Duchess Beware (Secrets & Scandals Book 2) Read online

  Oh, rot! Silver gripped the sides of her dress, wondering how she would ever make friends with a woman who obviously hated her.

  Daniel gave her a reassuring smile then started to turn toward the mansion. “A moment, please,” she said, halting him with a hand on his arm.

  “What is it, sweet?” He looped a curl over her ear, making her shiver. “You have nothing to fear.”

  She savored the feeling of his touch on her skin for a second, then focused on what she needed to tell him. “First, I hope the footman who brought me to the magistrate does not lose his job. He was merely following your grandmother’s orders.”

  Daniel hesitated, and she wondered what he would do. But he turned to the butler standing nearby and gave a curt nod.

  Releasing her breath, she continued. “Thank you, but there is another issue that must be resolved immediately.”

  He drew his brows. “What is it?”

  The entire matter made her ill. She had to do something. “I learned there are people in the asylum who have been taken against their will. They shouldn’t be there.” She gave his ruined cravat a twist. “Mr. Deeks admitted it to me. Is there something you can do?”

  Daniel’s eyes hardened in anger and his nostrils flared. He turned to Godfrey. “Bring me the magistrate and the man in charge of the asylum at once.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Daniel found it difficult to leave his wife as she prepared for her bath, but his grandmother would not be put off. He would also speak to the magistrate and asylum operator before this day was over. The thought that someone else had been thrown into that horrible place without warrant made him furious. He’d make sure it never happened again.

  God, what Silver must have suffered in that place. He squeezed the back of his neck, an ache developing there. Then he recalled her reaction when he arrived. His wife would never cease to amaze him. Not one teardrop. He shook his head, trying to suppress a grin. Any other lady would have collapsed at his feet in a sobbing heap, wailing incoherently, and spilling tears all over his Hessians. He remembered Lady Isabella’s reaction earlier and noted the stark difference between the two.

  Silver was strong. Good thing. He halted at the study door, adjusted his fresh cravat, then blew out a sigh, knowing what was to come. His wife would need to be strong in order to contend with his grandmother.

  He grimaced at the thought. At least his sister had welcomed Silver into the family with kind words and warm smiles. But then Torie would always be agreeable, unlike his own saucy wife. The corners of his mouth tipped up into another grin.

  With a deep breath, he nodded to the footman to open his study door. After entering the room and dismissing the servants, Daniel looked at his grandmother, squelched a groan, and marched directly to the liquor cabinet. He usually waited until after dinner to have a drink, but felt the need for one now. Especially since Gran stood rigidly near his desk, arms folded, and pierced him with a glare of steely disapproval. He could damn near feel the twin holes boring into his shoulder blades as he reached for a snifter.

  Hell and damnation. Daniel pulled the top from the brandy decanter. Anne Claiborne was livid.

  “Would you care for something?”

  “Only some answers.”

  His fingers tightened around the heavy crystal as it hovered above his glass for several seconds. Only deep respect for his grandmother kept certain words at bay. Swallowing back his anger, he poured the brandy.

  Deciding Grandmother could well use a sherry, he prepared one for her, then walked to his desk and set the drinks down on the polished oak surface. “What do you wish to know?” He held out her chair.

  “Everything.” She sat and took the offered drink, then continued once he scooped up his brandy and took his seat. “Have you any idea the sort of scandal this will cause?”

  Daniel gulped down a generous amount from the snifter, allowing the liquid heat to give him patience. “Yes, I have. But next month the scandalmongers will have another juicy on dit to slaver over.” He tipped his lips up into a smile. “Surely Lord Fielding will have done something outrageous by then.”

  Her silvery brows drew together. “I don’t think you realize the seriousness of the situation, Daniel. That isn’t like you.” She studied him for several seconds. “Were you forced into this?”

  He almost laughed. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “No one can force me into marriage, Gran. You know that better than anyone,” he said softly.

  “Perhaps you misunderstand.” She looked down to remove an imaginary piece of lint from the sleeve of her gown. “Did you do something to warrant such a drastic recompense?”

