Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

“ I can hardly believe it. What good fortune! Your husband truly is a wonderful man, Arabella,” Hanna gushed.

“Well, at least he’s practical,” Emma drawled.

“Of course, you would appreciate that in a man,” Hanna teased, sticking out her tongue.

The two sisters giggled while Arabella, seated on the windowsill, watched them, deep in thought. Yes, it was kind of Harry to arrange for London’s premier matchmaker to help her sisters find husbands and to manage their father, but it did not improve her situation.

He continued to keep his distance from her, and whenever she thought they were making progress, he withdrew again, just like tonight. She had shared something deeply personal with him, and he had seemed on the verge of reciprocating before clamming up and refusing to elaborate. More often than not, he left her to her own devices.

Could it be that he simply… did not like her?

“Bella,” Emma called, snapping her fingers, which instantly made Arabella’s hackles rise—she detested having her attention drawn in such a manner. “What is it? Were you woolgathering?”

“Thinking about Harry, I’m sure,” Hanna noted with a smirk.

“I was, but not for the reasons you think. I have a mind to ask him why he does not like me…”

“Why wouldn’t he like you?” Emma asked, raising her eyebrows. “What is this tomfoolery? I will confess, he hasn’t been the picture of affection, but he certainly seems to care about you. He didn’t have to engage Lady Morley to help us, after all. I believe it’s partly because he cares for you and knows it will make you happy if we are happy and can get out of Hayward Manor.”

Arabella shrugged. “He certainly does not wish to keep me company, that much I know. He avoids me, goes into town, and meets with who knows whom.”

Hanna looked at her as if she was befogged. “What do you mean? Surely he goes to meet his business partners, like he says. His uncle does have an estate in Brixton, doesn’t he? He would have to travel through town—it’s the quickest way.”

Arabella hesitated before admitting, “I’ve overheard some of the servants whisper that his visits are of a more personal nature.”

“A personal nature?” Emma repeated, tilting her head to the side. “What do you mean? Do you think he’s seeing another woman?”

Hanna gasped and shook her head. “Surely not! You’ve only been married a few weeks. It would be an outrage! And who are these servants? Haven’t they learned not to gossip?”

“The housekeeper and the butler. I overheard them speaking. But to tell you the truth, I was eavesdropping. They were below stairs in the servants’ hall. They wouldn’t have known I was there. It was late, and my candle was burning low, so I thought I’d go down to get a new one. I didn’t want to disturb anyone, and…”

“What exactly did they say?” Emma demanded, never one for long-winded stories.

“They said it was a shame he was always leaving me behind on these improper visits.”

“Did they say it just like that?” Emma asked, scooting forward in her seat as if she were a detective.

“They said he ought to have stopped his visits some time ago, and that people would start talking, and that Sir Richard wouldn’t like it…”

“And then what happened?” Hanna pressed.

“Then Brandon, Harry’s valet, showed up and told them they shouldn’t be talking about such matters publicly—or at all.” Arabella sighed.

Her sisters fell silent. Emma bit her bottom lip and Hanna scratched her chin. Arabella had hoped they would encourage her, tell her there was a reasonable explanation for all this, but their silence spoke volumes.

“I can’t help but think there is another woman. Someone he liked to keep company before he was forced to marry me.”

“Well, surely if there was another woman, he would have married her,” Emma pointed out. “He wouldn’t have stood for Father’s schemes. He would’ve simply said he was already betrothed to another.”

“Unless the woman he’s seeing isn’t one he wants to marry,” Arabella replied with a sigh.

“Or she is unsuitable for a duke,” Hanna added, echoing her own deepest fears.

“That’s what I thought as well. What if she’s a married woman? What if she’s unsuitable? Or a commoner? Am I being silly?” Arabella asked.

“You might be,” Hanna said gently. “Have you asked him?”

“Of course not,” Arabella huffed.

“That’s realistic,” Emma said dryly. “It’s not as though you can simply walk up to the man and accuse him of having an affair. Not when he’s made it clear that your marriage is only on paper. Perhaps if you get to know him better, if you establish some sort of connection, then you?—”

“How might I establish a connection with him if he’s never here? And even when he is, he barely speaks to me. It’s not as simple as that.”

“Perhaps what you need to do is spy on him,” Emma suggested.

“You cannot mean it!” Hanna exclaimed. “That’s not proper.”

“Is it proper for him to be seeing a ‘piece of frailty’ behind her back?” Emma fired back.

“Spy on him? How would I even do that?” Arabella asked, dismayed that it had come to this.

“I would start with searching his study,” Emma said. “Gentlemen always keep their secrets in the places they frequent most. His study, or his bedchamber, or perhaps the parlor. But I would start with the study. He’s never here, so what’s the difference?”

Arabella knew that Harry did not keep his study door locked—she could easily walk inside. She was the Duchess, after all. This was her home, not the servants’. Mrs. Blomquist and Brandon were exceptions, but Brandon generally accompanied Harry whenever he went to town.

“I say you simply ask him,” Hanna repeated. “He might admit it—at least then you’d know. It wouldn’t make things any worse, and you’d know for sure.”

“Let us not speak of such sad things anymore,” Emma said, picking up her cup of hot chocolate. “It’s quite enough.”

