Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

R ichard thought that the ache would have dissipated once the week had passed.

The knowledge that Nancy had left him behind without speaking to him weighed heavily on his chest, and it had kept him up all night for seven days.

Each night, he had waited for the dawn of a new day, hoping that when the darkness faded so would his worries, and he could return to his usual nonchalant self.

But each time, the sun had risen and brought with it the same troubles.

The sound of knocking at his door irritated him because he had expressly warned that no one should disturb him, and he tried to ignore it at first, but it persisted.

"What?" he barked angrily.

The door opened, and his housekeeper walked in, her gaze fleetingly settling on the empty bottles of whiskey littering his desk before she informed him, "Mr. Martin Aldridge is here to see you, Your Grace."

Richard let out a drunken laugh. "That isn't a very good joke, Mrs. Silverstone. I said, I did not want to be disturbed. You did not need to resort to such underhanded means to check on me. I am not going to perish after a few bottles of alcohol."

The housekeeper sighed. "I do not jest, Your Grace. Mr. Aldridge wishes to speak to you. He says it is important."

The Duke sobered up slightly, his eyes darkening."Absolutely not. Tell that bastard to leave before I feel even more inclined to wring his neck."

Mrs. Silverstone did not move, instead urging with a gentle but firm tone, "I think you should hear him out, Your Grace."

"Why? So he can feed me even more lies? I do not wish to waste any more of my precious time on such ridiculous notions. He has done quite enough already." Richard snorted, refilling his glass.

"Your Grace, he has nothing to gain by coming back here just to lie to you. If… if truly he had been with the Duchess the way the scandal sheet suggested, he would have known the wisest course of action would be to stay out of your sight. Instead, he is here, desperately trying to see you. I think you should try to listen to him. Even just for a moment," the housekeeper pleaded earnestly.

Richard hesitated then sighed, reluctantly waving his ascent.

Mrs. Silverstone bowed and stepped out momentarily, returning with Martin seconds after.

"Good morning, Your Grace," he said with a low bow.

"It was before I was subjected to seeing your face."

The man winced slightly. "I apologize, Your Grace. I cannot imagine what you must be going through, but please allow me to put your mind at ease. Nothing dishonorable ever happened between Her Grace and me. My profession means everything to me, and I would never jeopardize that in any way. Not to mention that Her Grace never spared me a second glance during Dash's training."

Richard scoffed. "You expect me to believe that nothing happened with all that time you spent together?"

"I swear on my life," Martin declared boldly. "As a matter of fact, her full attention was always fixed on the puppy. The only time our conversation deviated from his training was when she talked about you, Your Grace. She often mentioned how you had begun to warm up to the puppy despite initially not liking him. She was pleased to inform me that you looked happy whenever you played with Dash. And that filled me with relief because when I started to train him, she had told me that she wished for him to be well-behaved, so you could come to trust him as well."

Nancy said that?

Doubt swirled around Richard, tightening around his neck like a noose, and he shook his head slowly. "I do not believe you."

Martin seemed slightly frustrated, but he did not lose his temper, merely taking a step closer to Richard's desk. "I understand your hesitation to do so—I sincerely do. However, I long for a love that starts purely, building with time over warm conversation and fond friendship. I would never taint such dreams by engaging in such a despicable act with a married woman. My aspirations might not be sufficient to convince you, but I urge you to reconsider after I tell you what happened two nights ago during the ball."

He waited until Richard nodded, looking relieved to have the Duke's permission, and he launched into his tale shortly after.

"About two hours after the ball began, Dash started to grow restless. I had suggested that Her Grace take him on a walk before the ball, knowing that she would be occupied afterward and likely wouldn't see him much for the rest of the day, and he would miss her too much and cause a fuss. She had been unable to, so I had taken him out twice that day, hoping to wear him out a bit. But after the ball had started, he grew even more agitated and managed to slip away from me, so I had to quickly catch him and take him back to the servants' quarters to keep him from bothering any of the guests.