  He swirled the amber liquor around the crystal, pondering how to answer. He’d always been honest with his grandmother but found the need to protect his wife a greater responsibility. “I married Silver because I wanted to,” he stated quietly. That was the first thing that entered his mind. Even though it hadn’t been the whole truth, it wasn’t exactly a lie either.

  She raised her head, narrowing those hard, gray eyes on him. “Then why the rush? Engagements usually last a year or more.”

  A wide smile broke free, and he was not certain if it was because of the brandy or the answer he would give. “She would have married another if I hadn’t acted so swiftly.”

  The look that crossed his grandmother’s face rarely happened. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth flew open. One did not catch Anne Claiborne off guard every day. Then she lifted the glass of sherry to her lips and took a generous pull.

  “Is there anything else you would like to know?” he asked when the silence stretched out.

  “How did you meet?” She took another dose of her drink.

  Daniel sighed inwardly. He hadn’t given any indication he had taken Silver’s innocence, and he wanted to keep it that way. Gran would certainly make their lives miserable if she suspected that. So he decided not to mention where he stayed during his trip, certain she would get the wrong idea. “I met Silver on the ship to Scotland. She and her aunt, Prudence Pennington, were—”

  “Prudence Pennington!”

  He frowned. “You know her?” He wondered why Prudence or Silver hadn’t mentioned that.

  Gran glanced down and nodded. “She and I came out the same year and we became friends.” When she looked up, her eyes were cold. Cold and filled with certainty. “We were friends until…” Her expression hardened. “…until she tried seducing your grandfather.”

  He nearly choked on his brandy. “Pardon me?”

  “You heard me correctly, Daniel. Prudence Pennington tried seducing your grandfather so he would marry her instead of me. Fortunately, Thomas didn’t fall for her ploy.” She paused and gave him a pointed glare. “Unlike his grandson.”

  He lifted his brows in disbelief. “Are you suggesting Prudence and Silver devised some sort of stratagem to ensnare me into marriage?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything.”

  He relaxed.

  “I’m utterly convinced of it.”

  Daniel placed the snifter down onto the desk lest he throw it across the room and leaned forward. “That is my wife you are speaking of, madam,” he said softly, even though he felt like roaring the words. “I should think accusing her falsely once today quite enough. Which reminds me,” he added, feeling more in control, “I believe an apology to Silver is in order.”

  Gran pursed her lips, but didn’t commit to his thinly veiled order. Her irate eyes, however, indicated she would do no such thing. Daniel leaned back in his chair. He allowed his grandmother the freedom to make many decisions, mostly to do as she pleased. But there were times such as this one, he needed to remind her he was the Duke of Huntington, else he’d find her taking control of everything and everyone as she was want to do.

  “One more thing,” he said, knowing she would learn sooner or later anyway. “Prudence is to arrive on the morrow and will stay as long as she wishes.”

  A knock sounded before she had the
chance to protest, and he called to enter. Godfrey opened the door and gave him a nod. The man’s timing could not have been better. He rose from his chair. “If you will excuse me, Grandmother, there are two men who need to know just how furious I am for what they’ve done to my wife today.” Now he was the one to give the pointed look.

  Her eyes narrowed and her lips went tight, but she must have sensed not to push him too far. “Of course,” she said stiffly.

  Daniel followed Godfrey into the drawing room where the two men waited. They sprang up from the sofa, pulling off their hats and dipping their heads nervously. Mr. Booth, the magistrate, was a short, round fellow with a pitted bulbous nose streaked with red veins, whereas Mr. Dodson, the asylum operator, was a tall, old scarecrow of a man. Both spoke at once.

  He held up his hand, and they fell silent. The fear he’d felt after Godfrey came rushing through the drawing room doors and the white-hot rage at finding Silver being assaulted in that disgusting place had been boiling within him all afternoon. He allowed the two men to see just how incensed he really was. “You cannot possibly begin to understand the injury you gentlemen have done to my wife and this family.”

