The Penitent Duke
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Prologue
Lucian paced up and down the room, sweat dripping down his back as he waited for news. He wanted to go find her, wanted to be a part of those searching in the dark but his broken arm and twisted shoulder prevented him from doing so. The surgeon had been sent for and yes, Lucian was in a good deal of pain, but all the same, he could not help but pace, desperate to hear that she was safe.
I still do not understand what happened.
He had been riding back to his estate, Strathmore Hall, with his betrothed, Lady Pearl, riding alongside him. He had been a little uncertain as to whether or not she ought to be doing so but she had been determined – something that had surprised him just a little though she always had been ready with her own opinion and the like. She had insisted on riding, despite the fact that the evening was already growing dark. Any protest that Lucian might have made faded when he had seen the smile on her face and the light in her eyes at the thought of spending that time with him. It had been the first time since their courtship and betrothal that she had shown such an interest and given that; Lucian had chosen to relent. There had been the concern about a chaperone, of course, but somehow, Lady Pearl had convinced her brother that nothing untoward would occur. Mayhap it was because Lucian held such a high title or because they were already betrothed, he did not know, but there had been no protest made. How much he wished, now, that there had been! How much he hated himself for agreeing to her riding with him! Had he known that this would occur, had he imagined for even a moment that she might be lost to him, then he would never have accepted her request to ride.
“Your Grace.”
The door opened and Lucian turned quickly, only for the butler to usher in the surgeon.
“Is there any news?” Lucian demanded, as the surgeon walked directly towards him, gesturing for him to sit down as though he were a small child and not, in fact, the Duke of Strathmore. “I must know!”
“There is nothing, Your Grace.” The butler inclined his head in deference. “I will return the moment I hear anything; I assure you.”
“If you would sit down, Your Grace.”
Lucian threw up his hands. “How am I to sit down when my betrothed is missing?”
The surgeon lifted one eyebrow. “I am aware that you are in a great struggle of mind, Your Grace, but refusing to let me see your arm and your shoulder will do nothing other than injure you further.” The man was only a little older than Lucian but the sternness of his voice and the sharp glint in his eye made Lucian feel as though he was being berated by a father figure of some sort. “I understand that you wish to go in search of your betrothed but you will not be able to do so if I do not make certain that your arm and shoulder are not damaged beyond repair.”
“My arm is broken; I am sure of it.” Lucian gritted his teeth as he sat down, pain sparking through his fingers and wrist as the surgeon prodded it.
“A fracture, I think, which is just as well for a broken bone is a very serious matter, Your Grace.” The surgeon looked back at Lucian steadily. “This will be painful, but it is necessary.”
Lucian looked away. “Do what you must. My only thought is of her.” He said this with full determination but all the same, his whole body cried out in agony as the surgeon tugged this way and that, doing what he seemed to feel he had to, in order to improve the fracture. Squeezing his eyes closed and refusing to make a sound, Lucian sucked in a breath, only for the pain to lessen just a little.
“A sling, Your Grace.”
With practiced hands, the surgeon pulled out a length of cloth and fashioned it in a way which meant it could then loop around Lucian’s neck before carefully placing Lucian’s arm within it. His whole arm was throbbing with a deep and unrelenting agony but Lucian said nothing, resisting the urge to throw off the sling and tell the surgeon he needed no such thing. His mind was filled with thoughts of his betrothed, terrified that she would not be found, praying against his fear that she would be gone from him forever.
“Your shoulder?”
“Dislocated,” Lucian muttered, as the surgeons rose to his feet to, again, press and prod Lucian’s injury. “I dislocated it once before, when I was a child, so I knew what had to be done.”
“And you did it yourself?” The surgeon asked, sounding a little astonished. “There is no dislocation here that I can see.” With practiced fingers, the surgeon ran over Lucian’s shoulder, squeezing here and there as Lucian nodded but said nothing.
“And might I ask how these injuries came about? The only thing I have heard is that you came off your horse.”
“Yes, that is so.” Lucian swallowed tightly, his heart thumping furiously as he recalled it. “My betrothed and I were riding back to the estate from London, as we are only five miles from it.” He paused, his breath catching. “When we came to a break in the road, she teasingly told me that she would take the left path and I would take the right. I knew it well enough to know that it combines a short while later though I did tell her it was not a wise idea but she was already gone before I could finish speaking.” Pain struck him, hard. “I – I heard a scream and my horse, being spooked by the noise, threw me unexpectedly.”
