An Earl for the Broken-Hearted Duchess

by Lucinda Nelson

  They would lie low for a few weeks, to avoid the rumors and the scandal. They could do that easily enough at William’s townhouse, where no one would expect to find them. And then, when Ezra felt more like himself, they would see where life took them after that.

  It didn’t matter where they went, as long as they left, because staying in Comptonshire had become impossible.

  But leaving… She had to admit to herself that there was something terrible about that too.

  ***

  Lord Nathaniel Sterling, Earl of Comptonshire

  Margaret did not send Ezra to the schoolhouse the day after their argument. What game was she playing? If Nathaniel was truly the only person who could assist her with Ezra’s condition, then why would she not send him? As much as Margaret had deceived him, he knew one thing to be true. She would not put herself above her son.

  She loved that boy more than he’d seen anyone love anything.

  Though it perplexed and frustrated him, he resolved that she must have devised another plan to rectify Ezra’s state.

  Perhaps it had all been a ruse to get him to her house, so that she could instigate a confrontation and gratify herself with his jealousy.

  Yes, perhaps that was it.

  If she wanted him to see Ezra, she could call on him. He would not play into her hands.

  Nathaniel thought this for a number of days, before the notion started to waver.

  He felt terribly alone. He hadn’t seen Clark since he’d dismissed him and he was beginning to feel like he’d really messed things up.

  He’d estranged himself from his parents, from his best friend. He’d wasted so much time on a woman who didn’t want him. Fallen in love, only to be shot down.

  And come to love a child like a son, only to have him snatched away.

  Anger faded slowly into solemnity and Nathaniel threw himself into his work, harder than ever. He berated incompetent officials and took their work on as his own, working long in the night several days in a row.

  He’d wake early, go to the schoolhouse, assist Miss Wilde with whatever she needed and attend meeting after meeting.

  His parents came to see him a week after he’d seen Margaret.

  “My dearest,” his mother cried. “How we have missed you.”

  His father wore his usual surly expression, but he didn’t look as explosive as usual. He inclined his head in greeting.

  Nathaniel tried to smile for them. He put aside the papers he’d been looking over, reluctantly, and did his best not to look like they’d interrupted his work.

  “I see you have been working hard,” his father remarked. Nathaniel expected to hear insult in his voice, but he didn’t. His father only sounded level and calm.

  “I have been.”

  “We are so pleased, darling,” his mother said, as she touched his cheek softly. “You made the right decision.”

  Nathaniel frowned. “What decision?”

  “To end your interactions with the Duchess of Lowe,” his father answered on his mother’s behalf.

  “I am sure she was lovely, my dear, but it couldn’t have worked. Best you find a more suitable match for you,” his mother assured him.

  Nathaniel’s confusion mounted. “How did you find out?”

  His mother looked confused, as if the answer was obvious. “Because she’s leaving Comptonshire, of course.”

  Nathaniel felt like they’d taken a hammer to his stomach.

  He felt his father watching his face very carefully. “A good choice.” he said.

  Nathaniel swallowed, but nodded. Strange how he’d spent so many days wallowing in a feeling of loneliness, when now he wanted nothing more than to be alone so that he could process this news.

  “Yes, well.”

  “Now you will consider the women we have chosen for you. We have several in mind, so you won’t be without options.”

  When his father said this, Nathaniel expelled a gust of air. “This hasn’t changed my mind, father,” Nathaniel answered, tightly.

  His father’s expression turned cutting. “Excuse me?”

  “I will not mince words. I have no intention of marrying.”

  The explosion that followed was colossal. It was not until his mother became so upset that she started to cry that the argument came to a close, but without resolution.

  Nathaniel’s father stormed out, with his mother following close behind.

  Once they were gone, Nathaniel sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands.

  Leaving.

  She was leaving.

  Well, what had he expected? For her to be in Comptonshire forever? Here, where she had no one?

  Why did the prospect of her leaving hurt so much, when the emotional distance between them was so insurmountable that it shouldn’t matter where she chose to live?

  This was for the best. It would help him get her out of his head.

  Yes, it was for the best. But it felt so wrong.

  Chapter 28

  Lady Margaret Abigail Baxter, Duchess of Lowe

  Ezra’s mood had seemed erratic. Half the time, he seemed excited by the prospect of spending some time in London.

  Before he’d lost Nathaniel, missing London and his father had been his main source of grief. Perhaps getting a taste of all that he was missing would cheer him.

