An Earl for the Broken-Hearted Duchess

by Lucinda Nelson

  By the early afternoon, something else had been plaguing her mind for so many hours that she couldn’t resist it any longer.

  She left Ezra to Miss Hallow’s charge and rode into town.

  Once there, she went directly to the schoolhouse. And there she was. Young Miss Wilde, planting the final few vegetable and fruit seeds in her little garden.

  She looked happy, though the area had been vandalized so recently, because she had achieved something, however small.

  If Margaret was honest with herself, Miss Wilde was exactly the sort of woman she was prone to liking. Such a kind, sweet girl. Margaret admired her optimism, because it reminded her of a less embittered version of herself.

  Margaret watched her from a distance for some time. She was seated in her carriage, watching through the window from across the road.

  Everything Miss Wilde did was youthful, beautiful and gentle. She was the epitome of every man’s dream, wasn’t she? Delicate, young and naïve. Could she blame Nathaniel for wanting her?

  The more moments that passed, the more upset Margaret became. She felt something wet on her cheeks. When she touched them, she realized that she was crying.

  “Margaret?” She knew the voice. Before he appeared in the window, Margaret wiped rapidly at her eyes so that she looked a little more put together when he looked inside. “I thought it must be you,” Nathaniel said.

  He was smiling in greeting, but his brow was wrinkled in confusion. “I did not expect to see you today.”

  This reminded her of the lie she’d told. That she would be spending the day with Ezra. And yet, Ezra was nowhere to be seen, as Nathaniel surely noticed.

  “Yes,” she said quickly. “Yes, well I wanted to take a more personal look at the school.”

  “A more personal look?” She knew what he was thinking. That she’d been inside the school several times. That she’d even helped mend parts of it. How was viewing it from across the road affording her a more personal look?

  She’d always been an awful liar. “Yes. To truly consider whether it is a good fit for Ezra.”

  Nathaniel quirked his brow. She could see that he knew she was lying, but he did not question her.

  “Would you come inside for some tea? I am sure Miss Wilde would love to see you again.”

  “No, no,” she said, rapidly and perhaps with too much force.

  Again, he looked at her queerly. “No?”

  “No, I must leave promptly. As I said yesterday, I hope to spend as much of the day with Ezra as I can. But I thought I’d sneak out to see the school while he had a lesson with his governess.”

  Nathaniel did not answer for a moment. He looked dubious, but nodded. “Very well. I will see you tomorrow?”

  “Certainly,” she said, too quickly, before really considering whether she wanted to see him. But she was eager to evade further questioning and asked her driver to leave. He did so, with haste, because her voice was so pressing.

  Nathaniel stood back. She watched him through the window. He did not move until they were out of sight.

  ***

  Lord Nathaniel Sterling, Earl of Comptonshire

  “The lady in the carriage,” Clark remarked. “Your duchess?”

  Nathaniel nodded, still frowning.

  “You do not look pleased.”

  “I am not,” Nathaniel admitted. Clark had come to the schoolhouse that day to inspect what little remained of the damage. He’d felt a great deal of righteous anger when Nathaniel had told him that the school had been vandalized.

  Or perhaps he’d only wanted to see Miss Wilde again. The girl seemed rather infatuated with him too.

  “What troubles you?”

  “She has been behaving rather strangely these past two days.”

  “Since you returned from London?”

  Nathaniel nodded.

  “Have you noticed anything amiss?”

  Nathaniel was about to say no, but he hesitated.

  “There is something,” Clark noted, with a quirked brow.

  “The night I returned from London, I went to her estate unannounced. And when I arrived, rather late, I saw another gentleman leaving the grounds.”

  “A gentleman?”

  “Yes. A man I have met before. A friend of hers.”

  Clark frowned. “Does she spend a great deal of time with this gentleman?”

  “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “The strangest thing was, when I arrived, she was crying.”

  Clark blinked. “Whatever for?”

  “She said that her friend, the gentleman, was leaving for France. That she was crying because she would miss him.”

  “They must be very close indeed.”

  “I suppose they are.”

  “And this bothers you?” Clark pressed.

  “It might not have, had her behavior not been so queer as of late. I believe that she is hiding something, but I cannot for the life of me discern what it is.” Even suggesting that she might be deceiving him gave him a pang of pain.

  “Then it seems we have an investigation to conduct.”

  Nathaniel shook his head. “I will not ‘investigate’ her, Clark. She has done nothing wrong.”

  “But does this behavior not concern you? A gentleman calling late in the evening, and leaving her weeping? I tell you, it would keep me up at night, such a mystery.”

