The Duke of Ruin

by Darcy Burke

  “But it’s my fault she isn’t here.”

  “Fault isn’t important, Simon.” She hadn’t called him by his first name in a very long time. It made him feel like a boy again, and right now, that wasn’t a bad thing. “Forgiveness is what matters. You’ve found the chance to be happy again. Do that. Look forward, not back. Your father would be proud of the duke you’ve become.”

  Forgive himself. Look forward instead of to the past. Let the past stay where it must—behind him. He had to find a way to live with what he’d done. This wasn’t a revelation. He’d known he’d have to do that if he had any hope for a future. But he’d never had that hope. Not until Diana.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly, appreciating her words.

  She came to him and patted his arm. It was as close to a hug as he might expect from her. She’d never been overly demonstrative. His father had been the one to wrap him in a tight embrace and drop a kiss on his head. Simon missed him so much. But he was also glad to have his mother here.

  “You’ll stay for a few days?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Apparently, I need to investigate the dower house. I’m weary of my cottage in Kent, but it’s nice to have so I can visit your sisters.” They lived within about forty miles of each other. “They might like to see you and meet your new wife. If you wanted to invite them here.”

  Simon still wasn’t sure he could stay here for a long period of time. He was going to try to last until Lowell and Marley’s wedding, but he wasn’t entirely convinced it was possible.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “You do that. I’m going to have a rest before dinner.” She started toward the door, and Humphrey jumped down from the chair to follow her.

  Simon tried to sort through the outrageous events of the day. It hadn’t been all bad—he felt even closer to Diana, and he’d reconciled with his mother. But learning the reason for his argument with Miriam had been a blow. It gave proof to a truth he’d secretly doubted, deep inside—that he had caused her death.

  So he wasn’t a murderer, but his wife had died because of him. Probably. He’d never know. And yes, he’d have to learn to live with that.

  Chapter 17

  Diana slept later than normal after the events of the previous day. They’d enjoyed a nice dinner with the dowager, opting to avoid discussing anything to do with Diana’s parents or the revelation regarding Simon’s first wife’s death. Instead, his mother had regaled Diana with his youthful exploits on the estate—fishing in the pond, climbing trees, bringing creatures into the house and causing general mayhem, daily rides with his father. When the conversation turned to the previous duke, the love Simon and his mother felt for him was palpable. Diana realized Simon had lost two of the most important people in his life. That had to be difficult. Whereas Diana didn’t even have important people in her life.

  That acknowledgment came with a shadow of melancholy. Or maybe it had come with what Simon had said yesterday. About Miriam. Diana could see how much he’d loved her and how he’d suffered with her loss. There was a void inside him, and she doubted her ability to fill it.

  How she wanted to.

  The other thing she’d realized was that she loved him. She had to. She’d no idea what that emotion should feel like, but he was never far from her mind, she burned for his touch, and she ached to make him whole again. If that wasn’t love, then perhaps she was simply incapable of the emotion.

  While that was certainly possible, she refused to believe it was true. She wanted to love him. Furthermore, she wanted him to love her in return.

  Yes, therein lay her melancholy.

  As she made her way to the stairs, she saw Mrs. Marley talking with a maid. The maid nodded at whatever she said and departed along the gallery. Mrs. Marley turned and started down the stairs.

  Making a quick decision, Diana increased her pace to catch up with the housekeeper and did so on the landing. “Mrs. Marley, may I speak with you a moment?”

  The housekeeper turned, her brown eyes reflecting a slight surprise. “Oh, Your Grace, I didn’t see you. Of course. How may I be of service? Or is this about the wedding?” Her lips curved into a small smile.

  “It’s not, actually, but the arrangements are coming along.” After what Diana had learned yesterday, she wondered whether it was appropriate to host their wedding here at the chapel. While none of what happened was the housekeeper’s fault, Diana couldn’t help being bothered by her role. She found herself thinking of what Mrs. Dodd had said—if only Mrs. Marley had kept what she’d seen to herself.

