A Duke's Dilemma

by G. L. Snodgrass

  No, there must be another way. Turning, he glanced at the clock on the mantle and grumbled to himself. It would be several hours until Stephan arrived.

  “Good,” It would allow him an opportunity to come up with a plan. A plan to discover what had happened and to bring closure to this pain residing in his gut.

  .o0o.

  Margaret fought to hold off the tears. How could he do this to her? Ian a Duke. The thought was preposterous. Yet, really, was it? As she thought back to their time together she looked for hints. There was his commanding presence. His obvious education.

  Oh, how he must have thought her a silly girl. So easily deceived. So enamored with the painter she could not see the true man behind the façade.

  Sighing, she looked out the carriage window and into the night. She must be careful to hide her feelings. If her mother, or worse, her father ever discovered the truth they would … What she wondered, make her marry a man she despised?

  Her thoughts drifted back to what it had felt like to discover the truth. The shock combined with Ian, there before her. Tall, handsome, so … commanding. Of course he was a Duke, how couldn’t he be. Then to compare him to Lord Evens.

  It was unfair, but she couldn’t stop herself. It was Ian, it would always be Ian. Even now, after his deception, his lie. Even now she still felt the same for him.

  But, what did he think of her? He had been so upset at her deception. Had he been mad because she deceived him or because he had thought he was through with her and ready to move on with his life. Had he been afraid she would make claims upon him.

  The thought sent a cold shiver down her back. To have Ian angry at her felt so wrong. As if her world wasn’t spinning correctly.

  Yet, shouldn’t she be furious with him. A painter? Why hadn’t he told her the truth? Because he thought her nothing more than a Lady’s maid, obviously. She didn’t deserve the truth. Didn’t rate common courtesy.

  That was why he was upset. A maid could be forgotten, ignored. A Lady not so easily. The knowledge of what had happened between them would create a scandal. The kind of scandal that even a Duke would wish to avoid.

  Yes, that must be it, she told herself as a sadness settled around her heart and squeezed tight.

  What would happen to the betrothal if Lord Evens discovered the truth? A new fear jumped ahead of all the others. He would refuse her father any funding. Reclaim the bride's price. Her heart jumped with hope for a moment until she realized that Ian could never marry her. No man could. Not after she had been betrothed. Too many people would suspect she had shared Lord Evens's bed.

  No. if the truth came out, either her family would be ruined. Or worse, Lord Evens went through with the marriage and then hated her for the rest of her life, holding this over her head. Despising the very ground she trod upon.

  “I say, Margaret, you were rather rude to Suffolk,” her father said from the far corner of the carriage. “Barely talking, then leaving so quickly.”

  Both her mother and her aunt raised an eyebrow, obviously surprised at this news.

  Margaret felt her stomach clench even tighter. Why couldn’t they let the matter drop? Why must everyone strive to drag her heart through the dirt?

  “Lord Evens commented,” her father continued. “He was not pleased.”

  She bit back a nasty retort about what Lord Evens could do with his opinion about her. Instead she lowered her head and said, “I was not feeling well. I am sure His Grace didn’t take notice of a young woman’s less than stellar performance.”

  Her father snorted. Aunt Vera however was not appeased. “He is a very important man. I swear half of society follows his lead. If he indicates displeasure with someone, half the women of the ton will refuse to invite them to their next ball for fear that the Duke won’t attend.”

  “Really Margaret,” her mother said. “As a wife, you will be expected to think of such things. You don’t want to disgrace your husband.”

  Her mother’s deep frown sent a bolt of embarrassment through Margaret. What would the ton think if they knew the truth? That she and the Duke of Suffolk had spent a night making sweet passionate love. That he had taken her virtue. That she was in love with the man.

  The scandal would flash through the ton and burn like a fire, ruining her family's reputation. Leading to the family being ostracized. Cut off from society. Destroying Lord Evens's political connections. Filling her world with shame.

