Charming the Duke

by Holly Bush

  “Hardly the case, ma’am,” Thornsby said. “Your granddaughter stated her wishes and I meant to honor them.”

  “Went down without a fight, I’d say,” the Dowager said and stared at him. “If my granddaughter is worth having, then you had best go after her, especially after hearing whom it was that visited Matilda.”

  “Who was it?” Athena asked.

  “Countess Rundel.”

  Athena gasped, and Andrew whistled. Thornsby felt a great red anger descend on him, and it was muting the conversation in the room. He stood and shouted a vulgarity.

  “Thornsby!” Athena said.

  “That is the first real sign I have seen that the Duke has some passion, Mrs. Smithley,” the Dowager said and placed her teacup on the cart beside her. “Let him stew a moment.”

  Thornsby had spent countless hours trying to understand Matilda’s apparent about face and had been left to think that he had somehow insulted her or misread her actions and words. But none if it made sense and if Matilda Sheldon was anything, she was sensible to a fault.

  “What did Mrs. Brewer say?” Athena asked.

  “Mrs. Brewer said that Matilda was in high spirits and looking remarkably well before the Countess arrived and was white-faced and looked quite ill after she left.”

  “But she heard none of the conversation between Millicent and Matilda?”

  “Just one snippet, according to Effie,” the Dowager said. “Mrs. Brewer said she was on the way up the staircase when she heard the Countess say ‘. . . throw away the happiness of your dear sisters over a man you are not meant to have.’”

  “What is she planning?” Andrew asked.

  “Or what is already planned?” Athena said.

  “She threatened me, but I didn’t take her seriously,” Thornsby said.

  “Matilda has been in a high dudgeon all week and is most anxious about this outing to Herndon. She has suggested that none in the family attend and the next morning said they were all going. Even as much to insist that her younger brother come home from University to attend and that I must go,” the Dowager said. “I suspect that the Countess is intending to make mischief during the Hereford garden party.”

  “I overheard some talk at my sporting club the other day about Hereford’s heir, George Tramontin. It seems he has decided it is time to take a bride, and one of the ladies he is considering is Juliet Sheldon, Matilda’s older sister,” Andrew said and leaned back in his chair.

  “Juliet is sweet, well-bred, lovely,” the Dowager said, “and none too bright. She would be a perfect match for the Marquess and Marchioness’s son. Handsome the Tramontin’s are, but not terribly clever. Although I think that he is quite the matrimonial prize.”

  “But what would Millicent be planning?” Thornsby asked. “Is there something at Maplewood that would make Millicent think she could blackmail Matilda or expose your family in some way?”

  “Highly unlikely,” the Dowager said. “The Bissets may be dull, but we’re proper to a fault.”

  “Nothing that the young one still at the University could have done that the family would prefer to keep quiet?” Andrew asked.

  The Dowager turned sharply. “That is my grandson you’re speculating about. While no angel, I’m certain his exploits pale in comparison to your time as a young man. And anyway, I pay handsomely to be kept abreast of any trouble that Fitzmaurice may be headed towards. There has been nothing more than an over-turned cart of turnips appearing on the steps of Chapel to be concerned about.”

  “My apologies, ma’am,” Smithley said. “But something changed Matilda from being in high spirits to looking ill.”

  “Would Matilda be sensitive to something that the Countess meant to reveal about our family, do you think, ma’am,” Athena asked.

  “I think my granddaughter is in love with your brother, as highly unlikely a match as it may seem, I believe they would suit,” she replied. “Matilda is hardly affected by gossip. She doesn’t go out in society enough to be involved in the machinations of bored dilettantes. Even though she was hurt and embarrassed at the Benford Ball, she is not one to mull over someone as insignificant as Millicent Marsh, and had Millicent revealed something to her that your brother, or your husband by extension, had done that would be embarrassing to the Thornsby name, I don’t doubt that Matilda would ask your brother directly.”

  “You are correct, ma’am,” Thornsby said. “Your granddaughter has not been afraid to confront me. That is not what I think is happening.”

  “What, Freddy?” Athena asked. “Do you know what is going on?”