  Except then she would’ve borne the burden of that secret, and Diana decided that would have been terrible. Mrs. Marley wasn’t at fault; however, perhaps the housekeeper could help. “I hope you won’t mind my asking, but I wanted to speak with you about the former duchess’s death.”

  Mrs. Marley glanced toward the bottom of the stairs, and her face paled. “They were standing right here.” She looked around at the landing before settling her somber gaze on Diana.

  A shiver jolted up Diana’s spine, and her skin turned to ice. “Would you tell me precisely what you remember?”

  The housekeeper closed her eyes for a moment, her features tensing. When she opened her eyes again, there was anguish in their depths. “I’ve worked so hard to block it from my mind, ma’am, but I can try.”

  “I understand. And I appreciate you trying.”

  Mrs. Marley gave a small nod. “They were a happy couple at first. Which is why what happened was so awful. We were all shocked.”

  “Are you speaking of the accident?”

  “And what happened before. Why it happened.” The housekeeper looked away.

  The rumored affair.

  “Go on,” Diana urged. She’d started this folly, and she meant to finish it.

  “They were only married a few months before Her Grace got with child. I’m not sure where the rumor started, but it was soon whispered that the babe wasn’t His Grace’s.” Mrs. Marley said this with considerable effort, her face reflecting her sorrow.

  “And why was this suspected?” From everything Diana knew, it made no sense.

  “There was a young footman who was clearly enamored of her. They were seen together on several occasions—close together.”

  “Someone saw them…kissing?”

  “No, not that. They were very discreet.” Mrs. Marley clasped her hands together nervously. “Or maybe there was nothing, and it was just a rumor. How can we ever know?”

  That was unfortunately true. In fact, they’d never really know what happened here on the stairs. So why was Diana asking this poor woman about it? “We can’t. Just as we can’t know what happened after you turned from their disagreement in this very spot.”

  Tears formed in Mrs. Marley’s eyes, but she blinked them away. “I was so distraught after it happened. Even now, I can’t think about it without becoming upset. And to stand here discussing it…” Her voice trailed off, and she sucked in a sharp, quick breath.

  Diana put an end to the torture. “Let us not speak of it.” She touched the housekeeper’s arm gently. “I’m sorry I brought it up, and I shan’t do so again. The Duke is very fortunate to have your support—you mustn’t blame yourself for telling the truth.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Mrs. Marley bobbed her head. “You’re too kind.”

  “Come, let us get off this landing.” Diana forced a soft laugh, then led the housekeeper down to the hall where Lowell met them. He cast a concerned look at his betrothed but didn’t say anything.

  Mrs. Marley continued toward the kitchens.

  “Your Grace,” Lowell began. “The dowager is in the Blue and Gold Room and asked if you might join her.”

  “Thank you, Lowell.” Diana made her way to the drawing room and found her mother-in-law ensconced in her new favorite chair, scratching Humphrey’s head.

  “Good afternoon, Diana,” the dowager said. “I’m glad to see you’ve taken the time to rest after yesterday’s
trials, but may I say you still look a bit pale.”

  Diana had already learned that her mother-in-law didn’t mince words. “I just had an encounter with Mrs. Marley on the stairs. I’m afraid I reopened the old wound and asked her about the accident.”

  The dowager nodded serenely. “You mustn’t chastise yourself. It’s natural to want to find answers. I did the same after it happened. I interrogated every member of the staff. She’s the only one who saw anything, and even then, it wasn’t enough to provide a full account.”

  Diana sat on the settee and surveyed the garden behind the house. Simon was out there somewhere on his vast estate, conducting the duties he felt he’d neglected for far too long. She missed him.

  “What did she say?” the dowager asked, drawing Diana back to the conversation.

  “She told me about the rumor.” Diana cocked her head at Simon’s mother. “How did you learn of it?”

  “When I spoke with the staff afterward, Mrs. Dodd told me. No one else would have the courage to tell me, but Mrs. Dodd and I have a special relationship. I hired her as the cook when I became the duchess.” The dowager smiled, the sharp angles of her face softening. “She was Miss Chambers then. She’s the reason I’m here, actually. She wrote to tell me about your arrival, and I decided to come myself.”