"Dash managed to make it all the way here, to your study—likely searching for you as well—before I caught him. However, just as I began to leave, I heard voices from within the study. I had initially thought that some guests had gotten lost somehow, since the ballroom is quite far, and I had intended to offer some assistance, but then I heard them mention yours and Her Grace's names. It was odd, so I moved closer and peered through the door that had been left ajar."

Martin stopped, seemingly hesitant to divulge this bit of information. It irritated Richard how curious he was to know who had been in his study and what they had been doing.

He let out a grunt of frustration. "Who did you see? Out with it, man!" he snapped.

"Your uncle, Lord Whitwood," Martin supplied after an uncertain glance at the housekeeper. "He handed money to a man, and I heard Lord Whitwood refer to him as Bertram Thornton."

The name sounded familiar to Richard, but he could not recall why. Mrs. Silverstone sensed his dilemma and pulled out a folded sheet from her pocket, lowering it onto the top of his desk before she pointed at something written on it. The first thing Richard noticed was that this was the gossip sheet that had publicized his wife's affair. The next was that below the housekeeper's finger, a name had been printed in bold next to the title of their scandal.

Bertram Thornton.

"He is the gossip columnist for The Scandal Gazette , Your Grace, and I believe that your uncle paid him to write the article that tore you and Her Grace apart," Martin added.

"That is quite a reach, Mr. Aldridge. You should add storyteller to your list of skills. Or perhaps you can apply for a job at the Scandal Gazette , seeing as you might not have much of a future training dogs henceforth," Richard said, believing the tale that had been spun in an effort to waste his time.

"Your Grace, if you still doubt him, then I ask you to believe in me as the housekeeper who has looked after you for years. I never saw anything remotely suspicious occur between Mr. Aldridge and Her Grace. He only ever did his duty as a dog trainer, and when that was done, he retired to his chamber. What could he possibly hope to gain from crafting an elaborate story like this? Your uncle, on the other hand, has never shown you an ounce of kindness or warmth. He did not get along with your father, and he looked down on you when you became Duke after your brother's passing. It was quite clear that he wanted the dukedom for himself. If anyone had something to gain from your ruin, it would be him," Mrs. Silverstone pointed out.

Richard's lips parted, the urge to refute what he had been told almost instinctive, but no words left his mouth as what he had just heard echoed in his mind.

Mrs. Silverstone is right .

A horrifying chill crawled down his spine.

His uncle had never liked the idea of him becoming Duke. And as farfetched as it seemed, by casting doubt on Richard's ability to fulfill his duties as Duke while also preserving and protecting the family's honor, it would be pretty easy for Lord Whitwood to position himself as a more suitable candidate to inherit the title.

Richard recalled the day his uncle had come to greet him after his wedding, how perturbed he seemed by the fact that his nephew had found a wife, a tactic he knew would only further secure Richard's claim to the title. Richard remembered the underhanded comments that appeared playful and harmless but had been made to demean him in front of Nancy.

But Nancy… she hadn't listened to any of them. Even then, she had stuck by him and supported him. And perhaps that had been simply because she did not wish to lose the offer he had made for her family—he appreciated the gesture, and it had meant a lot to him.

But he hadn't trusted her as much as she had trusted him, too consumed by his insecurities to believe in her when she had begged him to.

God, he had been such a fool.

"Thank you both," Richard started, lifting his gaze to look up at his staff, "for helping me see the truth. You are absolutely right. I've been so blinded by my own faults that I couldn't take the time to think within reason. I will never forget how much you have helped me in this moment."

"It was our pleasure, Your Grace," Mrs. Silverstone sighed in relief.

"What will you do next?" Martin wondered curiously.

Richard nudged the bottle of whiskey aside and folded his hands on top of his desk.

"I will put an end to this ridiculous charade, once and for all." Then he turned to the housekeeper, and he said, "Fetch Ernest for me."

Once the butler arrived, he sat back and issued a single order.

"Invite my uncle over for tea tomorrow."