“No one, and I mean no one, not even you, will use me!” William shouted, and it was then that she caught the heavy stench of alcohol on his breath. “Do you understand? You are exactly the kind of person I have been warned against. Go! And take…this man…with you!”
Shame and embarrassment washed over Marianne as everyone stared at her. “William, let us go somewhere private and discuss this.”
“No!” he shouted even louder. “I want you out of this house at once!” Then he turned to Mr. Sharp. “And you! I do not know why you are here, but you are to leave immediately.”
Mr. Sharp stared wide-eyed at William. “But, Your Grace, I was invi…”
“Out!”
The poor man bowed. “Yes, Your Grace,” he said before hurrying from the room.
“Marianne, what is going on?” her mother asked as she walked up to the group. “Your Grace? Is something wrong?”
“I want you and your family to leave and never return,” he hissed. “And Marianne, Miss Blithe, you should probably hurry; your…fiancé will be gone before you have a chance to speak to him.”
“You have no idea what you have done,” Marianne said as tears filled her eyes. “However, if you are unwilling to even discuss this with me, then perhaps the truth will make little difference.” She turned to her mother. “Let us go home.” And with that, she walked away. Walked, not stomped. At least, that was what she attempted, although she doubted she was able to maintain any form of grace. If William took the word of a woman well-known to use men to get what she wanted, then anything she had to say would be of little use.
Before she left the room, however, she overheard her mother say, “You have no idea what you have just done. My daughter cares for you, and only you, but you have pushed yourself to such a point that I do not recognize you. I hope Your Grace,” she said the words like a curse, “is happy with what has happened here tonight, for you have broken that girl’s heart!”
Marianne did not turn to see William’s reaction to her mother’s words, for she knew that her heart would never mend from the deep gash it had received; he may as well have cut her with a knife, for the pain she felt at that moment was that great.
Chapter Twenty
For several days after the party, William stewed as thoroughly as a lamb shank in a pot of water, to the point that he now sat slumped in a chair in his study, devoid of every pinch of meat on his bones and lost in yet another glass of brandy. Or that was how long it took for him to come to terms with his reaction to seeing Marianne with Mr. Sharp at a moment that should have been his greatest. In all reality, he now knew his reaction could not have been any worse than it had been. What had he been thinking? That was the problem, was it not? He had not been thinking.
Any future he had hoped for was now destroyed because he could not keep his temper under control and he allowed his jealousy for a situation of which he had no true knowledge to overtake him. The woman had not been in the wrong, and his only hope for winning her back was to seek her forgiveness. The question was, would she be willing to do so?
He took another sip of his brandy, thinking of the first time he had met her. She and her mother had arrived at Silver Birch Estates believing he was a servant, and at that time he had been just that. He chuckled remembering Mrs. Blithe ordering him about, but his chuckle turned to seriousness when he thought on how Marianne had smiled at him, just as he had at her. She had not always held that smile during their time of instruction together, for he had frustrated her on more than one occasion. However, through those lessons they both had changed, he more than she to be sure as she encouraged him to be a better man who developed the confidence he needed.
Sighing, he pulled himself from the chair and walked to the window where the stars shone in the black sky. He and Marianne had enjoyed an evening together when they had peered up at those same stars, and he wondered if she looked up at them at this very moment. What he wished to do was go call on her, to see if he could earn back her trust and beg her forgiveness.
The door behind him opened, and he turned and frowned as Sofia entered, her head held high, her gown nearly as extravagant as what she wore to that fateful party. Gray with intricate beadwork on the bodice and sleeves, she appeared ready for a ball at Court.
“William,” she said with an urgency that belied her steady walk across the room, “I have worried for you. You did not wish to see me?”
The sadness she wore brought him another level of guilt. “It was not you in particular I did not wish to see,” he explained. He did not want to alienate the one person who stood by his side after his dreadful behavior the other night. Although most had been diffident in his presence after Marianne had been sent away, few wore the same smiles they had worn before he had lost his temper and most spent the remainder of the night whispering behind their fans and their hands.
“Why have you come?” he asked.
“That can be explained later,” she said as she patted his arm. “Tell me, what is bothering you?”
He sighed and shook his head. “It is…the party, my actions…I do not know. It bothers me no end how I reacted.” He walked over to the liquor cart and went to pour himself another drink only to have it slosh over the sides of the glass. He had drunk more than he should have and it was taking its toll on him.
“I understand,” Sofia said in a soft voice as she reached over and took the decanter from him. She poured his drink and led him to the settee. “Have a seat and I will take care of you.” She handed him the glass, now full once again, and she sat beside him with her own.
“You are truly too kind to me,” he said as he sipped at the brandy he knew he had no business drinking. “I do not deserve a friend like you.” However, despite his words, something tickled the back of his mind, something that did not sit well with him but he could not identify. He pushed it away; if it did not surface, perhaps it was not important.
“Friends aid one another in times of trouble, do they not?” she said, placing a hand on his arm. “Now, talk with me. I see the pain in your eyes. What is bothering you?”
