Chapter Twenty-Two

E ffie sat in her bath, brooding. She had dismissed the maids who tried to stay and assist her. She needed to be alone.

How could her family have gone behind her back the way they had? Conspired with Waterbury? Hot tears fell down her cheeks, and she brushed them away, taking up her brush and scrubbing herself raw.

She did not know who to trust anymore. She certainly wasn't going to remain in town any longer, Season be damned.

Placing her forehead upon her knees, she wrapped her arms about her legs, struggling to make sense of everything. She had truly loved Malcolm. No, Waterbury. She must never think of him as Malcolm again. She had thought everything between them was so easy. Even though she knew she would be a spectacular failure if she attempted to be his duchess, Effie had enjoyed the time she had spent with him, so much that she had coupled with him. Relief poured through her now as she recalled him withdrawing from her so he might keep from emptying his seed into her. She would not want to have his child, especially one who looked like him and would remind her of him every day.

What of her family, though? Above everything, Effie had cherished her large, happy family. The thought of them talking about her behind her back, plotting to have the duke do and say the things that would make her fall in love with him, sickened her. She had no idea how deep the betrayal ran. He had mentioned James and her brothers-in-law. Had they told their wives? Were all her sisters and cousins also in on things?

And what of Mama and the captain?

She soaked in the tub until the water was ice-cold, her spirits lower than they ever had been. Finally, she rose and toweled off with a large bath sheet, dressing herself as best she could in one of her older gowns, one which she felt comfortable in. Effie determined never to go to another social event this Season or any beyond it. She would retreat to Shadowcrest and lick her wounds.

Since the garden party would last through teatime, she remained in her bedchamber, finally leaving it when she went downstairs for dinner at seven. She did not plan to eat.

Instead, she would confront the others.

Slipping into the dining room, she took her seat and waited until the first course was served.

Then Effie looked to Powell and said, "I need to speak to my family about an important matter. Would you please see the room cleared?"

The butler did not look to James, which she was grateful for. "Of course, my lady."

He glanced around the room, and the footmen waiting on them quickly left. Powell was the last to depart, nodding deferentially to her and closing the doors behind him.

"What is this, Effie?" Mama asked eagerly. "Did Lord Ashmore offer for Lady Ada?"

"Effie would not have the room cleared for that, my love," the captain said, his gaze meeting hers. "Did His Grace offer for you? Is that what you wish to share with us?"

"Were you a part of it?" she demanded, her gaze penetrating his. "The conspiracy?"

He did not bat an eye, nor did he flinch. "Yes," he admitted.

Bitter disappointment swept through her. "He said James knew. And the men I thought of as my brothers. But you? How could you, Captain?" Tears welled in her eyes.

"Because I could see he was in love with you," her stepfather said. "We all could. And he said you only looked upon him as you did the other men in our family. Like a brother." He paused. "Waterbury was desperate, Effie. You ignored him, thinking him merely the brother of your good friend. Meanwhile, he was trying his best to get you to notice him and think otherwise of him."

"So, you all wrote up this witty little guidebook, with rules he could follow to persuade me to accept him?"

"Actually, I think he would have done well on his own without it," James interjected. "Yes, some of our suggestions were ones I am certain he decided to follow, but the man plainly loves you, Effie. He just needed a little help opening your eyes so that you could see him for who he truly is—a good man. One who would make for an excellent husband."

"What if I do not want a husband? she countered. "I have mentioned it upon several occasions now. You yourself, James, led me to believe that if I did not wed, I would still have a home at Shadowcrest."

Her brother nodded. "That will always be the case."

"But you all plotted to marry me off. To a duke, no less. The exact kind of man I would not wish to wed even if I did decide to marry."

Aunt Matty finally spoke up. "What does his title have to do with any of this, Effie? It is not as if you are impressed by one."

"I am not a person who has the qualities a duchess requires," she said stubbornly.

"That is not true, Effie," Mama said swiftly. "As a former duchess myself, I believe you would easily slip into the role."

Her eyes narrowed. "It is not a role I ever wish to play, Mama," she said coldly. "Were you also in on the scheme?"

Her mother's mouth trembled. "I knew of it. Drake told me how all the men in the family had met with Waterbury. How much he wanted you as his wife. I did not push you toward him, however, Euphemia. The choice has always been yours."

Her eyes went to Sophie, knowing her sister-in-law's face would tell the truth. "I assume the rest of the family knows about this."

Sophie winced. "Yes, all the husbands told their wives, but I will echo what your mother said, Effie. No one has tried to influence your decision. No one has nudged you toward the duke. You seem to have willingly spent time with him, which means you must like him a great deal if you have done so. We all know your feelings regarding marriage and how particular you are. We would never use any kind of coercion to see you wed."