The surgeon nodded slowly. “I see. Is your betrothed injured in some way? Do I need to go and see her also?”
“They cannot find her.” Lucian’s voice cracked as he looked away from the surgeon, finding his gaze a little too prying. “I went in search of her at first, of course, but all I could find was her horse.”
The surgeon’s eyebrows lifted.
“Eventually, I went in search of help,” Lucian continued, not quite certain why he was telling the surgeon all of this but finding the need to speak openly regardless. “I knew that she had to be nearby and I could not – cannot – understand where she might have gone or what could have happened to her. My close friend and neighbour, the Marquess of Radcliffe, came to organize the search and then demanded I return home to be cared for. It is because of him that I am here, though I fully intend to return back to the search the moment I am freed from you.”
A sigh came from the surgeon’s lips. “It might be highwaymen or robbers, Your Grace.”
“Robbers?” A chill ran across Lucian’s skin. “Near my estate?”
The surgeon nodded, his gaze going across Lucian’s arm and shoulder, as though to make certain that what he had done would be good enough. “I am afraid so, Your Grace. I have heard that there are many prowling around these days, though I do not know why they have stopped here.”
Lucian closed his eyes, a dreadful shaking suddenly overpowering his whole body. Whether it was shock or the sudden realization that his betrothed might now be caught up by robbers, defenseless against their strength, he did not know but he could not stop it.
“Your Grace,” the surgeon continued, now sounding a little more urgent as though he had realized what his words had done and now regretted them. “I am sure that I am quite wrong, however. There is no reason why a highwayman would stop the lady rather than the gentleman – or why they would stop only the lady. I am sure that –”
A knock at the door stopped the man’s words and Lucian flung himself out of his seat, barreling across the room and pulling open the door, breathing hard as he gazed into the face of the butler. “Yes?”
“Lord Radcliffe, Your Grace.” The butler stepped to one side. “And Mr. Grant, the gamekeeper.”
Lucian grasped Lord Radcliffe’s hand the moment his friend stepped in. “Radcliffe,” he breathed, looking into his friend’s face, searching for answers. “Thank you for all you have done. Is there any news?”
Lord Radcliffe’s grey eyes seemed darker now, shadows flickering there. “My friend,” he said, quietly, “you should sit down, I think.”
Lucian closed his eyes tightly, understanding now while there was news, it could not be good. “Tell me, Radcliffe. Tell me now.”
His friend hesitated, then sighed. “We found a ribbon tangled in some branches,” he said, speaking quietly and slowly. “And a shoe.”
Hearing this, Lucian’s eyes sprang open. “A shoe? Where?”
Lord Radcliffe took in a long breath, shaking his head as he did so, his eyes squeezing closed. “At the cliffs.”
Lucian sucked in a breath, his head spinning, his heart pounding as he swallowed hard, over and over again. One hand went to Lord Radcliffe’s shoulder, gripping there as he tried to steady himself, but his friend merely guided him to a seat rather than letting him linger. Somehow, Lucian found himself sitting in his overstuffed chair with a glass of brandy in his hand, a coldness creeping into his very bones as he stared blankly ahead.
The cliffs were near his estate, a place where he had often walked or taken a ride on the days he wanted to be out in the clean, crisp air of the sea. They were steep, however, and filled with dangers and thus, he had always kept himself back from them for there was nothing but death waiting at the bottom.
Death which, it seemed, had now taken his betrothed.
“I am sorry, Your Grace.” The surgeon’s voice seemed to come from very far away as Lucian lifted his gaze to stare back at the man, seeing how he shook his head. “I shall excuse myself now and give you the time you require. Mayhap I shall leave a little laudanum with your butler, should your require it.”
Lucian could not say yes or no, such was the weight in his heart. He let out a breath and felt his chest aching, his eyes now burning hot. His breathing grew quicker now, more ragged as he tried to take in what his friend was saying, accept the reality that he would never see Lady Pearl again. There had not been any great love between them but that sensation had begun to take a hold of Lucian of late, though he could not have spoken for her. To lose her now, when his heart had only just begun to take a hold of her and clasp her to himself, was truly devastating.
And it is all my fault.
“It is not your fault.”
Lucian’s head jerked up, not realizing that he had spoken aloud.
