An Earl for the Broken-Hearted Duchess

by Lucinda Nelson

  When pressed, it would unravel her façade. Margaret felt certain of it. “Tell me about him. I would love to hear.”

  Tessa did not even try to smile this time. “No, I wouldn’t want to bore you.”

  “Bore me? With tales of your dearest love? I cannot imagine that to be possible. I want to hear all about him, dear cousin.”

  Margaret and Tessa held eye contact for a few strung moments. She saw Tessa’s eyes narrow, like she was considering her in a new light. She looked almost like a snake and her lips were pressed into a thin line.

  “Your Grace,” Miss White said, shattering the tension. Margaret looked towards her and Tessa took a sip of her tea. “The Marquis of Wiltshire, Lord William Brandon, has come to see you.”

  Margaret affected a look of surprise. “Dear William?”

  “Come from France?” Tessa interjected, then smiled widely. “Oh you must invite him in, cousin. Don’t let me prevent it. I would love to meet the man.”

  “Are you quite sure?” Margaret replied.

  “Entirely certain!”

  The Duchess smiled at her. Without taking her steady eyes off of Tessa, she said, “Would you please bring him in, Miss White?”

  Miss White disappeared, leaving Margaret and Tessa smiling at one another. Strange, identical smiles. Like a secret war was being waged, but the doubt in Tessa’s eyes made it clear that she didn’t yet know if Margaret even knew they were fighting.

  Oh, but she did.

  And she was about to win.

  Lord Nathaniel Sterling stepped into the drawing room.

  Everything about Tessa’s countenance changed when she saw him. She stood rather suddenly and stood with her body half-inclined towards Margaret and half-inclined towards Nathaniel.

  He stood calmly near the door. He bowed. “Good day, Your Grace. And good day to you too, Lady Butterfield.” Nathaniel spoke with such calm. Such unimaginable calm. She didn’t know how he managed it, given the situation he was in. Confronting a woman he’d once loved in Margaret’s drawing room. A woman who had hurt him terribly all those years ago, and who had come to hurt him again.

  “May I sit?”

  “Certainly, Nathaniel,” Margaret answered.

  He crossed the room, giving Tessa only a small berth and sat down in an armchair. Margaret was still sitting, but peering up at Tessa. She hadn’t sat down.

  Her face was pale and she was looking between the two of them quickly. She was quick and cunning, but she hadn’t quite cottoned on to what was happening yet.

  “This isn’t the Marquis,” Tessa said in an unsteady voice. “This is-” She stopped talking and cleared her throat.

  Margaret knew what she must be wondering. Whether they knew what she’d done. “Pardon me, dear cousin, Miss White must have made a mistake. She’s a little short-sighted, I’m afraid. Poor dear.”

  Tessa took a half-step back and her eyes flickered to the door. She looked like a trapped rat. “I think I ought to take my leave,” she said quickly. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

  “Impose? But cousin, we all know one another here. In fact, I believe you know the Earl of Comptonshire very well indeed.”

  Tessa’s eyes were wide and staring.

  “Yes, you see, you told me that you knew one another as children, but you knew him much later than that, didn’t you?”

  Tessa’s face began to harden. It was slow, like watching water turn to ice. “What game are you playing?”

  “We are not the ones who have been playing,” Nathaniel answered. “Though we seem to have been caught up in a game of yours, whether we knew it or not. Now we’d like some answers.”

  Tessa’s chin lifted a notch higher. “And you expect to hear them from me?”

  “We do.”

  Chapter 32

  Tessa’s eyes narrowed. “That is a shame,” she remarked in a voice that was dripping with derision. “Because I am not in the mood for talking.” She turned to the door, but Nathaniel beat her to it.

  Before she reached it he put his palm flat against the wood and pushed it closed. “Am I your prisoner now Nathaniel?” she hissed up at him.

  “You forged the Duchess’ hand, didn’t you?” His voice was less calm now. It had a sharpness to it that was barely disguised, but Margaret heard it. He felt more than he was letting on.

  “I did nothing.”

  “You forged her hand and impersonated her in a letter, didn’t you?”

  She brought her face closer to his and said, through gritted teeth, “I did nothing.”

  He slammed his hand against the wood, his frustration mounting. The noise made even Margaret flinch in her seat. She stood. When was the last time she’d breathed? “You convinced me that she had scorned me. Why?”

  “Because you are mine!” The words catapulted out of her in a guttural rush. She sounded like a baited animal.

  There was a moment of silence, strung with tension. Margaret could feel it in the air, as palpable as her own skin.

  Very slowly, Nathaniel dropped his hand from the door, but Tessa didn’t try to leave this time. She whipped her head around and stared heatedly at Margaret.

  “Look at her. Demure. Regal. You say that I have deceived you? Look at her! A mess if I ever saw one. You think of her as this perfect little princess.

