Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

“ Y our Grace, there is a gentleman to see you.”

Rosalie looked up from her book, startled by the butler’s voice. She had been so engrossed that she hadn’t even heard him enter the parlor.

“A gentleman?” she repeated as she set the book down on the coffee table and blinked to try and rouse herself. “Did he give you a card?”

“No,” the butler said, frowning. “He said he was an old friend of the family.”

Rosalie felt her heart almost stop. My father! He’s broken out of prison again!

But no, the butler had been given a description of the former Lord Carfield, and he would know not to permit him to enter.

“You can show him in,” she said, “but, Mr. Martin, will you stay with us until I dismiss you? One can never be too careful.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

She was glad of her request when, a minute later, Mr. Martin returned with Mr. Cain—the man who had tried to manipulate her into marrying him while working with her father.

She was standing when he came in, and the moment she saw him, Rosalie drew back.

“Mr. Cain!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“Your Grace,” he said, bowing low. She didn’t offer her hand for him to kiss. “I came to call on you and congratulate you on your marriage.”

Rosalie felt her mouth go dry. She didn’t believe that for a second.

“And it is Lord Cain now,” he added a little smugly. “It turns out that I was the beneficiary of my late uncle’s will, and I inherited not only his fortune but his title as well. He was a baron, you know.”

“No, I didn’t,” Rosalie said stiffly.

Cain glanced at the butler, who was still lingering by the door. “You may go,” he said, rather rudely.

Mr. Martin looked at Rosalie, and she nodded. I’m perfectly safe in my husband’s house , she told herself.

“I’ll be right outside, Your Grace,” Mr. Martin said, and he threw a cold look at Cain before leaving.

“Nasty fellow,” Cain observed, laughing as he crossed to the sofa and sat down on it uninvited. He was skinnier than she remembered and of average height with blonde, almost colorless hair that did nothing to flatter his features. As she seated herself across from him, Rosalie couldn’t understand why she had ever found him attractive.

“It was not wise of you to come here,” she said. “The Duke will not like it, and neither do I. You are not welcome in my home after what you did to me and my family.”

“I saved your sister!” Cain argued indignantly, giving her a hurt look. “If it weren’t for me, Attorton never would have made it to Wales in time to save her from marriage to Lord Redfield.”

“If it weren’t for you, Violet never even would have been in Wales in the first place!”

“I still saved her,” Cain said sulkily. “I switched sides!”

“Do not pretend you were ever on our side!” Rosalie hissed. “You did that only to save yourself because you feared I would never accept your hand in marriage if I knew that you had been in league with my father. And you were right!”

“So that’s why you married the Beast of Carramere!” Cain’s face had twisted into an ugly, angry expression. “Because you associate me with your father?”

Rosalie didn’t want to get into the reasons she’d married the Duke, but she certainly didn’t want Cain thinking he had ever been an option. “There is no circumstance where I would have married you,” she snarled, “whether or not I married the Duke or stayed a spinster all my life!”

Cain stared at her for a long moment, his face still red and furious, and then his shoulders sagged, and his face fell. He looked down at the floor, and a pitiful sob escaped him.

“I thought you would be able to look past what I did,” he mumbled, and she tried not to roll her eyes. “I thought you could forgive me. I wrote to you several times to apologize.”

“And while I am glad if you have seen the error of your ways,” she forced herself to say, “that doesn’t mean I have to forgive you.”

Perhaps she was being harsh, but she didn’t care. The man was a snake, and she didn’t believe this simpering act. Like everything else, it felt designed to get her sympathies, and it wasn’t working.

“I must ask you to leave now,” she continued. “You are not welcome here, now or ever, and I will instruct the butler to turn you away, should you ever come back.”

At once, the furious, resentful look came back to Cain’s face, and he sprang to his feet.

“Fine!” he hissed. “Have it your way. But just know that I’m aware of the real reason you married the Duke: you gave yourself up to him at the Duke of Attorton’s ball! I suppose I should count myself lucky that I avoided marriage to a woman of such loose moral standards!”

“That is quite enough.” Rosalie was on her feet, and her voice, she realized, was filling up the whole parlor. It was harsh and commanding, authoritative; it sounded, if she wasn’t mistaken, like the Duke’s. For a split second, she let herself marvel at this and bask in the new feeling of power that filled her up.

I am a duchess now! she realized. I have the authority to send this man from my sight. I am in charge of my own destiny.

