How to Marry a Duke

by Vicky Dreiling

  Tonight, she’d blindsided him.

  He folded the letter and put it in his pocket. He turned and almost stumbled at the sight of her. Her back was bowed. She held her fist to her mouth.

  She’d only been eighteen years old.

  He stiffened, resisting the overwhelming urge to comfort her. If she’d told him the circumstances earlier, he would have sympathized with her, but he would never trust her again.

  He strode over to her. She lowered her hand, straightened her spine, and met his gaze. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back. He retrieved his handkerchief and handed it to her. She took it, but the threatening tears never fell.

  “I have to prepare,” he said. “It will be a long night. I am taking you to my mother.”

  She started shaking her head. “No, I cannot. My footmen will—”

  “I do not have time to argue with you. I’ve only got five hours left to prepare. If I don’t catch that fiend tonight, he’ll embroil all of us in your scandal.”

  “Tristan, I never meant—”

  “Hold your tongue.” She shuddered at his terse command, but he would not make this easy on her. “You will do exactly as I tell you. Tomorrow you can make your full confession. No excuses. No evasions. No lies.”

  The first rays of dawn filtered over Wimbledon Common as Tristan force-marched a gagged and tied Mortland to the field. They’d had to give chase at Hyde Park Corner. The bastard had almost evaded on foot the two dozen mounted men and the speeding carriages in pursuit. Tristan had ridden on horseback after him. When they’d finally surrounded him, Tristan had dismounted and forced the lieutenant to the ground. He’d kneed Mortland in the back and gagged him so he couldn’t spew filth about Tessa. Then Tom had frisked him and found a wicked blade in the cur’s boot.

  When they reached the field, Jack yanked Mortland’s head back by his greasy curls. Hawk, Broughton, Boswood, Hardwick, and Tom stood as witnesses.

  Tristan shed his coat and handed it to Hawk. Then he rolled up his sleeves and grasped the bastard by the chin. “I’ll give you a choice, Mortland. I’ll let you stand and fight me, though I promise you won’t win. If you utter one word against the lady you threatened, I’ll have Jack hold you in place while I beat you senseless. You’ll be as defenseless as a babe.”

  Mortland glared at him.

  “Untie the gag,” Tristan said, fisting his hands.

  Mortland snarled. “She spread—”

  Tristan slammed his fist into the devil’s mouth. Blood spurted out. All the fury erupted as bloodlust in Tristan’s veins. He broke Mortland’s nose, blackened both eyes shut, and pummeled his belly. The coward screamed and pleaded for mercy, providing a little entertainment for the other men.

  Afterward, Tristan invited Broughton to have a go at the bastard. Broughton took out a handkerchief and wiped off Mortland’s bloody face. “Just so I don’t get my hands dirty.” Then he pounded the blackguard.

  Tom walked over to Tristan and told him of an interesting detail about the night Mortland had invaded Tessa’s town house. With a cocky grin, Tristan strode over to Mortland and told Jack to lower the fiend to his knees. “I have a special punishment for you, one I believe the lady you wronged would appreciate.”

  Mortland whimpered.

  Tristan kicked him in the groin. The bastard’s head lolled. Jack shoved him to the grass, where he passed out.

  After flexing his bruised hands, Tristan looked at the others. “Gentlemen, to the docks.”

  Tristan’s mother met him in the hall. She eyed his bruised knuckles. “Barely a scratch.”

  “Where is she?” Tristan asked.

  “Sleeping in my bed,” she said.

  “When she wakes, tell her to come to my study.”

  His mother’s brows shot up. “You did not ask after her welfare.”

  “I’m exhausted and filthy. We’ll talk later.”

  Her eyes blazed. “You blame her?”

  A maid hurried past. “In my study,” he gritted out.

  She marched beside him, visibly bristling. After he shut the door, his mother turned on him. “I know your capacity for resentment, but you go too far.”

