If she were a gentleman, she could ask to meet Lady Pruett’s husband. There might be some useful connections Lord Pruett had in London. As it was, however, she wasn’t at liberty to engage in the task of making money the same way gentlemen did. No, she had to resort to marriage. And if the duke didn’t want her, she couldn’t think of any other wealthy gentleman who would. Not with her lack of charm and not at her age.
Maud smiled and set her cup of tea down. “I recall my nephew mentioning your husband,” she told Lady Pruett, “but I’m not aware of the friend. Who is he?”
“Mr. Bachman,” Lady Pruett replied.
Maud thought for a moment then glanced at Viola. “Do you know who Mr. Bachman is?”
Viola shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
Then she glanced at the clock again. Three hours and two minutes. Her stomach clenched in dread. Too much time had passed. Certainly, it wouldn’t take someone who lived only a few blocks from her all this time to decide if he wanted her. He should have come up with an answer by now. Unless he was waiting to see if any other offers—more desirable offers—were going to come his way.
“He lives outside of London,” Lady Pruett said. “Not many people recognize his name.”
“Oh, well, that explains it,” Maud replied.
After a moment of silence passed, Lady Pruett added, “My husband and I are sorry we weren’t here for the funeral. We were visiting Mr. Bachman and his family at the time.”
“You couldn’t have known he was going to die when he did,” Maud replied. “He was getting plenty of rest and following the doctor’s orders. Toward the end, he seemed to be improving. He didn’t let us into the same room with him, but he would write missives and talk to us through the door. He seemed much more cheerful as time went on. We assumed he was getting better.”
“It’s unfortunate things turned out the way they did.”
Maud nodded at Lady Pruett’s gentle tone.
On any other day, Viola would have appreciated how comforting Lady Pruett was. She had a way of speaking and smiling that soothed an aching heart. But Viola just couldn’t concentrate on that right now. All she could do was think over the questions she had answered. Maybe she had said something wrong. Maybe the duke hadn’t liked one of her answers.
The footman arrived at the door, and Viola straightened up in her chair. She summoned him into the room.
Her aunt and Lady Pruett grew quiet as he approached her. “This is for you, Miss Keane,” the footman said as he handed her a neatly folded piece of parchment.
Her heart leapt into her throat. Was this it? Was it the answer she’d been waiting for? The parchment was good quality. The design on it was elegant. She opened the missive and noticed the fine penmanship. The overall effect reminded her of the drawing room in the duke’s townhouse. It was all very beautiful. Eloquent, even. She lowered her gaze to the signature and saw it was from the duke. He had sent his reply!
And now that she had it, she was afraid to read it.
“Is it from His Grace?” Maud asked.
Viola nodded. “I’ll read this in another room.” She closed the missive and stood up. “It was nice talking with you,” she told Lady Pruett.
She could barely wait long enough for the lady to return the sentiment before she hurried out of the room. She thought of going to the den but remembered her sisters were in there.
After a moment, she ran up the stairs that would take her to her bedchamber. If the duke said no, she didn’t want anyone to see her cry. She didn’t want them to know how scared she was. While she had explained to her aunt and sisters that Oliver wasn’t as financially stable as they had assumed, she hadn’t told them just how close they were to losing everything. The townhouse. The servants. Their things. Their very way of life was going to be taken from them if the duke didn’t marry her.
She reached the bedchamber and shut the door. She went to her vanity and sat down. Her reflection in the mirror stared back at her.
“His response isn’t going to change just because you’re waiting to read it,” she told her reflection. “You might as well get it over with.”
She took a moment to close her eyes and take a deep breath. Whatever the answer, she wasn’t going to cry. She was going to be courageous about this.
With a determined nod, she opened her eyes and started reading the missive. She read it through slowly, not wishing to misunderstand anything in her haste. He opened by thanking her for being willing to marry him. Then he continued…
I promise that I will do everything within my power to protect you. That is why I must emphasize a couple of conditions in this marriage.
One, you must never look at my face. All of our interactions will be in a dark room. We may talk. We may even touch. But you can’t, under any circumstance, see me. Two, you can’t come to the attic unless I invite you or you arrange a meeting with me through the butler first. The butler is immune to the curse. He won’t be harmed if he happens to see me. I assure you that if he tells me you wish to speak with me, I will allow it. I just need time to make sure everything is dark. All of my wives died in tragic accidents within a year of looking at me. I don’t want you to suffer the same fate.
You’re doing me a favor by agreeing to this marriage. Tabitha, my step-daughter from my first marriage, needs a motherly figure to chaperone her. But again, I must warn you to never look at me. It’s the only way I can ensure nothing bad will happen to you.
I will send my butler to pick you up tomorrow morning. I’m handling the specifics of our wedding as we speak. I am aware you have an aunt and two sisters. They are welcome to attend the wedding and the wedding breakfast. For obvious reasons, I won’t be at the breakfast. I will also arrange for three hundred pounds to be credited to your late brother’s estate with the stipulation the male relative who inherits his title give your aunt and sisters a set allowance each month to see to their comfort.
