Chapter 27

Philip looked up from the business accounts he had been reading in his study. His steward had not long left, and together they had made a plan of where to move his money next in the farms at his country estate to ensure the tenants were well taken care of, but there would also be enough investment to ensure profits.

In his concentration, he had not noticed the arrival of a carriage though the sudden voices in the corridor alerted him to the presence of someone. He turned in his seat and looked out of the window, craning his neck to look at the drive.

There was a carriage there on the gravel. Judging by the way the stable boy looked rather flustered as he took control of the horses, the carriage had arrived very quickly indeed.

“Where is he?” the unmistakable voice of Eleanor raged down the corridor. The butler muttered some reply which was drowned out.

“Eleanor, please be careful,” Dorian said, his loud steps intimating that he was running after her.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Dorian. I am not made of porcelain. This child is quite safe.”

Philip closed up his accounts book as the door of his study was flung open with such vigor that the door bounced off the wall.

“Good day to you, sister,” Philip said coolly and calmly as his eyes landed on Eleanor.

Her face was red, hair wild, hands on her hips in fury. Her posture would have been one full of intimidation had it not been for her rounded stomach making her walk rather ungainly as she marched into the room.

“Good Lord, Eleanor. You’re making me worried. Please calm yourself.” The words burst from Philip, his worry for her and the child escalating by the second.

The butler had vanished from behind them, leaving Dorian to follow Eleanor into the room with a rather amused smile on his face.

Damn his amusement.

“What did you do to my friend?” Eleanor cried out as she stopped on the other side of the desk.

Stunned by the words, Philip sat back.

“Well?” Eleanor barked. “What did you do to her? Grace is one of the kindest souls I know. She deserves so much better than you.”

“A low blow, sister.”

“She does,” Eleanor said with feeling. “I think the world of you, Philip, and I always have, but it must be admitted that you challenge that feeling often. Why do you deserve her when you have driven her from the house?”

“Driven her from the house? What the hell are you talking about?” He stood hurriedly, startled by the words. He caught sight of Dorian’s smile as his brother-in-law hung back behind Eleanor. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Philip asked him sharply. “Enjoying seeing us at odds? Shouldn’t you be insisting she stays at home and rests?”

“Oi!” Eleanor cut in. “I am not a dog to obey any man’s order.”

“She’s carrying my child; I cannot refuse her anything,” Dorian said with a smile. “Although I will say, Eleanor, you are in such a fury; if you could at least sit down and still be angry, it would give me some comfort.”

She flashed angry eyes at him. Despite her insistence not to obey an order, Dorian’s request clearly had more of an effect on her than she wanted to admit. She sat down heavily in the nearest chair though she only managed the very edge, holding onto her stomach as she glowered at Philip.

“Now, what’s all this about my wife being driven from the house?” Philip asked.

“Show him,” Eleanor said, waving her hand at Dorian.

He reached a hand into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a sheet of paper. He passed it slowly to Philip.

“I think you’d be best off not reading it at all,” Dorian added in a hushed murmur to Philip.

“Dorian, you are not helping,” Eleanor said with a sigh.

“I was trying to help your brother, Eleanor.” Dorian shrugged and moved to stand behind her.

Philip didn’t read the paper straight away. His eyes rested on Dorian for a few seconds first, realizing that if Dorian thought it best that he didn’t read what was in this, then it had to be bad indeed. Yet his curiosity burnt through him, and Philip opened the paper.

It was a scandal sheet which talked of an accident Grace had nearly caused in Covent Garden the night before. The article went on to hint that as Grace was riding out aloud, perhaps she was running away from her husband.

“What did you do?” Eleanor countered again.

Philip looked away from the paper and out of the window. It was raining again.

She is determined to either be outdoors or far away from me, isn’t she? She’s always out riding in the rain!

He crumpled the paper in the palm of his hand until it was nothing but a tiny ball.

“I didn’t do anything,” Philip argued though he knew it was a lie. He had been the one to drive her out with his anger. What’s worse, he had left her alone after they had made love.

She’ll hate me soon. At least, there is safety in hatred. Her heart will not be hurt by me.

“No?” Eleanor scoffed. “Maybe you married my friend just to save your and her reputations, but you are now a married couple, Philip. You should be fighting the ton together, not alone.”

His eyes shot toward her. There was something curious in this statement considering all the trouble she’d had with a fallen reputation. Dorian seemed to sense the irony even if Eleanor didn’t, for he winced.

“Do you believe every word you read in a scandal sheet now, Eleanor? You think I have upset her so much that she has run away from me?” Philip countered loudly.

“I have done what?” Another voice suddenly joined them.

Eleanor nearly fell out of her chair as she spun around to face the door and narrowly managed to avoid doing so because Dorian reached out to grab her hand. Philip scarcely noticed the two of them out of the corner of his eye, for his eyes were on the open doorway.

Grace stood there. As was usual across the last few days, she had returned to the house in a sodden riding habit. She was looking between them all, droplets running off her bonnet.

“I have not run anywhere, thank you,” Grace said tightly.

“Thank God for that.” Eleanor flung herself back in the armchair, looking relaxed at last.

Philip tried to catch Grace’s eye. He longed for some of the intimacy and warmth that had been between them the day before in that sports room, but she seemed intent on avoiding looking at him at all.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read, Eleanor,” Grace seconded. “I went for a ride yesterday, yes, and Mr. and Mrs. Robertson’s carriage nearly ran into me. I managed to stop my horse before she could run too wild. All was well. These writers like to spin things; you know that.”

“Where have you been this morning?” Eleanor asked.

“To see my father.”

“You went alone?” Philip asked.

At last, Grace looked at him. There was something vacant in that stare, completely empty.