  His nostrils flared. “She lied to me and exposed all of us to scandal.”

  “She didn’t send that blackmail letter. That villain did. I cannot believe you are blaming a defenseless woman. I taught you better.”

  “She has known from the night he showed up at the opera that he was a threat, and she said nothing. You defend her, but you do not know all the circumstances.”

  “I know that man hurt her. Last night, I held that young woman in my arms for hours. I tried to comfort her, but she kept saying she was unworthy. And I knew he’d seduced her. How old was she?”

  Guilt flared in his chest. “Eighteen,” he muttered.

  “She was little more than a child. Younger than your sister.”

  “She is a grown woman now, and she deceived me repeatedly.”

  “Have you asked yourself why? Do you know what society would do to her? They would cut her. She would be ostracized, completely isolated because she has no family. It wouldn’t matter that a scoundrel had seduced her. It wouldn’t matter that she’d been young and naïve. She had no choice but to keep her secret.”

  “If she had told me, I would have understood,” he bit out.

  His mother lifted her chin. “Have you ever done something you’re ashamed of?”

  “Haven’t we all?” he said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

  “Then tell me your shameful secret,” she said.

  He shook his head. “Mama, enough.”

  “It’s not easy, is it? And I’m your mother. You’re assured of my love and forgiveness.”

  “You know I worried about her. I tried to protect her, and she withheld information from me when she knew I was hunting that cur. She waited until the last possible minute to tell me,” he said. “And you expect me to forget? I can’t do it.”

  “Then don’t talk to her,” she said. “She’s too fragile. You’ll break her. And I won’t let you do it.”

  He couldn’t breathe for a moment. “What are you saying?”

  “All through the night, I told her over and over again that it was natural to cry,” the duchess said, her voice shaking. “But she held it in for hours. I’ve never seen the like in all my life. And I thought, my God, she’s held this in for years.

  “At dawn, I told her it wasn’t her fault. And only then did she weep. I finally got her to lie down and left her with my maid. But I could not stay away. I kept thinking she has no family. She believes herself unworthy of a husband and children. Her bosom friend is the sister of that fiend. I thought she might believe she had nothing to live for.” Her voice broke. “I hurried to her and found her asleep at last. She was holding a handkerchief to her mouth. It was yours.”

  Aw, hell. Tessa had suffered for years in silence. She’d said nothing because she was afraid and ashamed. He’d known all along that scoundrel meant her harm. If he’d not been so blind, he would have guessed the man had hurt her long ago. He’d sworn to protect her, but when she’d needed him most, he’d blamed her.

  “I cannot imagine how she’s endured all these years,” his mother said. “She must have been terrified that night at the opera.”

  Tristan stared at his mother as one realization after another slammed into his brain. “She never showed it. He coerced her, but she walked out of the box with her head held high. He sent her watercolors, and she sent them back. When Mortland invaded her home and hurt her butler, she got her footmen to rough him up and dump him in the slums. And she did not succumb to his blackmail threat. She sought my help and admitted her past indiscretion because she would not let him ruin our lives.” And the day he’d proposed, she’d told him she would not bring scandal upon him and his family. She had tried to protect him.

  “Most women would fall apart,” he said, “but she never cowered before him. She’s the bravest person I’ve e
ver met.”

  “Son, I admire her as well, but she’s reached the limits of her endurance. I can tell her it wasn’t her fault until I’m blue in the face, but she needs to hear it from you.”

  He closed the distance between them and enfolded his mother in his arms. “Send her to me when she wakes,” he said.

  After a few minutes, his mother stepped back, wiped a stray tear from her face, and sniffed.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t have a handkerchief,” he said.

  “Never mind that.” She wrinkled her nose. “You need to bathe. You stink.”

  “Bloody hell,” he said, laughing.

  His mother swatted his arm. “Watch your language.”

  He took her hand and squeezed it. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

  “That is what mothers are for.”

