Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage

by Valerie Bowman

“I’d written to him, the week before. I’d been waiting for George to come to the Abbey and discuss it with me.”

  More scribbling. “And that’s why he was there?”

  “Yes.”

  Abernathy looked up from his paper. “And he didn’t come alone?”

  “No.” She gulped and her throat ached. “Lady Bettina, his … his mistress, was with him.”

  * * *

  James pounded his fist on the desktop, and the teacups bounced. The duchess and Abernathy turned to stare at him. Damn it. If that ass Markingham weren’t dead, James would like to land a punch squarely on his jaw right now. How dare the cad bring his mistress with him to discuss his marriage with his wife?

  Abernathy returned his attention to the duchess, his hand poised over the parchment once again. “Did anyone else accompany his grace?”

  Her eyes searched the ceiling. “His valet, Tucker, was with him as well.”

  Abernathy kept his eyes trained on the paper while he busily wrote. “And what did your husband say to you?”

  “He said…” She swallowed again. “He informed me … that he and Lady Bettina were in love.”

  James cursed under his breath.

  Abernathy didn’t look up. “But he refused your request for a divorce?”

  She nodded. “Yes. As you know, the grounds for divorce are very … delicate and he refused to consider it.”

  Abernathy cleared his throat. “And did you argue with him about the divorce that evening?”

  She looked out the window, her eyes staring as if she were reliving what must have been a horrendous night. “No, not that night. I was … in shock.”

  “Shocked that he refused to grant you the divorce?” Abernathy clarified.

  “Yes. And that he told me he was in love. It made no sense to me that he wouldn’t want the divorce if he could be rid of me. You see, he’d … he’d been unfaithful many times before but he’d never been so bold as to tell me he was in love with any of them.”

  James clenched his fist. If Markingham were as big an ass to everyone else as he was to his wife, no doubt he had a steady queue of people wanting to murder him.

  Abernathy nodded. “What happened later that night? Did you see his grace, or Lady Bettina?”

  Kate cleared her throat. “I did not. I spent the evening alone in my bedchamber. I asked my maid to bring me my dinner there.”

  “And you didn’t see either one of them again until the next morning?” Abernathy continued.

  “That’s correct.”

  Abernathy paused for a sip from his teacup. “So, the next morning, when did you see them again?”

  Kate also took a sip with a shaky hand. “I didn’t see Lady Bettina again until … after…” She glanced away.

  “And his grace?” Abernathy asked evenly.

  Her voice was high, strained. “He came to say good-bye. He told me he never wanted to see me again. He said he was returning to London and wouldn’t be back until I’d vacated the Abbey. He wanted me to move to a small property he owns near Carlisle. To be out of his way, once and for all, I suppose.”

  Abernathy’s wrinkled hand shuffled across the parchment. “And that’s why you fought?”

  “Yes.” She closed her eyes and pressed two fingertips to one lid. “I told him I was leaving, that I would seek a divorce with or without his consent. That I intended to come to London, to live here.”

  Abernathy frowned. “And he wasn’t pleased with that?”

  She shook her head frantically. “No. He yelled. Told me that he forbade it.”

  “And what was your reply?” Abernathy scribbled furiously.

  “I yelled back. I told him I didn’t care anymore what he wanted me to do. I was through taking orders from him. I’d spent the last ten years alone in the country, without him, without anyone, and I was going to leave.” She was shaking, trembling, and James could tell how much the experience had cost her. His heart wrenched for the woman who’d had to remain hidden in the country, alone for so long. But then Lily’s words from a few days ago came back to taunt him. I give you one week of dealing with the duchess before you’re assisting with her defense. Damn it, he didn’t want to care. Didn’t want to get involved. He shouldn’t have stayed in the room to hear all of this.

  Abernathy faced the duchess head-on. “Several people overheard your argument that morning, did they not?”

  She nodded. “I’ve come to understand they did. But at the time I had no idea anyone was listening, though it doesn’t surprise me. We were not attempting to keep our voices low. We were both extremely agitated.”