“A man like you, who helped kidnap my sister, who courted me merely to use me, and who aligned himself with my father, has no right to speak to me of moral standards! Whatever I did or didn’t do with the Duke, I am still better than you in every measurable way.”

She couldn’t quite believe her own boldness, and from the look of shock on Lord Cain’s face, neither could he. It only gave her more strength.

“You are to leave now and never come back,” she continued, pointing to the door. To her relief, her hand wasn’t shaking. “Now.”

Cain turned with a flourish of his tailcoat and stormed across the parlor, flinging open the door only to find Mr. Martin there, holding out his hat and cloak.

He grabbed his effects and then looked back at Rosalie. “Have a nice life married to a beast.”

“Better a beast than a snake,” she said, raising her chin defiantly. “At least my beast protects me.”

Cain glared at her then he was gone.

She took a deep breath then collapsed onto the sofa.

“Are you all right, Your Grace?” Mr. Martin asked, stepping into the room.

“I’m fine,” she said, shaking her head. “But if he returns?—”

“Don’t worry.” Mr. Martin shook his head. “I’ll never allow him back across the doorstep. But Your Grace? We should probably not tell?—”

“Yes, I agree,” she said at once. “It will be our secret.”

The Duke isn’t the only one who gets to have secrets .

“Your Grace? There is a letter for you.” Mr. Martin stood in the doorway, holding a tray upon which was a thick piece of parchment sealed with a blue wax that Nathan recognized. “I went to mail a letter from the Duchess to her cousin, and this was there for you.”

“Yes, thank you, Martin,” he said, holding out his hand. The butler entered and held the tray out to him, and Nathan took the letter. The moment he felt the paper with its usual thickness and rough texture, his suspicion was confirmed: the letter was from Scotland Yard. He didn’t even need to check the name of the sender which would be fake anyway. They always sent him letters under pseudonyms.

“Very good, thank you,” he said, dismissing the butler, who bowed and stepped out. Nathan sat back down at his desk and broke open the letter. It had been some time since he’d received a letter from his contacts at Scotland Yard.

His eyes scanned over the letter, and he felt his heart begin to beat more wildly.

It’s in code! It’s been a long time since they’ve sent me a letter in code!

That must mean that something serious had happened. Something serious enough that they were willing to ask for help from him.

At least, that’s why he assumed they hadn’t been in touch very often over the last two years. Before he’d become known far and wide as a villain, he had regularly helped out with Scotland Yard’s cases. James had even asked for his help when he had wanted to clean up his duchy. Back then, Nathan had enjoyed a stellar reputation as an upright gentleman.

But that was before he’d started frequenting gaming hells and other denizens of evil. That was before he’d called in debts against all those who had owed his father money, mercilessly making them pay him back even if they didn’t have the money. That was before people thought he was the kind of man who would dishonor a young lady.

Nathan finished reading the letter and then started again. It would take patience and time to decode this one. It had been written in a code he didn’t recognize, and he felt the wheels in his head begin to spin. This had been his favorite part of helping with detective work: figuring out codes, solving riddles, following clues. It reminded him of being a child again, playing games with Ethan or reading the detective stories that he had been obsessed with at that age.

The code had just started coming together, the words and meanings clicking into place, when there was a soft knock at the door.

“Come in,” he grunted.

A moment later, the door opened, and Rosalie came in. He looked up at once, recognizing the smell of the rosewater that she always wore at once as well as the familiar swish of her skirts.

“Good morning,” Rosalie said, sweeping into a curtsy. She hadn’t fully gotten used to their now being of equal rank, and she often forgot herself and curtsied to him.

“Good morning,” he said. She looked particularly beautiful with her pale blonde hair loose around her shoulders and her skin particularly pearlescent in a simple white morning dress. It was difficult not to stare at her indecently, so he quickly diverted his eyes back to the letter on his desk.

“I was wondering if you had seen the invitation to the ball at Reinhart Park that we received tonight?” she asked as she came to stand in front of the desk.

Nathan frowned; it wasn’t his usual habit to read invitations when they arrived. He usually threw them out immediately. But the butler must have given this invitation to Rosalie which made sense. As the woman of the house, she would take care of their social schedule. “No. I haven’t seen it. Were we invited?”

“Yes. And I wanted to check with you that you will be able to attend.”

Nathan ran a hand through his hair. “When is it?”

“Tomorrow night,” she said, and her cheeks grew a little pinker. “You see, it is the first ball we’ve been invited to since our wedding which I think is a good sign: we’ve only been married a week, and already, invitations are coming in. That must mean that the ton has forgiven us whatever scandal is attached to our wedding.”

