The Shy Duchess

by Amanda McCabe

  Emily’s stomach tightened with a sick spasm. This was the sort of man Sally warned her about when she cautioned her about the wedding night. Selfish, greedy men with no thought to anyone else. He stood right before her, this former suitor, and for an instant she glimpsed the appalling life that might have been hers, if not for Nicholas and her own doubts.

  “What is it you want?” she said quietly.

  “You need not speak to me so unkindly, your Grace. I merely ask the help of an old friend in my time of need. I wish to go abroad, to make a new life in Italy or Switzerland. To mend my broken heart. Sadly, I must settle some debts first, and find a way to buy a proper home once I am settled.”

  Emily nodded. Blackmail—of course that was his game. “I did hear you had found yourself in some rather dire straits, Mr Rayburn. Gambling debts, I believe?”

  A muscle ticked along his jaw, his eyes hard as he looked at her. “You see how gossip spreads so quickly.”

  “If you are in such need of money, why did you ever court me? I had only a small dowry.”

  “Oh, my dear duchess,” he said with a sad laugh. “You do underestimate your charms. You are quite beautiful, if sadly stubborn, and an earl’s title opens many doors to the right person. We could have built something together, you and I. Built a much more refined life than could be had with some vulgar cit’s rich daughter.”

  Built a life of lies and con games, always dodging creditors? Coming up with blackmail schemes? The mere thought of it made Emily shudder. “And a rich cit would surely urge his daughter to aim higher than a penniless gambler with no title.”

  His hands curled into fists, his face darkening with fury. Emily half-rose, ready to run for the bell if she had to, but he leaned away from her, forcing his hands to loosen.

  “I no longer have even that option, unpleasant as it is, because of you,” he said tightly. “So I must throw myself on your mercy—your Grace. If you cannot help me, I must regretfully tell your husband of your unsavoury friendships with women of the night. What will he think of his lovely new wife then?”

  “I have no ready money,” Emily said.

  “Oh, but you have so many resources now, Duchess.” He gestured to her emerald pendant, Nicholas’s special wedding gift to her. “I am sure you can find it in your heart to help me. I will expect your answer by this evening.”

  He gave her another bow and an infuriating smile, and then he departed just before her anger bubbled over inside her and she could throw a vase at his head. She ran to the window and watched the street below until she saw him walk away and knew he was gone.

  The villain. How dare he threaten her? Threaten her marriage, her new life, her child?

  Emily kicked at the wall in fury. She had done nothing wrong, yet she could see how easily her association with Sally and the others at Mrs Goddard’s could be twisted and made into something ugly. She knew how quickly the flames of gossip could spread out of control.

  She had promised Nicholas she would never make him ashamed of his wife. How could she keep that promise without giving in to blackmail?

  She closed her fist around her emerald necklace, the gift Nicholas had given her on their betrothal. She wouldn’t give it up. She wouldn’t give up anything, least of all her marriage.

  And she knew just who to turn to for advice. Who would know how to deal with such a man on his own underhanded terms. She had to go back to Mrs Goddard’s.

  She snatched up her bonnet and shawl and hurried down the stairs to the foyer. She had hoped to slip out before anyone could see her, but of course that was too much to hope for in such a vast, crowded house. The butler was in the foyer, scolding a housemaid who had insufficiently dusted the banister.

  “You’re going out, your Grace?” he said in surprise. “Shall I call the carriage?”

  That was the last thing she needed, for everyone to see the ducal carriage at Mrs Goddard’s door! “I am only going a short way, thank you. I will not be gone long.”

  Before he could say anything else, she rushed out the front door and down to the street. Once she was safely around the corner, out of sight, she hailed a hackney. She would just find a way to deal with this matter herself, before Nicholas could even find out.

  No matter what it took.

  “Is the duchess at home?” Nicholas asked the butler, wearily stripping off his gloves. It had been a long, dull day of business. Now it was absurd how happy he was to be back at draughty old Manning House—how much he wanted to see Emily. The thought of her smile, of hearing about her day and just being with her, was a bright prospect indeed. Blast it all, it even made him feel better just to ask after his duchess!