  He left the study door open for her. The rustle of cloth brought his head up from the letter on his desk. She hesitated at the entrance, looking like a lost waif.

  Tristan rose and strode over to her, noting the dark smudges under her reddened eyes. She looked drawn and defeated.

  He shut the door behind her. “He’s gone forever, Tess.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  He led her to a chair and sat beside her.

  She glanced at his right hand. “Your knuckles are bruised. You fought him.”

  “I beat him within an inch of his life.”

  An awkward pause followed, and then he recollected his manners. “May I get you a glass of sherry?”

  She shook her head. “Last night, I remembered something you said to Amy at the parlor game. Once trust is broken, there will always be suspicion thereafter.”

  He saw sorrow and resignation in her eyes.

  “I never wanted to deceive you, but I was afraid,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “Last night, you were angry when you realized I had not told you the real reason I didn’t attend my come-out. That day I was overcome with shame and remorse when Anne handed me that letter. Afterward, you were so kind to me. I’d never discussed my past with anyone, not even Anne. You were the first person I trusted enough to reveal a few essentials.”

  “I understand now,” he said.

  She searched his eyes. “I thought you would be angry.”

  “I was, but it was unreasonable of me. It’s not your fault.”

  “Though I am too late, I owe you an explanation,” she said.

  “You do not have to tell me.” He didn’t want to hear her confession. Didn’t want to think about that bastard touching her, mistreating her.

  “I need to talk about it,” she said. “For eight years, I’ve held these secrets inside me.” She put her fist to her heart. “You do not know the burden of guilt I carried. I deceived Anne to protect my reputation and to keep from losing her friendship. I told myself he was dead, and a confession would only add to her wounds. Even now I question whether I should tell her, but while such a confession might prove temporarily cathartic for me, it would only hurt her and ruin our friendship.”

  She had no one else to tell.

  “I should have told you the day you proposed,” she said. “You deserved the truth, and I could not make myself say the words. I knew I was unworthy. But when I refused you, it cut me to my very soul.”

  “You are not unworthy,” he said.

  “I was so young and stupid. I did not know a youthful mistake would forever alter the course of my life.”

  “Before you begin, I want to tell you something,” he said. “The past does not change who you are now. You are still the brave Tess who faced dragons with your chin held high. The same Tess who stood up to me time and again. The same Tess who does the work of a man and a woman. The same Tess who finds husbands for girls everyone else ignores. The same witty, intelligent Tess who surprises me and makes me look at the world in a whole new way. The same Tess I couldn’t help teasing. The same Tess I always looked forward to seeing every time I stepped inside your drawing room. And though I know he hurt you, I also know you are the strong woman you are because of the adversity you faced.”

  “And you are the strong man you are because of what you faced,” she said.

  He nodded. “We both had to grow up too early.”

  “After Richard was sent away to war, Uncle George told me if a man ever offered for me, I must tell him what happened.”

  He inhaled after hearing her use Mortland’s Christian name, but he would not call it to her attention. She was looking back and probably not even aware of what she’d done.

  “I knew I could never reveal my shame,” she said. “I could see in my mind the man’s disgust. So I made the decision never to marry.”

  She’d only been eighteen years old when she’d given up all hopes of a husband and children.

  When she hung her head, he knew he must reassure her. “I know that bastard took advantage of you when you were most vulnerable. You had lost your parents and your aunt.”

  “I knew better,” she whispered.

  “How did he manage to meet you alone?”

  She returned her gaze to him. “I was so naïve. I thought we met by accident at the oak tree near the lake on my uncle’s estate. Now I know he watched me and figured out my habits. I used to walk there with my watercolors. It was my dream place. I painted white knights on chargers rescuing damsels in distress.”

  He frowned. “Where was your governess?”

  “She complained about boredom and insects. I sent her away, just as she intended. She took advantage of my uncle’s melancholy and idled.”

  “Why did you not tell your uncle about him?”