  But the other half of the time, Ezra remained quite miserable. He didn’t ask when he was going to see Nathaniel. He seemed to understand that it was out of his mother’s hands. Somehow.

  Margaret spent her every waking moment with her son. Since her argument with Nathaniel, she’d stopped wallowing. His loss became a dull fusion of anger and sadness in her chest.

  Permanent, but no longer incapacitating. It felt like she was getting used to the feeling, even if she wasn’t necessarily healing.

  They would be leaving that afternoon. All their belongings were packed up and the servants were preparing the carriages for departure.

  Ezra seemed a little livelier. He’d always loved long journeys. Margaret was standing outside, watching the carriage being filled with their things.

  The sun was shining, which didn’t exactly suit her mood, but rain wouldn’t have either. She was afraid to leave, because the last time she’d made the decision to move for Ezra’s sake it hadn’t worked out for either of them.

  But she also felt a slither of hope.

  And grief. Her heart was a true muddle of emotions.

  She was about to turn around and walk back into the house to fetch Ezra so they could leave, when she caught sight of a man riding into the grounds.

  She paused and looked out over the grounds. For a moment, her heart fluttered and she thought, It is him. It’s Nathaniel.

  She didn’t know what she was hoping for. That he’d go down on his knees and tell her he loved her? Even if he did, could she believe him? All these questions were running rampant through her mind. But when the rider came closer, she saw that it wasn’t Nathaniel.

  It was a man she’d never met before.

  “Good day, sir,” she called, as he dismounted. She walked down the courtyard steps towards him and met him as his feet touched the ground.

  “Good day, Your Grace.” He was a handsome man with a deep voice and a stance that reminded her of Nathaniel.

  He kept his chin high, his shoulders back. He looked ready to take a blow at any moment. “You must forgive me for interrupting your preparations. Only, I heard that you were leaving and had to come and speak to you.”

  Margaret’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, sir, have we met before?”

  “No, we have not. Though I feel like we have,” he said, with a lopsided smile. “My name is Clark Bennet.”

  Margaret’s brows lifted. “Mr. Bennet. You served with Lord Sterling.”

  “I did.”

  “You are his dearest friend.”

  He smiled and there was an impish look in his eye. “I am. Though, I imagine he would not say so now if he knew my intentions at t
his moment.”

  Before she could ask him what he meant, he put his hand out. He was holding a piece of paper that had clearly been crumpled and then flattened out.

  Margaret took the letter.

  Upon first glance, she saw that it was written in her hand. Had this man stolen a letter she’d written to Nathaniel during their time together? Had he come to blackmail her?

  She started to read the letter.

  It began, Dear William...

  Her lips parted. “What… what is this?”

  “A demand for answers.” His face was harder now. It had lost its mischief.

  “Those I cannot give you…” she whispered, as she kept reading. Her hand hovered over her lips, which moved as she read.

  “This is in my hand,” she breathed to herself. “And… I have signed it.”

  Mr. Bennet frowned as if she’d gone mad. “Does this surprise you?”

  “Very much so.” At last, she looked up at him, with the letter limp in her hand. “Because I did not write this letter.”

  She could see that Clark didn’t quite believe her. “I came here today for an explanation on my friend’s behalf. Not for excuses.”

  Margaret’s face turned steely. “This is not an excuse. I am telling you, I did not write this letter.”

  “Then who did?”

  Margaret’s lips parted, as if the truth would just manifest itself… but she said nothing. “I… I don’t know.”

  This seemed to make Mr. Bennet even more dubious. “But you know this gentleman.”

  “I know William, yes.”

  “He is a friend.”

  “Yes.”

  Clark pressed further. “And this gentleman has been seen in your home, has he not?”

  “Well yes, he is a dear friend.”

  “A dear friend who loves you?”

  She was taken aback by the question. She stuttered, trying to form a response, but nothing came.

  “As I suspected,” he concluded. “So you expect me to believe that someone - someone you can’t name for whatever reason – forged your handwriting and signature so that they could write a love letter to a man you spend a great deal of time with, who loves you. But you want me to believe that you did not send this letter and you do not love him in return?”

  She could see what he was doing. And she could see how terribly insincere she must seem. It was an insane proposition, but it was true.

  “Why would I send this letter to Nathaniel if that were the case?” she blurted.

  “Perhaps you got your lovers confused. No more games, Your Grace. I have come for an explanation.”

  “I am not playing games!”

  Clark expelled a long, tired breath. “I see. Nathaniel was quite right about you. You are extremely stubborn in your deception. But denying it won’t vindicate you.”