  “Her Grace went out a few hours ago, your Grace,” the butler said, taking his hat. “She has not yet returned.”

  “Went out?” Nicholas was rather disappointed, which was absurd. He had seen her only that morning, kissing her in the dawn light before he slipped out of her bed. And he would see her again at dinner, across their table. Yet still there it was.

  He would never have thought he could feel that way back on his wedding day. But Emily was not at all what he expected. She was turning everything around him upside-down.

  “Did she say where she was going?” he asked.

  “No, your Grace. She did seem rather in a hurry.”

  “A hurry?”

  The butler hesitated before adding quietly, “I should not say this, your Grace, but I was rather concerned about the duchess. I wondered if she might be ill. She looked very pale, and she did rush out so abruptly. She did not want the carriage called.”

  “She seemed ill?” Nicholas asked in rising alarm. Could she be with child after all? He had been careful, but nothing was certain. Or perhaps she had bad news from her family, or had heard some disturbing bit of gossip from Lady Arnold and her flock. She had not yet learned to shrug such things away, as he and his siblings did. As they had to.

  He remembered how she had run to him yesterday, holding on to him so tightly. He should have pressed her then to tell him her worries. He hadn’t wanted to frighten her, to press her before she was ready to confide in him. Before she really trusted him. Their marriage had a surprisingly promising beginning, but he had to take it carefully, day by day. He had to be careful with her, to curb his usual impatience.

  Now he regretted that caution. Emily had run away somewhere.

  “Did she have a message of some sort before she left?” he asked urgently. “Or give any indication at all where she was going?”

  “She did have a caller. A Mr George Rayburn. Her Grace left very soon after he departed.”

  Rayburn. Why did that damnable man always seem to be appearing in their lives? What was his strange effect on Emily?

  Nicholas was done being patient. Emily was his wife, and he needed the truth from her. He would not allow Rayburn to help her. And he would not hurt her himself, if she was in love with Rayburn.

  He took his hat back and dashed out the door to the crowded street. He had to find Emily, right now, and discover what was amiss with her. He wasn’t sure where she would go in the wide city—to her parents’ house, to track down Rayburn’s lodgings—he would go any place to find her.

  As he hailed a hackney, he remembered the day of their betrothal, when he followed her to that quiet brick town house. Whatever that place was, could she have gone there again? Even if she hadn’t, surely they would know something about his mysterious wife. They could give him one more piece of the puzzle that was his Emily.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Yes, sir? Can I help you?”

  Whatever Nicholas had expected from Emily’s mysterious house, it wasn’t this. A perfectly ordinary housemaid in a crisp white apron and cap opened the dark-painted door at the top of the immaculately swept front steps. Curtains were drawn closed over the windows, and the only things that set it apart from its neighbours was a small brass plaque by the door: Mrs Goddard’s School for Disadvantaged Females.

  The maid�
��s face was polite, but wary. She looked as if she would shut the door in his face at the least sign that he meant mischief.

  “I am very sorry to disturb you,” he said, holding out his card. “But I am searching for my wife, and I wondered if she might have called here today.”

  The maid gaped down at the card. “We haven’t had any duchesses here today, your Grace, I’m sure.”

  Nicholas glanced again, carefully, along the row of narrow houses. He was quite certain this was the dwelling Emily went to that day. “Perhaps you know her as Lady Emily Carroll?”

  “Miss Carroll? She’s a duchess?”

  “She hasn’t been for very long. We are newlyweds.” And he had never felt that newness quite so acutely as at that moment. He felt as if Emily had tugged him down into some new, topsy-turvy world.

  There was nothing a Manning liked better than an intriguing mystery to solve. And he had the feeling his whole future happiness rested on this one particular mystery.