  Abernathy pushed his spectacles up on his nose once more. “Yes, your grace. My apologies, but we’re nearly finished. However, this next part may be rather difficult for you.”

  She took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m ready, Mr. Abernathy.”

  “Your grace,” Abernathy said. “Did you say anything else to your husband that morning that those listening would have taken … amiss?”

  She wrung her hands with a vengeance. “I did.”

  Abernathy paused to dip the quill back in the inkwell. “What did you say?”

  Kate straightened her shoulders. “I said I’d see him dead before I remained married to him.”

  CHAPTER 10

  If the duchess’s statement shocked Abernathy, he betrayed his surprise by neither word nor deed. “Why did you say that, your grace?” was all the barrister asked. The man was skilled at his job, James had to admit, quite skilled.

  Kate buried her face in her hands. “I didn’t mean it. Not literally at least. I was so ashamed, humiliated, angry. I reacted out of fear. But I didn’t mean it. And I certainly never would have done it.”

  Mr. Abernathy laid down his quill, reached over, and placed his hand atop hers. “I understand, your grace.”

  James watched the exchange through narrowed eyes. He didn’t know what to make of it. She wasn’t crying but she was distraught. She seemed strong but she also appeared vulnerable. She was either a bloody brilliant actress or the most unlucky woman in the kingdom, and damn it, James couldn’t tell. He’d always prided himself on being able to sum up people quickly, make decisions about their character, their integrity. But the duchess remained a mystery to him. A beautiful mystery.

  She expelled a long breath. “Oh, they might as well just burn me now. I know my story sounds just dreadful.”

  “Stay strong, your grace. You’re doing an excellent job,” Abernathy replied.

  The duchess’s jaw clenched. “Please, Mr. Abernathy, do not call me ‘your grace.’”

  The barrister nodded. “Very well. Now.” He grabbed up his quill again. “After your argument, your husband left the room?”

  She tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth. “Yes, I assume he went to his own bedchamber.”

  “And when did you … see him next?” Abernathy asked.

  She rubbed her forehead. “It was less than an hour later. I wanted to ask him when he planned to leave. I should have sent a servant.”

  Abernathy made a note. “Did you go to his bedchamber to apologize?”

  She shook her head and straightened her shoulders. Her voice was steady, calm, direct. “No. I did not.”

  James’s gaze snapped to her face. He respected the hell out of that answer. It would have been so easy for her to say yes. It might have made her look a bit less guilty. Instead, she held her head high and told … the truth. She hadn’t gone to Markingham’s bedchamber to apologize. And from what James had just heard of the man’s treatment of her, he couldn’t blame her.

  “Forgive me, but I must ask,” Abernathy continued, eyeing the duchess carefully over the rims of his spectacles. “What did you see when you entered your husband’s bedchamber?”

  “Take your time,” James added, watching her closely.

  She was quiet for several long seconds, and James saw the tears she was valiantly trying to quash shimmering in the blue depths of her eyes. “I k
nocked,” she whispered, holding up her fist as if she were back there in front of the door to Markingham’s room. “Quietly at first and then more loudly. There was no answer.”

  “Go ahead,” Abernathy prompted, in a calm, steady voice.

  She shook her head slightly, and one red-gold curl came loose from her bun and fell to her cheek. “And then I don’t know why, but something … something made me decide to open the door, to not turn away and assume he’d already left.”

  A nod from the barrister. “Yes.”

  Kate expelled a shaky breath. “I turned the handle and opened the door. I pushed it open and stepped inside.”

  “What did you see?” If Abernathy was anything like James, he was holding his breath too.

  “It was cold in the room. Dark. I had to blink to focus, to see anything.”

  “Yes.” Abernathy nodded.

  Kate’s voice shook. “There he was.” The far-off look was back in her eyes. James was certain she was reliving every awful moment of it.

  “He was lying on the floor. Twisted, bloody.” She cupped her hand over her mouth.