“It is Marianne,” he said as he stared down at his glass. “My outburst at the party was not something I would typically do; however, I could not help but feel jealousy burn through me when I saw her talking with Mr. Sharp.” He looked up at Sofia. “I did not even allow her the chance to explain or defend herself. What if…” He sighed. This was the foundation of his self-loathing at the moment. “What if they were merely talking and I took it well beyond what was truth?” Simply saying the words brought his spirit up from the floor, even if it was merely ankle-high. As a matter of fact, the more he considered this viewpoint, the clearer the explanation became.
Sofia, however, squelched the expectation immediately. “It is why I am here at this hour,” she said in a quiet voice. “Word came to me, and then I witnessed the truth for myself.”
“What?” he said as he sat forward on the settee. “What did you hear?”
“Mr. Sharp is courting Miss Blithe once again.”
The words cut William to the quick. “Th-this cannot be,” he stammered. “Surely you are mistaken.” He downed the brandy, but it did nothing to soothe him as it once had.
“I am afraid it is true. She does not care for you the way a woman cares for a man.” She fretted at her lower lip and gave him a shy smile through her lashes. “The way I care for you.” She set her glass on the table and placed her hand on his. “I warned you that it was only money she sought, did I not?”
He nodded, though he found her words to be unbelievable. “But why? The way we spoke of the future together…it makes no sense.”
“Such things never do,” she said. “Once you spoke with authority, she ran into the arms of her new lover, not caring that she hurt you.”
The pain returned, greater now than before, as his world shattered around him. Marianne had been the first woman he had ever truly cared for, and now she was gone.
A numbness covered him like a
blanket. “I…loved her.”
“You are a powerful man, William, and you need a strong woman at your side. A Duchess who knows her place…beside you.”
He stared at her. “I do not understand.”
She took his now empty glass and placed it on the table beside hers. “We make wonderful business partners, and we do get on quite well. With my help, we can grow both our wealth.” She placed a hand on his cheek. “Let me love you and show you what you need, for I am the only person you need to fulfill all your dreams.” Then she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.
The fog that had settled on his brain dissipated as quickly as if the sun tearing through a London fog, and he grabbed her shoulders to push her away. “You must leave…now,” he said as he stood and moved to the fireplace. His head spun—or was it the room?—as he thought back to the time he had spent with this woman over the last months. She coaching him to become bitter, to push those away who treated him with kindness and the respect he had desired from the beginning. And all the while, she had been planning to seduce him. His Marianne had been right, and William had ignored her warning.
“Why?” Sofia demanded as she rose from the settee stood beside him. “You are angry because I offer to share my love?”
“I have just shared my heartbreak, and you seek to take advantage of me!” he said, unworried for the seething tone behind the words. “I told you I still love Marianne, and yet you force yourself on me? Leave, Sofia, for I do not wish to ever see you again.”
Sofia laughed, an eerie sound he had never heard from the woman before. “Do not push me way, Love, for you will regret it as surely as the sun will rise in the morning.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “What do you mean?”
“Remember, I know who you are and from where you came,” she said in a quiet voice laced with poison. “It is a secret I would gladly share if necessary.”
“Do not threaten me,” he warned. “I will not stand for it!”
She laughed again, a malevolent sound that made him shiver. “You have nothing left on which to stand,” she said and then walked out of the room.
What he wanted to do was run after her and tell her that she was wrong, but he found his legs locked in place as he realized the truth of her words.
He had nothing left on which to stand.
***
The night deepened, and William stumbled into the now empty ballroom, a candle in one hand and a near-empty decanter of brandy in the other. Staggering to the far wall, his eyes fell on the portraits that hung there. Grief overtook him as he thought about how he had played right into Sofia’s hands. Why had he ignored the warnings Marianne had given him? She was the most selfless person he had ever met, and yet he shunned her.
“All because Sofia fed into your egotistical ways,” he mumbled to the man in his portrait. He brought the bottle to his lips and took a drink, having given up pouring the liquid into glasses long before. When he realized the decanter was empty, he lifted it above his head and then threw it against the wall, the crystal tinkling to the floor in tiny shards.
His grandfather’s portrait glared down at him, and the idea that he had disappointed the man pained him. However, when his father’s picture looked upon him with accusing eyes, his shame was complete. His father had walked away from his title in the name of love, preferring a life with William’s mother rather than one of wealth, willing to work in a mine to make ends meet. His father was wise for walking away, and William realized that perhaps that was exactly what he needed to do.
“You are a fool!” he shouted at his own portrait, his voice echoing through the empty room. In times past, Mr. Ludlow or Marianne would be there to help him, or even poor old Thomas, the man he had shunned publicly. However, there would be no one coming to help him this time; they were all gone and now he was alone. Yes, his father had walked away, a wise man, indeed, and William knew at this moment that it was what he needed to do, as well.
Making his way to the front of the house—not an easy feat in his current state, he shouted for the butler. “Mr. Bransworth!” The man appeared as if he had been waiting just on the other side of the door leading to the servants’ quarters. “My coat.”
“You are leaving at this late hour, Your Grace?” he asked as he helped William into his coat.