  “Won’t you come in, your Grace?” the maid said, opening the door wider. “I’ll send for Mrs Goddard to see you. She hasn’t been well, but I’m sure she would want to meet with you.”

  He was left in a small sitting room, sparsely but comfortably furnished with simple dark-upholstered chairs, seascapes on the walls, a piano under the windows and improving books on the shelves. Occasionally from above came a burst of female laughter, a rush of light steps across the floor. Once he thought he heard the door open a crack, a soft giggle, but when he turned it was gone.

  He wasn’t alone for long. Soon a tall, respectably dressed and capped older lady swept into the room. A small bunch of keys dangled from the sash of her grey silk gown, and she assessed him with calm, careful eyes. She seemed pale and red-eyed, as if she was recovering from a cold, but she was impeccably dressed and coolly polite.

  “So you are Emily’s husband,” she said. “We did not know she had made such a grand marriage, or at least she did not tell us herself. I saw the notice in the papers.”

  Nicholas gave her a bow. “I’m afraid you have the advantage of me, ma’am.”

  “I am Mrs Goddard, of course. I own this school.”

  “And may I ask what your school has to do with Emily?”

  For the first time a hint of doubt crept across Mrs Goddard’s handsome face. “She has not told you about us?”

  “I fear my wife speaks little about herself,” Nicholas said ruefully. “I want so much to make her happy, and I don’t have the slightest idea how to do that! She won’t think of herself. And now I know something is amiss with her, but I can’t help her fix it if I don’t know what it is.”

  Mrs Goddard gave a little laugh. “Oh, your Grace. I am not surprised Emily won’t speak much of herself to you. She has always wanted to make others happy first. I fear she is not here at the moment, though.”

  “How do you know her so well, Mrs Goddard?”

  “I was her governess. Please, your Grace, sit with me for a moment.”

  “I must find her…”

  “And I think I can help you with that. But you must listen to me first.”

  Nicholas was aching to run out in search of Emily again, but he knew that would be futile. He would be more likely to learn of her whereabouts if he listened to Mrs Goddard now. She ushered him to a chaise by the empty fireplace and settled herself across from him. She clutched a handkerchief in her palm.

  “I will confess,” she said, “I was worried when I saw Emily was to marry you.”

  “Worried? Because of my family’s reputation?”

  “No, because—well, because of her own nature. You see, your Grace, by the time I came to work for Emily’s family I had been governess to many young ladies of high rank. I could see right away Emily was different. She was so quiet and shy, but so very eager to please, to be of use to everyone around her. She worked so hard at her lessons. I must confess I came to love her as I would my own daughter. I wanted to help her see her own worth.”

  “That is what I want, too, Mrs Goddard,” Nicholas said eagerly. “I have never known anyone as sweet and serious as my Emily.”

  “Your Emily?” Mrs Goddard said with a smile. “Surely you have seen this eagerness she has to please, to always do the right thing?”

  “Yes. She has often told me she wants to be the perfect duchess. I try to tell her a duchess is always perfect just as she is, that others will be eager to follow her lead and she need only be herself.”

  “I doubt she would believe you. I was worried that just this sort of thing would happen when I saw she had married a duke. That she would try to change herself rather than find who she really is. The fact that she could not tell you about her work here only confirms my fears.”

  “What is this place, exactly, Mrs Goddard? Why would she not tell me she came here?”

  Mrs Goddard hesitated. “This is a school, and Emily teaches here whenever she has a chance, usually every Tuesday. But our pupils are not the usual young ladies. They once worked in brothels or walked the streets of Covent Garden. When they wish to make a change in their lives, we train them to be milliners or ladies’ maids. Emily works hard to help them, and they care about her very much. It is worthy work.”

  “But it’s not hard to see that someone could persuade her otherwise,” Nicholas said tightly.

  “Yes,” said Mrs Goddard. “They could have told her a perfect duchess would never associate with such people, even in a charitable way, and poor Emily would probably believe them.”