  Mr. Booth took a shaky step forward, crushing his dirty hat in his hands. Sweat dotted his pasty face and his mouth opened and closed several times, looking quite like a large mackerel caught in a net. The man had the smell to match. “I swear, Your Grace, I was just following Her Grace’s orders. Please, I didn’t know,” he pleaded, his chin now quivering as though he would cry.

  Saying nothing, Daniel glanced toward the elder man to see what he had to say for himself. Mr. Dodson’s wild gray hair fluttered like feathers as he hobbled up beside Mr. Booth and cleared his throat. “Mrs. Tittle swears she is Queen Elizabeth,” the old fellow began, revealing the annoying habit of whistling every ‘s’ sound, “old Bess won’t eat nothing but bugs and dirt, and one of them who ain’t gave a name says she fell down from the stars. The Star Lady as we call her was brought to us naked as the day she was born all covered in mud and shite.” He paused to shake his head woefully. “We get fantastic stories all the time, Your Grace.”

  Daniel crossed his arms. “What about those who do not speak nor act addled?”

  Mr. Dodson swallowed, the discomfort deepening in his sunken eyes. “I-I don’t kn—”

  “Don’t bother lying, sir. You know exactly what I mean.” Daniel turned to Mr. Booth, who still stood there with his mouth hanging open. “I demand you launch an investigation at once. I will see every person who does not belong in that disgusting building released without delay. My house-steward, Mr. Jacobs, will make arrangements for their care.” He stepped forward, making the two men shrink back. “The asylum will be cleaned and the people within will be taken care of properly. Good food, clean clothes, blankets, and fresh water. If I learn otherwise I will have both your heads. Do I make myself clear?” He nearly roared the last few words.

  While Mr. Booth nodded, mumbling an incoherent agreement, Mr. Dodson blurted out, “We don’t have the money for any of that, Your Grace.”

  Daniel must have looked ready to do murder as he turned to the asylum operator. The man shrank back, trembling. “I swear it!”

  Crossing his arms, Daniel drew in a deep breath to help ease some of his rage. “I will see the items are provided for those people on a regular basis.” He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “From time to time, I will send someone to check that they are cared for properly and with kindness. And If I learn otherwise, I will take it out of your hide then have you arrested.”

  Mr. Dodson nodded, his feathery white hair waving furiously. “Oh, aye, Your Grace, I will see it done properly, I will.”

  Daniel relaxed his stiff muscles, gaining control over his raging anger. “See to it right away. Some of my men will follow you back with a carriage to remove those who do not belong. I will not have them locked up in that asylum any longer than necessary. The provisions will be delivered tomorrow by midday, then every fortnight afterward.” He motioned toward the door. “Now leave.”

  ****

  A gnawing hunger brought Silver awake. She wasn’t merely hungry, she was ravenous. How long had it been since she ate last? The thought of eggs and kippers, thin slices of ham, and sweet fruit tarts made her mouth water. She opened her eyes, surprised to find it morning. Even more surprising, Daniel slept soundly beside her. Why didn’t he wake her when he came to bed last night, she wondered?

  She studied him for a minute and couldn’t keep her lips from breaking out into a wide smile. Surely she was the most fortunate woman in the history of mankind. Then something began to nag at the periphery of her thoughts, something foreboding and chilling. Something that questioned how long her good fortune would last because everyone abandoned her eventually. But she refused to listen to that bleak inner voice. Today she would revel in happiness and not think any bad thoughts.

  Her stomach gave an insistent growl and she sighed. She had no idea when Daniel usually broke his fast in the morning. Reaching out to wake him, she pulled her hand back. He slept so soundly, she really didn’t want to disturb him. Her mind made up, she slipped out of bed while he continued his slumber.

  Naked, she glanced around the room and spotted Daniel’s shirt carelessly thrown on the floor beneath the painting of three horses with red coated riders after a half dozen hounds on the hunt. She donned the wrinkled garment and walked quietly into the antechamber, shivering from the slight chill in the morning air. Glancing around the room, she pursed her lips, wondering where her clothes had been taken. She looked behind the burgundy and gold striped sofa, beside the matching wingback chairs, and in every corner of the mahogany paneled room. The battered old trunk with the cracked leather handles was nowhere to be seen.