  Nathaniel thought for a moment. Yes, it had kept him up at night, as he was sure it would continue to. At least for as long as Margaret continued to behave strangely with him. “What do you suggest?” he said, hesitantly.

  “Nothing stays secret for long. I only mean to ask around. See what I can find out about this gentleman.”

  He bit the inside of his cheek. Indecision was running rampant through his mind. At last, he nodded. “Very well.”

  Clark inclined his head with a serious countenance. He looked like the military man he was at heart.

  A man on a mission. But he quickly became distracted by Miss Wilde, who asked for his assistance lifting some pots.

  Clark went to her aid instantly and his usual playfulness resumed, leaving her blushing and smiling coyly.

  Nathaniel was left standing alone, beside the schoolhouse. He looked at the road her carriage disappeared down and wished he was with her.

  Though she was near, he missed her more than he ever had in London.

  ***

  Dear William,

  The thought of your kisses has kept me awake all night long. I am restless, so I had to write. I had to purge myself of this emotion before it swallowed me up.

  I wish we did not have to keep this love between us a secret.

  I wish the world around us would fall away and leave just you and I. I wish that every man and woman on earth disappeared, so that we could make this place our home without fear or secrecy.

  I love you, my darling. I want to say it a thousand times, to make up for the years spent keeping it silent.

  Yours faithfully and full of affection,

  Margaret

  He read it all, every word, though he knew the moment he saw who it was addressed to that it had come to him by mistake.

  A monumental mistake.

  Nathaniel sank down into the nearest seat, with the letter falling limp in his lap. He stared at it, for what felt like hours, with a sting in his heart that was so sharp he could scarcely breathe through the pain of it.

  He was alone and he was grateful for that. He didn’t want Clark to see him like this.

  It felt like some cruel joke that fate was playing on him. An echo of his past come to haunt him. His heart had felt this before, though never so fiercely as this.

  He remembered how Tessa had shattered his heart by choosing a man of a higher rank. Now Margaret was doing the same, with Lord William Brandon. Marquees of Wiltshire.

  Lord Brandon had all the wealth and time in the world for her. He had the title. And a strong foundation of friendship between them in support of his love.

  How could Na
thaniel compete with that? Lord Brandon had been a part of her life for years. Nathaniel had only known her for a matter of months, though he felt as if she was woven into his soul.

  He was hers, he realized, as he sat there with tears in his eyes.

  But she was not his.

  He’d been played for a fool, and he’d fallen for it. Again. Could he really blame anyone for that but himself? He should have learned, but he was realizing that his heart was too soft. Too naïve to learn from its mistakes.

  He didn’t leave the house the next day. He didn’t open the curtains or answer any summons. When Clark came to see him, Nathaniel had him sent away.

  He stayed in his drawing room for most of the day, with a whiskey in his hand. Thinking of Lady Margaret Baxter. The Duchess of Lowe, Duchess of falseness, and the Duchess of heartbreak.

  Chapter 25

  Lady Margaret Abigail Baxter, Duchess of Lowe

  In the coming days, Margaret did not contact Nathaniel, but there remained this small shred of hope that he would contact her. That he would do something to prove that the rumors weren’t true.

  But Nathaniel did not come. She heard nothing from him for several days. Then those days turned into a week and that week turned into two.

  Was he playing some kind of awful game? Or had he truly lost interest in her? Why put such an effort into their relationship only to let it come to nothing?

  She didn’t understand his game. If he was seeing Miss Wilde, then why had he taken an interest in her in the first place? If it was for money and a title, then why stop now when it must seem as if he was doing so well?

  She was beginning to think that he had found her wanting. That no money or title could compel him to choose her.

  Margaret felt like a ghost in her own home. She moved between her bedroom and her husband’s old study, which was the only place she felt like she could get any privacy. And that was all she wanted. To be alone.

  But she had a son. A son who was becoming restless and increasingly in need of company. She tried her best with him because, heartbreak or not, she was a mother first and foremost. She played with him in the garden, but he was dissatisfied.

  Margaret knew why. She was too solemn. He could sense that something was wrong with her and it seemed to plague him as much as it plagued her. Which hurt all the more.

  One morning, he came to her in the study and put his little hand on top of hers. “Mother,” he said. “Did you perhaps want to see Lord Sterling today? It might make you feel better.”

  She tried to smile. But just hearing mention of Nathaniel made her eyes water. “Oh my dear, I am alright. Let’s not bother Lord Sterling. He must be very busy.”

  Ezra’s face fell. Margaret knew how much he missed Nathaniel. Perhaps almost as much as Margaret did. But their interactions with Nathaniel couldn’t be simple anymore. Margaret couldn’t even be certain if Nathaniel’s seeming fondness for Ezra had been sincere.

