To Marry The Duke (30 page)

Oh, James, why did you choose yesterday of all days to leave?

Quite unable to stand another minute in her boudoir feeling anxious and powerless, Sophia left to go to the luncheon table. She sat there for quite some time, however, with no one to talk to until finally food arrived.

“Watson,” she said to a footman standing against the wall, “where is everyone?”

The man bowed slightly before he spoke. “The dowager requested lunch in her rooms, Your Grace, and Lady Lily… she is expected at any moment.”

Sophia gazed across the table at Lily’s empty plate. “It’s not like her to be this late for luncheon. Might she be unwell?”

“I don’t know, Your Grace.”

Smoothing her napkin out on her lap, Sophia wondered if Lily was napping, catching up on the sleep she’d missed the night before.

Sophia picked up her fork and tried to start her meal.

Her appetite, however, was utterly absent. For some reason, she was worried, and she could not possibly eat without knowing where Lily was and exactly what she was up to.

“I shall go and look in on her,” Sophia said with a polite smile, placing her napkin on the table and pushing her chair back. “Just to see if she’s all right. It was a busy week you know, Watson, and everyone is quite exhausted.”

He held the door open for her as she departed.

Gathering her skirts in her hands, she whisked up the stairs, hoping to find everything as it should be: Lily in her room, merely dawdling. If she was dawdling, it was probably because she was kissing her pillow and calling it Pierre.

Sophia had to admit she would be relieved to find that that was the case. She wanted to believe that most of what Lily had told her last night had been mere fantasy. The alternative was too disturbing to contemplate.

She reached her sister-in-law’s door and knocked.

Silence.

She knocked again.

When still no answer came, Sophia entered the room. It was empty. “Lily?”

Sophia glanced around the tidy, cream-colored bedchamber. With everything that had happened with Pierre, Sophia couldn’t help but be worried. She walked to Lily’s huge, oak wardrobe and opened the doors.

Good Lord. Gowns were missing.

Sophia picked up her skirts and hurried from the room in search of Lily’s maid. “Josephine!” she called down the corridor, not really sure where she was running or where she would end up, only that she needed someone to answer her calls. She reached the front staircase.

Mrs. Dalrymple, the housekeeper, appeared in the main hall and stopped at the bottom of the staircase with her hand on the newel post, looking up. “Your Grace? What’s the matter?”

“Where’s Josephine?” Sophia asked as she flew down the stairs.

“She went to the village this morning.”

“Was Lady Lily with her?”

“No, Lady Lily asked to be left alone. She was very tired, Your Grace, and wished not to be disturbed.”

All at once contemplating the ramifications of what was happening, Sophia reached the bottom step and labored to calm herself. It wouldn’t do to have every servant in the household knowing Sophia’s impossible fears—that Lily might have eloped with a complete stranger, who might very well be her own brother.

Please, let me be wrong about this…

Lily would be ruined. Worse than ruined.

Sophia inhaled deeply. “I see. Well, I won’t disturb her, then. Perhaps I will go and see what Marion is up to.”

She smiled and headed up the stairs again, forcing herself to walk leisurely, not run, but as soon as she was out of sight of the housekeeper, she began to sprint. She reached Marion’s door and knocked hard.

Looking wearied, Marion appeared. As soon as she saw the frantic expression on Sophia’s face, she stepped back to wave her in. “What is it? What’s going on?”

“Do you know where Lily is?”

“No, I’ve been in my rooms all morning. Did she not come to the luncheon table?”

Sophia put a hand to her forehead. “You’d better sit down, Marion. I’m afraid something terrible might have happened.”

The dowager’s face went pale.

“There’s no time to waste. I will have to be blunt. I just came from Lily’s room, and she is gone.”

“Gone! What do you mean, gone?”

“Her gowns were missing from her wardrobe, and Mrs. Dalrymple told me that Lily had sent her maid into the village this morning. What if… what if she’s run off and done something foolish?”

Marion backed into a chair and sat down. “No, she would never do anything like that…” Her voice trailed off into nothingness; she stared blankly at the wall.

Touching Marion’s shoulder, Sophia knelt. “We have to assume the worst and do what we can to find her.” She made a fist and pounded the chair arm. “Oh, where is James! Why did he choose this day of all days to be in London!”

Marion clutched at Sophia’s sleeves. “We have to send for him. What about a telegram?”

