The Duchess War (The Brothers Sinister)

by Courtney Milan

  He woke gulping air, reaching for her, with the realization fresh on his mind. Oh, God. He was going to do that to her—to betray her on the stand in front of everyone, just as her father had done.

  She was curled on her side next to him. In her sleep, her hand rested on his hip; her head leaned against his shoulder. Even in her sleep, she trusted him.

  He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do this to her.

  He dragged himself out of bed instead. By the light of a flickering candle, he wrote her a letter telling her everything—what he’d planned, why he’d wanted it.

  I have to tell the truth about you, he finally wrote. I can’t see my way around that. But don’t come to the trial today. I’m sorry about what must be said—but don’t come to the trial.

  I love you.

  His hand hovered, wanting desperately to write one last sentence.

  Please forgive me.

  But he didn’t know how she could. He wasn’t even sure if he could make himself ask.

  Before he left to meet Oliver’s lawyers, he roused her maid and put the letter in her hands.

  “Here,” he said, gesturing to a chair just outside their bedroom. “Sit here. Make sure that whatever you do, she reads this letter as soon as she awakes, and not one instant later. It is urgent.”

  The rest of the morning passed in a blur. He seemed to wait forever for the trial to start, but once it did, the prosecution’s evidence bled together into a meaningless stream of testimony and examination. Robert’s sense of unease grew.

  All around them, reporters made industrious notes in shorthand. The defense started their case. This was the moment when Minnie would have appeared in the room, his mother in tow. But she didn’t arrive. Thank God.

  Robert was finally called to the stand, and everything else seemed to disappear—the courtroom, the jurors, the reporters watching in avid interest. There was nobody but him and the barrister conducting the examination.

  The questions were simple at first—his name, his title, his age, the last time he’d sat in Parliament. And then…

  “Do you know who wrote the handbills that are at the heart of the prosecution’s case?” asked the barrister.

  “Yes,” Robert answered. “I did.”

  A surprised murmur rose up from the crowd.

  “Did anyone assist you with them?”

  “I had them distributed by a man who could not read, had them printed more than a hundred miles away. Nobody in the household I set up here in Leicester knew the first thing about them. I made sure of that.”

  “Nobody? What about Mr. Marshall?”

  “Especially not Mr. Marshall,” Robert said emphatically. “You see, I wrote those because it had come to my attention that there has been a rash of criminal sedition convictions in town—ones that did not appear to be properly charged under the law. I wanted to draw out those who were involved in the scheme. I wrote the handbills because I could not be tried, but wouldn’t have involved another person in the jurisdiction of Leicester. I wouldn’t have wanted to put anyone at risk.”

  “What would you care about Mr. Marshall?” asked the barrister. “He was only a paid employee, was he not?”

  “He was not,” Robert said forcefully. “I have never paid him—I settled funds on him. And even if I didn’t care about the wellbeing of my employees, he is my brother.” Gasps and a second murmur arose. Robert had been so concentrated on the questions that he hadn’t looked out at the courtroom. He did now. For one moment, the reporters in the front row looked at him in shock. Then they grinned in delight as they realized that the story here was even more interesting than they’d supposed. To a man, their pencils begin working feverishly. He smiled, looking out over them—until his eyes fell on the back of the room.

  There, seated in the last row, was Minnie. She must have come in while he was speaking. Next to her sat his mother.

  Had she not received his message? What was she doing here?

  “Your Grace.” The barrister’s voice seemed slow, so slow, and yet Robert could not outrun it. He couldn’t even move from his seat. “Do you play chess?”

  Minnie’s eyes burned into his.

  “No.” He couldn’t turn away from her.

  “Have you ever played chess?”

  “A few times, when I was young. Enough to know the rules of the game. But I know very little.”

  “Can you explain how you came to write about a ‘discovered attack’ in your handbills—and how you did so in terms that closely parallel words in an obscure handbook of chess strategy?”

  “Yes,” Robert said. “I can.”

  The entire courtroom became quiet.

  “As it happens, when I wrote that, I had been talking with someone who is an expert at chess. Not Mr. Marshall.”

  “And who was this person?”

  Minnie would know what was happening now. She would understand why he’d asked her to come to the courtroom. She’d know that he’d trapped her, betrayed her in public, done everything to her that he’d promised not to do. He should have shaken her awake this morning and told her himself.

  She was watching him with a curious look on her face. And then, oddly enough, she touched two fingers to her lips and held them up to him.

  I’m sorry, Minnie.

  “In 1851,” Robert heard himself say, “a twelve-year-old girl by the name of Minerva Lane almost won the first international chess tournament.”

  In 1851, Minerva Lane was betrayed and ruined by her father. And now, Robert was doing it again.

  “Are you acquainted with Minerva Lane?”

  He made himself look Minnie in the eyes when he drove the knife in. Her face was gray, her eyes wide. Slowly, ever so slowly, she lowered the fingers that she had kissed.