  “I was afraid he would keep me from seeing him. My uncle tried to guide me, but he was horribly listless after my aunt died. I had no friends or cousins. I was lonely. Anne was only fourteen, and those four years are vast when you are eighteen. I knew it was wrong to meet Richard in secret, but he charmed me.”

  “He seduced you,” Tristan growled.

  “At first, it was harmless,” she said, “or so I told myself. Richard was the pinnacle of my life. He would paint a big X over my medieval knights, saying he was jealous of my imaginary beaux. You can imagine how that turned my head. It wasn’t until I found out that I had a sponsor and was going to London for my come-out that things took a serious turn.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I foolishly told him about my come-out. In all my girlish excitement, I thought he would be happy for me. Instead, he grew sullen and said I would forget him. And then he begged me not to go, and I said he was being selfish. Then he ran away. So of course I felt guilty and went back the next day to apologize. He wasn’t there that day, or the next. I went there every day for a week, and he did not come back.

  “I might have escaped my fate if I had found a new place to paint or if I had told him to go away when he came back after that first week. Oh, but I was thrilled to see him. He told me he loved me, and I was bowled over. I thought I was in love with him. It was all very innocent and sweet at first.”

  Every muscle in his body tightened involuntarily, knowing she was about to reveal the part he didn’t want to hear. For her sake, he must not show his hatred of the bastard, because she might interpret it as disgust for her.

  “The week before I was to leave for London, he begged me to marry him,” she said. “I was so naïve I actually told him to ask my uncle for my hand. Richard understood what I was too ignorant to figure out. He knew my uncle would refuse. Richard had no career, and truthfully, he was beneath me in rank. Right or wrong, my uncle would not have permitted the match on that count alone. Richard pointed out all these things to me. I was quite fond of Romeo and Juliet, and naturally saw our own story as equally tragic. So I told my uncle I wished to wait another year to attend my come-out. Then Richard proposed we elope and present my uncle with a fait accompli.”

  Tristan stilled. “You said you didn’t elope.”

  “The day before, I met him at the lake.
My conscience bothered me. I knew an elopement would wound Uncle George and cause a scandal. But I didn’t want to lose Richard. So I told him I wanted to wait a little longer until my uncle’s spirits lifted. Richard sensed my cold feet and accused me of toying with his heart.” She laughed without mirth. “Of course I pledged my undying love for him. And that is when he told me to prove it.”

  Tristan inhaled.

  She took a shaky breath. “I refused. He threatened to leave me forever if I did not. I told him no again. And he walked off. I have relived that moment so many times. If I had not called him back, my life would have turned out so differently. But I did. And I have had to bear the knowledge that I said yes.”

  Tristan let out his pent-up breath. “Tessa, he used your feelings to manipulate you. I saw my father play similar emotional games with my mother. It is abuse even if it is not a physical threat.”

  “I was so scared,” she whispered.

  He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

  “Afterward, he told me to bring money. He was low in the pocket, but he loved me and said all would work out after we were married.”

  “I hope he rots in hell,” Tristan muttered.

  “That night, I tried to write a letter to my uncle,” she said. “I cried the whole time. I could not leave my poor, sad uncle. So I woke him up in the middle of the night. I thought if I told him about the elopement, he would be so happy I’d confessed that he would let us marry. Of course I did not tell him what had happened. My uncle stayed very calm. Then he asked me where to find Richard and told me to sit quietly in the library adjoining his study. Richard did not know I was there.” She paused. “I heard all of it.”

  “Your uncle told him he must accept the commission?”

  “He told Richard he was a worm, not fit to crawl along the ground I walked on. Uncle George said he’d see him hanged before he let him marry me. I put my fist to my mouth to keep from crying out. But Richard had an ace in his pocket. He thought he’d sealed the deal. And then he told my uncle I had lain with him. I cannot even begin to tell you how mortified and ashamed I was.”