“You encouraged her not to ride with you,” his friend said, gently though there was a twist of firmness through his voice. “Her brother agreed to let her do so, despite the dangers which every traveler is aware of. You cannot blame yourself for this.”
Lucian’s throat ached as he spoke, his voice rough and grating. “I should never have permitted her. It was my affection for her which made me weak – and now, some dreadful accident has occurred and she is lost to the sea… forever.” Closing his eyes, he fought the tears which burned there, just as guilt struck hard at his soul. “I have been weak and foolish and she has paid the price.”
“It was not your fault,” his friend said again, all the more firmly. “No doubt some dark and dangerous men were lying in wait, saw their opportunity and took from her what they could. I do not know if their intention was to do as they did in the end but all the same, none of this responsibility lies with you.”
Lucian shook his head again, refusing to believe it. “No. I will take the blame for this,” he said, heavily, his shoulders rounding as he dropped his head. “I do not know why I have escaped and she had to be the one who suffered, but I would give anything, do anything, to take her place.”
“Do not say that,” Lord Radcliffe began, but Lucian closed his eyes, threw back his brandy and then cut through the air between them both with one hand, silencing his friend.
“I will not be persuaded,” he said, a little throatily still. “I am to blame. I will accept that without hesitation and nothing you can say or do, my friend, will ever change my belief in that.”
Chapter One
Three years later
“Is it true?”
Lucian scowled as the door opened and his friend swung jauntily into the room, a broad grin on his face. “I do not think I gave you permission to walk into my drawing room, Radcliffe.”
“I do not need your permission,” came the breezy answer, his friend now slouching in one of the chairs opposite Lucian, crossing his legs at the ankle. “Well?”
The scowl on Lucian’s face grew darker. “I do not like you always coming in here making demands on me or asking your incessant questions.”
This did not seem to push Lord Radcliffe back for he merely shrugged and then tilted his head clearly waiting for Lucian to answer. This, Lucian reminded himself, was why he had become rather tired of Lord Radcliffe of late. The man was always pressing him, coercing him and otherwise irritating him – and today, it seemed was no exception.
“You know that I will simply sit here until I have my answer.”
Biting his lip so as to keep back the very first sharpish thing he was about to say, Lucian grimaced. “You are deeply irritating, Radcliffe.”
“I know that I am and I do not think it a bad thing.”
“You have not always been so.”
At this, the light smile on Lord Radcliffe’s expression faltered. “I do not think that it is I who has changed, my friend.” His tone was quiet but the steadiness in his gaze made Lucian’s mood darken all the more. “I understand that these last few years have been more than a little trying for you but you have become rather… hidden.”
“Hidden?” Finding himself a little offended at his friend’s remarks, Lucian gritted his teeth for a moment. “How dare you suggest that a gentleman ought not to grieve his betrothed?”
Lord Radcliffe’s eyebrows shot towards his hairline. “I did not say such a thing.”
“You suggest that the altering of my character is something to be considered poorly!” Lucian continued, not even listening to his friend. “Are you suggesting, therefore, that the death of my betrothed should have no effect upon my character?” He waited expectantly, quite sure that his friend would either give a defense or rise and make his way from the room – the latter of which, Lucian wanted, truth be told – but instead, Lord Radcliffe only shrugged, settled his hands in his lap and looked back at Lucian steadily.
A heat began to creep up Lucian’s chest, making him frown and look away. There was the pressure of embarrassment and shame seeking to make its way into his heart and more than anything, Lucian did not want to permit it entry. He wanted to remain as he was, to be as he was, dark and sullen and without any desire for company and yet despite that, Lord Radcliffe continued to trouble him. In his heart, Lucian had to admit that the reason he had said such a thing was not because he believed that Lord Radcliffe was suggesting he ought not to be grieving Lady Pearl but because he wanted his friend to quit the room and leave the estate at once… and it seemed as though Lord Radcliffe knew it.
“I am sorry.”
The words were uttered in a quick, mumbled fashion though Lucian did not look at his friend when he spoke. Instead, he cleared his throat and then rose from his chair, making his way to where the whiskey and brandy sat. “Drink?”
“Please.” Lord Radcliffe’s voice was calm enough though Lucian’s face burned with heat. Quickly, he poured two measures of fine French brandy and then walking back to his seat, handed one to Lord Radcliffe – still without so much as glancing in his direction.