  The words felt like shards of glass in his mouth, but he formed them anyway. “I’m married to her.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  KNOWING WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN DIDN’T HELP. Minnie couldn’t even feel her heart beating, so thick was her anxiety. As Robert spoke, her whole body turned to ice. And when everyone turned to see who he was looking at—when all their eyes landed on her, dark with accusation—a wild, ragged panic took her. The murmurs grew to a crashing swell.

  “That’s her,” someone said.

  She couldn’t remember how to breathe. Her lungs caught in airless spasms. She shoved to her feet, but the crowd was all around her. Shouting. Screaming. Her vision swam with dark spots that grew ever larger. The last thing she saw was Robert standing up from the witness stand and vaulting over the edge. And then everything went dark.

  She wasn’t sure when she came back to consciousness. It returned slowly, like a piece of a dream gradually coming to life. There was the gentle sway of the carriage, her husband’s arms around her, his breath against her neck. His hands. He was whispering words of encouragement, but she couldn’t open her eyes.

  Awareness came in flashes. Being carried up the stairs. Softness surrounding her. And his voice—Robert’s voice—was there, even in the middle of restless dreams. It made a muffled murmur in her ear until the disquiet fell away and she drifted off.

  When she awoke, it was afternoon. She was lying in bed. Not, she realized, their bed. This was her bed—the bed that had been set up in the duchess’s quarters. It was the first time that she’d been on this mattress, and she didn’t like it.

  Someone had taken off her blue silk day gown and her corset, petticoats, and drawers, leaving her in her shift. She wasn’t surrounded by a crowd—but yes, she really had fainted again. In public. Other memories followed swiftly on the heels of that. The courtroom. Robert, sitting up front. Robert, looking directly at Minnie as he spilled all her secrets to everyone.

  She wasn’t angry so much as curiously hollow. Minnie sighed and sat up.

  She could remember falling. But the most curious thing—she couldn’t remember hitting the ground. Slowly, gingerly, she poked one toe out of bed. Her feet found the floor; she tested her weight on t
hem, and they held.

  And that was when her eyes fell on a figure in a chair across the room—a female figure.

  “Lydia,” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”

  Lydia stood. “Your husband sent for me.” Her face seemed shadowed. “I heard what happened. He said you needed me, so I…I came.”

  “But…”

  “I’m so sorry,” Lydia said in a rush, moving to her side. “For the longest time, I could only think that you had lied to me, that I couldn’t trust you. That you didn’t trust me.” Lydia sat down next to her. “I said you didn’t tell me anything, but I knew. I knew you had these spells, that you hated crowds. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you collapse in front of everyone. If I had thought, I would have realized. I’ve been so hateful.”

  Minnie looked at her friend. “Don’t say that.”

  “How can I not? It wasn’t a lie when you found out I was pregnant and you told me that everything would be all right. It wasn’t a lie when I miscarried and you read to me for hours while I lay in bed fearing that I, too, would die. I wish you had told me, but…” Her voice grew quiet. “Nothing between us has ever been a lie. And I should have been here for you, as you were for me, long before now.”

  Lydia gave her a fierce hug, one so tight that Minnie didn’t think she would ever let go. She didn’t want her to.

  “I’m also sorry,” Lydia said in a more prosaic tone of voice, “because it means I never had a chance to say I told you so.”

  They looked at each other and laughed. “You did. And you were right. It’s been—” Minnie frowned. “What’s that noise?”

  Lydia turned around. “That? That’s just your husband talking to people in his chamber.”

  His chamber? That was their bedchamber. They’d never used separate rooms thus far. Even during her husband’s dark moods these last days, they’d shared a bed. This room had gone entirely unused.

  She could hear him talking—not loud enough to make out the words, but at just the volume where she might hear the cadences of his speech, the rhythm of clipped orders being delivered.

  “Lydia,” she asked, “where is my husband?”

  She would have sworn that he’d carried her home. He’d sent for Lydia. The last time she’d collapsed, he’d been there when she awoke, even knowing that the blow to her reputation would require him to offer marriage. Why was he not here?

  Lydia shook her head. “In the other room.”

  “He should be here. He was here.” She pulled on a dressing gown from her wardrobe. Then she tottered a few steps to the door that separated them. The handle turned under her weight and the door swung in.

  There were three servants in his room—his valet and two footmen—and several trunks. Robert was sitting with his back to her, watching them bustle about. One footman had just emerged from his dressing room, arms loaded with a stack of colored silk waistcoats. He placed these in a trunk, and Minnie’s world came to a standstill.

  “Robert, what on earth are you doing?” Minnie asked.

  He froze, his back turned to her. The servants all looked away and started packing more swiftly, more silently. Only their sidelong glances showed their interest.

  “You recuperated rather swiftly,” he said, his spine still to her. “I had thought I would be gone by the time you were up and about.”

  “Gone? But where are you going?”

  Finally, he rose and turned. But even though his body was generally pointed in her direction, still he didn’t look at her. “Away.”

  She’d panicked when he’d spoken in front of all those people. They’d looked at her; her old terror had risen up. But as awful as fainting was, it was easy. Once you did it, you no longer had to deal with the situation at hand. There was no escape from this. This…this just hurt.

  “Away? Where away? For how long?”