The conversation shifted to a less vexing topic as Hanna retrieved the latest copy of Ackermann’s Repository, and the sisters examined the latest fashions. However, Arabella’s heart was not in it. She couldn’t stop thinking about what her sisters had said and what her subconscious had conjured up.

Could it be that Harry had a woman he was seeing in town or some other nefarious reason for always keeping her at arm’s length? Whatever it was, she would have to find out.

The pitter-patter of rain against the window woke her up in the middle of the night. She turned to the window and pushed back the curtains around her four-poster bed to see. Raindrops were running down the windowpane.

In the distance, lightning flashed across the sky, and she heard a rumble soon after. Another flash followed, indicating that the storm was directly above them. It was unusual to have such storms, which only heightened her anxiety.

She sighed and got up. Beside her, Hanna shifted, while Emma remained deeply asleep. Mabel had set up two cots for her sisters so they could all sleep in the same chamber, but in the end, they had all slept in Arabella’s enormous bed together.

Arabella lowered her feet to the floor, found her slippers, and made her way across the room to the door. She slowly and carefully opened the door, or else it would creak, and slipped outside. Candles flickered in the hall; though it was dim, she wasn’t quite sure where she was even going.

She walked down the hall that led to Harry’s chambers, pausing briefly as she wondered if he was in his room or not. Should she talk to him? Should she confront him? She wasn’t certain.

Sighing deeply, she walked down the staircase toward the drawing room. She found the fire in the fireplace had already been extinguished, a sign that Harry had gone to bed.

By now, she was familiar with the rhythm of the household—whenever Harry went to bed, that was when all the lights in the house were extinguished.

As Arabella turned down the hallway, voices drifted to her ears, and she paused, her curiosity piqued. The voices were coming from Harry’s study. He was awake and conversing with someone. But with whom could he be speaking at such a late hour?

She stopped at the door and leaned forward, her breath catching in her throat when she recognized Brandon’s voice.

“It is a good place, Your Grace. I believe she would find contentment there,” Brandon was saying.

“But it is so far away,” Harry replied, his tone betraying his dismay at whatever they were discussing.

“Indeed, but all the other places we have discussed are just as distant. This one is willing to take her in. I have it on good authority that they can be trusted to keep quiet about their charges.”

“Charges? What in the world are they talking about?” Arabella leaned closer, placing one hand on the fine Chinese wallpaper to steady herself. She listened intently, her heart racing.

“I know it,” Harry sighed, sounding weary. “I did not wish for it to be like this. I wish I could be open and honest with the world about her, but I cannot. It is better for everyone’s safety that she is sent away. And this place is capable of managing girls like her.”

“Yes, Your Grace. This home is particularly renowned for looking after unwanted and difficult children.”

Arabella felt her heart sink into her stomach. Unwanted and difficult children? What sort of secrets was her husband keeping from her?

Could it be that he had a child? Was he not seeing a woman during his absences, but rather visiting a child born out of wedlock? And now he was seeking to dispose of the child? It couldn’t be true, could it?

Arabella had always known that Harry was secretive, but she had assumed his reticence was related to business matters, not this. His love life, too, had been shrouded in mystery. What was he hiding?

She leaned forward, pressing her ear against the door, willing herself to push it open and confront him. However, another part of her hesitated. What if she had misunderstood? She did not want to accuse him of something and worsen their already strained relationship.

Should she go upstairs and consult her sisters? No, their advice had already been conflicting, and she was uncertain what she should do without their influence.

She would wait until the next day, when Harry was away on one of his errands. Mrs. Blomquist was due to be out, as she was going to the market because one of the maids was unwell. The only person Arabella would need to worry about was the butler, Mr. Baxter, though she could always send Mabel on an errand to be sure.

She decided she would wait until Mr. Baxter was occupied with breakfast, and then she would sneak into Harry’s chamber and search for evidence. Evidence of what, she wasn’t entirely sure yet. Perhaps she would come across a letter that would explain everything. Or perhaps he was simply trying to help a friend who had gotten into an unfortunate situation—or perhaps even one of the maids?

“Your Grace, trust me, this place will be good for her. She will be safe there. You can visit, and no one will ever know. It is close enough to Sheffield that you can be there within a few hours’ ride.”

Harry sighed deeply. “I had hoped for a more familial setting—a couple who were unable to have children but wished to care for one, not so young as to want a babe. I wanted her to be close enough to a town where she might experience life and not be shut away.”

“Your Grace, you cannot have everything you wish for, nor can she. She is fortunate to have you looking after her in this way. Many others would have washed their hands of her. And if your uncle ever found out what you are planning to do…”

“I know it. My uncle would rather I wash my hands of her entirely, but I cannot. I am responsible for her condition. It is my fault.”

“I do not understand, Your Grace. How can it…” Brandon trailed off, and Arabella assumed that Harry had silenced him.

“I thank you, Brandon,” Harry said curtly.

Arabella realized that the conversation was over. Swiftly, she turned and hurried down the hall, hiding herself in the music room to avoid being caught. She heard the valet’s footsteps retreat down the hall, then fade as he made his way toward the servants’ staircase.

She remained in the dark for a few more minutes until she heard Harry rise and likewise walk away. She heard the study door click shut, but there was no jingle of a key.

Good. She would be able to do what she had set out to do and perhaps finally uncover the truth.