  The door to the room opened and she spun around, coming face to face with her husband’s valet. The short, thin man stood there several seconds, gaping at her with bulging eyes, then started to back away. She smiled and quietly requested the location of her trunk before he could make his escape.

  Once she finished gaping at the walls of the adjourning chamber, covered in off white silk painted with blooming wisteria vines, and the matching furnishings arranged before a carved gray marble fireplace, Silver made her way down the stairs and wondered where breakfast was usually served. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, then gathered a fistful of her dove-colored skirt and turned toward the rear of the house. Most kitchens, she decided, were located there.

  Approaching the door where the aroma of ham and fresh baked bread floated on the air, enticing entry, her stomach growled. Satisfied to have found the kitchen without much difficulty, she entered the room.

  The conversation ceased abruptly. Only the short man dressed entirely in white, sporting a thin, curling mustache and dark, beady eyes, continued to work, furiously whisking the contents of a bowl he held to his chest.

  Turning from the little man’s unmerited contempt, Silver took note of the others. A hefty woman stood before the savory contents of a large cooking pot; a younger girl working nearby held a knife to a peach; beside her, another young girl had her fists deep in a pile of dough; and at the room’s long wooden table sat a beak-nosed man who held a cloth to a silver bowl. All stared wide-eyed at her.

  The rear door leading outside opened and a strapping woman, perhaps even taller than Silver’s own height, bustled into the kitchen. She pulled a green cloak from her shoulders, not paying any attention to the room’s occupants, when she began to speak. “Dreadful place, my sister’s,” she said as she hung her cloak on the coat rack, “I don’t think I’ll ever visit again.” When no response came, the woman turned to survey the room, following the direction of everyone’s gaze.

  Silver could see the woman trying to place her identity. Then, as if coming to a conclusion, the bewilderment lifted. “I’m Mrs. Birch, head housekeeper,” she said, striding forward. “Have you been introduced to the rest of the staff?”

  Shaking her head, Sil
ver wondered who the housekeeper thought her to be.

  “This is but a small portion of the staff,” Mrs. Birch continued, sweeping the room with an arm. “Francoise, the chef, Mrs. Wiggins, under cook, Alice and Mary, scullery maids, and Mr. Beakly, the under-butler.”

  Oh, dear, Silver thought as she suppressed a giggle. Mr. Beakly certainly had an apt name. His hooked nose looked exactly like a beak. “How do you do?” she said with a smile to the stunned group. Her eyes strayed to Mr. Beakly. “It is very nose—nice,” she corrected with haste, feeling her cheeks heat, “to meet all of you.”

  Mrs. Wiggins smiled, laughter lurking in her kind brown eyes.

  “Have you been assigned a duty yet?” Mrs. Birch asked.

  A duty? Then realization hit and she swallowed a giggle. The woman thought her a servant. “Actually, I have.”

  The housekeeper didn’t look too happy with that vague answer. “And what—”

  Just then, a maid popped her head in the doorway. “The guests are demandin’ their mornin’ chocolate,” she said as several bells above the door rang out. “An’ be quick about it. They’re as cross as ‘ungry bears, the lot of them.” Then the girl disappeared.

  Mrs. Birch frowned at the bells that had just fallen still, then at the entire room. “Why didn’t someone tell me the guests had already arrived?” Met with silence, her frowned deepened. “What has gotten into all of you?” she demanded, placing beefy hands on rounded hips.

  Mrs. Wiggins took a step forward. “His Grace has also returned—”

  “He has? Lor, Matilda, why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  “His Grace returned with a bride,” the under cook said with a twinkle in her eyes.

  “A bride, you say?” Mrs. Birch said with raised brows. And when the room nodded in unison, the stocky woman staggered to the nearest chair and plopped down onto it. “Goramidy,” she breathed, “I take leave for the first time in twenty years and look what happens.” She turned back to the under-cook, her eyes pleading. “Tell me she ain’t one of the peahens.”