  “I think we are making an error of assumption when we conclude Millicent is threatening Matilda with some unsavory, but true indiscretion,” Thornsby said.

  “Something untrue?” Andrew asked.

  Athena gasped. “She wouldn’t go that low, would she Freddy?”

  “I think that is exactly what her plans are,” the Dowager said. “And I think something is going to happen tomorrow at Herndon.”

  “Then we must be there,” Thornsby said and looked around the room. “I will not allow my past indiscretions to hurt Matilda or her family in any way.”

  “Oh, bravo,” Andrew said.

  “What can we do?” Athena asked.

  “Today, we need to find out as much information as we can at our clubs and from acquaintances,” Thornsby said and turned to Athena and Andrew. “We will meet here this evening and put together what we have learned so we may be best prepared tomorrow.”

  “As much as I am loathe to miss my chair and fire this evening, I will do my best to learn what I can and would join you for supper,” the Dowager said. “If, that is, I am invited.”

  Thornsby sat down beside the Dowager. “Of course, you are invited. But I hate to involve you in to this affair. Knowing Millicent, it may be vulgar.”

  “I am involved if Matilda’s happiness is at stake. And vulgar does not scare me,” the Dowager said and stood. “I’m off to a cribbage game I have an open invitation to, and just so happens to be at the home of one of the most notorious gossips in high society. Good day.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Later that day, Thornsby went into his drawing room and found Athena, Andrew and the Dowager already there. They were deep in conversation but fell silent as he entered. It had been a most informative day and barring a few details, he felt he had a good idea of the mischief Millicent was up to. He’d tried desperately to tamp down any excitement he felt but he could not help that he was buoyed by what he’d found out. There may be hope for him and Matilda after all!

  “You are all here,” he said and strode to a sideboard to pour himself a drink. “Very good.”

  “What have you learned, Freddy?” Athena asked.

  “I have learned that George Tramontin, the Hereford heir, is very close to declaring for your granddaughter, Juliet, ma’am,” he said. “And that his father the Marquess sees the match in a favorable light; however, the Marchioness does not. In fact, she has made her feelings very clear to her son.”

  “Just as I heard,” Andrew said. “The Marchioness has it on reliable authority that the Bisset family is embroiled in a dreadful indiscretion that may taint the Hereford name by association.”

  “The room fell silent when I walked into Lady Fulling’s salon,” the Dowager said. “But I soon joined said lady’s table, heard some interesting news and asked some pointed questions.”

  “I imagine Lady Fulling was in her glory having a family member to interrogate,” Athena said.

  “Very true, Mrs. Smithley,” the Dowager said. “I rather enjoyed being the center of a lurid tale. But the lurid tale does not involve George Tramontin, but rather, a young pup that was at Maplewood for weeks on end, a classmate of Franklin’s, William Berfine.”

  “Exactly as I’ve heard,” Thornsby added.

  “Was Juliet ever involved with Berfine?” Athena asked.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” the Dowager said.

  “Berfi
ne, Berfine,” Andrew said. “Can’t place him.”

  “He’s the Earl of Marwick’s eldest son, the heir,” Athena said. “His current title is Viscount Altry.”

  “What is Berfine’s connection to Tramontin and Juliet, though? Or to Matilda?” Athena asked.

  “Countess Marwick, Berfine’s mother, is a cousin to Tramontin’s mother, the Marchioness of Hereford,” Thornsby said. “They are close, from reports I’ve heard.”

  “Ah,” Athena said.

  “But none of this tells us the relationship to the Bisset family,” Andrew said.

  Thornsby sat down beside the Dowager. “The relationship to the Bissets’ is through your younger granddaughter, Alexandra.”

  “Alexandra?” the Dowager said in astonishment. “Alexandra? She follows her sister Juliet in most things, and Frances, her mother, is attentive. Unlike Matilda, Alexandra is not clever. She would have never begun some assignation on her own. She could never sneak about! Alexandra would tell everyone and anyone exactly what she was about.”