“I am.” He patted the man on his shoulder, for which William received a look of dismay. “You are a great butler, Barnsworth. Tell the next Duke that I said you are to remain.” Then he opened the front door and stepped outside.
“Your Grace?” Mr. Barnsworth said from behind him. “Forgive me, but I do not understand.”
“It is time for me to leave this place and never return,” William explained. “My father knew the truth of what this life held, and I should have followed in his footsteps.”
He rounded the corner of the house and made his way to the stables, where he saddled his horse—or attempted to until a stablehand helped him finish the task—and soon he was mounted. He stopped in front of the grand house and gave it one last look. His first reaction to his new home had been one of awe and wonder, but now he wished to forget it all. The blame for his behavior could not be placed on anyone but himself, as much as he wished he could blame Sofia. She had only been the woman she was, and he had been the naive fool who believed her false words of encouragement, who reacted to her stroking as a fool would.
His mind went to Marianne, and although he suspected that Sofia had lied about Marianne and Mr. Sharp, it no longer mattered. For with the way he had left things with the woman who held his heart was beyond forgiveness, and that guilt he would carry with him for the rest of his life.
With a click of his tongue and a press of his heels, the horse moved forward, and William rode off into the night, unsure where he would go, although he knew it had to be far away from here.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ten days had passed since William had pushed Marianne out of his life, and although she knew counting the days would not rid her of the pain, she could not resist. Her heart was crushed and the sadness weighed her down like a wool blanket. Perhaps she was being unreasonable, for she knew that all the blame could not be placed on William; some, if not most, had to be placed on the Dowager Duchess of Durryham. The woman had stuck her claws in him so thoroughly that she could have been a hawk lifting a mouse during the hunt. Yet, William was a grown man, and if he chose to not heed Marianne’s warnings about the woman, then he held a portion of the blame.
The more Marianne considered the Dowager Duchess’s part in the travesty, the angrier she became. The woman had carefully trapped her at the party, and then later, as Mr. Sharp shared the wonderful news of his engagement, everything had come crashing down around her.
The verbal onslaught from her father later that night did not help matters, and although her mother comforted her later that night, it did little to ease the pain. Part of her wished to write a letter to William, to make him see how destructive he had become. Yet, the more she thought on it, the stronger became the realization that it was much too late; the Dowager Duchess had a firm grip on the man she loved, and nothing would make that woman relent.
“You still walk in heartbreak, my friend,” Julia said as the two walked to a nearby bench in the garden behind Marianne’s home. “I wish there was something I could do to remedy your situation.”
Marianne gave Julia a weak smile. “I appreciate your kind words, but there is nothing anyone can do. I cannot help but wonder, however, if there is something I could have done to prevent all this from happening.”
“You were there for him, listening and guiding him,” Julia counseled. “It was you who brought him from a simple servant to a Duke who is admired. I cannot imagine what else you could have done.”
Marianne sighed. “I know you speak the truth, but somehow I ask myself whether I took part in creating the monster he became. I do worry that I played a part in it.”
A servant walked past them, and when the man was ou
t of earshot, Julia said, “No, the fault lies with him. Perhaps he was only meant to be a gardener. What if the role of Duke was not meant for him?”
Marianne shook her head emphatically. “No, he was meant to be a Duke.” She took her friend’s hand in hers. “Oh, Julia, you should have seen him in his lessons. The more he learned, the more he smiled.” The thought of William smiling, the talks they had, brought on a sadness, and although he had crushed her heart, she could not deny how she felt, even now. “I still love him,” she whispered.
Julia leaned in and hugged her. “My sweet, sweet friend,” she said in her ear. “Can you not let go of it?”
The embrace ended, and Marianne shook her head. “I cannot. In all honesty, if I could, I do not believe I would want to. He is a good man, but his goodness was somehow masked. I will not lose hope that he will realize his mistakes and fix them.” Her mother had said very much the same as Julia, but just as she had ignored her mother’s advice, Marianne pushed aside Julia’s. In her heart, she believed there was a bond between her and William, and one way or another, they would be reunited. That was something she refused to deny.
“Look,” Julia said, and Marianne followed her gaze. “Your mother and a guest.”
Marianne rose from the bench as her mother and a man she immediately recognized walked up to her. “Mr. Ludlow?”
The man’s face was drawn, dark circles had formed around reddened eyes, and his clothing, usually impeccable, was now disheveled.
“Miss Blithe,” the man said with a bow.
Her mother gave Marianne a pointed look. “Mr. Ludlow wishes to ask you something about the Duke, and it is imperative you answer truthfully.”
Marianne nodded. Her heart beat against her chest. If something happened to William, she would never forgive herself.
“His Grace has gone missing,” Mr. Ludlow said with such abruptness that Marianne bit at her lip to stop the flow of tears that welled up in her eyes. “He left Silver Birch Estates one week ago and conveyed to Mr. Barnsworth that he was not returning. I sent someone to the home of his previous employers to ascertain if he had returned there, but they have not seen him. Do you know where he might have gone?”
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