“You did not answer my question.”
Closing his eyes, Lucian let out a long sigh in the hope that Lord Radcliffe would not press him to answer but it was not to be. When he looked at Lord Radcliffe, his friend still held that quizzical, curious expression on his face and was gazing steadily back at him, which meant that Lucian had no choice but to answer.
“I am afraid that I will stand by my statement that you are somewhat irritating with your perusal,” he muttered, rubbing one hand over his eyes. “You force me now to answer.”
“Good for I should very much like to know if you truly do intend to come to London. Society is abuzz with the news!”
Lucian’s scowl returned with force. “Might I ask why?”
“Because,” Lord Radcliffe returned, quickly, “because you are a gentleman who has not been seen in three years, who has refused all company – aside from my own –”
“Which you force upon me.”
“And because your dark manner of late has garnered you something of a reputation, even in your absence,” Lord Radcliffe continued, steadily ignoring Lucian’s sharp interruption. “You have shunned society, have refused to come to the London Season but now, this Season, it is said that you will make your return!”
“Only because I must.” Lucian shook his head and sighed, his stomach knotting. “A cousin is to be married and I have been invited. It would be churlish not to attend.”
“I see.” Lord Radcliffe’s lips curved. “You are going to be back in society after all, then. This time, it seems, the ton’s whispers have proven true!”
“Indeed, though I do not think much of the ton for muttering about me when I am absent from their company.”
Lord Radcliffe chuckled, making Lucian’s brow furrow, wondering why his friend was laughing. Evidently seeing this, Lord Radcliffe shrugged and then spread out his hands. “You cannot expect to write harsh, blunt letters to those who invite you to their events without those responses being shared with others,” he said calmly, as though this was something Lucian ought to not only have expected but accept without question. “The ton do not think favourably of you, my friend.”
“I do not care,” Lucian answered, harshly, ignoring the twist in his gut. “I think them foolish for their lack of consideration.” He waited for his friend to say something, to respond in some way but all Lord Radcliffe did was look away and then take another sip of his brandy. The twist in Lucian’s gut grew all the stronger, making him wince though he ignored it as best he could.
“I will come to London for the wedding, for the celebration and for nothing more,” he continued, when his friend remained silent. “Then I will return here and continue on as I am.”
“Alone and desolate, then.”
The words snapped out of Lord Radcliffe’s lips and Lucian’s gaze shot back towards his friend.
“You have altered, as I have said,” Lord Radcliffe continued, setting down his brandy glass on the table and then rising to his feet. “Over the last three years, you have pushed everyone away and, indeed, had you had your way, I too would have gone from your company, I am sure! But I am too determined for that,” he continued, sounding almost triumphant as Lucian looked away again, a scowl beginning to pull at his features one more time. “I can see that this is causing you great difficulty, my friend, whether you yourself see it or not.”
“What is causing me difficulty?” His tone was harsh and angry but Lucian made no attempt to change it – and Lord Radcliffe did not seem to be in the least bit concerned by it given the way he continued.
“In pushing others away,” he said, quietly. “In making it quite clear that you have no interest in anyone else’s company, you have effectively isolated yourself almost entirely!”
Lucian shrugged. “Might you consider that I want that?”
“You may want it but it is no life for a Duke – or for any man – to live,” Lord Radcliffe continued, quietly. “That is why I say that it is injurious to you though you will not agree with me, I am sure. Instead, you think that living alone, covering yourself in shadow and dark, is all that you require.”
“It is all that I deserve,” Lucian muttered, pushing one hand through his hair, instantly regretting speaking those words aloud. They were the words that continually rang through his mind, the words that filled his mind, almost his entire being. That was why he lived now as he did, why he skulked through the house and his estate almost entirely alone. He had robbed his betrothed of life itself, so why, then, should he enjoy anything this life had to offer? No, he would do his duty to the estate and to his title as he ought but that was all. The only reason he had accepted the wedding of his cousin was because of the urging from many, many relatives, who had all taken it upon themselves to write to him separately – though Lucian did suspect that they had collectively agreed to do so. He had not had the strength to refuse them all and thus, his one excursion to London was soon to come upon him.
“That is nonsense, Lucian.”
It was not the first time that his friend had used his Christian name, but it was rare enough for Lucian’s heart to catch with surprise.