"Good," she said, rising and tossing her napkin into her chair. "Because I am not going to ever wed. I am not even going to finish out the Season. I am sorry, Mama, for the trouble you went to on my behalf. Please have Madame Dumas not make up any further gowns for me. I am going home. To Shadowcrest. I am tired of the emptiness, and I have been incredibly bored at all the events. I have only smiled and pretended to like going because I did not want to displease you."

"You will never displease me, Effie," Mama said softly. "And if you wish to go to Shadowcrest, we can leave in the morning."

"No," she said firmly, not ready to be in proximity with any of them, with nowhere to escape. It was taking everything she had to contain her fury. "I know you enjoy the Season, and the captain's work keeps him here much of the year. I can ride for several hours in a carriage by myself. I need no escort to Kent."

"I will go with you," Aunt Matty volunteered. "Most of my friends are dying off as it is. You know I am closest to Flora and Hugh, and they stayed home at Benbrook, as usual, instead of coming for the Season. I will go and see them sooner than I planned. In fact, you are welcome to accompany me if you would like to do so, Effie. I know how much they enjoyed your previous visit to Benbrook."

While the idea moderately appealed to her, Effie wanted nothing more than to sink her roots deeply into Shadowcrest.

"No, Aunt Matty. I want to be home, working with Caleb."

Her aunt nodded. "Then I will see you back to Shadowcrest and leave for Grasmere after you are settled in. I hope that is acceptable, James. We shall need your carriage tomorrow morning to do so."

"It is yours," he said, looking beseechingly at Effie. "Are you certain this is what you want? Have you spoken of this to Waterbury?"

"I have made it clear to him that I want nothing more to do with him," she said. "I long for the peace and solitude of Shadowcrest, James. I have much to think about, including how loyal I have been to this family and how hurt and disappointed I am in the way others have treated me."

Effie paused. "If you will excuse me. I will see to packing now."

"Effie, at least stay and eat," Mama begged.

"No, Mama. I have no appetite."

She left the dining room, seeing Powell and the group of footmen hovering in the corridor.

"You may go inside now," she said. "The soup course has gone cold and should be removed."

"Yes, my lady," Powell said, flicking a finger. Immediately, the footmen poured back into the dining room. The butler lingered, though. "Are you all right, my lady?"

"Not really, Powell," she admitted, glad to see someone was concerned about her. "But I will be. When I get back to Shadowcrest."

*

Malcolm rose from his bed simply because it was expected of him. He had escorted Mama and Ada to last night's ball. Effie had not made an appearance. In fact, none of the Strongs and their spouses had been present at the event. His sister had remarked how strange it was that her friend had missed the garden party and a ball.

He didn't have the heart to tell Ada that her friendship with Effie most likely was a casualty of the mess he had created. She would learn soon enough.

His valet shaved and dressed Malcolm, and he went down to breakfast, finding only his mother present.

Taking his seat, he nodded at her and sipped the tea a footman poured for him. Another placed a plate before him. He merely looked at it and shook his head.

"Take it away," he instructed.

He opened the newspaper because he had nothing to say. His eyes skimmed over the content, not reading it, only pretending to.

"Leave!" Mama said sharply, startling him and the servants in the dining room. "Calley, have breakfast taken up to my daughter's room. She is not to enter."

"Understood, Your Grace," the butler said, ushering the footmen from the room and closing the door.

Frowning, he asked, "What is that about?"

"Why are you so glum?" she demanded.

"It doesn't matter," he said toneless, wanting to escape her scrutiny.

"It is Lady Euphemia who is causing this melancholy, isn't it?"

Anger simmered through him. "And what if it is?"

"Careful, Waterbury," she warned. "You may be a duke—but I am still your mother."

"She has rejected me," he said flatly, staring at his teacup. "You should be pleased about that. You have never liked her or her family."

He kept himself from darting from the room like an immature schoolboy.

"And you accepted being spurned?" Mama sniffed. "I would have thought a man in love would not accept no for an answer."

His gaze flew to hers. "What did you say?"

She shrugged. "You heard me. I suppose you do not love her as much as I thought you did."

"You knew I loved her? How? When?"

"We may not be close, Waterbury, but I did give birth to you. I have always been able to read your moods. You cared for the girl very early on."

"Then if you knew I did, why did you constantly criticize her and her family?"

"To see if you would defend her." She paused. "And you did. Whatever tiff has occurred between you, it is up to you to remedy it."

He laughed harshly. "It is no petty quarrel, Mama. She ended all contact between us. In fact, it would not surprise me if she is done with the Season. In all likelihood, Lady Euphemia has gone back to Shadowcrest."

Mama's brows knit together. "Without saying goodbye to Ada? That is cruel."

"What I did to her was unkind. She will not forgive me. Ever."