  “I made you a promise,” he said at last. “And I broke it into more pieces than anyone would have thought possible. I can only imagine how furious you must be with me.” His jaw squared. “I won’t hold on to you. I won’t beg.” He gave her a wintry smile. “I’m making things easier for you.”

  Her head was ringing. “Just like that?”

  “No scenes. No arguments. No need to throw anything.” He finally looked up and gave her a tired smile. “You’ll have anything you want; just ask for it.”

  If anything, the footmen had begun to pack faster, as if to prove that their ears could not hear what was being said.

  Minnie walked slowly into the room to stand before him. “I don’t understand. Are you saying—”

  “I know what happened out there. You only married me because I told you that I would protect you. And I just—”

  “One moment, Robert.” Minnie waved her hand at the servants. “I think you’d all best go now. In fact, I think it would be best if you could clear the wing for the next hour or so.”

  A pause. One footman looked at the cravats he carried. Another glanced at the duke, who squared his jaw and said nothing.

  Minnie clapped her hands. “Leave everything and go.” They scattered.

  Minnie turned around. Lydia was still standing in the doorway connecting their two rooms, watching with wide eyes. She held up her hands. “I am already gone,” she said. “Come see me later, Minnie.”

  She cast Robert a hard glance and then she, too, disappeared.

  They waited, listening, until the retreating footsteps faded into the distance.

  And then Minnie set her hands on his chest, and gave him a hard shove. “Robert, you idiot, what in blazes are you thinking?”

  “I had to.” He stared at her. “I had to. He was my brother, and I had to—”

  “Oh, you stupid man.” She gave him another shove, and he stumbled back, his legs hitting the bed. “That is not what I’m talking about.”

  “I left a note,” he said. “This morning. I should have talked to you about it sooner. I should have woken you up. It took me that long to come to my senses. I feel sick, thinking that you were exposed to that simply because—”

  “I got your note,” Minnie said. “I read it. I decided you were right.”

  “You did…you did what?” He blinked at her stupidly.

  “I got your note,” Minnie repeated. “I read it. I decided your initial impulse was right. There was no hiding the truth of my identity. It was going to come out no matter what we did. That meant the only thing on the line for me was a little humiliation. Compared to your brother’s life, what would that mean?”

  “Minnie!” He sounded horrified. “But you—”

  She put her hand on his shoulder. “You had to tell everyone the truth of my past to save your brother from being ostracized. Do you imagine that I would have insisted on your silence, with that at stake? Yes, that scene was awful. Yes, I never want to do anything like it again. I don’t like it when people look at me. I can’t breathe. I can’t see straight.” She looked at him. “It was awful, but it was not the end of the world. And you think it means the end of our marriage?”

  He blinked. “It…isn’t?” Finally, he looked her in the eyes. He looked surprised, stunned even. “But you’re angry with me. I can see it.”

  “Of course I’m angry.”

  He shook his head. “Then… Aren’t you going to leave?”

  “Of course I’m angry,” she repeated. “Because I thought I meant something to you. And you’re willing to walk away simply because you can’t be bothered to patch things up.”

  “Can’t be bothered…” he repeated in a stunned voice. He looked at her. He turned and looked at the half-packed trunks, at the pile of cravats the footman had abandoned on a chest of drawers.

  “I just…” His voice was soft and tired. “I don’t understand. I hurt you. I knew I was going to do it, and I did it anyway. How can I make that right? I can’t tell you not to be angry. You should be angry. You deserve to be angry.”

  This was the man whose mother had walked away from him as a child. This
was the man whose father had seen him as nothing more than a tool to extract money from other pockets. Robert had forgiven Minnie for her earlier deception. But he had so little expectation of forgiveness for himself that he couldn’t even ask for it.

  Minnie reached out and took his hand. “Do you know why I am furious? Because you would rather leave than try to make our marriage work.”

  He searched her eyes. “I…”

  “I know. You don’t want to fight. But fights don’t destroy a marriage. Not making up does.”

  He swallowed. “You want to fight?”

  “Yes. And I want you to say that you were terribly, desperately, sordidly wrong.”

  He flinched. “I was. I know I was.”

  “I want to believe you when you apologize. I want to know in my soul that you would never do anything to hurt me. I want you to promise me that next time this happens, you’ll come talk to me first, and we’ll decide what to do together.”

  He was looking at her, his head cocked.

  “And then, when you’ve done all that, I want to forgive you.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  “But why do you want to do all that?”

  “Because I love you,” she said. “I love you. I love you.”

  He let out a deep breath. “You’re certain?” he said quietly.

  She nodded.

  “I see,” he said. And then, without saying another word, he walked out of the room.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  MINNIE STARED AT THE DOOR where Robert had exited, her mind a whirl of confusion. Why had he left? Where was he going? What was she to do?

  She went to the window to see if he was leaving the house entirely, took one look outside, and stepped back with a gasp. There was a small crowd encamped on their doorstep, a throng of hats in shades of brown and black forming a half circle almost three deep. One man looked up, saw her, pointed—

  Minnie jumped back, her heart pounding.

  If he’d gone out, she wouldn’t even be able to follow after him.