  Swallowing back the bile that had risen halfway up her throat. Margaret nodded as she stared down at her hands. What more could she do?

  London? A new fear was added to the growing list. What if she and her husband remained here in town after the wedding? Set up permanent residence. She would be expected to entertain and attend other events. There was every chance she would run into Ian, The Duke of Suffolk again. Over and over.

  Her heart broke as she thought about seeing him and being unable to tell him how she truly felt. Unable to sink into his arms and forget the world around them. A tear threatened. Biting down, she forced herself to not cry. No, not now, not in front of her family.

  Oh, if only. But no, it was not to be. She must accept her lot in life. The wife of Lord Evens. A British Lady and all the expectations that meant.

  Sighing again, she looked out into the night and wondered where Ian might be. Was he thinking about her? What did he think about her deception? Or his for that matter? Did he feel any guilt? She wondered if he would remain upset at her. No, she realized. Ian was the Duke of Suffolk. He had much bigger issues to worry about.

  The feelings of a silly girl he had known for one night would not register on his list of concerns.

  Once again, that sick, sad feeling filled her and she feared it would never leave her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ian watched the clock tick down, each second lasting half of forever. Only when the clock chimed eight did he open his study and call out to a footman to inform Stephan that he was needed at once.

  The footman jumped. Obviously surprised to see the Duke up and about at such an early hour. Then nodding, the man turned to hurry to the kitchens.

  Ian returned to pacing as he fought to hold off the worry eating at his soul. His plan would probably not work. And even if it did, he might very well not achieve the results he wished.

  The door opening pulled him back to the present as Stephan stepped in and frowned as he noticed that the Duke was still dressed for a London Ball.

  “Sit,” Ian said as he pointed to the chair but continued to pace.

  Stephan sat down as he pulled out his ledgers. Ian could see the surprise in the man’s eyes. It was unusual for his employer to be up and about at this hour. Even more unusual that he wished to conduct business.

  “Put the book away,” Ian told his secretary as he walked around the desk and sat down himself. “None of this can be written down.”

  Stephan’s eyebrows rose as he obviously reluctantly closed the book.

  “Do you know a Lady Duval?”

  Stephan frowned, “The mother has arrived from Cornwall, the daughter a few weeks earlier.”

  “The daughter,” Ian said as he bit down on his back teeth.

  “I know of her, sir. Betrothed to Lord Evens I believe. At least that is what I have heard.”

  Ian shook his head. Stephan had probably known before the announcement had been made. Of course he hadn’t seen the need to inform him. Since when did the Duke of Suffolk care about who was marrying whom.

  Taking a deep breath, Ian twisted in his chair as he looked out the window. “I need to get word to her.”

  “You wish me to deliver a letter, Your Grace,” his secretary asked, obviously confused that was normally a footman’s duties.

  “No,” Ian answered, perhaps a tad too quickly. “No, nothing must be written down. I can’t afford it falling into the wrong hands.”

  Stephan’s frown grew even deeper. A business affair conducted in such a manner was not unheard of. But a British Lady
? The daughter of an Earl. He gave the Duke a questioning look. “Sir, I don’t believe I can approach Lady Duval. Not without causing a great deal of interest.”

  Ian nodded, that had been his biggest concern. “Her maid, I believe her name is Susan. You will pass word through the maid. I have reason to believe the young woman can be trusted.”

  A long silence ensued as Stephen considered his task. “I don’t know Your Grace. It will not be easy. Lady’s maids are not usually available. Unless you wish me to become employed in the Duval household.”

  “No,” Ian said as he shook his head. “We don’t’ have that kind of time.”

  His secretary’s brow furrowed, Ian knew the man was analyzing the situation. He kept quiet and let the man think.

  Stephan thought for a moment then nodded. “There might be a way, Your Grace,”

  Ian’s shoulders slumped. “No need to tell me how. I will leave that to you.”

  “Of course, Your Grace and what message would you like me to pass to Lady Duval’s maid.”

