Page 15 of When her Duke Returns
“So, we’re prisoners, then?” she heard Sophia say.
“I’m hardly sending any of you to take up residence in irons!” Francis sighed deeply, and then, with an even larger voice, he bellowed, “Good God, Mary! Stop spying, and come in.”Mary breathed deeply before turning into the doorway. How Francis had known she was there, she could not guess.
Her brother was standing by the large bow window of the room and was running his hands through his hair. Her mother and Sophia were sitting in adjacent chairs, her Mama reading over letters with a deep scowl on her face, and Sophia acting largely unconcerned with Francis’ ranting. She tended instead to her embroidery.
“First,” Francis spoke to Mary with a pointed finger, “you bring the worst upon us, and now you lurk outside like a mouse looking to feed.” He shook his head. “Do you have it within you to understand the failings in your behavior, or shall I explain them to you?”
“I haven’t done a thing!” she protested. “I am as much a victim in this as you are.”
“Hardly,” Francis spat back. “You should not have spoken to the Duke as you did when he fell upon as at the ball. The insolence of it all! And with all the ton watching! They will gorge themselves on our embarrassment for the rest of the Season.”
“You’re being quite unfair, Francis,” Sophia spoke at last. As his wife was daughter to a Marquess, she was the least likely to feel the full extent of his wrath. “Was she to stand there, mute, as the Duke accosted her?”
“Rather that than encourage him to strike Antony,” Francis retorted and began to light his meerschaum. “We will not live this down. I warn you now: you will not encourage the Duke further.”
Mary scoffed. “I hardly encouraged him,” she stated. “He was upon me at the ball with no warning. You were the one who could have halted him or talked him down!”
“I did exactly asyoushould have done! I sought to let the Duke remain buried.”
Her mother began to speak when Francis refused to discuss things further. “There are rumors abound, Mary. Ones that do not paint you kindly.”
“What rumors?” Mary asked at once. She brought a hand to her lips as if reliving her transgressions.
Her mother jostled the letter in her hand and shook her head. “Apparently an onlooker witnessed you engage with the Duke in a secret meeting, and the whole affair is spreading like wildfire. There are interpretations beyond counting and more… lurid variations than I feel is right to speak. What have you to say to them?”
Mary felt her face flush. The meeting had been Harry’s doing, but she was not keen to send him to trial over it.
“We did meet, I shall not deny it, but only on account of his wishing to explain himself. Nothing came of it of great consequence but our agreeing to part ways, I promise.” It was not a total lie, but still, Mary could not meet her mother’s eye.
“Be that as it may, it matters not what truly occurred, only what our contemporaries wish to circulate,” her mother said. “I shall spare you the worst of it, but they have branded you a girl most ungracious.”
Mary dared not to think of what other brandings lay behind her mother’s sugarcoating of the affair.
Francis spoke again with a growl. “That you would jeopardize the family’s good name and your future for a meeting with that…beast! It is beyond reasoning. Truly, I will not understand it.”
“I find the whole thing terribly romantic…” Sophia said, largely to herself. Francis shot her a dry look. “Two men vying for the young lady’s affections: one the perfect prince and the other a man twisted to monstrosity. It makes one’s heart soar, does it not?”
“Poor,poorAntony,” her mother spoke at last at the mention of the man. She could not even look upon her daughter, and it made Mary want to evaporate on the spot. “He asked for none of this, and yet, he appears to have taken the brunt of it all. You are most indebted to him, Mary.”
“It’s a wonder he hasn’t called the whole thing off,” Francis said again through puffs of smoke and then sighed. “He has been in such a state since the ball and no wonder! You must go to him now and appeal to him, or you will lose him entirely.”
“I do not see why—” Mary contested before being cut off.
“Mary!” Francis bellowed, and the room seemed to shake for it. “That was not a suggestion; it was an order. As head of the family and the only Carlisle with any sense, it seems, I am telling you now to amend this, lest the ramifications swell beyond our reach.”
Lady Carlisle scoffed and picked up her skirts in a display of dissent. This was not how she had wanted her morning to unfold.
Mary found Antony not long after Francis’ onslaught.
He was sitting in the study with the blinds pulled mostly shut, mulling over the grand piano in the room, and looking most disheveled. His ebony hair fell into his eyes from where dark bags hung as a testament to his distress. He had long discarded his overcoat as Mary found it strewn over a loveseat. He looked to be in deep consideration and barely moved an inch as she approached.
Mary bit her lip and edged over to him slowly. She uttered his name, and he snapped his head around as the floorboards creaked beneath her. Mary could see the full effect of the Duke’s arrival written across the Earl’s face, sealed with the freshly formed scar on his nose. He returned to his instrument at once, pressing on the keys in a seemingly random order as if to fill the silence.
“My Lord,” she hummed as she walked toward the piano. She had never been more aware of the sound summoned by her footsteps or her breath, and she was overflowing with dread.
“I would rather be left to my own devices, Mary,” he spoke casually. His voice was hoarse and low, and Mary felt full of guilt. After all, she may not have been the man’s most devoted admirer, but she certainly wished him no ill will. She settled beside him on the piano bench when he refused to say anything further.
“Are you all right?” she asked, hoping to dull some of his pain.