  “He was dead?” Abernathy prompted.

  “Yes.” She mumbled through her hand. Her voice cracked.

  “You’re sure.” Abernathy’s eyes bored into her.

  The duchess remained in a trance of memory. “Yes. I walked over to him, so carefully, so slowly. ‘George,’ I called. ‘George.’ He’d been shot in the chest. I … I couldn’t believe it.” She shook her head frantically.

  “You hadn’t heard a pistol fire?” Abernathy asked.

  “No, no, I hadn’t. I’d been in my bedchamber which was on the other end of the floor but I never heard anything like that.”

  Abernathy jotted a note. “When you entered the room, did you see the pistol?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “It was on the rug in front of him.”

  “Did you touch it?”

  “No.” She shook her head frantically. “No, I didn’t want to touch it.”

  “But you…” Abernathy audibly gulped. “You touched him?”

  A single nod. “Yes. I touched him. I fell to my knees. I cradled his head.”

  Abernathy sat up straighter and met her eyes. “Forgive me, but I must ask. Did you love your husband?”

  “No.” The single word seemed to echo off the wooden bookcases. Tears fell freely down her face now. She shook her head. “I didn’t love my husband. I don’t think I ever did.” Her eyes were like wet velvet, sparkling with tears. “But I never … never wished him to die and certainly not like that. And when I think about his poor mother being told … We had no love lost between us, the dowager and I, but I just can’t imagine losing a child.” Her voice cracked and her chest heaved.

  Mr. Abernathy reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’m nearly through. You’re doing well. Just a few more questions. What happened next? How were you discovered?”

  She shook the tears away and wiped at her eyes. James leaned forward and offered his handkerchief. She took it with a small nod of thanks.

  “Lady Bettina,” Kate said. “Lady Bettina came into the room. She looked … horrified.”

  “Did she say anything?’

  Another nod. “‘What have you done?’ She screamed it. ‘What have you done!’”

  “And after that?” Abernathy prompted.

  “The entire household came rushing in, all of the servants.”

  The barrister scribbled another note on the parchment. “And the magistrate came soon after?”

  Kate bit her lip. “Yes. One of the servants must have summoned him. I still don’t know for certain.”

  “Did the servants say anything?” Abernathy asked.

  “They defended me. They said I couldn’t have done it.”

  “All of them?” Abernathy prompted.

  “Well, Mrs. Anderson, the housekeeper, and Edwards, the butler. My maid, Virginia. They were all in shock, of course, but they knew I couldn’t have done it.”

  “Did they say that to the magistrate?” Abernathy asked.

  “I think so. Oh, I don’t know. It all was such a blur to me.”

  “One last question.”

  “Yes?”

  “Who do you think murdered your husband?”

  The duchess shook her head slowly. “I’ve had nothing to do but think about that question for weeks now. Believe me, it’s on my mind every moment.”

  “And?” Abernathy prodded, and James leaned forward too, suddenly extremely interested in her answer.

  “I just don’t know. I don’t know who would have wanted him dead. Not Lady Bettina, surely, and the servants never seemed unhappy with him. He was never there to make them miserable. I honestly don’t know who shot my husband, Mr. Abernathy. All I know is that it was not me and I’d take my own life before I unjustly accused another person.”

  Abernathy set down his quill. “That’s enough for today. Thank you for telling me your story.”

  Kate hastily wiped at her eyes with James’s handkerchief one more time. “If you gentlemen don’t mind, I think I may just go lie down for a bit.”

  “By all means,” they both said simultaneously, standing while she stood.

  After Kate left the room, James lowered himself back into his seat, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared at Abernathy. “Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

  Abernathy’s expression was blank. He plucked the spectacles from his nose, folded them neatly, and slipped them back inside his coat pocket. “It’s not my business to determine whether she’s telling the truth, my lord. It’s my business to defend her. And I intend to. Vigorously.”