  “Blast it all! I don’t care who she associates with. I don’t want her to be perfect, I just want her to be Emily,” he said, furious with whoever had made Emily feel so unsure of herself. Furious with himself, and whatever it was he had done to make her believe she could not come to him.

  “You do care about her,” said Mrs Goddard.

  “I love her,” Nicholas said, startled by the stark truth of those words that spilled out of him without thought. He loved her, his sweet, selfless, serious, beautiful wife. And he would kill whoever had hurt her.

  “I see that you do.” Mrs Goddard rose to her feet, her keys rattling. “Emily was here earlier. She spoke with one of our pupils, Sally. They are friends. Perhaps she could tell us where Emily has gone.”

  “Sally?” Nicholas remembered the Sally Emily spoke of on their wedding night, the friend who advised her so disastrously on the marriage act. “Are they good friends?”

  “They seem close. Emily has been teaching her French, in the hope that she can find a better position than most. They were together a few days ago. I am sure she can help us.”

  Mrs Goddard summoned the maid who had answered the door and sent her to fetch Sally. When she arrived, she seemed most reluctant to say anything about Emily. But Mrs Goddard’s quiet urging, and Nicholas’s pleas about how worried he was for his wife, softened her. Her pretty face turned uncertain and she twisted her hands in her apron.

  “I’m not sure where she was going when she left here, your Grace, I swear it,” she said, tears in her eyes. “I told her to tell you what had happened, to not pay off that bast—that man. I told her worms like him would never go away, but she was so worried you would be angry.”

  “What bast—man?” Nicholas said, a fury growing inside him.

  Sally let out a ragged sob. “Mr Rayburn! He saw her with me on the street, and I knew he would pester her with it, just from the way he looked at her. He ain’t— isn’t a gentleman.”

  “Rayburn,” Nicholas growled. “Of course. He blackmailed her about this place?”

  Sally nodded. “He said he wanted money to go abroad. That’s what she said. But I bet that’s not all he wanted from her. He wanted to marry her once, your Grace, until you snatched her away from him. And he doesn’t like to lose, he’ll want revenge.”

  Revenge. Nicholas would like some of that himself, taken right out of Rayburn’s cowardly hide. “And she did not say where she was going from here?”

  “I don’t know for sure.
But she did ask me if I knew a pawnbroker. I gave her the name of someone who wouldn’t cheat her, but I did tell her she should go home instead. Miss Emily is sweet, but she’s also the most stubborn lady I have ever seen.”

  “So she is. And where might this pawnbroker be?”

  Only moments later, Nicholas was on his way to the establishment of a certain Mr Green, and there he found Emily’s emerald pendant, his wedding gift to her which she always wore, and the pearl earrings Justine had given her as a wedding present. He redeemed them, and set out in search of Emily once again. Mr Green had said he was worried about the lady, who seemed to have been crying, and his apprentice had followed her to Hyde Park to make sure she was quite well and did not do anything like throw herself into the river.

  And that was where Nicholas found his wife, sitting on a bench in the spot by the Serpentine where he had saved that child on that long-ago day. It was quiet there today, all the fashionable crowds dispersed. Only a few children played on the pathways with their nursemaids, a few couples walking along together as they talked quietly. It now seemed a place to hide, to think, to not be seen.

  At least Emily seemed to think so. She stared silently at the water, her hands twisted in her lap, her face white and expressionless. She didn’t notice anything around her, and the wondrous laughter he loved was nowhere to be found. He found himself terribly sad, and angry, too—angry that she had lied to him, had not trusted him after everything they had been through in their short marriage.

  But he would not just turn and walk away, leave her to her worries. He couldn’t go back to Manning House, and greet her as if he knew nothing, as if her secret was safe. He could easily dispatch Rayburn on his own without her knowing, and they could go on for ever living on parallel planes that never quite intersected. Two lives joined, but never meeting in truth. So many people did that, married for convenience or family or property, and they rubbed along contentedly enough—as long as they didn’t have to see each other too often.