“You did nothing to bring Lady Pearl to her end,” Lord Radcliffe continued, now making his way to the door. “All you did was ride along with her and before you forget, she took that left path, not you. I believe that Lady Pearl was quite determined to make her way along there despite your protests, as you told me yourself, so what blame do you have for what took place? You were not one of the highwaymen, you were not one who set upon her in that rule and outrageous manner and therefore, you have no guilt. Though, I am sure you will tell me otherwise.”
“I will.”
Lord Radcliffe shrugged. “Then I shall continue to irritate you both with my insistent presence and my repeated promises that you are not to take on any blame in this, my friend. Now, I think I shall see you in London, shall I not? At a ball or two?”
Lucian shook his head, one hand clenching into a fist. “My friend, I have already made it clear that –”
“I am sure you will be convinced,” Lord Radcliffe interrupted, before Lucian could begin again. “Someone will encourage you to make your way to a ball and soon, all of society will be alive with the news of your arrival in London – and then what will you do? Bark at them, rebuke them for even speaking with you? Reject one after another with harsh, unkind words?” A hint of a smile played around his lips but it did not send any light into his eyes. “I hardly think you will do such a thing, Strathmore, even if you are determined to do so. Your character might have altered somewhat but you are not cruel.”
“You speak very confidently,” Lucian answered, a bolt of anger racing up his spine. “I have every intention of behaving just as I please which will, in fact, push the ton away from me, making it plain to them that I have no intention of being a part of society. And I shall do so with as much harshness and as much determination as I deem fit.”
Lord Radcliffe opened the door, his words floating back towards Lucian as he made his way from the room. “We shall see, my friend. We shall see.”
Chapter Two
“My dear Rosalind, there is something I must tell you.”
Rosalind frowned, looking up at her brother. “That sounds rather serious, Grifford. Is something the matter?”
Her brother ran one hand across his eyes and blew out a long, slow breath – something which made Rosalind’s stomach twist with worry. She set her embroidery aside completely and then looked up expectantly at him, waiting for him to speak.
“I am sorry to have to tell you this, my dear sister but I have been… foolish.”
Rosalind’s eyebrows lifted. “Foolish?”
“Yes.” Grifford swallowed hard. “Father is aware of it. I have only just finished speaking with Mama and him.”
A coldness began to rattle down Rosalind’s spine, making her shiver. “You had better tell me what it is, Grifford. I do not understand.”
Her brother nodded but then sank down into a seat opposite Rosalind, rubbing again at his eyes. A heavy breath rushed out of her as he swallowed again, then winced. “I have been gambling. Heavily.”
Rosalind looked back at him, not understanding. Surely every gentleman gambled, did they not?
“When I say that I have gambled, I should also explain that I have done so to the point of… well, idiocy. On top of which, I have imbibed a great deal and have been told that, very recently, I was found entwined in the arms of a rich widow. The gentlemen who found me will not keep silent, I know it.”
Catching her breath, Rosalind put one hand to her mouth, realizing now what it was her brother meant.
“I am sorry,” her brother groaned, rubbing one hand over his eyes. “I have been unthinking and inconsiderate and I am truly sorry for it! I have not meant to be so and yet I know that the pain I have caused the family will be great. Our father has made it very clear to me that the disgrace I have brought will have a great and heavy impact on all of us – and especially upon you, my dear sister.” He closed his eyes and then hung his head. “I apologise for that.”
Rosalind could not breathe for some time, one hand pressed to her stomach, her chest squeezing painfully. She knew exactly what it was that her brother meant, seeing now that the actions of her brother would not only besmirch his own reputation but hers also.
And this, at the start of her second Season; the Season she had hoped to find a husband.
“I will do whatever I can to help you,” her brother continued but Rosalind, having managed to snatch in a breath, shook her head fervently.
“No. There is nothing you can do and nothing you should do.” Letting her hands fall into her lap, Rosalind closed her eyes and took in a shaking breath. “To have you in my company while under the scrutiny of society would only cast the shadows you presently bear upon me as well… even more than they already do.”
“I am sorry,” Grifford moaned but Rosalind did not even hear the sorrow in his voice. Panic was beginning to rise up in her chest, her vision blurring as tears began to form, realizing just how much everything had now changed for her and for her younger sister, Emilia, who had not yet even made her come out. It was not only that her brother had ruined his own reputation, but he had also ruined theirs. Gentlemen would not want to be associated with Emilia or her because of what her brother had done, for no reputable gentleman would want the disgrace Grifford had brought upon himself to be associated with them and their family name.