  It was a devastating thought. She touched the curls of her son’s hair, to comfort herself. “I am so sorry, my love.”

  It was all she said, in a voice that trembled. Ezra’s expression changed and he looked at her as if he’d suddenly realized the truth.

  Nathaniel might not be coming back.

  He didn’t say anything. Just stepped back and ran out the room.

  Ezra was different from then on. He was no longer the carefree he’d been since Nathaniel had come into their lives. He spent much of the day in bed and his mood declined. When she tried to speak to him, he wouldn’t answer. Not in anger or rebellion, but because it seemed as if he couldn’t muster the energy.

  There was nothing more awful than seeing a child who was lonely.

  Nothing roused his spirits. Even when Margaret suggested that Miss Hallow could take him to archery, he had only shaken his head.

  “I don’t want to go,” he murmured, but Margaret knew what he truly meant. He did not want to go if he could not see Nathaniel.

  She expected an interrogation from him, but it did not come. Somehow, Ezra seemed to know that Nathaniel wasn’t going to be a part of their lives again. It didn’t matter how. He felt it. Keenly.

  He had lost his father. And now he had lost a friend.

  She had lost a husband. And the man who had made her feel alive for the first time in years.

  Together, in their loss, they fell into misery.

  ***

  Lord Nathaniel Sterling, Earl of Comptonshire

  “And she has not contacted you?” Clark said.

  Nathaniel shook his head. He looked a terrible mess. It was the first time he’d allowed Clark to see him in a fortnight, because his friend’s concern had reached a disconcerting peak. When Clark had started shouting outside his estate one morning, he knew it was time to see him.

  He barely mustered the energy.

  Now, Clark was pacing Nathaniel’s drawing room while he sat swigging his whiskey.

  “It is the morning,” Clark snapped and snatched the glass from him. Nathaniel didn’t fight it, just let his friend put the glass aside.

  He tipped his head back against his seat. He had purple rings under his eyes because he was struggling to sleep and he hadn’t shaved.

  “And the darkness cannot be helping with your mood.” Clark threw the curtains wide and the light that spilt in made Nathaniel squint and flinch like a vampire.

  “Why have you disturbed me?” Nathaniel muttered.

  “Disturbed you? You are already disturbed, my friend. I have come to find out what on earth has got into you.”

  “As I said,” he answered, in a low and groggy voice.

  “Has she given you no explanation?”

  “No.”

  “She simply disappeared from your life.”

  “That is one way to put it.”

  Clark seemed to think for a moment, with a furrowed expression. “Let me read the letter.” He put his hand out.

  Nathaniel laughed. It sounded hollow. “What makes you think I still have it? I have burnt it.”

  Clark cast him an arched, disbelieving look. “I know you very well, Nathaniel. You are a sucker for pain. Where is the letter?”

  He didn’t answer, but that did not stop Clark. He turned towards the dresser and hummed like a man with a puzzle. “If I were Nathaniel Sterling…” he murmured to himself.

  Nathaniel watched him with disinterest.

  After a second, Clark opened the liquor cabinet. Nathaniel expelled a sudden breath as he watched his friend pull out the crumpled letter. “Just as I suspected,” Clark said.

  Had Nathaniel had the energy, he would have snatched the letter from his friend. Given his current lethargic state, he only looked away and imagined he was alone.

  Clark must have read it several times, because he did not speak for a long time.

  He looked at Nathaniel. “I am sorry,” he said, in a softer voice.

  Again, Nathaniel didn’t answer.

  “But do you not think this strange?” He held up the letter. “All is well and then she stops contacting you?”

  Nathaniel shrugged bitterly. “She is in love. Why should she care to inform me?”

  “If it is true that she is in love-”

  “Do you doubt it?” Nathaniel snapped. “The evidence is there in your hand.”

  Clark pressed on. “If it is true, then according to this letter, she has been for some time. Why then commit so much time to you? Why then abandon the relationship so suddenly?”

  “I do not know,” he answered, in an abrupt and impatient voice. He did not want to hear this. He did not need the questions he’d been asking himself repeated back to him. It made him feel sick.

  “Exactly,” Clark said. “It does not make sense. And so long as you don’t know the answers, you won’t be able to be at peace with this.”

  “Being at peace is not so simple as getting answers.”

  “No, but it helps a great deal more than you might think. Now open these.” Clark tossed a pile of
letters at him.

  “Why should I?”

  “When did you stop opening your letters?”

  Nathaniel wasn’t sure. “A few days ago?”