  But you don’t know the truth as I do. The truth is that she was given everything anyone could want. She lived her life with utter ease and made chaos from it.

  She was not enough for her husband, she is not enough for her son and she will not be enough for you.”

  Margaret’s face was dead. Shock made her countenance impervious to Tessa’s words, even if her heart was not. And how could it be? She’d touched on every fear Margaret had ever had. Something quivered in her throat. She wanted to look down, but she held her ground.

  “You are not meant for her, Nathaniel. You are meant for me. You have always been meant for me.”

  At last, satisfied with having slaughtered Margaret’s tender heart, Tessa looked back at Nathaniel. Her face was almost gleeful, until she saw his expression.

  Margaret followed her eyes to his face.

  He was shaking, from head to toe. His hands most of all. And his face had reddened. There was a purple vein throbbing in his temple and his face… his face was terrifying.

  Tessa’s expression flattened out and she stared up at him like a deer about to be shot. “Nathaniel…” she breathed, in a shaky voice. She took a step back.

  “How dare you?” He whispered. So quietly that it almost went unheard. But his lips moved around the words like knives cutting through meat, making his meaning clear. His pupils were wide and he countered Tessa’s step backwards with a step of his own. He was closing in on her. And the rage in his eyes seemed to swallow up the room.

  “That woman is the kindest person I’ve ever known. There is no better mother than her. And no better wife ever lived.”

  Tessa took another step back as he spoke, looking whipped by his icy words. Again, he pursued her, until her back hit one of the chairs and she was forced to face him. “Her husband was a cad. And if there is chaos in her life, it is because cads like him have taken advantage of her goodness and trust. She is good.” His voice rose into a shout on this final word. “Truly good. Do you know how rare a thing that is?”

  Margaret breathed at last. The air shivered out of her lungs and she felt her eyes prick with tears, but she didn’t know why. This feeling in her chest was strange. Not quite pain, but not quite joy either. But as she looked at Nathaniel, she felt that his anger had somehow swaddled her in safety.

  When Tessa spoke, she spluttered out the words in a last ditch effort to redeem herself. “I saw her kissing the Marquis! I saw her!”

  “She has told me all Tessa. You have no more cards to play.”

  She flashed a frantic look between them. “Then what now? So you’ve found me out. I don’t give a damn.” She spat at them. “There’s nothing you can do to hurt me. Nothing
at all.”

  Margaret had never been witness to such impeccable timing. It was at that moment that Miss White opened the door.

  “Lord Butterfield,” she announced.

  “No,” Tessa whispered. Her eyes went to the door and she started shaking her head rapidly. “Nathaniel, you wouldn’t.”

  “It was not Nathaniel,” Margaret said, with a small smile. Tessa looked at her, her jaw jutting like a snake about to dislocate its mouth. She looked close to throttling her.

  Nathaniel, on the other hand, had his lips parted slightly and was staring at her in awe. She hadn’t told him of her intention to call on Tessa’s husband.

  Lord Butterfield stepped into the drawing room. He was a big man with a kind face. He didn’t look like a cruel man. Not in the least. He bowed to Margaret, but did not speak a word. He only looked between Nathaniel and Tessa.

  “So, it is true,” he said in a voice that gave nothing away. “Lord Sterling. We have met before?”

  “We have,” Nathaniel answered. “But there are no hard feelings on my score, my Lord.”

  “Be candid with me then. Have you and my wife been-” Lord Butterfield couldn’t get the words out. Margaret couldn’t tell if he was in terrible pain or a terrible rage. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his forehead with it. “Have you-” Again, he could not finish.

  Tessa said nothing.

  Margaret crossed the room towards him and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. “Please, good sir, would you have a seat?” She ushered him to a seat and he thanked her with a nod.

  Nathaniel sat opposite him while Tessa hovered by the door as if about to take flight. Her face was a ghastly shade of white. She knew the consequences of this, if the Lord Butterfield were to take action against her. It could ruin her.

  “My Lord,” Nathaniel said. “Your wife and I have not seen one another for many, many years.”

  “But the Duchess’ letter said-”

  The truth was harder to get out than Margaret ever could have anticipated. He deserved the truth – she knew that better than most – but she wanted nothing less than to be the one who gave it to him.

  “You’ve misunderstood, my Lord. Lord Sterling has not been fraternizing with your wife.”

  “It is the Duchess and I who have become close,” Nathaniel continued.

  “Upon discovering this, your wife has made attempts to separate us.”

  Lord Butterfield would not look at his wife. He only looked at Margaret and Nathaniel. “But… why would she do such a thing?”

  Nathaniel and Margaret looked at one another, but neither of them answered.

  Lord Butterfield’s jaw hardened and he nodded very slowly as the truth became clear to him. At last, he looked up at Tessa. “I suppose you think you made some terrible mistake when you married me, don’t you?” He stood as he said this. “Do you wish now that you’d chosen this gentleman? Now that he is an earl?”