“Rosalind?”
Blinking back her tears, Rosalind rose and stepped into the arms of her mother, who clearly knew all that Rosalind was feeling at the present moment. She overheard her brother apologizing yet again but his words were drowned out by her own sobs as her mother held her close.
“It will be all right, my dear, I am sure of it.”
“How can it be all right?” Rosalind asked, her tears not even beginning to subside despite her mother’s encouragements. “My brother’s reputation is ruined by his disgrace and thus, mine is also damaged severely! And what will Emilia do when it is time for her come out?” She sniffed, grasping for her handkerchief. “This Season, I will be left alone in society, with no gentleman so much as glancing at me for fear that he might be associated with me! None will wish to dance with me, none will wish even to converse with me – so what am I to do? And Emilia’s come out will be even worse for by then, our family name will be blackened though no-one might even remember as to why that was!”
“It may not be as bad as all that.” Stepping back, Lady Fairmont took in a breath and then squeezed Rosalind’s hands, her gaze firm. “I will not pretend that it is not a dire situation. Your brother has told us the truth, however, and that is a good thing for it means that we can be prepared.”
Rosalind glanced at her brother, who had now covered his face with his hands, his elbows resting on his knees.
“I am sorry for what I have done,” he muttered again, rubbing at his eyes. “I lost myself completely and –”
“Your father has already promised me that he will find someone for you to marry,” Lady Fairmont interrupted, not looking at her son but keeping her gaze fixed to Rosalind. “You are the daughter of an Earl and that means you have some standing still, despite the fact that your foolish brother has behaved so. He will do the same for Emilia, when the time comes.”
A flicker of hope rose in Rosalind’s chest but she quickly buried it away, refusing to let herself believe that anything good might come from it. “What sort of gentleman would think to marry me now that our family carries this shame, Mama?”
Lady Fairmont lifted her chin. “Any gentleman who knows you would be pleased to consider you, I am sure,” she said, with a firmness in her tone that did nothing to bolster Rosalind’s hopes. “You are quite lovely, Rosalind, with a beautiful character which so many a young lady does not possess. There is nothing about you which would turn any gentleman away.” She shook her head and sighed. “I wish that I had convinced your father to permit you to marry last Season. I understand that he wished for you to enjoy the Season and move through society without any expectation but all the same, this situation might now have been avoided had you already been wed.”
“Though I still think I was correct.”
Rosalind started in surprise at hearing her father’s low voice, though she noticed how her brother seemed to shrink back, hiding himself away from their father’s presence. The Earl of Fairmont always commanded respect merely by his presence and Rosalind could well understand why her brother appeared to be a little intimidated. She was glad he had admitted to what he had done but all the same, there came now a great sense of devastation – something she was sure her parents felt also.
“I was glad to give you your first Season to simply move around society, Rosalind,” her father continued, not so much as glancing towards his son. “I expected that this Season would be your opportunity to find the very best suited gentleman for you to wed. That is still my intention, of course, but I think we are all aware that things will be a little more difficult now.” At this, he shot a look towards his son, but Grifford was looking steadfastly at the floor, his expression pinched. “But all the same, I am just as determined as I was before to make certain of your happiness and, as your mother has said, I will do the same for Emilia when the time comes, though that is not for some years yet. This Season, your happiness is the main concern.”
Rosalind waited to see if a tiny flicker of expectant anticipation would make its way into her heart but nothing came. There was not even the smallest bit of hope, not even the merest iota of expectant relief. Instead, there was nothing but heaviness.
“Your father will do as he has promised,” her mother murmured, perhaps seeing Rosalind’s desperation. “You know that he is a man of his word.”
Rosalind nodded, her throat aching. “Might I be excused for a short while, Mama?”
Her mother smiled sadly, perhaps understanding Rosalind’s desire to be alone. “Of course, my dear.”
“Rosalind.”
She turned, just as her brother rose to his feet, one hand reaching out towards her. She did not take it.
“I am truly sorry.”
