“Oh!” Shock of the news made her shudder. How could she have died? She was with child! Isabel shuffled to the edge of her seat, struggling to find words of sympathy. She pressed her hands against her burgeoning belly.
“Don’t despair, Your Grace. From what we know, her carriage careened down a hill during some horrible weather. The carriage ended up in a swelling river, twisted and smashed. She would have succumbed fairly quickly to the frigid temperatures, if she did not break her neck first.”
His last words made her cringe. The poor dear had been forced to leave her menacing husband, and while Isabel did not condone the duchess’ adulterous actions, she could not bear the thought of what it must have felt like to be exiled in such a manner.
Contemplations of her own predicament made her wonder just how safe she was in her newly independent ways. While she had given much thought to what it would mean to live alone in the country, how would her actions impact the life her son or daughter would have?
Isabel did not know what hit her when tears rolled furiously down her cheeks. She wanted Nathaniel. She felt helpless and alone. And why on heaven’s earth was she crying? Her emotions ran high and low, and she despised not having any control over them.
The solicitor stood and walked over to where she sat on the dais. “There, there, Your Grace. Lord Thompson has assured me that all will be fine once this matter of Downsbury is completed. He also asked I deliver this note to you.” He slid the vellum script into her hand and bowed his head. “I must be going now, but please feel free to send for me if you are in need of anything else. No matter the measure, I will do what I can to assist you.”
Isabel sniffled, keeping the tears back. “I am most grateful for your kindness, sir.”
Nodding to Edmonds, she watched as her butler escorted the man out of the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts, worries, and wild imagination. Nathaniel’s solicitor had revealed some perplexing and disconcerting news about the duke’s financial straits. She did not care if the country estate was lost to him—in the end, Downsbury would never see an ounce of the money he needed.
Who was this mysterious person who had acquired and paid off the debt? There were so many questions and not enough time to pursue them. Her first order of business would be to look into which way to travel first.
* * * *
Nathaniel and Avonlea sat with Lord Broxton and several others in the gaming room at Almack’s, gambling and discussing the latest bets placed at White’s. While Broxton’s wife meandered about, giggling and gossiping with the other ladies, he watched the endless procession of young ladies and randy gents dance away their evening merrily.
Then, the shrieking of women had all the men rushing out into the main ballroom. Gentlemen shouted, and out of the corner of his eye, Nathaniel carefully followed the swaggering, stumbling, lean shadow that belonged to Downsbury, who shouted obscenities at anyone blocking his path.
“Where is he? Thompson! Show yourself, you bastard!” he bellowed.
Nathaniel approached cautiously, nodding to the footmen who flanked him, ready to toss the duke to the curb. “I have it, gentlemen. Please see to the needs of the ladies who are distraught.” He addressed Downsbury. “You have found me, you drunk, now what do you want?”
“Why did you do it? I have had enough of your interference!” the duke sputtered.
Ah. So he has just found out. Good. Challenge me, you fool.
Downsbury stepped forward but tripped over the leg of chair, landing face first into the game table. Cards scattered about and glasses shattered into a million shards on the floor. Avonlea and Broxton now flanked him, pulling him to his feet.
“Honestly, Richard, you need to stop. It is bad enough you tarnished your own reputation with your debt, and I pity the humiliation you faced with your wife becoming pregnant by another man, but what I will not tolerate is you pushing your bad fortune onto my future marchioness, nor onto my sister. What I did was to ensure your place was kept at the furthest possible distance from my family.”
The duke snorted and pushed the men away from him. “I will not pay you a pence back. You will never get it out of me.”
“Ah, but Your Grace, that is where you are wrong. Your debt has been paid, and all the notes and deeds to your various estates and businesses have already been transferred in my name. You are penniless. The only thing saving you is the donation made in your name to the local orphanage in memory of your wife.”
Downsbury paled and roared, “I challenge you at first light, you worthless excuse for a peer. Your family is ruined. And when you lose our duel, and you have breathed your last breath, I will take your sister and her dowry. No one will find us.”
Nathaniel’s hair rose on the back of his neck. Why can’t I just do him the favor now?
“First light it is. Avonlea, see that he is tossed out.”
Nathaniel exhaled a long and controlled breath. Isabel would kill him, and never mind what his overbearing mother and sister would say. But Downsbury was finished one way or another.
* * * *
Isabel wrapped her arms around him, refusing to release him.
“Settle down, sweeting. I will take care of the duke. All you need to do is remain calm.”
Pfft. Stay calm. How could anyone in their right mind stay calm? She was with child— illegitimately at that—and he did not know about the pregnancy. He was leaving for a duel, and Henry’s solicitor was due to arrive with the details of her settlement.
“Nathaniel, please,” she pleaded. “Do not do this! I will leave if I must, but I will not let you risk your reputation in the House of Lords over his issues with my husband’s indiscretions.”
“Isabel, it is the least thing I could do. Besides, once this is over I will procure us a special license, we will have a private ceremony, and live out the rest of our days as it once had been intended.”