So he said yes. He was going to marry her. While she was relieved, the warning in his missive deflated some of her excitement. When the butler had told her he believed he was cursed, she had thought the whole matter silly. But it was now occurring to her just how seriously the duke took the curse. He not only believed the curse, but it was affecting the way he lived. It had an ironclad hold on him. And if he always kept to the attic, it meant he was a prisoner in his own home.
She didn’t know whether to feel sorry for him or to pity him. While the two emotions were similar, pity evoked something motherly in her. She doubted the duke was a person who wanted a wife who felt like she had to treat him like a scared lad. He was a grown gentleman. He managed a significant amount of money, he had been married before, and he had a step-daughter who was ready for marriage. If he was going to be her husband, she’d be doing him a disservice if she pitied him.
Well, that settled it. She would not pity him. As awful as his situation was, she would not treat him like a child. He was going to be her husband, and she would treat him with the respect due to him. She would abide by his rules. If nothing else, doing that should make him feel better.
And really, did it matter if he believed in a curse? The thing that mattered most was that her aunt and sisters would be all right. No one was going to throw them out on the street. That was the only reason she took him up on his offer for marriage. Nothing else was of consequence.
She stood up from her chair and went to the room off to the side of her bedchamber so she could write him a missive assuring him that she would do everything he requested. Then, at the end of it, she added that she would be ready to marry him tomorrow morning. She wasn’t sure what marriage to someone who stayed hidden in an attic would be like, but she would find out soon enough.
Chapter Three
Evander waited for his step-daughter. He had the match in his hand, ready to light the candle as soon as the butler closed the attic door. He had sent Miss Keane the missive only a half hour ago. She should have received it by now. But before he made the wedd
ing arrangements, he needed to speak with his step-daughter.
He heard footsteps coming up the stairway leading to the attic. They echoed off the hard steps. He renewed his grip on the match and straightened in the chair.
The door opened, and the butler spoke into the darkness, “Lady Tabitha is here, Your Grace.”
“Thank you,” Evander replied.
Evander waited until the door shut and Tabitha said, “He’s gone,” before he lit the match.
Tabitha stood near the closed door, arms crossed in a way that let him know she wasn’t all that happy with him. He lit the candle then blew out the flame on the match.
When she didn’t sit, he gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk. “Won’t you have a seat?”
“I already know what you plan to tell me,” she replied. “All of London knows you’ve been looking for a wife. I’m not a little girl anymore. I knew a lady was coming by here to offer her hand as your wife when you had the maid take me shopping for new gowns.”
“I didn’t wish to get your hopes up in case I decided not to marry her.”
She put her arms down and walked over to him. “I don’t want you marrying at all. I lost my mother and two step-mothers over the last thirteen years. Do you really think I want to lose someone else?”
“This time it’ll be different. I’ll be careful.”
“How can you be careful? You’re so lonely that you can’t help but fall in love with a lady as soon as you marry her. You’re going to insist she comes up to this attic so you can talk to her.”
“First of all, I never loved your two step-mothers. I only loved your mother. Second, I’m going to make sure I don’t show your next step-mother my face.”
She gave out a sarcastic laugh. “You said that before you married the last one.”
“That wasn’t my doing. She’s the one who lit the candle, not me. I was diligent.” She shook her head, so he hurried to add, “This time is going to be different. This step-mother’s purpose will be to chaperone you during your Season. When you marry, I’ll return to the country. At that time, she can stay here in this townhouse. Then you’ll never have to worry about losing her.”
“That’s easy for you to say, but what will you do when you meet her?” She placed her hands on the back of her chair and gave him a long, hard look. “You’re weak. All of the servants say so. After your curse killed my mother, you should have remained a widower. I can’t blame you for my mother’s death because you didn’t know about the curse at that time. But after the ghost warned you to never let another wife look at your face, you knew it was dangerous to marry again.”
“History won’t repeat itself. I made it clear to Miss Keane that she must never look at me.”
“I don’t want to know her name,” Tabitha interrupted. “I don’t want to know anything about her. I’m not going to get attached to another step-mother. If you want to doom another lady, that will be your doing, but it’s not going to affect me. Not this time.”
“You need a chaperone.”
“Why can’t the maid chaperone me?”
“It wouldn’t be proper.”
“Then just hire Miss Keane to be my chaperone.”
“It’d be best if you had a relative chaperone you.”
After a moment, she asked, “Why can’t you do it? You’re my step-father. The curse only extends to a lady you marry. It doesn’t affect anyone else.”
He balked at the idea of going out in public. He hadn’t shown his face to anyone after the death of his second wife, and that had been nine years ago. For nine years, he’d been confined to an attic. Whether it was here in London or in the country, he’d been careful to keep himself in seclusion. He didn’t even know how to act around other people anymore. He was so out of touch with the world. Even the thought of stepping outside in London made his hands tremble. It’d been all he could do to come here from the country estate.