  Taking a deep breath Ian said, “Susan is to tell Lady Duval that Ian Temple wishes to know which event Lady Duval will be attending next and that he will meet her in the garden.”

  Stephan looked at him with doubt. “Ian Temple, your Grace. You don’t wish me to use your title. I do believe I am more likely to have success if the young woman knows it is a Duke making the request.”

  “Susan might very well not pass along a message from the Duke of Suffolk, nor provide the information we need. To her, I am some unknown entity. No, but she might agree to help Ian Temple. At least I hope so.”

  Nodding that he understood, Stephan repeated the message to make sure he had it correct then look at him with a curious frown.

  “Sir, may I ask. The painting, in Worcester. The girl at the table. It is Lady Duval isn’t it?”

  Ian raised an eyebrow. Silently asking why he thought that.

  The young man smiled gently. “We were recently in Worcester, the Duval’s were in attendance. And …”

  “Yes,”

  Stephan swallowed hard. “Something in the painting Sir, it was painted by someone who cared a great deal for the young woman. Cared enough to risk a scandal by meeting her alone in a garden.”

  What would his secretary think if he knew about the second painting? The one of Meg in the nude after a night of ecstasy. Ian swallowed then nodded. “Yes, the painting is of Lady Duval.”

  Stephan nodded as he stood. “I will ensure the message is passed, Your Grace.”

  Ian watched him leave and sighed heavily. His entire future might very well rest with a young Lady’s maid he had met but once. But he remembered how both Meg and Susan had interacted. They were friends and he believed Susan cared for her mistress. And the girl knew him as Ian Temple and if she was like most servants, knew more about her mistress than she would ever let on. He wouldn’t doubt that she knew of he and Meg’s liaison.

  Yes, this was his only chance. Yet, so much depended on others. He hated having his fate out of his control. But then is seemed perhaps a just punishment for the deception he had carried out. The way for the world to pay him back.

  His stomach clenched. Now for the hard part. Waiting to find out if Meg denied him. There was every chance that she would ignore his message. After all, she was to be another man’s wife. It would be the proper thing to do.

  The thought of her choosing Evens over him made him physically ill. No, he needed to talk to her. One last time, perhaps then he could accept his loss, accept this new reality.

  .o0o.

  Margaret sighed heavily. She had spent the day alone in her room, sending Susan to inform her mother that she would not be coming to tea, it appeared the illness from the night before had returned.

  There was no need for her mother to know that she had lost her appetite because of the constant fear and worry that worked on her insides. It was as if she were being torn in a dozen different directions at once. What did Ian think of her? Was he upset at her deception? Would Lord Evens or her family learn the truth? Overlaying it all was the realization that she would still be marrying Lord Evens, a thought that would terrify any woman.

  Wringing her hands, she began to pace. Where was Susan and why was she taking so long? It shouldn’t take an hour to inform her mother. After all, it was a small house and her mother shouldn’t be that difficult to find.

  Careful, she told herself. She was becoming upset at the slightest item. If she was not careful her mother would become suspicious and start pressing for details.

  As she turned, her bedroom door opened as Susan slipped into the room and quickly closed the door behind her.

  “M’lady,” she said slightly out of breath. “you will never believe …”

  Margaret bit her tongue while she waited. “What?” she finally demanded when she couldn’t remain patient.

  “A man, M’lady. A man about a painting.”

  Ian, here? Now. Her heart jumped with hope and anticipation only to be crushed when she thought of the scandal about to erupt.

  “Who, here?”

  Susan took a deep breath, “A small boy, a street urchin, came to the back door. Jensen was going to shoo him away, but the boy said he had a private message for me from my family.”

  Margaret’s brow furrowed as she tried to follow the story. What did this have to do with Ian? Had she been wrong?

  “I have no family, M’Lady.”

  Margaret swallowed a quick quip and took a deep calming breath. “I know Susan, the boy, the painting.”