“Must I remind you of my freedom? You agreed to it, Your Grace. As your duchess, you gave me that freedom.”

Philip leaned forward, resting his hands on the desk between them. She did have freedom. It didn’t mean he had to like it when she rode so far alone. He worried about her.

“Well, at least we know now the scandal sheets are telling lies again.” Eleanor spoke nonchalantly as she stood. “On second thought, you’re right, Dorian. I should go home and get some rest.” He offered her a hand and the two walked toward the door. Eleanor briefly laid a hand on Grace’s shoulder. “I’ll come see you soon, yes?”

“Yes, that would be lovely.”

“You do not know how relieved I am they printed only lies.” Eleanor sighed. “I thought you two had found heartbreak already.”

Heartbreak.

Philip felt the word most keenly. He sat down in his chair and opened up his ledgers again. Such things were exactly what he wanted to avoid.

As Eleanor and Dorian parted, Grace turned to leave too.

“Grace?” Philip called to her. “How was your father?”

“Not well.” She didn’t look him in the eye. “It’s high time he found a new physician.”

“I have one I can recommend.”

“Thank you.”

Their conversation was wooden and stiff. What they had shared in his boxing room was almost untouchable now.

“I’m going to retire to my chamber.”

“Already?” Philip said in surprise. “It’s midafternoon.”

“I have a headache. I’ll dine in there tonight.” She still didn’t look at him as she turned and left the room.

Philip stared after her into the empty hallway, having quite forgotten all the ledgers in front of him on his desk. Even as he fought it, he had a longing to follow her. In the end, he won that fight and stayed where he was.

* * *

Grace came down the stairs the next morning to find the house eerily empty. The dining room was set up for breakfast, but there was no sign at all that Philip had used it or even that it was being staffed. The teapot on the table was still lukewarm to the touch, but it was as if a footman had deposited it there and darted from the room quickly.

Grace sat down, waiting for a minute in the strange silence for someone, anyone to appear. Even Mrs. Williamson didn’t appear to greet her that morning with cheery ‘good mornings’ as she so often did.

Eventually, Grace poured her tea and reached for some toast which had been laid on the table. She was halfway through the slice of toast, staring around the room in the silence, when something caught her attention.

Beside the chair at the head of the table, she could see something yellow beside the leg, as if it had been dropped there. She reached down, finding it trapped beneath the chair leg. She had to stand and shift the chair then reached down and picked up the scrap of paper that had been discarded.

She turned it over, feeling her heartbeat picking up in pace when she saw it was another scandal sheet. Fearing she knew why the breakfast room was so empty and perhaps why the staff had run for cover, to hide from Philip’s fury, she slowly unfurled the sheet to read the story.

The headline that met her eyes made her gasp in alarm.

“The only reason the Duke of Berkley married his less than graceful Duchess is revealed…”

She turned the page, eager to read what secret the scandal sheet writer purported to know.

“So many secrets the Duke and Duchess of Berkley must be fighting to hide though this is the greatest yet. All of us who thought the Duke of Berkley one of the most affluent in the land were clearly sorely mistaken. This writer can now reveal to you that the Duke of Berkley is actually nearly penniless.

His father, a man who has sometimes made the crowds whisper about supposed affairs, turns out to have committed even more disgraces. He gambled away the dukedom’s fortune, a significant sum indeed considering the dukedom owns much land and has many tenants in the country. All are surviving on minimal sums and are on their last legs as the Duke of Berkley fights to keep them within his care.

Yet, the Duke of Berkley’s misfortune is not just that of his father’s gambling secrets. It seems that his wife, the daughter of the Marquess of Garton, is further punishment. The Marquess of Garton, a man who knew about the late Duke’s gambling, blackmailed the new Duke into marrying Lady Grace under the threat of his father’s dark secret being revealed to all.

How awful! An unhappy man must the Duke of Berkley be, not only for the secret he guarded so carefully to be revealed at last but to be forced to be bound until his dying day to the daughter of his blackmailer, a woman so disgraceful that scarcely a day goes by without her name appearing in these pages.”

Grace broke off. She had read the meat of the article, and as far as she could see, the rest of the page just wallowed in her and Philip’s misery.

With her hands shaking, Grace darted from the room. She didn’t release the sheet but carried it with her, running all the way down the corridor as she searched for Philip. She thrust open every door she could find and even went to the back of the house, opening the door to his boxing room.

Instead, she found one of his punching bags on the floor, but there was no sign of Philip.

She headed back into the main body of the house where she heard muffled voices. She hastened toward them, opening Philip’s study door without knocking to find the source of those voices.

Philip was in his study, but he was not alone. His mother, the Dowager Duchess, was seated in a chair beside him. She was crying with one of Philip’s handkerchiefs pressed tightly in the palm of her hand.

The Duchess didn’t notice Grace’s entrance at first. She was too lost to her tears, great gasping breaths overtaking her body, but Philip noticed.

He stood straight from where he was beside his mother’s chair. Folding his arms, he turned to face Grace. Never had she seen him looking at her before with such a glower. The stare was one full of censure. She felt tiny, as if he wished to squish her like some beetle beneath his boot.

Silently, she held up the scandal sheet, her hand still clutching it and quivering to show what she had found.

“Your poor father,” the Dowager Duchess cried, her words stuttering with her tears. “He is ruined.”

“Mother —” Philip tried to interrupt her, probably trying to tell her that Grace was here, but she was too absorbed in her despair to possibly notice.

“He will be the talk of the town forever,” she wailed. “They will enjoy his misery, his ruin. My poor husband. He will be turning in his grave.”

“The reason for it has just walked in.” Philip’s cool voice made Grace stiffen.