  Tessa did not answer. She kept her chin high, but the look in her eye was wavering. “Well?” He pressed. “Will you say nothing?”

  It was then that she crumbled.

  She went to Lord Butterfield and gripped at the lapels of his tunic. Tears spilt from her eyes and she held him tight. “Oh my darling, my love, forgive me. Forgive me.”

  The sight disgusted Margaret. She felt like she shouldn’t be privy to this. It was something she didn’t want to bear witness to. She saw the Lord Butterfield beginning to waver with a furrow of indecision between his brows.

  Margaret wondered, as she watched Tessa beg so convincingly, if she would have forgiven the Duke if he’d had the opportunity to beg so.

  The reality of it was bleak. That sometimes bearing the betrayal could be easier than bearing the scandal that came in the wake of it, if you chose not to forgive.

  Margaret wondered what the Lord Butterfield would choose.

  She felt Nathaniel touch her arm. He inclined his head towards the door in a gesture for them to leave. She was so grateful for him just then. She’d felt frozen in place, watching this awful thing transpire.

  They left quietly and stood in the hallway, each of them looking drained and tired.

  They stood in silence for a long time, before Nathaniel said, “Sending word to the Baron was bright thinking.”

  “Do you think so?” She whispered. She was staring at the door. “Seeing his pain… I am not so sure anymore.”

  “He deserved the truth, Margaret.”

  “To what end? There is no easy decision for him here.”

  Nathaniel nodded. “No. There is not. But it is better to know and suffer than be ignorant and waste your life on someone who does not deserve your love.”

  “It is strange to think how easily that might have been you.”

  “Strange indeed,” he said, with a small and sad smile. “I have spent so many years feeling sore over her betrayal. Now I see that I was the luckier man.”

  They fell into quietness again. Each of them thinking of the choices they’d made, good and bad, and how they’d led them here.

  ***

  Lord Nathaniel Sterling, Earl of Comptonshire

  It was a long time before Lord Butterfield and Tessa came out.

  Seeing Tessa again, unmasked this time, had turned his stomach to jelly. Though he’d lost his love for her many years ago, she was a stark reminder of the man he’d once been. A man who’d made terrible mistakes.

  As he stood with Margaret in the hallway, he stole an almost shy glimpse of her face. As he looked at her, he realized he hadn’t changed all that much. He was still making terrible mistakes. Mistakes that may have cost him the love of the woman beside him, when she’d needed him the most.

  They were quiet for a long time. He’d expected to feel a surge of victory over Tessa, but he didn’t. He only felt deep, deep sadness for Lord Butterfield.

  They were solemn, both of them, stood in the dim light of the hallway.

  “Margaret,” he whispered. It was hard to meet her eye. When she’d told him she hadn’t written that letter, his mind had been too awash in questions to fully process what he’d done. Now, he swallowed, feeling shame sweep over him. “I am-”

  “You do not need to apologize again, Nathaniel. I understand,” she interjected.

  He nodded a little and pursed his lips.

  He was silent a moment longer, before speaking again. “I will not apologize again,” he assured her. “But there is something I want to say. Something I want you to hear.”

  She glanced at him. Her expression was strange. Almost frightened. As if she didn’t want to hear him speak at all.

  “What I did to you was abysmal.” He took a breath. “I falsely accused you and stopped visiting when yo-” He caught himself. “When Ezra needed a friend. I take full responsibility for his condition.”

  “Stop,” Margaret said. She turned towards him, shaking her head. “You cannot take responsibility for Ezra’s condition. He is not your responsibility, though I often treated you as if he was. You are your own man, Nathaniel. You have your own life. I should never have asked you to bind it to mine the way I did.”

  His lips parted. There was something he needed to ask her, but it was stuck in his throat. He let her words sink in. Was she telling him that she didn’t want their lives to be bound anymore?

  “Are you going to leave?”

  Margaret looked at him with such sadness in her eyes. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to.

  Nathaniel nodded and looked away. “Comptonshire will miss you,” he said, in a voice that barely disguised what he’d really meant to say; I’ll miss you.

  She seemed to understand. In a soft and shaky voice, she said, “And I will miss Comptonshire.”

  They were staring at each other. Both of them had watery lashes, but neither of them were crying.

  Say it, he told himself. Just say it. Tell her you want her to stay.

  But by the time he summoned his bravery and opened his mouth, the d
rawing room door opened.

  It was Lord Butterfield. He stepped into the hallway and inclined his head. His lips were tight and his eyes were bloodshot. It was clear that he’d been crying. “Good day,” he said. “I am sorry for your part in all this.” Nathaniel could hear the sincerity in his voice and admired the man a great deal. At such a time, it was any wonder he could speak. It was strange to think that this was the man he’d hated not so many years ago, for being the one Tessa chose.