  “I believe you have misjudged her, ma’am,” Thornsby said. “I heard some news that involves her from someone I consider most reliable. Although the most disturbing piece of it, I am quite sure, is Millicent’s doing.”

  Athena edged forward on her seat, and Andrew put his hand on her shoulder. The Dowager stared at him, proud and defiant, as if daring him to say the worst. Well, he was going to have to say the worst.

  “I have been told that your granddaughter Alexandra and William Berfine, Viscount Altry, have been seeing each other in secret for at least two years.”

  “Go on,” the Dowager said.

  “Berfine came to point recently and told his parents that he was not marrying his cousin but had chosen a wife on his own. Apparently, the cousin’s property lined up with one of the Marwick estates and would have made a grand wedding gift to Berfine with a promise of profitability in the offering.”

  “Chose Alexandra over property?” the Dowager asked.

  “I believe Berfine’s mother, the Countess, confided to her cousin, the Marchioness, that her son intended to affiance himself to Alexandra against the families’ wishes,” Thornsby said.

  “And Millicent? Where does she fall into this?” Athena asked.

  “I do not know how Millicent found out about the relationship between Alexandra and Berfine. Perhaps she overheard it somewhere. Perhaps there was gossip from below stairs,” Thornsby said. “But she did find out.”

  “A two-year secret relationship, while titillating, is certainly not the thing to bring down a family reputation,” Athena said. “There must be more to it.”

  “There is,” Thornsby said and turned again to the Dowager. “Does Alexandra spend time with a young lady named Miss Marsh?”

  The Dowager nodded. “Yes. They met years ago at a dancing class they were both attending. Lydia Marsh has been to Maplewood on many occasions, and I’m certain that Alexandra has been to the Marsh’s. Why do you ask?”

  “There is a footman employed by the Marsh family that claims your granddaughter, Alexandra, and he, had an intimate affair,” Thornsby said. Athena’s intake of breath was audible. The Dowager’s face hardened, and he imagined she was struggling greatly to maintain her self-control, and several minutes ticked by in silence. Eventually, she faced him.

  “And this footman’s story is the one that has been told to the Countess, Berfine’s mother, who was distraught and shared it with her cousin, the Marchioness, who in turn will be discouraging her son George from offering for Juliet,” the Dowager concluded. “You’re assuming, of course, that Countess Rundel has paid in coin or in favors this footman, telling the tale.”

  Athena shook her head. “It is diabolical.”

  “And Matilda has been told the only way to save Juliet and Alexandra’s happiness is to have nothing to do with you?” the Dowager asked.

  “I would say your assessment is accurate, ma’am,” Thornsby said.

  The Dowager stood and crossed the room and stared out the long window. She turned back to Thornsby. “I will not stand for this. I will not. What do you expect will happen tomorrow at Herndon?”

  “I would think our footman will describe what supposedly has happened in full hearing of many of the guests of the garden party. I would suspect that Millicent will endeavor to make sure that the Earl and Countess of Marwick and the Marquess and Marchioness of Hereford are present when he makes his announcement,” Thornsby said. “Millicent will want to inflict the most pain and humiliation possible.”

  “But this will not happen if Matilda will have nothing to do with you, Freddy.”

  “Then I will have to stick by Matilda’s side the entire day. I have no intentions of letting Millicent threaten the Bissets any longer. Tomorrow will be the end of the threat regardless if the Marwicks and the Herefords believe the footman or me.”

  “Well played,” Andrew said. “Have we located the footman?”

  “No,” Thornsby said, “but I will know who he is by morning.”

  * * *

  “What are you fussing about, Matilda?” Juliet asked. “I’ve worn this dress to other afternoon entertainments. It is one of my favorites!”

  “It is entirely too revealing,” Matilda said. “You simply must change.”

  “Matilda, darling,” Frances said. “Why are you worrying about Juliet’s dress? She looks lovely.”

  “Don’t you always tell us we mustn’t expose ourselves to gossip or ridicule, Mother?” Matilda asked.

  “Yes, but Juliet’s dress does not expose anything other than her shoulder, dear,” Frances replied. “What are you wearing today, Matilda?”

