Page 20 of Between a Duke and a Hard Place
As if she’d sensed his reticence, Ethella turned a hard gaze on him.
“You have already gambled away everything, Nigel,” she said softly. “If you’d wished to hesitate, it should have been before placing your last bet!”
His heart thudded violently. For the first time in his wretched existence, Nigel had the most terrible realization of all. He had always known his mother was ruthless, but this was a level of calculated wickedness beyond even his imaginings. And she would throw him to the wolves without a backward glance.
He was in far too deep. And there was no way out.
Alstead Manor was no longer merely a haven for Violet. It was a target. And Maxwell Able, Duke of Alstead, had just been marked for death. And if he failed to be of use to her in this course, he’d be marked for it as well. There was no maternal instinct within her that would save him.
Chapter Ten
It had been a very busy morning for Ethella Cavender, with many tasks. Checking in with the housemaid she’d bribed for information after the Dowager Duchess had so unceremoniously kicked them out. Ethella smiled, oh and she had been a veritable fountain of useful information. Afterward, they’d come to York to put the next phase of their plan into action. Major Smythe had been located and, after being appropriately outfitted, would make his way to Alstead Manor to pay his respects.
But as she sat in the hard chair Ethella Cavender realized that all was not going as she wished. She had never tolerated defiance from anyone. It was an intolerable affliction, and she had spent a lifetime curing it in others—either by the firm hand of logic or, when necessary, by more coercive means.
As she sat before the Bishop of York in his grand, if musty, chambers, she found herself facing the most insufferable kind of defiance there was—legal authority. Without his consent, they could not bring the matter of Violet’s marriage, and potential annulment, before the ecclesiastical court. That meant toadying to him in a way that positively mortified her. She loathed it.
The bishop was a staid, wrinkled old man, his skin like parchment stretched over brittle bone, and he was currently regarding her with the dispassionate indifference of one who had been subjected to far too many trivial grievances in his tenure. “Madam,” he intoned, his voice edged with the mildest irritation, “for the third time, I fail to see any legal reason why I should entertain this petition.”
Ethella pressed her lips together in a tight, composed smile—one that betrayed nothing of the fury simmering beneath her cool exterior.
“My niece,” she began again, each syllable measured and deliberate, “acted in haste, quite recklessly, I might add. And without the proper guidance of her family. The law is clear?—”
“The law is indeed clear,” the bishop interrupted, his bushy white brows lifting with distinct impatience. “And as I have already stated, your niece is well past the age of not only consent but majority! She is neither a minor nor under guardianship. Therefore, her marriage requires no consent beyond her own.”
Nigel, sitting beside his mother, had begun to fidget uncontrollably, his hands wringing together in a manner that was altogether pathetic.
“B-but surely,” he stammered, his voice cracking under the pressure, “a lady of her standing ought to have observed propriety! A proper engagement! Banns read in the church?—”
The bishop exhaled a great sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Your cousin’s marriage was sanctified under a common license—issued by me, no less— which, I might remind you, is perfectly lawful.” He fixed Nigel with a weary glare. “Do you mean to suggest that His Grace, the Duke of Alstead, a respected peer of the realm, coerced Miss Honeywell into marriage against her will?”
Nigel’s Adam’s apple bobbed furiously. “W-well, no, not coerced precisely, but?—”
“Was there some fraud committed? Are either of them married or committed elsewhere?”
“No, not that we are aware,” Ethella admitted reluctantly. “What would constitute fraud?”
“If either of them is wed to another, if a prior marriage contract for Miss Honeywell existed— or if their union was not consummated due to… inability.”
“And how would we prove that the marriage has not been consummated?” She asked.
“Well, her grace would have to consent to an examination by a physician—an event I certainly do not foresee happening,” the bishop replied stiffly. “But knowing what I do of Alstead, I’m certain that is not the case!”
Ethella nodded, thinking of the intelligence she’d gleaned from the housemaid just that morning. She’d been given all the information she needed about the state of marital congress between Violet and the Duke, but she wasn’t quite ready to use that. Not just yet. Being able to assure Eddington of Violet’s continued virginity would go a long way toward getting what they wanted out of him. “If you could simply see that this marriage is not to Violet’s benefit?—.”
“The duke is wealthy, relatively young, handsome by most standards, and not given to any particular vice to a worrisome degree. What, exactly, is your complaint?”
Nigel sputtered uselessly, looking to his mother for rescue.
Ethella, who had spent a lifetime pulling him from his own stupidity, merely smiled.
“It is not my nephew’s concern we bring before you, Your Grace, but mine,” she said smoothly. “A family matter. A young woman, impressionable and unguarded, married without deliberation—surely you must see how unwise it is.”
“I see nothing of the sort,” the bishop replied dryly. “They both appeared quite levelheaded to me. I saw no indication that either was reluctant or even conflicted about their decision!”
Ethella’s nostrils flared ever so slightly. “I must insist that?—”
“No, madam.” The bishop’s thin mouth pressed into a tight, unimpressed line. “I must insist that you cease this foolishness immediately. My decision is firm and I will hear no more about it.”