  “Yes, but what do you think?” James insisted, eyeing the barrister carefully. Bloody hell, he was beginning to sound like Lily. But Abernathy was a solid judge of character and he intended to hear the man’s opinion on the matter.

  Abernathy gathered his papers and tucked them back into his bag. He stood and moved toward the door, before turning to face James. “I think that if she’s not telling the truth, she’s doing an awfully good job at lying.”

  CHAPTER 11

  It was the music that woke him. The haunting strains of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” played by a deft hand on the pianoforte in the ballroom. James raised himself on his elbow, shook off his sleep, slipped out of bed, and pulled his dark green robe over his shoulders. Securing the belt tightly around his waist, he made his way into the ballroom on the second story.

  Kate was there, with a brace of candles barely glowing in front of her pretty face. She played the instrument with her eyes closed.

  James cleared his throat. “You’re very talented,” he said, and his words echoed across the cavernous space.

  She immediately stopped, hitting the last note incorrectly. She snapped open her eyes. “My lord!”

  “Please don’t let me stop you.” He moved closer along the cold marble floor, recognizing that she too was wearing her nightclothes, including a robe. “It’s lovely.” But he wasn’t sure if he was talking about the music or the vision of her in her robe, her luxurious hair down around her shoulders, her scrubbed-clean face simply breathtaking.

  “I’m so sorry to have wakened you,” she said, ducking her head. “I couldn’t sleep. I’d hoped it wouldn’t be too loud with the doors closed.”

  He moved toward the pianoforte and rested his forearms on the back of the instrument, meeting her gaze over the top of it. “I’m a notoriously light sleeper, I’m afraid.” He smiled at her. “Besides, I’m glad to have heard it. I love that piece.”

  She blushed and it was enchanting. “It’s my particular favorite,” she admitted. “I haven’t played the pianoforte since I was … arrested. I used to play every day at Markingham Abbey.”

  He furrowed his brow. “Your time at Markingham Abbey doesn’t sound like it was particularly happy, your grace.”

  Kate’s blue eyes flashed. “Please don’t call me that.”

  James frowned. “I noticed yester
day, you asked Abernathy not to call you that either. You don’t like your honorific?”

  She shook her head and the red-gold curls bounced along her shoulders. “No. I never have.”

  He tipped his head to the side. “Why?” he asked quietly.

  “It’s an odious title. As if I’m somehow better than everyone else. Your grace. Your grace. Your grace. I’ve grown to detest it.”

  James eyed her carefully. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not a duchess,” she whispered, meeting his gaze with the deep pools of her eyes. “I’m just a girl who married a duke.”

  James nodded. Somehow that made sense to him and somehow she never ceased to amaze him. Before they’d met, he’d expected her to be all superciliousness and attitude. Instead she reminded him of a lost soul.

  She tossed her head slightly as if shaking off the seriousness of their conversation. “I suppose it’s completely inappropriate for us to be here together like this, wearing nothing more than our nightclothes.” She stared at his chest and then her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink.

  James glanced down to realize his robe had opened a bit and a sliver of his bare chest was visible at the top of the robe. He smiled, propping his elbow on the top of the pianoforte and resting his chin in his palm. “Seems a bit late to be worried about appropriateness. I hate to say it, but nothing about our relationship is appropriate.”

  She blushed again, and James was momentarily regretful of his words. He stood up straight. “I mean to say, nothing about our interactions is conventional.”

  “Yes.” She smiled softly but didn’t meet his eyes. “I suppose you’re right.”

  Silence fell between them before Kate spoke again. “May I ask you a question, my lord?” She fidgeted with her hands.

  He grinned again. “Ah, now that is hardly fair. If I am not to call you ‘your grace,’ you cannot be so proper as to call me ‘my lord.’”

  She gave him a mischievous smile that made his heart beat faster. “I didn’t realize you weren’t fond of your title.”

  “Oh, I am,” he replied. “But I insist. If we’re going to be inappropriate, we may as well call each other by our first names. I’m willing if you are.”