She groaned. “You’re going to marry this one. You’ve already made up your mind. Well, I’m not going to get attached to her. You better let her know I’ll only be with her when I need a chaperone, and even then, I won’t talk to her unless it’s necessary.”
He couldn’t blame her for saying that. Had he been in her position, he would have been skeptical, too. The poor girl had seen more than her fair share of death over the course of her young life. First, her father had died. Then her mother. And then her two step-mothers. Sometimes it amazed him he was still alive. One would think she should have mourned his passing as well.
“I’ll explain the situation to Miss Keane so she knows what to expect.”
Though Tabitha still didn’t look happy, she relented enough to offer a nod of acceptance.
“I will be careful this time,” he promised.
She didn’t believe him. He could tell that by the way she was clenching the chair.
“I’m sorry, Tabitha. If I had known things would have ended up this way when I married your mother, I would have let another gentleman marry her.”
A tear fell down Tabitha’s cheek, and she hurried to brush it away. His heart ached for her. No one, especially a child, should have had to go through all the suffering he’d put her through because of the curse. If only he could go back in time and change things. Then she might have had a better future. At this point, all he could do was hope she would find a young gentleman who would love her and keep her safe.
“Is there anything else?” Tabitha asked.
“No,” he replied, his voice soft. “There’s nothing else. You may leave.”
Without looking at him, she left the attic. He didn’t blow out the candle as soon as she left. He only sat in the chair, his shoulders slumped forward. He had failed in so many ways.
After a few minutes, he was able to compose himself. The past didn’t have to determine the present. Just because things had ended up tragically with his other wives, it didn’t mean they would go that way with Miss Keane. He was in London this time instead of the country. There were differences that existed that hadn’t existed back then, and those differences gave him hope.
Plus, he had warned Miss Keane in advance. The butler had secured her acceptance of the situation. He had followed up on the butler’s lead and emphasized why she must never see his face. He hadn’t been that careful with the third wife. He’d only had the servants warn her not to look at him. This time, he’d taken all of the precautions he could.
Surely, he wasn’t doomed to bury another wife, and Tabitha wasn’t doomed to bury another step-mother. Things must be better this time.
“God, let it be so,” he whispered then blew out the candle.
***
Viola received word that the Duke of Sutherton had arranged for three hundred pounds to go to her late brother’s estate with enough divided up for her aunt and sisters to see to their needs, and more, for the rest of their lives.
Viola’s cousin had been notified of her brother’s death, but he was in Africa. There was no telling how long it’d take for him to return. It was a shame he was next in line for the title. Her second cousin was in London and would have been able to handle the estate immediately. But in the meantime, she had arranged it so the steward would manage the funds in a responsible way. She’d known the stress of their financial situation had been weighing on her, but it wasn’t until she was finished managing everything that she had her first good night’s sleep since Oliver got sick.
When it came time for her to get dressed for the wedding, her aunt instructed her to wear something other than black. “I know you’re in mourning, but it is permissible for you to wear another color on your wedding day.”
Viola debated over the gowns in her armoire for a good hour before she chose the hunter green one. It only seemed fitting she choose a color that was darker. She didn’t feel right about wearing a bright and vibrant color right after burying her brother. Afterwards, she instructed the maid to pack her clothes into her trunk. His Grace would not be going to her. She woul
d be going to him.
As she sat in the carriage with her aunt and sisters, she felt slightly out of breath from all the rushing around she’d done to get ready for her new life.
“I know your sisters are too young to understand the significance of what you’re doing,” her aunt whispered, “but I want you to know I appreciate the sacrifice you’re making for us.”
Viola smiled at her. “It hardly seems like a sacrifice when everything I’ll ever need will be provided for me, too.”
“Yes, but you’re the one marrying a gentleman you’ve never met.”
“You would have done the same for me and my sisters if you’d been younger.”
Her aunt returned her smile. “I’d like to say I would, but I’m not so sure.”
“I know you would have. You’ve been like a mother to us. You would do anything for us.”
“Will we get to see him?” Joanna asked after a moment of silence fell between everyone in the carriage.
“I don’t think so,” Viola said.
“Why not?” Joanna pressed.
“I think he’s uncomfortable about the way he looks.” There was no way Viola was going to tell her that he thought he was cursed. It would take considerable time to explain why someone would even believe in such superstitious nonsense, and she wasn’t in the mood to have that conversation.
“Maybe he’s ugly,” Pamela said.
The two girls looked at her, so Viola replied, “It’s possible. He didn’t describe what he looks like.”
Pamela nodded as if that was the reason he refused to let Viola ever see his face. “That must be it. He’s ugly.”
“Can’t he wear a mask?” Joanna asked. “That would prevent anyone from seeing him.”
“I suppose he could,” Viola began, “but it’s up to him as to whether or not he does that. It’s not my place to tell him what to do.”
Fairest of Them All (Marriage by Fairytale Book 4) Page 3