“I can see that,” she answered, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, her voice wobbling with emotion. “Though it is a little too late, Grifford. You shall be able to elevate your reputation to a commendable stature in due course of years, I am sure and will then be able to wed a beautiful young lady who will give you much joy and happiness in the years you spend together. I, on the other hand, will be left a spinster, unable to marry because of your foolishness – and I cannot imagine what will become of Emilia.” Pausing, Rosalind took in a breath for she had not intended to speak so caustically but yet, the words kept coming. “My future is dark, now. It is nothing but unfair that society should demean me when I have done nothing worthy of their censure but that is the path I must now walk, regardless. Yes, Father says that he can find me a husband and I am grateful for that, but you have robbed me of the opportunity to find a husband of my own; to enjoy courtship and betrothal.” Closing her eyes, tears damp on her cheeks now, she shook her head. “I wish that you had thought of your sisters before you had ever sat down to play cards.”
She did not wait for a response but instead, made her way from the room directly. There was a maid by the door who quickly handed Rosalind a handkerchief, perhaps having heard the goings-on and recognizing that Rosalind would be in great distress. Rather than make her way to her bedchamber, however, Rosalind hurried to the front of the house, asking for her bonnet and gloves and for the maid to accompany her. She did not want either her mother or father to see her quit the house for fear that they would pull her back and prevent her from going where she wished. Barely stopping to tie her bonnet ribbons, Rosalind hurried out of the house, her damp handkerchief in her hand. Hailing a hackney, she gave the coachman directions and then, climbing in, sat down and leaned her head back, breathing hard.
The pain in her chest was so great, she felt as though it might explode at any moment. Not knowing what would become of her from now on, Rosalind blinked furiously, pressing the handkerchief against her eyes as the hackney rumbled across the cobbled streets. Everything seemed darker now, the grey sky above her a heavy hue that had not been there before. With another sob catching in her chest, Rosalind closed her eyes tightly, trying her best to keep it contained.
“Where are we going, milady?”
Rosalind did not so much as open her eyes. “To see Lady Eleanor,” she managed to say, choosing not to reprimand the maid for asking her such a question. It was only fair that the girl might wish to know where she was being taken and, given the way Rosalind had practically dragged her out of the house as her chaperone, Rosalind reasoned it might be a little disconcerting. “I will take tea with her and then we will return.”
The maid said nothing and Rosalind drew in a long breath, in the hope that it might calm her a little. Soon, she told herself, her fingers now clasped tightly around the damp handkerchief. Soon, she would be at her dear friend’s house and then, finally, she might give way to every single bit of emotion she felt now that she was completely and utterly ruined.
***
“My dear Rosalind!”
Rosalind grasped her friend’s hands and gave in to the tears which instantly began to flow. “My dear Eleanor!”
“Whatever has happened?” Lady Eleanor, clearly sensing Rosalind’s dismay, guided her to sit down in the window seat, her eyes searching Rosalind’s face. “Whatever has distressed you so?”
Rosalind could not speak, such was her grief. Instead, she buried her face in her hands and began to weep with an openness that she had been unable to reveal to anyone as yet. Her friend said nothing but put one arm around Rosalind’s shoulders, clearly willing just to let her cry until she was finally able to reveal all.
“Whatever has happened, I will be here to support you,” Lady Eleanor murmured, as Rosalind wiped at her eyes, sniffing hard as her bedraggled handkerchief was clutched tightly in her hands. “Even if it is something truly dreadful!”
Closing her eyes, Rosalind sniffed again but finally managed to speak. “I am ruined, I think, though not by anything I have done.”
This made a frown dart across her friend’s face. “Then your brother.”
“How did you know?” Surprise stopped Rosalind’s grief for a moment as Eleanor shook her head.
“Fond as I am of your brother, he has always been something of a liability, given his clear desire to behave just as he pleases,” she said, with a slight gruffness to her tone. “I do not mean to speak ill of him but I am sure you know what I mean.”
Rosalind nodded slowly. “I suppose I do.”
“I presume I am correct?”
Again, Rosalind nodded. “Yes, you are. He has gambled foolishly, drunk too much liquor and has been caught in the company of a rich widow.” She winced as she spoke, her face flaming. “The ton will not be silent about his actions, I am sure, and therefore, the shame which he brings to his own reputation will also be brought to mine.”
Lady Eleanor let out a slow breath, shaking her head for what was now the second time. “Goodness. I am sorry to hear that.”
