Page 58 of Three Rules to Wed a Duke

The sound of her shock alerted the young woman, who looked up at her with large, wide eyes. For a moment, there was no sound. Too soon, though, a piercing screamed filled the air. Frances stumbled backwards into Miss O’Reilly’s arms, only to be righted again rather roughly.

“What are you doing up here? What have you done?” the woman shouted at her.

“I… nothing,” Frances said weakly as Miss O’Reilly’s expression turned to outrage. In the bedroom, the woman’s screams continued, leaving the nurse no choice but to abandon her angry tirade and see to her.

Frances was stunned. What on earth was happening in this house? And how had it come to involve her?

With no other choice, Frances turned and ran through the sitting room to the far doorway. She flew down the old steps, ignoring their ominous creaking as she went.

I must get out of here, she thought, clinging to the walls on her way down to keep herself from toppling forward.I don’t care where I go, but I cannot stay here!

The door to the rest of the house was mere feet in front of her. Frances reached for it with longing, grateful when her hand touched the latch at last. She threw it open and hurried out, only to stop short when she struck a solid wall. She stumbled backwards, but no hands caught her. Instead, she fell back against the now-closed door, smacking her head soundly. When she got her bearings once more and looked up, she saw that Anthony was standing there, unmoved by their collision.

“Anthony,” she breathed, the word a mixture of fear and disgust.

Instead of answering her, the duke only stared at her with pure revulsion on his face. She had broken the most important rule of his house, and no matter how much she’d told herself it was necessary before, now she felt like a child being called beforeMiss Chatham and punished for her misdeeds. He continued to glare for nearly a minute, no further words coming forth from either of them. Then, just when Frances thought she might explain herself, he took a wide step around her and pushed his way through the door, hurrying upstairs and leaving France alone.

CHAPTER 22

“What have I done?” Frances asked frantically, pacing back and forth in her room. “The duke hates me!”

“Awww, it cannot be so bad as that, Your Grace,” Sara argued, trying to comfort her.

“You did not see the lethal look in his eye, Sara. He was quite clear about that ridiculous staircase, and yet I couldn’t help myself! I was overcome with jealousy, and I let it take hold of me. I’ve ruined everything,” Frances said, shaking her head and pressing her fists to her eyes.

“Then tell him so. You have a right to know what goes on in your own house, after all. Just tell him the truth. You had reason to think there was another woman here… and there was! If anything, you are the one who should be angry.”

“What I simply cannot understand,” Frances continued, striding throughout the room like a guard standing sentry, “is what wasthe purpose of all this? There was another woman. Her lady’s maid—for that’s clearly Miss O’Reilly’s purpose—her lady’s maid referred to her as ‘my lady.’ She was young and very pretty and sounded as though she had a pleasant temperament… so why did he have to marry me? Why keep this eligible young lady shut up in his house and pursue me instead if he was in such a desperate state to marry?”

“Could it be…” Sara began, but she stopped and began biting her nail. Frances looked at her expectantly, and she finally gave in. “Could it be something like your cousin’s issue?”

“Juliet?”

“That’s right. Perhaps His Grace and this lady were in love, but her parents said no, and she ran off. They’re only biding their time ‘til her parents have passed and they can be married.”

“That would be plausible if not for the fact that he cannot marry her now, for he has married me,” Frances reminded her. Sara looked embarrassed at her own foolishness, so Frances quickly added, “But it’s a very good idea you’ve come up with, for that could be Juliet’s circumstance. We’ll think more on that later.”

I just want to know what’s happening, Frances thought, fuming as she continued to stalk the confines of her room.What should I even do now? Do I leave and rush to the sanctuary that is Agnes’ house? Will I be banished to Anthony’s estate in the west? Good heavens, if this is the state of the house he resides in, I’m fully terrified of what the state of his other house must be.

“Sara, I fear we shall need to pack our things soon,” Frances said sorrowfully.

“Where will we go, Your Grace? Back to your uncle’s house?”

“Most certainly not. Even if they would have me, which I cannot begin to imagine, it would be the worst sort of torture. No, Lady Agnes will be glad to take me in, at least for now. Our bigger fear is that her father will call my husband out for a duel when he learns of this.”

Sara nodded thoughtfully, and Frances could tell that she had more to say on the matter. Thankfully, she kept those notions to herself, for Frances was certain they would involve something treacherous. Plotting to bind up the Duke of Preston and throw him on a merchant vessel headed for the Far East was not helpful at the moment, even if talk of it might make her laugh a little.

As the afternoon wore on and Frances tried to occupy her idle, frantic thoughts with some sewing, her mood began to shift. Sara had been right, after all. She did have a right to know when an entire person was residing in her house! It was only made worse by the fact that this person was certainly her husband’s mistress and quite possibly his prisoner. Her simmering anger was dangerously close to becoming a bout of rage by the time the dinner hour arrived.

“Sara, I’ve made up my mind. I’ll be dressing for dinner and going down, regardless of what the duke may be thinking. I am the Duchess of Preston, and unless he intends to change that,this is my house. I will have my say, whether or not he deigns to answer for what he’s done.”

“Very good, Your Grace!” Sara acknowledged with a proud smirk, already retrieving Frances’ dinner attire.

Frances was ready well before the usual dinner hour, but she decided to go down early. After all, it would hardly make up for the times she’d been late, and she certainly didn’t want to give the impression that she had hidden herself away upstairs. While she waited downstairs, she rehearsed what she would say to Anthony when he came in.

“Anthony,” she mumbled to herself, “I wish to speak to you about earlier today.”That was a solid beginning, she decided. “I did go against your wishes and venture upstairs after several curious things happened, and I’m sorry for that. But I require an explanation as to the woman who is clearly residing in the top floor.”

Frances muttered the words to herself over and over as she stood by the front windows and looked out. The street beyond the front gate was almost serene in comparison to the storm that was at work in her heart. Part of her wanted to dismiss Anthony entirely and carry on about her life without him. A bigger part of her, though, was desperate to understand why.

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