  “I am wearing what I have on,” she replied.

  “That dress is ever so plain and so dark,” Alexandra said. “Aren’t they your mourning clothes?”

  “And what if they are?” Matilda turned with a huff and went back to her room. Her stomach was churning. The thought of facing Countess Rundel again was making her ill but no more so than facing Thornsby. She was terrified that while trying to maintain a cold attitude towards him, she’d burst into tears. Matilda gathered her wrap, tightened the ribbons of her black bonnet till it pinched and slammed the door to her rooms on her way to the family carriages.

  “Who died?” Fitz asked Matilda as she climbed into the family carriage and squeezed in beside Franklin and the Peach.

  “Matilda is in mourning, Fitz,” Alexandra said quietly. “Do be more courteous.”

  “I am not in mourning,” Matilda said.

  “Made me come home from University, she did,” Fitz said. “All to go to some silly garden party, so courteous be hanged! And what’s the long face for, Alexandra?”

  “Fitz!” Franklin said. “Have a care. You’re upsetting Suann.”

  Suann picked up Matilda’s hand from her lap and patted it as tiny tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Matilda.”

  Matilda was ever so glad that the coach was slowing down as she had nothing to say in reply to Suann. She could see her parents, and Juliet and Ethel, alight from the coach ahead of them and saw her father shake hands with the Marquess who was greeting guests with his wife. The Marchioness nodded to her mother and father but said nothing in greeting. Matilda thought she may vomit and was so terribly hot in her mourning clothes she was worried she may faint. It did not help that Suann was holding her arm tightly and patting her hand. When the carriage door was opened by a footman, Matilda stumbled out without even taking the servant’s hand.

  “Come along, girls,” Ethel said to them all as she walked up to their carriage and took Alexandra by the arm to lead her up the terraced steps. “Greet your host and hostess.”

  Matilda hurried to Ethel’s side. “Let us just go join the festivities. We can speak to the Tramontins when there are not so many guests to greet.”

  “We will wait in line and greet the Tramontins properly,” Ethel said.

  “How odd, Grandmamma,” Alexandra said. “Y
ou never, ever wait in line when we go to balls.”

  “Make your curtsy, Alexandra, to the Marquess and Marchioness,” Ethel said when they were finally face-to-face with their hosts.

  “What a lovely young lady,” the Marquess said graciously. The Marchioness turned to greet another guest.

  The Marquess touched his wife’s elbow. “The Bisset Dowager and her granddaughters, my dear.”

  The Marchioness turned and stared at Ethel. “Ma’am.”

  “This is my youngest granddaughter, Alexandra,” Ethel said.

  Matilda was holding her breath as she waited to see what the Marchioness would say. Seconds ticked by.

  “Lovely,” the Marchioness said finally with a nod and quickly turned and called to her son, George Tramontin, who was speaking to Juliet. “George, your Aunt is calling you. There’s a young lady she’d like you to meet.”

  The Marchioness turned back to Ethel with a look of triumph.

  “Come along, Alexandra, Matilda,” Ethel said as she moved away, cane snapping on the stone walkway. “I believe I see the Earl and Countess of Marwick. We will make our greeting.”

  “No!” Matilda and Alexandra said at the same time.

  Ethel turned to them and arched an eyebrow. “Some reason you don’t want to greet the Berfines? The son, William, I believe is his name, is a classmate of Fitz’s.”

  “No. He was a classmate of Franklin’s,” Alexandra said as her face colored.

  “We have nothing to say to the Berfines, Ethel,” Matilda said. “Come away and look at the gardens.”

  But Ethel marched along and inserted herself between the Earl and the Countess and dismissed the other guests to whom they were speaking to, with just a nod.

  “I hear your son, Viscount Altry, has a tendre for my youngest granddaughter, Alexandra,” she said.

  “Ethel!” Matilda said.

  “Grandmamma!” Alexandra cried and covered her face with her hands. “No!”

  Matilda could not shake free of the Ethel’s hold on her arm and neither could Alexandra from the looks of it. The Earl cleared his throat, and the Countess pursed her lips.