“I see.”

“And…” she blushed even more prettily, “we must show that we are united as a couple—as the Duke and Duchess of Carramere. Otherwise, rumors will continue to spread about us.”

For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to attend a ball with Rosalie on his arm: what people would say about them as a couple, how they would comment on their good looks and grace, and how she would feel in his arms as he swept her around the dance floor.

But then he remembered the letter and the code that it contained.

“We cannot go,” he said flatly.

“W-why not?” she stammered, her eyes going wide.

“There has been a change of plans. We must leave London and go to Carramere Castle for a few days.”

“But… why?” She looked confused, even a little on edge. Carramere Castle was far from London, and he knew it wasn’t an ideal place for a young lady like Rosalie to spend the London Season. Then her eyes narrowed, and suspicion spread over her face. “Has something happened? My father, or perhaps Lord Cain…”

“Lord Cain?” Nathan was taken aback. “Are you afraid that he is going to attempt something nefarious?”

“No,” she said quickly, “I was just surprised by the sudden change of plans.”

“No, it is nothing like that,” he lied quickly. He cast around for a good reason, one that wouldn’t crush her with disappointment, and then he hit on an idea. “It is just that I am taking you on a honeymoon.”

This certainly distracted Rosalie. Her mouth fell open, and the blush in her cheeks became even deeper.

“You’ve never mentioned a honeymoon!” she squeaked. “Surely, considering the speed of our marriage, and its unusual nature, we do not need a honeymoon.”

“Are you saying you do not want one?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that you were a romantic. Surely you have always dreamed of a honeymoon.”

“Well…” she bit her lip. “Yes, that is true. But ours was not exactly a love match, and it is not as if… Well, aren’t honeymoons supposed to be for the making of heirs? I’m still not sure if I am ready… That is to say, we still do not know each other… and I am… Well, I have not made up my mind about whether…”

She was having trouble finishing her sentences, and he was tempted to laugh. She was adorable when she was flustered, but he suspected that it would only fluster her more if he were to point this out.

“Put your mind at ease,” he reassured her. “Our honeymoon can continue just as our marriage already is. There is no need to rush anything. I merely thought that some time away together, getting to know one another, would be helpful. And it would show the ton that ours is a real, normal marriage, and not a fabrication meant to put to bed a scandal.”

“But it is a fabrication meant to put to bed a scandal,” she said uncertainly.

“Which is why we must act like a regular couple and go on a honeymoon.”

“I see…” She bit her lip. “And you think that will put an end to the gossip and rumors?”

“I think it will certainly help.”

“Carramere Castle, though… It’s not exactly France or Rome, is it?”

Nathan actually laughed. “Are you actually trying to get me to take you somewhere more luxurious?”

She gave him a coy, almost flirtatious smile, and his heart leapt in his chest. “Well, if we’re going to have a honeymoon, we ought to try and make it look as real as possible, don’t you think?”

Nathan was tempted. For a moment, he wanted to ignore the letter on his desk and whisk Rosalie off to the continent for the romantic honeymoon he knew she had dreamed of all her life.

But their honeymoon wouldn’t be romantic. They weren’t in love. He had already ruined her dreams. Why not continue now?

“My business won’t allow me to get away for long,” he said, and he could hear how much colder his voice had already become. He looked down at his desk. “Carramere Castle is all I can do for now.”

“Oh… all right then.” The disappointment in her voice was palpable, but he didn’t look back up at her or offer any kind of apology. She hovered in front of the desk for a little longer, but when he didn’t look up or acknowledge her, she turned and left.

She’ll get over it , he told himself, even as the gnawing feeling of guilt built in his stomach. This isn’t a real marriage anyway.

And he had more important things to think about than Rosalie’s romantic dreams.

He was only able to understand the first half of the letter, but it wasn’t good: Lord Redfield, an old ally of the former Lord Carfield, Rosalie’s father, had died in prison. His son had inherited the title of Marquess, and with it, there was suspicion that he was behind the sudden influx in opium in the streets. Scotland Yard knew that someone influential and wealthy was importing opium from the Orient into England, and because several distribution centers near Redfield’s land had been busted, they suspected the opium was coming from his land.

The Carramere Duchy was right next to Redfield’s lands, and whoever had sent the letter wanted him, Nathan, to look into it.

Something was rotten in the Redfield Marquessate, and if it had something to do with Carfield, that could mean trouble was once more brewing for Rosalie and her sisters.

And that was one thing Nathan was not about to let happen.