes twinkled in merriment. “Come in.” She waved him forward.

  As soon as Christian stepped through the door, the woman stopped. “I alw
ays forget before I let people in. I’m supposed to ask who you are.”

  “The Duke of Randford at your service.” Christian executed a perfect bow.

  “You’re the charmer.” The woman laughed and closed the door.

  “The what?” Christian chuckled.

  “The one who brought all those beautiful roses.” The woman sighed in contentment. “Such glorious color throughout the house. I’m Mrs. Venetia Hopkins, Constance Lysander’s aunt.” She glanced at the entry clock. Her eyes widened, then she leaned close and lowered her voice. “It’s almost two o’clock. Time for our whisky hour,” she said sweetly. “Actually, Willa nips the whisky, and I sip sherry. Care to join us?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Christian answered politely. “I’ve never been to a whisky hour before, but it sounds appealing.”

  “You should make time. A tipple is good for your constitution.” The woman looked him up and down. “Based upon your size, you must tipple every day.”

  Christian laughed aloud. Who was this woman? He immediately liked her.

  Willa rounded the corner, shaking her head. “Venetia, it’s a little early to start imbibing sherry.” She leaned close to the older woman and whispered, “Remember what we agreed. When someone’s at the door, you can’t invite them to join you if you’re not acquainted.” She chuckled.

  Venetia snapped her fingers. “Oh, that’s right. Is two o’clock a little early for a tipple?”

  “Yes,” Willa answered.

  Venetia turned her smiling face back to Christian. “Sometimes I say things out of turn.”

  “We all do, madame,” Christian said.

  “Now that’s settled”—Venetia winked—“would three o’clock work for you?”

  “You are incorrigible,” Willa scolded with a laugh before she turned to Christian. “Good afternoon, Duke.”

  “Miss Ferguson,” he greeted with a slight bow. “I’m here to see Katherine.”

  “Her office is on the second floor on the left just past the sitting room.” Willa linked her arm with Venetia’s and escorted the older woman away.