The man is mad. He departed with a swift bow, leaving her a mess in the worst way. How could he? The infernal marquess would stoop to a new low and possibly kill a man. Isabel began to sway on her feet, all this foolishness, her nerves. It was too much to take in.
“Your Grace—”
Isabel quivered head to toe as her eyesight washed away and all her weight came crashing down beneath her.
* * * *
“Gentlemen, please have your seconds in place and take your positions.”
Nathaniel inhaled before turning around. No matter how this morning ended, Isabel would be his now and forever, not even his family could tear them apart.
Fear and determination were the only things keeping his head afloat. About to turn, he heard one shot go off then a second. Nathaniel barely raised his own pistol before Avonlea stepped between the two men.
“Enough,” he shouted, drawing the attention of passersby. A small, curious crowd moved closer. “Lord Thompson, you’re injured!”
That was when Nathaniel noticed the pain radiating in his shoulder. Hell. Isabel would surely be with him once she saw he was injured. Lucky enough, his townhouse was not far from Hyde Park, and he could change. “I will be fine. To hell with this interruption! Downsbury called for this duel, now let us finish this blasted thing. I haven’t got all morning!” he roared.
“The duel has been called off by His Grace. When he misfired, I approached him, and that is when he dropped his firearm and took off with his second. Why in the world would he abandon the duel and ruin whatever honor he had left? He will never be able to show his face about town any time soon.” Avonlea adjusted his cravat then patted Nathaniel on the back. “I will only be a moment. Let me see what is keeping your driver so long.”
No, the duke would not return. He had lost all credibility now, and if he thought for even the briefest of moments that he would gain Emily’s dowry, he was wrong. Now that the debacle was over with, he had run the bastard out of London, hopefully for good. But now, Nathaniel had more property than he cared to own, and quite frankly, did not have the time to manage. He wou
ld have to see about selling those newly acquired assets.
He shrugged to release the built up tension in his shoulders and winced.
“My Lord, I can tend to your wounds back at your house, or would you prefer to summon your own physician?” the surgeon asked, while examining his shoulder briefly.
“I would rather we did not have it looked at. What I need is to wash up, pack the wound, change, and check in on Her Grace.”
“My Lord, if your wound is not thoroughly flushed, it could fester. It needs to be attended to with expediency.”
Avonlea approached and stared ice-cold daggers. The look sent a shiver down Nathaniel’s spine. Avonlea could intimidate a lion if required, and truth be told, he envied the man’s size, but he would never admit to it. “Do not be a fool, Thompson! You are in need of medical assistance, and that is that. I will ride with you, as I have already summoned for your carriage. He will meet us at your townhouse.”
Nathaniel growled. How can everyone fret at a time like this, when I have so much to do? White’s would be in an uproar over Downsbury backing out, and that was one sight he looked forward to. He followed Avonlea into his waiting carriage.
The door closed behind him, and the two gents sat in silence briefly.
“Thompson, I am not going to pretend that I understand the sort of madness that leads a man to duel a duke over a dowager’s property. I will, however, give a word of advice. If you intend to do the honorable thing, do it soon. I will assist where I can, but your mother is making a muddle of things.”
“I am sure by now, Avonlea, you know all too well that I do not back down after my mind is made up. Isabel is my match in every way. And while my eagerness to reacquaint with her made a mess of things, I plan to make her my wife. And the sooner the better. I would cart her to Gretna Green tonight if it meant I could have her now.”
His friend sat there stoically, smiling as if he were a cat that swallowed a mouse.
“What is so amusing, Avonlea?”
“Nothing. Well, other than the fact that I am remembering what you said our last day at Oxford.”
How could he ever forget the day he denounced marriage. How it was only meant for—ancient history did not matter now.
The carriage came to a halt and the footman opened the door. He stepped out with Avonlea behind him and entered his manor, only to find his servants rushing about. Orders were being shouted and bonnets were strewn about in the main hall. For heaven’s sake, what in damnation is going on?
Nathaniel and Avonlea slipped further into the hall when all became clear. Of all the times the dreadful woman had to stop by, she chooses now.
“Benson!” his friend shouted, drawing not only his physician’s attention but his mother’s and sister’s as well. Pressure built up behind Nathaniel’s eyes.
“Nathaniel!” both women squawked. “You’re injured!”
Benson and Avonlea closed the space between them. “Benson, I will join you and Thompson upstairs. Ladies, I do believe we have everything under control. Lady Thompson, you are looking lovelier as each day passes. Miss Thompson,” he bowed, “How is it that I have not seen you this season?” Avonlea declared.
Nathaniel rolled his eyes heavenward. “Come along, Benson, I am sure you do not have all day, and I have much to do myself.”
All three gentlemen ascended the stairs to his bedroom. Nathaniel tossed his jacket on a nearby chair and sat at the edge of his bed, stripping out of his shirt. The wound looked worse than it felt. The flesh was torn and the blood surrounding the gash had begun to dry. But the only thing weighing heavily on his mind was finalizing the necessary arrangements.
“This should not take too long, but I wager you will need to rest.”
