Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Rebecca walked into the tearoom, spotting Lady Kingsley immediately. It was a small, quaint, cosy tearoom with floral wallpaper and bare mahogany tables littered with the remnants of half-eaten cakes and cups with tea drips running down their sides.

Though it was not the luxury Rebecca usually preferred, it was sweet, and more importantly, it was private. The plump woman who ran the place always had a smile for her customers, and she made some of the best cakes in London.

Lady Kingsley was in the corner by the window, watching intently as the tea was poured. The world passed by the window behind her, quite forgotten thanks to the net-curtain barrier that separated them. She sat with her back perfectly straight, her face schooled into her normal dour expression. Rebecca smiled. She found she rather liked the woman.

Though she was not quite as ruthless as Rebecca, her determination to see her son marry someone suitable worked in her favour, and she seemed quite willing to go further than most. Rebecca had been particularly pleased to receive this invitation to afternoon tea, especially when the note asked her to keep it a secret from the duke himself.

Rebecca wound through the tables and joined her. "Good afternoon, Lady Kingsley," she said. She wore a lemon-yellow cotton gown with a straw hat that was more suited to the summer than the spring, but it shaped her face in a pretty way, and she knew it gave off that air of innocence that Lady Kingsley seemed to like so much.

"Rebecca," Lady Kingsley said, not wasting time on small talk. "Glad you could make it. I have something rather important I wish to discuss with you."

"Oh?" Rebecca hovered awkwardly, waiting for her invitation to sit down. Though they'd known each other for some time now, Rebecca would not be foolish nor presumptuous enough to simply sit.

"It's about my son. I had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but here we are."

"I see." Rebecca shifted her weight from foot to foot.

"Well? Sit down!" Lady Kingsley snapped. "I don't know why you're loitering so."

She huffed. Rebecca raised her eyebrows as she sat down, though she didn't comment on Lady Kingsley's lack of propriety.

"Tea, My Lady?" the plump woman asked.

"Please," Rebecca said, not taking her eyes from Lady Kingsley. The woman disappeared, and Lady Kingsley sighed.

"Do excuse my bad temper, Rebecca. I am feeling rather frustrated at the moment. I don't mean to take it out on you."

The plump woman returned with a pot of tea, poured it, then left again without a word. Rebecca felt herself relax, picking up her cup and rippling the surface of the tea with her breath to cool it.

"Has something happened to put you under such a cloud?" she asked. "I do hope everything is all right."

Lady Kingsley closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them again and began telling her everything, the rage in Rebecca's heart began to bubble. Her pleasure at the invitation faded away, replaced by anger at the duke and herself. She should have known better.

"You were quite correct to be worried about Celestina," Lady Kingsley said.

"Oh yes?" Rebecca said again, swallowing back the bite of irritation she felt. Of course she was right. She'd known it all along, yet she had quite ignored her concerns, pushing them away in the hopes that she was being paranoid.

"Yes." Lady Kingsley took a noisy sip of tea, then put the cup down with a clatter as she continued. It was obvious she was flustered. "As you know, they were friends when they were children. Well, it rather developed into more than that as they grew. For Richard, at least."

"Did they …?"

"Goodness, no," Lady Kingsley said, clearly shocked that Rebecca had even suggested something of the sort, though she hadn't actually suggested anything. "Nothing like that. I ensure as much—my son is nothing if not proper. But he did fall in love with her."

She said the words as though they were nothing, some off-hand thing. Like he drank his tea or he attended church. Not love. Nothing so serious. Rebecca shifted in her seat. Though she'd guessed as much, to hear Lady Kingsley say the words stung. There was a time when she believed the duke only had eyes for her, but Celestina's arrival had changed that entirely. And now to hear of a love, probably still harboured, Rebecca worried for her place in his life.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice quiet to disguise her emotion.

Lady Kingsley scoffed. "Her parents arranged a perfectly decent marriage for her, though the man has now died, of course." She shook her head, her chin jutting out as if she couldn't quite believe the selfishness of the man. "At the time, Richard declared that he was going to put a stop to the wedding and tell Celestina how he felt."

"And … and did he?" Rebecca couldn't face drinking her tea. She felt sick, anger and humiliation swirling around her stomach. How could he do such a thing to her?

"Why, of course not!" Lady Kingsley said with a tut. "She married the man, didn't she? No. As soon as Richard suggested such a thing, his father shot him down. Wouldn't allow it—and quite rightly too. She never was good enough for him. That's when he went away to Europe. Said he couldn't stand to be around London knowing the love of his life was in another man's bed."

Rebecca cringed at the coarseness of Lady Kingsley's words, but the woman seemed to be gaining something from this outpouring of emotion, and Rebecca listened intently. Such information might be used to her benefit.

"But he returned to London recovered from this bout of childish love sickness?" Rebecca asked hopefully. She picked at a slice of lemon cake with her fork, watching yellow crumbs fall about her plate.

"Quite," Lady Kingsley said. She picked up her teacup, though it was empty, then returned it to the saucer, unable to decide what to do with herself. "We'd all moved on. Richard had even begun looking for a wife, as you well know. A more suitable wife, such as yourself. That woman was entirely forgotten. But then her husband had to die, leaving her with nothing, and now we're all suffering the consequences."

"I see," Rebecca said. A dark cloud hung above her head, and she was unsure what to make of Lady Kingsley's words. She decided it best just to let the woman talk.

"I am sad to say that I believe his feelings for her have resurfaced," she said. She shook her head.

"Has he said as much?" Rebecca asked.

"Not in as many words, no, but … well, I've always been something of a master at reading between the lines, and besides, I know my son inside out. I'm worried he will pursue Celestina once her requisite period of mourning is over. And I should have no doubt that a woman in her position would rather jump at the chance to become Duchess of Exeter."