“Yes, indeed. A telegram. We’ll tell him to return home immediately, that it’s urgent.” Sophia rose to her feet. She crossed to the door, but stopped to look back at her mother-in-law, who was now weeping. “Pray that I am mistaken about this, Marion. Pray that Lily has simply gone off for a long walk somewhere to be alone.”

Marion shook her head. “No. I know my daughter. She has the hot Langdon blood. I fear the worst.”

Chapter 25

Exhausted and weary from his journey, James stepped out of the crested coach. He ran up the steps of Wentworth Castle, taking two at a time, and entered the hall, handing his overcoat to a footman as he passed. “Where is the duchess? I must see her immediately.”

“In the drawing room, Your Grace.” James strode across the hall. The telegram had been disturbingly vague and frantic, and he had entertained some of the most unpleasant thoughts on the train. Was Sophia ill or injured? Perhaps it was his mother…

James had left Martin at the house in London, with instructions to carry out the investigation regarding Pierre Billaud. Martin had in his possession a brief list of names of people who knew their father and would have known about Genevieve. James— wanting to know the true connection between Pierre and Genevieve—had laid all his trust in his younger brother. Martin had seemed grateful to have been given a purpose. He had embraced James as he was going out the door.

It was a moment James would not forget. Nor would he waste this opportunity for a new start with his brother.

Heart pounding uncharacteristically fast, James entered the drawing room.

His wife was sitting on the chintz sofa.

It was all like some kind of strange, unsettling dream. She was weeping.

Onto Whitby’s shoulder.

James halted. Sophia looked up. Her eyes were red and swollen. “James, you’re back!” She got up from the sofa and crossed toward him. “Thank God!”

The fact that Whitby kept his distance on the other side of the room was not lost on James. He gazed down at his wife’s stricken face, then over her shoulder at his old friend. “What’s going on?”

“You received my telegram?” Sophia asked, but he could barely form an answer, his blood was rushing so tumultuously in his head.

“Yes, it’s why I returned.” He gazed at Whitby. “Why are
you
here?”

Whitby took an uneasy step forward, as if he didn’t know quite how to answer the question.

Sophia reached for James’s hand. “He’s here because I sent for him. I needed help, and I didn’t know when you would arrive. You never replied to the telegram.”

“I didn’t know you required a reply.”

She shook her head as if to dismiss what was a meaningless quarrel, then turned to Whitby. “Would you excuse us, Edward? I must speak with my husband alone. We’ll go to the library. Please, have another cup of tea.”

Looking ashen, Whitby nodded.

James felt a heaviness descend upon his chest. “What the devil is happening?” he asked Sophia, as soon as they were out in the hall. “You both look like someone has died.”

Sophia shook her head and put a finger to her lips to hush him.

They reached the library. She closed the double doors. “I’m so glad you’re back, James. Something terrible has happened. You might want to sit down.”

“I prefer to stand.” He had no patience left. He had just walked in on his wife weeping onto another man’s shoulder—a man who had openly admitted to wanting her for himself not long ago. James wanted to know the truth.

“Your message was urgent,” he said. “Why?”

How was she to begin? Sophia wondered, gazing with apprehension at her husband’s exacting face. She moved slowly to the center of the room.

“There is a great deal I need to tell you, James, and there’s no easy way to say it, so I’ll just come out with it. Your mother confessed something to me not long ago, something to do with your family. There is a secret you don’t know about.”

James’s gaze darkened, but Sophia would not be daunted.

“It’s about your father. This may come as a surprise, but your mother… your mother was not his only wife.”

James put his hand up to halt Sophia. “Wait just a moment. You sent for me, insisted I return from London immediately, to tell me
this
?”

“Well… yes… but.”

“I’ve known for years about my father’s scandalous first wife, Sophia. What I didn’t know was that my mother knew.” He shook his head with disbelief. “And she told
you
?”

“Yes.”

“How in God’s name did you ever get her to admit something like that? To
you
! No, wait, you don’t need to tell me. You have a true gift, Sophia. You get under people’s skin whether they want you there or not.”

She stood motionless, staring at her husband, completely unsure of his meaning. Had she just been insulted or paid a compliment?

“James, it doesn’t matter why she told me. The fact is, there have been developments.”

“What kind of developments?” He sat down.

She hesitated. “You knew about Genevieve. Did you know about the blackmail?”

Her husband slowly blinked. “Blackmail? I suggest you explain.”

Sophia paced across the room, afraid, desperately afraid of what this news, coming from her, was going to do to their marriage. He had known she was keeping something from him, and he had allowed her to keep her secret, but now his sister was possibly in the greatest danger of her life, and Sophia had done nothing to prevent it.