  “Mrs. Marley said there was a footman who was presumably too close to the Duchess.”

  Simon’s mother frowned. “Yes, I’d heard that, but I dismissed it as nonsense. That woman—Miriam—loved my son to the point of distraction. She could never quite believe that a duke had married her. She wasn’t groomed for this life, not like you were.”

  Diana’s chest ached. She loved Simon like that. Even now, her mind was drifting to where he was and what he was doing and counting the moments until he returned. But the pain came from knowing Simon had loved his first wife in precisely the same way. Diana knew he cared for her too, but doubted it could ever be the same. “Simon loved her too. It doesn’t make sense that she would cuckold him.”

  “No, it never made sense to me either. But apparently Romsey considered it, because he confronted her.”

  “It may have been best to keep that from him,” Diana suggested.

  “Maybe, but he would’ve learned of it sooner or later. Things like that never stay quiet. Not forever. Much better that he hear it from me. And it’s not as if it were actually true. I don’t think anyone believes that.”

  Diana wasn’t sure she agreed with the dowager’s reasoning for telling him, but didn’t see the point in debating her. She did, however, want to talk to Mrs. Dodd about this rumor. If no one really believed it, how had it started and why had it taken hold? She stood from the settee. “I’m going to the kitchens to discuss next week’s menu with Mrs. Dodd.”

  “She’s the best cook in all of Hampshire,” the dowager said. “Maybe all of southern England. Have you had her trifle yet? That’s the reason I hired her. She made a selection of dishes for my consideration, and that trifle won her the position. Would you be so kind to ask if she could make it for me before I leave?”

  “Of course.” Diana excused herself and went directly to the kitchens to find Mrs. Dodd. The main kitchen was surprisingly empty, so she went into the scullery, where Rose was scrubbing a pot. “Good afternoon, Rose.”

  The girl jumped, nearly dropping the pot. She lifted her wide-eyed gaze to Diana’s.

  “Please forgive me for startling you,” Diana said. “I’m looking for Mrs. Dodd.”

  Rose’s frame relaxed—as much as it ever did, for the girl seemed eternally tense to Diana, which was perhaps why she’d developed a special fondness for the young maid. Diana knew what it was like to feel constantly on edge.

  Rose went back to scouring the pot. “Everyone’s taking the midday meal.”

  “Why aren’t you with them?”

  “It’s my job to watch after the kitchen. I’ll eat when they’re done.”

  “You never get to eat with them?” When Rose shook her head, Diana wondered why they couldn’t rotate that responsibility so that Rose wasn’t always isolated.

  “I don’t mind, Your Grace. I like to keep to myself. That’s the best way to stay out of trouble. I learned that real fast.”

  Diana could imagine Mrs. Dodd instilling fear in Rose from the moment she arrived. The cook ran a tight kitchen and expected her maids to keep their hands clean. And yet Mrs. Dodd seemed to be the chief purveyor of gossip in the house. A thought struck Diana—perhaps Rose might flourish in another area.

  “Rose, would you like to work in the house as a maid?”

  Rose looked up from the pot in surprise. “Why?”

  Diana wondered if the girl might be more comfortable away from Mrs. Dodd’s somewhat autocratic ways. She shrugged, acting nonchalant. “I thought you might like to try something new.”

  Rose shook her head rather vehemently. “No, thank you, ma’am.”

  Taken aback by the girl’s fervent refusal, Diana couldn’t keep herself from asking why. “Is there a reason?”

  Rose set the pot in the sink, where she poured water into the vessel and swirled it about to rinse it clean. After pouring the water down the drain, she set the pot on the drying rack and turned to Diana as she wiped her hands on her apron. “I’d rather not work in the house. Mrs. Dodd is not so bad as Mrs. Marley.” Rose shuddered before crossing the scullery and entering the small storeroom. Inside, she began to rearrange the cookware on the shelves.

  Diana blinked. The housekeeper seemed so lovely. And capable. She’d heard nothing to support her having a poor reputation amongst the staff. Diana joined Rose in the storeroom. “Why do you feel that way about Mrs. Marley?”

