Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Walter ran up the steps to Exeter House and thumped on the door with the side of his fist. He could hear the chatter of people from inside, the house lit up and welcoming. It was quite obvious there was a party in progress, but he didn't care. He needed to see the duke, and he needed to see him immediately. He thumped on the door again.

Bang, bang, bang!

The door flew open, and the butler's angry, red face peered out. "What on earth is going on? What do you think you are doing?"

"It's imperative that I see the Duke of Exeter this moment."

The butler laughed. "I'm afraid the duke is currently unavailable and, quite frankly, even if he were available, I would not permit you entrance into this house. We are a respectable, proper household. Not one for noisy brutes."

"I am not a brute; I am a solicitor. Mr Walter Rivers. And I say it again—I must immediately see His Grace."

"And does he know you, Mr Rivers? Is he aware you are coming?"

Walter huffed. "If our meeting was prearranged, do you think I would be in such a panic? Or that we would be meeting during what is evidently a party? Let me in this instant! I promise he will want to know what I must tell him."

The butler said no more but began to close the door on him. Walter, in blind panic, thrust his hand out to stop the door from closing, then pushed his way past the butler and into the grand entrance hall.

"Your Grace?" he called as loud as he could, his words bouncing around the echoey chamber. "Your Grace!"

A number of servants poked their heads out of doors, curious as to what the drama was, but the duke did not make an appearance. Walter inhaled, then marched through the house, calling for the duke every step of the way.

"Your Grace!"

Eventually, the duke stepped out of what Walter assumed to be the library, blinking into the light of the corridor.

"What is going on here?" He looked first at Walter, then to the flustered butler behind, then back to Walter.

"Your Grace, I am very sorry to intrude like that, but it is imperative I speak with you."

The duke looked tired, his face drawn and pale, and when Walter looked down, he noticed a sheet of parchment in his hand.

So he had a letter as well, then.

"I told him you were unavailable, Your Grace, but the man pushed past me like some thug."

"Mr Rivers, I don't know what this is about," the duke began, but Walter didn't let him say another word.

He held up his letter, holding the duke's gaze. "It's about Celestina and …" His voice broke. "And Sylvia."

They shared a moment, communicating silently until finally, the duke nodded.

"Thank you for your concern, Beaumont, but you can leave us now."

"But Your Grace—"

"Thank you, Beaumont," he repeated, his eyebrows raised to show he meant it.

When they were alone, the words tumbled rapidly from Walter's mouth.

"I thought I had time. When Sylvia told me about the plan, I thought I had time, but …"

"Come into the library," the duke said, looking over Walter's head to check that no one else was around. "And tell me everything you know."

Once they sat down, Walter felt calmer. Just having someone else there, someone who could share the load, made him feel better. He started at the very beginning.

"David Courtenay was not the man people are now saying he was. He didn't leave Celestina destitute. They had merely fallen foul of Edward Willoughby's dastardly plans. The man falsified some documents, taking everything that rightfully belonged to Celestina and leaving her vulnerable. I take it she didn't tell you about the threat he made?"

"Threat?"

The duke's eyes were wet with tears, his emotion set to overflowing, and Walter understood perfectly. He felt the same. Devastated. Lost. Angry at himself for not discovering the truth sooner. And now he had lost his beautiful Sylvia forever. He didn't think he'd ever recover from this heartache. His only hope was that the duke would know where to find them—and how to get them back.

Walter nodded, and then he recounted everything Sylvia had told him about Edward, the money, and the plan to run away.

"Why didn't she come to me?" Richard demanded. "That sort of money is a drop in the ocean for me!"

Walter shifted in his seat. "Edward told her he would know if the money came from you and wouldn't accept it. And besides, even I know Celestina to be a proud woman. She would never have allowed herself to ask you for help when you've already given her so much. And she wouldn't want to put you in a place of danger, not even of the ton's gossip."

"She is a fool," the duke muttered, though the words were said with so much love that Walter knew he would understand everything he felt for Sylvia, too. He decided to pull on his bravery and tell him everything.

"At the risk of sounding overly sentimental, the truth is I have found myself falling in love with Sylvia. I had never realized it was possible to feel like this until I met her. I was unsure how she felt, and I didn't want to reveal myself until after I'd found the evidence I needed against Willoughby. But now it's too late and …" He held up the letter again. "Sylvia has revealed her own feelings in great detail here."

"I understand," the duke said. "For I feel the same about Celestina. I'm only angry at myself for allowing that disgusting man to take advantage of her."

"It's not your fault, Your Grace. You must not take it to heart. But we must find them—for all our sakes."

The duke nodded, his gaze lost to his thoughts. "Do you know where they could have gone?" he asked eventually. "Perhaps they revealed as much when they told you their plan?"

Walter shook his head sadly. "I only wish I did."

The duke nodded again, and Walter looked to him to find a solution. "Then we need to be practical. We need to put a plan in place to find them and bring them back."

"And in the meantime," Walter agreed, "we need to bring Edward Willoughby to justice."

***

"What on earth are you doing in here, Richard?" his mother demanded moments after Walter left. "And who was that man?"

Richard closed his eyes and sighed. He had no energy for his mother now. He said nothing, and that made her huff.

"There is a party going on, you know. And in your honour! You have not even shown your face once, and Rebecca tells me that you are in here moping over something or other."

He looked up at her, his fury bubbling over. "It has nothing to do with Rebecca! In fact, nothing has anything to do with bloody Rebecca! I don't know why the woman thinks it acceptable to swan around this house as though she is part of the family when she is so patently not—and neither, Mother, will she ever be!"

His mother stepped back, eyes wide, a hand over her chest as if he'd shot her. "How very dare you, Richard. I care not whether Celestina has deserted you or not—yes, that's right, Rebecca told me exactly what was in the letter she read."

"Rebecca is a busybody who does not belong here! I want her gone, and I never want her to return. Do you hear me? You brought her here, Mother. It is your duty to get rid of her."

The gasp came from the doorway. Richard looked up to find the woman herself, her expression a mix of horrified and angry. Her mask slipped, her innocent sweetness flickering away to be replaced by her true ugliness.

Rebecca marched into the room with a sneer, the likes of which he had never seen before. She rose a finger into the air, jabbing at him from a distance. "You! How dare you! After everything I have done! I told her to leave to give us a chance—a chance that I deserve. I have put in so much hard work to get you to like me, Your Grace. I've done everything right, just as I should have done, only for you to mope after a ruined old woman with wrinkles around her eyes!"

Richard stood, his quiet anger so much more powerful and intimidating than the heady emotion of earlier. He glared at Rebecca. "That ruined woman is better than you will ever be. Now get out of my house! I will ensure the whole ton knows exactly what sort of scheming strumpet you are!"

"Richard!" his mother cried on a gasp. "Watch what you are saying."

He turned his glare on her, his chest rising and falling with steady rage. "As for you, you are nothing but an interfering old witch. You are my mother and as such, I will never see you on the streets. But you can forget all the privileges that are currently afforded to you. You will have no more say in my life. Is that understood?"

His mother's eyes were wide, her jaw hanging open. "But … But Richard," she said with a whine.

"No. That is the final straw, Mother. I love Celestina and will get her back no matter what it takes. I will marry her, and she will come into this household as a titled woman and, therefore, your superior. I have been a fool listening to you and Father for all these years. I've wasted too much time. No longer. I love Celestina, and I will get her back."