“Rest is for the dead, Benson. Get the bullet out, sew me up, and name your price. I have to leave before the Archbishop finishes his appointments today.”
“What the hell would you be needing to see the Archbishop for, Thompson?” Avonlea queried.
“You know why, or have you wasted too many of your nights in more than one tankard?”
He tried to continue speaking, but the pain blinded him and stole the very words from his mouth.
“Listen, Thompson, sit tight, and I will see what I can do.”
Nathaniel patiently waited for the doctor to finish pulling through the last stitch and bandage up the area. “There. Now be sure to get some rest, My Lord.”
He went to stand up, but the room spun and threw him off balance. Evidently, he had miscalculated his own tolerance for pain and loss of blood. Faint and woozy, Nathaniel laid back and closed his eyes. I only need a few minutes.
* * * *
Isabel opened her eyes to find herself in her bed alone, no one in sight, and with a fearsome headache. Her last recollection was that of Nathaniel leaving her for a duel. He had promised he would be back and swore nothing would happen to him, yet a sinking feeling in the pit of her belly told her otherwise.
Something had gone amiss, and she did not know what. Now if only she could summon the strength to see what news might have arrived after his departure.
She stepped off the platform and tiptoed across the floor in search of her slippers. She slid them on, and as she was about to leave her room, the housekeeper caught her.
“Your Grace, you shouldn’t be out of bed. The physician said in your condition, you need every ounce of rest you can manage. Not to mention, you needn’t stress yourself out with grief.”
“More grief? I assure you, madam, I am quite capable of walking, and I am feeling much better. Has there been any news of Lord Thompson?”
She watched the housekeeper’s ruddy cheeks pale, eliciting even more questions. “Your Grace, allow me to assist you back to bed, and I will tell you what I know.”
Isabel sighed and rested her palm on her belly. “Do the rest of the staff know of my condition yet?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Though, while we were quite pleased to find out that there will be the pitter patter of tiny lord or lady feet through the house, we are all quite worried about you.” The housekeeper helped Isabel into bed, tucking blankets around her small form.
“A friend of Lord Thompson’s stopped by the house, shortly after your swoon, to advise that the duel was over, but that Lord Thompson was injured. The injury he sustained was not life-threatening, and he was being tended to by a private physician.
“The gentleman, a Lord Avonlea, asked for your whereabouts and we, Edmonds and I, told the man you were resting. He asked us if your affections for Lord Thompson were true, and we answered truthfully they are. Upon his departure, he assured us you and Lord Thompson would be free soon enough from this scandal, and he was positive a marriage between you both would certainly be blessed.”
The sheer thought of Nathaniel being injured over her honor broke her heart in many pieces. She had no idea how one man could make her senseless. And to hear that he still wanted to pursue marriage, despite ruining his family’s good name, baffled her. How on earth can I ever repay him?
“Your Grace, there was just one other thing. I do not mean to be so bold, but there are strong objections to your match with the marquess. It is rumored that his mother is in the process of formally announcing an arranged betrothal to a certain Lady Eloise Morton.”
Isabel’s stomach dropped into the pits of hell when the housekeeper confirmed her worst nightmare. They were better off separated. Society would never accept their union, much less a child out of wedlock. Her mind was made up—once she was deemed fit enough to travel she would venture off to the country in search of a smaller estate to live out the rest of her days.
“Please ask Edmonds to prepare my carriage and pack some of my belongings into a trunk.”
“For how long, Your Grace?”
“I expect we will be gone for a fortnight. I think it is time for me to seek out my new home.”
“But, Your Grace—”
“Run along now, we haven’t got all morning.”
Th
is time she feared they would never have another chance. This child was a miracle, but would be a constant reminder of her love for him.
* * * *
Nathaniel clenched his fists, searching deep within not to lose his temper with her servants. “What in the hell do you mean, she is not here?”
The butler stammered. “My Lord, Her Grace said that she would return in a fortnight, and that they were only going into the country.”
“Is there anything more you could tell me about where she could have gone?”
“I overheard the maids whispering about Her Grace finding a smaller country estate.”
So that was it. She’s running, the imp! Isabel must have heard that his mother announced the betrothal to Lady Morton. Quite frankly, he could not blame her for wanting to take the high road, but no matter where she went, and no matter what hijinks his mother pulled, he would always find his way to Isabel.
“Very well, my good man, I will see what I can do to find her. Before I go, though, do you have a preference in what manor you serve Her Grace in?”
“I beg your pardon, My Lord, I am not sure I follow.”
“My good man, I am about to make Her Grace the Marchioness of Stoughton. Would you prefer to stay here in this residence, or could I persuade you to join us at my estate?”
“My Lord, your offer is quite generous. Had I been much younger, I would gladly accept, but it was my wish to retire soon. With her grace now being cared for by you, I do not see why I am needed any longer.”
Well, it was certainly good to know his affections had the approval of the staff, but good servants such as Edmonds were hard to find. “I am sorry that you will not be joining us. Should you ever need anything, come see me immediately. I will ensure you are taken care of.”
Scandal at Vauxhall (Pleasure Garden Follies) Page 9