All this after the most glorious week with James, when Sophia had let herself believe that there was actually hope for happiness in her marriage. Hope that her husband would one day grow to love her.

She felt certain that those hopes were about to be ground into a fine, dry dust in the next few seconds.

“Genevieve has been threatening your mother,” she said. “Genevieve claims she has a son who is the true heir to the Wentworth dukedom, and if Marion does not pay her what she asks for, Genevieve will reveal him to the world and take everything away from this family.”

Sophia watched James for a long time. He did not move from his position on the sofa. All he did was make a fist in one hand. “
This
is the secret you did not want to tell me?”

“Yes.”

“That you believe I have a brother?”

She nodded.

The muscles in his jaw clenched. He stood up and walked to the window. “This was not a game, Sophia. You should never have kept such serious information from me.”

Her voice quavered as she tried to explain. “I didn’t
want
to keep it from you. I pleaded with your mother to go to you, but she would not.”

He turned to face her. “
You
should have come to me! As my wife, you have a duty to me, first and foremost, above all others!”

Sophia jumped at the frightening timbre of her husband’s anger. He had never raised his voice to her before, even when he’d thought she was writing love letters to another man.

“I know that now,” she said, wringing her hands together in her lap. “Looking back on it, I wish I had. But as you know, my relationship with your mother has not been a congenial one. I’ve been lonely here, James, far from my own family, and I wanted desperately to feel as if I belonged. I wanted your mother to care for me like I was her own daughter, just as I longed to care for her as a mother. So when I made that promise to her—to keep her secret no matter what, before I knew what the secret was—I had no idea what I was agreeing to. Afterward, I felt that I was close to fixing the problems that existed between Marion and me, and—”

“It’s not your place to fix this family,” he said icily. “You are an outsider. You do not understand our history.”

Sophia felt the sting of his words like a hot iron burning into her soul. She gritted her teeth together. “Perhaps an outsider was exactly what you all needed.”

He did not respond to that. He merely turned and looked out the window again.

Sophia wanted to scream! She rose from her sitting position and strode toward him, pulling him by the arm to face her. “What is the matter with you? Have you no heart? Can you not see that this is as painful for me as it is for you? That I want, more than anything, to be a part of this family, yet I must contend with your cool, steely reticence day after day when all I ever wanted was for you to love me? And now, I feel as if I have spoiled any chance of that ever happening, and put Lily in danger, all because of my deep—and not unreasonable—desire to be accepted!”

His gaze narrowed. “What do you mean, you’ve put Lily in danger?”

Sophia felt sick. This could not possibly have gone any worse. “Lily is missing.”

“Missing!”

“Yes, that was the next thing I was going to tell you. It’s why I sent the telegram.”

Now, for the first time, his voice shook. “Madam, you will explain the rest of this situation to me.”

Sophia nodded. “Lily came to me the other night to tell me that she was in love.”

“In love with whom?” he demanded.

“With Pierre Billaud. The man Genevieve claims is her son.”

James’s eyes blazed with fury. “Good God! She says Billaud is her
son
? And you think Lily has run off with him?”

“It’s only a suspicion at the moment, but as I said, she is missing, and some of her gowns are gone.”

He raked a hand through his hair and strode toward the door. “Is that why Whitby is here?” he asked while he walked. “Did you tell him all this?”

Sophia followed. “Yes, I was desperate. I needed someone to go to Pierre’s cottage and search the village, and I was afraid to trust any of the servants. I knew Whitby has been your friend for many years, and he was the only person I knew to call upon.”

Returning to the drawing room, James burst through the doors.

Whitby stood, appearing startled. “You know what’s going on?”

“Yes,” James replied. As soon as Sophia entered the room, James closed the door behind her and turned to Whitby. “You went searching for Lily?”

“I did, but she was nowhere. Pierre’s cottage was empty, and Lord Manderlin had no idea where the man had gone or when he had left. Took off without paying the rent he owed, I might add. Then I searched the village. I was discreet with my questions, I assure you. No one has seen her.”

James turned his fierce gaze upon Sophia. “How long has she been gone?”

“Since yesterday morning.”

“And no one knows anything? Where’s her maid?”

“I was afraid for Lily’s reputation, so I’ve been scrambling to keep everything quiet. I sent her maid home for a holiday. The servants seem to accept things like that coming from me. Other than that, we’ve been playing a cat-and-mouse game, making them all think that Lily is still here, but I don’t know how much longer we can keep up the charade.”