  “The boy said he had to talk to me in private, so I stepped outside. It was then that he told me there was a man at the garden gate. A man who wanted to talk to me about a painting.”

  Margaret rushed to the window, was Ian here even now. Waiting for her.

  “He’s gone, M’lady and it wasn’t the painter. The one we met in Worcester.” Susan said with a sad frown.

  Her heart fell. Her hopes had jumped so quickly. “Who was he? What did he want?”

  Susan smiled. “A young man, handsome, dressed nice. A clerk or secretary I would say.

  “Susan,” Margaret said with exasperation. “If you don’t tell me what is going on I am going to scream. What about a painting?”

  Her maid shook her head. “It wasn’t about a paining, M’lady. That was a ruse Stephan used to get me out there.”

  “Stephan?”

  “Yes ma’am, that is his name. Stephan Dawes, he told me to call him Stephan, and a nice man I should think. I knew right away that I didn’t have to worry. You know. That feeling a girl gets.”

  “Susan!”

  “Yes M’lady,” her maid said as her cheeks grew slightly pink. “He asked me to pass a message to you ma’am...”

  Margaret held her breath, terrified if she uttered a sound it would divert Susan down a different path.

  “… From a Mr. Ian Temple.”

  A sharp gasp escaped before Margaret could hold it back.

  “I know ma’am,” Susan said, nodding. “That was the painter in Worcester, wasn’t it? I thought at first. he might have painted you and thought you might be interested in purchasing the painting. But then, why didn’t he come himself. I …”

  “Susan,” Margaret said through gritted teeth. “The message.”

  Her maid nodded, “A question and a message ma’am. What ball would you be attending next? And this Mr. Temple would meet you in the garden.”

  She was to see Ian once more. Margaret’s heart raced She was to be given a chance to explain. To look into his eyes and know he didn’t hate her. That was all she asked.

  Her pounding pulse in her ears almost made her miss the next part of Susan’s story.

  “I was going to tell Stephan that I wouldn’t pass along his message. After all, you, meeting a man alone in a garden. A painter at that. I never. I even told Stephan that.”

  “I’m glad that you did tell me.”

  Her maid shook her head. “Yes. Well. I
wasn’t going to, but then Stephan, as if he knew what I was thinking, he told me that while he didn’t know the story behind the message. He thought it might be your only chance at happiness. And with, well, you know, Lord Evens and things, I thought it might be best if I told you about the message.”

  Margaret’s heart continued to race. “How are you to get word to him?”

  “The park ma’am. I’m to meet him in the park. But, I must hurry or the stores will be closed. I could say that I’m going to the milliners, two streets over to get some ribbon you want, or perhaps some thread I might need.”

  “It doesn’t matter the reason. Go, just go. Tell this Stephen that we are scheduled to attend Hamilton’s ball this coming Thursday.”

  Susan looked at her for a long moment as if questioning her employer’s judgment, but finally, she curtseyed and turned to leave.

  Margaret immediately reached out to stop her. “Thank you,” she said, “and please ask this young man to pass to His … Mr. Temple that I will be wearing a blue ribbon.”

  Susan frowned as she glanced over at the armoire, “M’lady, I thought we agreed the pink. Blue would clash. I thought …”

  “Go,” Margaret said as she began to push Susan out the door. Only when her maid was on her way and the door shut did Margaret lean back and let her soul rest.

  Please, she begged. Please don’t hate me. Let us part as friends. It was really all she could hope for. But it was so much better than to think he hated her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ian checked the clock, then glanced out the window to confirm it really was growing late. Where was the man? Eight hours should have been more than enough time.

  Clenching his jaw, he started to pace again, something he had been doing on and off all day. So many things could go wrong. Susan might refuse to pass the message. Perhaps Stephan couldn’t make contact. Or Meg’s father. What if he discovered someone was sending secret messages to his daughter? All of these paled in comparison to the true worry eating at his soul.