  With that, Clark Bennet turned away, mounted his horse, and left.

  In his wake, Margaret stood standing with the letter still in hand and her lips parted. Her mind was a mess of confusion.

  Even she thought the truth was unbelievable. After all, she didn’t know of anyone who might have the motive to send such a letter.

  And among those who might possibly want to keep Nathaniel and Margaret apart, none of them knew her well enough to forge her hand. The strangeness of it all almost gave her cause to doubt her own mind.

  “Mother?”

  Margaret looked down at Ezra, who’d appeared by her side. He was frowning up at her. “Are we leaving?”

  Margaret’s eyes moved to the path leading out the grounds. “No,” she heard herself say.

  “Not just yet, my darling. I thought we might take one last trip to the schoolhouse.”

  ***

  Lord Nathaniel Sterling, Earl of Comptonshire

  He was taking a walk around the schoolhouse grounds with Miss Wilde when Margaret rounded on him with clear intention.

  She was breathless, as though she’d walked quickly, and her cheeks were full of color. “We need to speak,” she said, with a pointed look at Miss Wilde.

  Nathaniel blinked. He hadn’t expected to see her again. “I thought you’d gone,” he remarked, in a stiff voice.

  “I will be leaving promptly, but soon I must resolve something with you.”

  “I do not believe there is anything to resolve.”

  There was a moment of tense quietness between them. A stand-off. But they were both equally stubborn and it was Miss Wilde who shattered the silence. “Excuse me,” she mumbled, and snuck away from them. “Why don’t I take Ezra to see the horses?”

  Ezra jumped at the opportunity to evade the tension between Margaret and Nathaniel. But when Miss Wilde led him away, Nathaniel did catch him looking back at him with a sad pucker between his brows. He regretted behaving so coldly in front of Ezra the moment he saw that face.

  Miss Wilde’s words momentarily sidetracked Margaret, who watched the girl leave with a bitter countenance. “Are the pair of you public now?”

  “What?” he retorted with a frown.

  “You and Miss Wilde. I suppose your parents approve.”

  He expelled a breath impatiently. “Is that what you’ve come to speak to me about? I am exceptionally busy.”

  “No. That is not what I’ve come to speak to you about.” She held up the letter. “I have come to speak to you about this.”

  Nathaniel knew it the moment he saw it, because there were few papers that had been crumpled so many times as this one.

  It was barely intact. He took it from her and started to read. But having read one word, he stopped and looked up at her. He couldn’t read this again. The pain felt as fresh as it had when first he’d read it.

  With a face like stone, he said, “How did you get this?”

  It was the first question that came to mind, though it didn’t feel like the most pressing one. Above all, he wanted to know why she was bringing it to him.

  “Your friend, Mr. Bennet, brought it to me.”

  “Why would he do that?” Nathaniel pressed, with unbidden confusion.

  “He wanted an explanation.”

  “And is that why you’ve come? To give me an explanation?”

  The thought made him want to run a mile, but hadn’t this been what he’d wanted? What he needed? Some resolution, some closure. The answer to why she’d done what she’d done.

  “Of sorts,” she answered, in a strange voice. He wanted her to spit it out, so that they could be done with this. God his heart was beating so fast.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean that my explanation may not be what you want. It will certainly not be what you are expecting, but I believe that you have a right to know.”

  Nathaniel didn’t speak. Only waited for her to go on. The letter felt like fire in his hand. He wanted to crumple it and toss it as far away as he could.

  “Your friend did not believe me, and I am sure you will not believe me either. But it remains the truth.” Margaret paused. He watched her eyes flicker to where Miss Wilde was standing, not so far away from them, looking at a flower bed.

  “Go on,” Nathaniel said.

  She took a breath, as if she needed to steady herself, and said, “I did not write this letter.”

  It took a moment for it to sink in. He stared at her, unblinking.

  “Nathaniel? Did you hear me?”

  “Yes, I heard you.” His voice sounded dead. This was information his brain couldn’t process. He didn’t even know where to start with it. “I don’t understand.”

  “It is that simple,” she continued. “I did not write it.”

  “Well then who did?” He said it like an accusation. He was already trying to find the holes in what she was saying. Trying to disprove it because he’d founded so much of his behavior and his feelings on something that she was saying wasn’t true. And what if he did believe her and she was lying? A terrifying thought.

  “I don’t know. I told Mr. Bennet the same thing, but he didn’t
believe me.”

  “And why should he? It makes no sense.”