"The girl has backbone. Standing up to a duke is no easy task." Mama gazed at him intently. "I think you should go after her."

His jaw dropped. "Go... after her? Mama, she never wants to see me again."

"Do you love her? Does she love you?"

"I love her with all my heart. I had yet to tell her so," he said, despondency blanketing him. "And I have no idea what her feelings are toward me. I thought she loved me. For me. Not because I am a duke. In fact, she was not impressed in the least with my title or status or wealth."

"All the more reason you should find her—and tell her you love her. That girl will make for an exceptional duchess. Just as her mother and sister-in-law."

Malcolm could not believe what he was hearing. Mama had belittled the Strong women, criticizing them for every little thing.

But she was right. Effie would make for an extraordinary duchess.

His duchess . . .

He pushed to his feet. "You are right. Things ended on a poor note between us. I need to find Effie and tell her I love her. It might not make a difference to her, but at least I will have given it my best effort."

"Go to Seaton's first," his mother suggested. "She might still be there. If not, take the carriage to Kent. Convince her, Malcolm. She is a woman worthy of you. And you are worthy of your title."

Going to her, he kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Mama."

"I wish you success in your endeavors. I will say nothing to your sister until this matter is resolved, one way or the other. Ada will be told that you have been called away on business."

Malcolm rushed from the breakfast room and out the front door, not wanting to wait the time it would take to ready his carriage. He strode down the pavement, thinking on what his mother had said. She was right. Effie was the one for him. He had loved her from the start, not knowing he had because love was something foreign to him. The feeling had overcome him—eventually overwhelmed him—until his heart told him she was as essential to him as the air he breathed.

He arrived at the Duke of Seaton's townhouse seven minutes later, fear gnawing in his belly. She might have told the staff not to receive him. She might already be gone. Whatever the case, Malcolm would deal with it. Make a plan. He would see her. Too much had been left unresolved between them.

And he had yet to tell her he loved her.

Rapping sharply on the door, it was answered by a footman he recognized. His astonishment was obvious.

"Is Lady Euphemia home?" he asked.

The footman started to speak and then merely shrugged, looking at Malcolm helplessly.

"Did she ban me from the house?" he demanded. "I am not angry with you. Or her," he said, tempering his tone. "I simply must see her as soon as possible. It is most urgent."

"Your Grace," he heard, glancing over the footman's shoulder and spying Powell approaching.

The butler dismissed the footman with a subtle nod, stepping aside so Malcolm could enter the foyer. Surely, that was a good sign.

At least he tried to convince himself it was.

"Lady Euphemia is not here, Your Grace." The butler hesitated a moment and then continued. "She is returning to Shadowcrest this morning. She left a little more than an hour ago with Lady Mathilda."

"You did not have to share this with me, Powell, but I thank you all the same," he said earnestly. "Might I speak with Mrs. Andrews or the captain if they are here?"

"Mrs. Andrews is... indisposed," Powell told him. "Mr. Andrews has gone into Neptune Shipping. You may find him there. As has Her Grace. His Grace is at Strong Shipping this morning."

"I see. Might you give me an idea where Shadowcrest is located?"

The butler said, "I would be happy to share that information with you, Your Grace."

Powell walked Malcolm through how to reach Crestview, the nearest village to the estate, and explained where to go beyond that.

Clear on the instructions, he said, "Then I will be on my way, Powell. Thank you again."

Malcolm turned to go when he heard his name called. Turning, he saw Effie's mother coming down the stairs. It was obvious she had been crying, her eyes swollen and her face mottled red.

"Mrs. Andrews. It is lovely to see you."

"Did you come for her? My Effie?"

Determination filled him. "I most certainly did. I have discovered she is not here, so I must go to her and speak with her in person." He paused and spoke from his heart. "I love her. I want to marry her."

She shook her head sadly. "You have cut her to the quick, Your Grace. We all did. What we thought was merely assisting you, Effie viewed quite differently. I doubt she will see you, even if you do go to Kent."

"I cannot live without her, Mrs. Andrews. I cannot be the man I am destined to be unless Effie is by my side. She has already rejected me once, but she will have to do so to my face again. I have a thick skull, and her first message did not penetrate it."

The older woman smiled through her tears. "Good for you, Waterbury. I hope that pleading your case to my daughter in person will make a difference. If Effie did not care for you so much, she would not have reacted the way she did. Convince her. I believe the two of you are meant to be together. So do the others in our family."

She leaned up on tiptoe and brushed a kiss upon his check. "Godspeed."

He took her hands in his and kissed them. "Thank you. For being so welcoming to me—and supporting me in this endeavor."

With that, Malcolm hurried back to his mews, having his new team of blacks readied in order to make the run to Shadowcrest.