"No doubt," Rebecca agreed.

"But I do not want a destitute widow for a daughter-in-law. She's not good enough for my son. It's as simple as that. You have to help me, Rebecca. Please."

Rebecca sat back in her chair and blinked, allowing it all to settle in her mind. "But whatever can we do?" she asked at last. "The duke will not hear a bad word about her. Believe me, I have tried."

Lady Kingsley sighed. "As have I. But we have to do something, Rebecca, dear. Find some way to chase her from the house. Get her to leave and never come back."

"Do you have a plan?" Rebecca asked. It was in this place that she felt most comfortable. Scheming and planning and plotting—they were her skills. Each of her sisters might have had an outward talent of their own, but for Rebecca, it had always been manipulation. It was how she had managed to get their father to favour her time and again.

"I was hoping you'd be able to help with that," Lady Kingsley said. Her fidgeting stopped, and she looked Rebecca in the eye, a calm seriousness overcoming her.

Rebecca inhaled deeply, her chest rising and falling with pride at being asked.

"I will see what I can do."

Later, she stepped out of the carriage onto the quiet London street where her father's townhouse was situated. As the footman took the carriage to the coach house, Rebecca found herself alone with her thoughts. She was still angry. Goodness, she was angrier than she had ever been. But it was calmer anger now, less raging because she had permission to put a plan in place. And a plan she would come up with.

She took the first of several stone steps that led up to the front door when someone jumped out from behind a tree. Rebecca yelped in surprise.

"Hush, My Lady!" the man said quickly. "I mean no harm, but I wish to talk to you about something of great importance."

Rebecca spun around to find herself face-to-face with a man she recognized.

"Mr Willoughby? Is that you? What are you doing here?"

Her entire body tensed, and she looked around desperately for a footman or a maid. Being alone with her thoughts no longer felt like a blessing. She barely knew the man in front of her. His business dealings with her uncle had nothing to do with her, and other than their brief conversation about Celestina, she had never spoken to him.

"Please," Mr Willoughby said. He held his hands in the air as if calming a boisterous mare. "I mean no harm, and if we are quick, no one will see us. Your reputation is safe, I promise you."

"Very well," Rebecca said, though not convinced. She remained on the step, her hands clasped in front of her, her chin in the air defensively. "What can I do for you, Mr Willoughby?"

He looked around to see if anyone was watching, then spoke quickly. "We want the same things, Lady Rebecca."

Rebecca snorted. "I doubt that very much, Mr Willoughby."

He sighed and started again. "We have a mutual acquaintance."

Rebecca narrowed her eyes, her mind racing back to their conversation in town. "Celestina Courtenay," she said. It was not a question.

"The very same. Listen, I appreciate this isn't the most proper way to continue a conversation, but if we are both to get our wish, then it is the only way. I want to see them separated—Celestina and the duke—and I believe it is your wish, too."

Rebecca pursed her lips, but her determination wavered. "I'm listening."

"I will be perfectly frank with you, My Lady. I want Celestina for myself, yet the word in the ton is that she is at the top of the list for future duchess."

The words smarted, a jab to Rebecca's heart. The fact that their relationship had become common knowledge burned her, and she knew she had to deal with the matter quickly. But this man before her was a veritable stranger, and she was certain she could handle the matter herself.

"And what does this have to do with me?" she asked.

Mr Willoughby scoffed. "I am no fool, My Lady, and neither are my ears deaf to what is said nor my eyes blind to what is seen amongst the ton. You have a vested interest in seeing Celestina removed from the duke's life."

Celestina pursed her lips even further. "True as that may be, I can handle the situation myself. Good day to you, Mr Willoughby."

She turned and raised her foot to mount the next step, but Mr Willoughby's desperate voice followed her, making her pause.

"You need to hurry then, My Lady," he said. She glanced over her shoulder. He held an arm out as if trying to grab her. She turned slowly to face him again, and he let out his breath when she did. "The more time you give them, the more their desire and affections will strengthen. You must act quickly before it is too late—for your own sake as much as anyone else's."

It was that which set her heart racing, filling her with doubts about her own abilities. She chewed her bottom lip for a moment, her thoughts swirling. It would do no harm to at least hear the man's plan.

"What do you propose?" she asked.

Mr Willougby's leering grin made her shudder, but it proved to her that he was at least as ruthless as her, if not more. He rubbed his hands together as he spoke.

"I have threatened to ruin her husband's good name further than it is already besmirched," he said. "And in doing so, her own will be ruined. I plan to plant rumours about his secret, sinful lifestyle."

"But even I know that Mr Courtenay was a God-fearing man," Rebecca said.

"Perhaps, but when people hear about his various mistresses, gambling, debts, and the rest of it, their opinions will change. I can assure you of that."

"Is it true?" she asked.

"Does it matter?" he retorted.

"No, I don't suppose it does."

"I have told her that she must pay me an exorbitant fee or become my kept woman. Wife, if she insists, though I see no need for the formal arrangement."

"And how does this help me, Mr Willoughby?"

He leered again. "I need to ensure she does not reach out to the duke for aid, as she has done in the past. The man is stupid enough to help her, even if he will be tainted by association."

"Yes, he is," Rebecca agreed. It was that childlike foolishness that had attracted her to him in the first place. She'd thought him easily controlled, and that rather appealed to her.

"Will you help me, then?" he asked, looking up at her hopefully.

Rebecca only hesitated for a moment. "All right. I shall make a deal with the Devil if it gets me what I want. What do you propose we do about the matter?"

His eyes sparkled with victory. "Well, I have a plan if you're willing to listen."