Page 7 of His Darling Duchess
A ripping sound made her scream helplessly into his mouth; he was tearing at her bodice with his free hand, the gauzy fabric rending easily under his grasping hand, which then closed hot and clammy around her bare breast as she struggled helplessly, her strength useless against his determination to ravish her. Unable to breathe, she felt darkness creeping over her, her struggles weakening.
A guttural roar made Grantleigh startle back, allowing Aurelia to gulp in a breath of desperately-needed air. He was looking atthe door, an almost expectant expression on his face changing to puzzlement when he found it still closed.
Aurelia looked the other way, straight into the furious face of the Duke of Stowe.
“What in God’s name d’you think you’re doing?” Stowe bellowed, and in a trice he was on them, gripping Grantleigh’s collar and jerking him away from Aurelia easily, like a cat grabbing a misbehaving kitten by the scruff of the neck.
“My betrothed,” Grantleigh began, interrupted by Aurelia’s cry of denial.
“I most certainly am not!”
Stowe spared her a glance, his already enraged expression darkening further as he took in the torn bodice she was desperately trying to hold up with her hands. “Yes, you did not look too enthused by his attentions, Lady Aurelia. Get out, Grantleigh. Get. Out,” Stowe enunciated coldly, and Grantleigh, obviously cowed by his cousin’s rage, retreated hastily towards the door.
“Out of my house,” Stowe made himself clear, “before I tell you to meet me at dawn for the lady’s honour!”
Grantleigh fled, the door slamming behind him, and Aurelia found herself beginning to shake, her knees sagging.
Stowe hadn’t even watched Grantleigh leave, watching Aurelia, keeping his eyes on hers. “My lady,” he spoke formally, but there was kindness and concern in his tone and his expression. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” she managed to gasp out. “No, not hurt. Thank you for… thank you.”
His lips thinned, as though he was angry she felt the need to thank him at all, and he gestured at her front, though his gaze never left hers. “Your gown is torn. Please, allow me to summon a maid to attend you.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled again, fumbling her way to a couch and almost falling onto it as her legs finally gave way.
Stowe was reaching for a bellpull when the library door opened again.
“Aurelia, are you in here?”
It was Lady Lymsey who spoke, and she wasn’t alone. Lady Grantleigh was at her side, eyes wide, and there were a couple of other ladies behind them, both staring avidly at Aurelia and Stowe alone, Aurelia clearly holding her gown together with her hands.
Lady Grantleigh was the one with the presence of mind to pull Lady Lymsey into the library and shut the door in the faces of the other two matrons.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” Aurelia attempted to say as her mother’s mouth fell open, her curious expression transforming in an instant to utter horror as she stared from Stowe to Aurelia’s half-exposed bosom.
“Lady Aurelia,” Stowe said, cutting off her protest. “It seems I have the honour of asking you to accept my hand in marriage.”
Chapter Four
For a long moment,the only sound in the room was the crackling of the flames in the fireplace.
“Aunt Grace,” Stowe broke the silence, “please would you go and find Lord Lymsey?”
“Yes,” Lady Grantleigh muttered, shock still clear on her face as she looked from Stowe to Aurelia. “Yes, of course.”
The door closing behind Lady Grantleigh seemed to spring Lady Lymsey from her temporary paralysis, and she hurried to Aurelia’s side, sitting down and putting her arm around her daughter.
Her mother’s gentle touch broke the dam, and the first noisy sob burst from Aurelia. Tears poured down her cheeks as she cried with shock and grief, and her mother rocked her gently, glaring daggers all the while at Stowe, who stood silently waiting beside the window.
Lady Grantleigh returned quickly with Lord Lymsey, who strode into the library with fists clenched and ruddy colourinfusing his face. Stowe held up a hand to stop Lymsey as he began to demand answers, and such was his commanding presence that the seasoned politician paused.
“If you’ll come into my study, my lord, there are some things I need to inform you of,” Stowe said, his deep voice measured and calm. “Aunt Grace, could you find Lady Aurelia a shawl, and have her wrap brought? Ask Willis to have the Lymsey carriage fetched around to the side gate, so the Lymseys can leave without being observed.”
Lady Grantleigh eyed him for a long moment before obviously deciding to trust he knew what he was about. She nodded and left the room again.
Lymsey’s jaw was clenched as he looked at his sobbing daughter, and Stowe felt for the earl. What he was about to hear would be deeply unpleasant, and the least Stowe could do was make right what his cousin had ruined.
The other option, demanding Grantleigh wed Lady Aurelia at once, was so unpalatable he shied away from even the thought of it.