  Rose hesitated, as she often did, and Diana sought to reassure her. “I hope you know that whatever you tell me is in the strictest confidence. I care about everyone on the staff, but for some reason, you are already special to me.”

  Though the storeroom was dim, with only the light from the high bank of windows on the opposite wall of the scullery to provide illumination, Diana could see the pink swathing Rose’s round, youthful cheeks. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ve never cared for Mrs. Marley. She scares me. Because of the…Incident.”

  Diana had to strain to hear the last word. “The accident involving the previous duchess?” At Rose’s nod, Diana tried to think of why Mrs. Marley’s behavior would have frightened the girl. “Is it because she spoke out?”

  Rose stopped organizing and turned to Diana, twisting her fingers in the front of her apron and shook her head. “No, because she lied. I saw everything what happened.”

  Diana’s heart stopped for a second. Here was a witness. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

  Panic flashed in Rose’s eyes as they grew as big as dinner plates. “I’d only worked here for a week, but I already knew that Mrs. Dodd didn’t tolerate gossip from us unless we shared it with her and her alone. But seeing His Grace…” A tear slipped from Rose’s eye, cracking Diana’s heart.

  “What did you see?” Diana was desperate to know.

  “It was Mrs. Marley who argued with Her Grace on the stairs. Her Grace slipped and reached for Mrs. Marley, but Mrs. Marley drew back, and Her Grace fell.” Rose squeezed her eyes shut. “It was horrible. Sometimes I wake up and see the terror on her face and hear the sound of her hitting the floor.” Rose wrapped her arms around herself. “And then I see His Grace rushing from his study into the hall. I hear his cry of distress. Then I see him holding Her Grace, begging her not to die.” Her eyes had taken on a glassy sheen. She blinked and refocused on Diana. “That was when I ran. I ran all the way up to my room in the attic, and I’ve never told a soul about it.”

  Tears fell unheeded from Diana’s eyes. The image of Simon cradling his dead wife’s body would’ve haunted her too. And maybe it would now that she knew the truth. He hadn’t even been on the stairs. Marley had lied about it all to cover up her own misdeed. To think Simon’s suffering could have been abated… None of this would brin
g Miriam back, but at least he wouldn’t have blamed himself.

  “Why didn’t you tell Mrs. Dodd at least?” Diana tried not to sound accusatory. The girl had been thirteen and brand-new to the house. If she’d been in the same circumstance, Diana wasn’t sure she could have found the courage to speak out either. “Never mind, I already know the answer. You were deathly afraid for many reasons, all of them valid.” She wiped at her wet cheeks and summoned a smile of encouragement for the brave girl. “I’m so glad you told me the truth. This will help the Duke immeasurably.”

  Rose’s eyes brightened. “Will it really?”

  The door behind Diana slammed closed, followed by the sound of a bolt. Diana whipped around and tried to push the door open, but, as expected, it was locked.

  She turned back to Rose, but they were now in total darkness. “D-did you see who cl-closed the door?” Diana asked as anxiety tripped through her. Why would someone lock them in the storeroom?

  “Not clearly. But I saw a flash of skirt.” The maid blanched. “I think it was Mrs. Marley.”

  The fear in Rose’s tone echoed in Diana’s chest. The darkness of the storeroom took her back to the countless times her father had shut her in a pitch-black closet where she’d been forced to spend the night and contemplate her deficiencies. Panic rose in her throat, and she simply couldn’t make any words come out.

  “What should we do?” Rose asked, her voice small and scared in the dark.

  They should call for help, but Diana was frozen. Then a smell filtered beneath the door. Smoke.

  “Someone will find us, won’t they?” Rose asked fearfully.

  Diana hoped so. They weren’t very far—Mrs. Dodd and the others were just on the other side of the kitchen. But would they hear them if they yelled? It was a pointless question since Diana couldn’t even speak. Hysteria bubbled in her chest as smoke began to filter beneath the door.

  Rose pushed past her and pounded on the door, but quickly drew back. “It’s hot.”