“I do not think I will be able to find a match,” Rosalind continued, her voice rasping now as she saw her friend’s eyes flare. “As soon as the ton hear of this, they will, no doubt, think just as ill of me as they do of him – and then what shall I do? I fear for Emilia too.”
“That is a great difficulty indeed,” Lady Eleanor murmured, gentle lines sweeping across her forehead. “The ton ought not to think so poorly of you, of course, for you have done nothing wrong but alas, such is the way of things.”
“Then you agree?” Rosalind asked, her voice breaking as fresh tears poured into her eyes. “I am quite without hope?”
Lady Eleanor turned back to face her, her eyes wide again, her hands reaching out to clasp Rosalind’s. “No, indeed not! You are not without hope. I am sure that there will be some gentleman in London who will be more than willing to look past such whispers and see you!”
This did not bring Rosalind any sort of encouragement. “I do not know where I would even find such a gentleman! And if he were willing to ignore the whispers of the ton, then I might find that the reason he is so willing is because he has his own faults hidden also – and expects me not to see them either!” Her chest grew tight, her breathing rapid as she tried to fight the sudden sense of panic which ripped through her. “I am sure that there is nothing for me, now! I shall be left alone in the world, left to be a spinster and nothing more! I shall not have the family and the home I have longed for, I shall not have the affection of a gentleman to warm my heart. Instead, there is nothing but coldness and darkness waiting for me.” So saying, she dropped her head and was almost about to break down into yet more tears, only for Lady Eleanor to stop her.
“Do not say such things! You cannot give up already!”
Rosalind shook her head. “I know that you are doing your best to be encouraging, my dear friend but there are some circumstances where the worst of things is all that one has.”
“No. Come now, you cannot give up.” Refusing to accept Rosalind’s concern, Lady Eleanor squeezed Rosalind’s hands again, tightly. “In fact, I have only just become acquainted with a gentleman who has a friend here in London. A friend who is high titled, unattached and does not appear to care much for what society might think!”
Again, a flicker of hope began to build in Rosalind’s chest but she dampened it. “Ugly? In looks or behaviour?”
“I would not say ugly, no.” Lady Eleanor tipped her head, considering. “He is not the most talkative gentleman but he was not rude when I spoke with him. It seemed to me, however, that he had no interest in being amongst society and because of that, I am sure he will think very little of any sort of gossip as well.” Her smile lifted Rosalind’s heart just a little but she looked away, quite sure that this gentleman would still have no interest in her.
“The Duke of Strathmore, I believe,” Lady Elanor continued, as Rosalind’s eyebrows shot upwards. “As I have said, he was very quiet and did not say a great deal at all, though it certainly did appear as though he were a little frustrated at times.”
“Frustrated about what?”
“I do not know.” Lady Eleanor grinned suddenly. “Mayhap you will be able to ask him.”
Rosalind wanted to refuse, wanted to tell her friend that she had no interest in speaking with a quiet, easily irritated gentleman but the quiet part of her heart reminded her that she had very little choice. “I suppose it would be wise to be introduced.”
“Excellent.” Lady Eleanor smiled suddenly, then released Rosalind’s hand. “I am sure that this will not be the end for you, my dear friend. Despite this difficulty, you may find that you are just as much in society as you ever were. It may not be as terrible as you think.”
Rosalind tried to find a little encouragement in her friend’s words, tried to imagine herself greeting this gentleman and finding a flicker of interest in his eyes but all of her attempts fell flat. Instead, she was left struggling in the dark, her throat aching, her tears shedding still as her friend handed her a new handkerchief, ready to catch them.
“I will be by your side,” Lady Eleanor whispered as Rosalind nodded, wiping at her eyes again. “I am confident that all shall turn out for the best.”
Let me know your thoughts!
I’m glad that you finished reading the preview of “The Penitent Duke”. It will be on Amazon very soon!
This Post Has 7 Comments
This is going to be a very interesting book. I can’t wait to get it.
I love it, can’t wait for the book to come out. I want to know what will become of Lady Rosalind and if she gets to meet up with Lord Stratharm.
This is going to be a great book. I can’t wait to read it!
A good beginning, but a little too much all one way, down. how about a little bit of up and down.
Bob
I’m hooked! I can’t wait to read the rest of the book and see how these 2 characters interact with each other and watch how their story unfolds :).
Definitely interested!
Can’t, I want the rest of the story, So I wait with baited breath. Thank you.