Page 55 of When her Duke Returns
“Mary!” her mother gasped. “I’m sure Lady Simons would rather not speak of it.”
“Tis’ no bother,” she stated, gesturing for the women to change topics.
The seamstress stood, tending a hand to Mary to lever her down from her pedestal. “I believe we are quite done here, my ladies,” she said with an accent almost too thick to make sense of. “Is everything to your liking, Lady Mary?”
Mary looked herself over in the glass and sighed. “It’s fine.”
“Fine!” Lady Simons echoed in disbelief. “You look more than fine, deary!”
“She’s forever been this way. Pay her no mind, Lady Simons,” her mother interjected. “Thank you, Mrs. Kerr. You’ve done a wonderful job with the lace.”The seamstress smiled and curtseyed nervously.
“Right, well. If everything is concluded—” Mary’s mother began with a clap of her hands. Before she could finish her sentence, the door to Mary’s chambers swung open with a thud, almost knocking the armoire behind it off its legs.
Harry stood in the doorway, looking rather sheepish in his summer attire. “Er, sorry,” he muttered with a grimace. “I hadn’t realized the doors were so light up North.”
“Harry!” Mary’s mother exclaimed. “Lady Simons, I must apologize. I’m not sure what’s gotten into my children today. They do not usually act the savage.” She turned back to her son with a huff. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Harry smiled at the woman and gave her a cursory nod. “Lady Simons, Mother, Mary…I come bearing news.”
“What news?” Mary’s interest piqued, and she turned to her brother.
“News that can surely wait until after Mary has dressed!” her mother cried. “Are you not going to say howbeautifulshe looks, Harry?”
Harry eyed Mary with a smirk. “Splendid,” was all he could muster before sauntering over to his sister. “A letter for you.”
Mary plucked the envelope from his fingers. “It doesn’t bear a seal,” she noted, “nor a name.” She tore it open regardless and began to read, taking each word slowly so as not to miss a beat once she recognized the handwriting’s dreaded familiarity.
“What does it say?” Mary’s mother pressed, coming to settle beside her daughter so as to get a look at the correspondence over her shoulder. Harry did much of the same. And there they stood, like three little birds on a roost, as Mary’s chest ballooned in trepidation. She reached the end of the note in a gulp of words and looked over to her brother for aid. She could not bring herself to speak.
“Well? What is it?” Lady Simons inquired.
“It’s the Duke of Redgrave,” Harry answered, his eyes wide. “He’s called off his engagement to Miss Stanton.”
* * *
Alexander closed the last of his trunks with a sigh, clipping its two buckles together in a satisfyingclink. He lifted it from his bed to set it on the floor and took one last look at his room at Richon House.
The looking glass had been traded in for another after his presumedfall, and the bed was bare of sheets to make certain his departure. He looked out of the tall, oblong windows of the room, relishing the sweet tranquility of the midday sun, knowing all too well that only ruin could follow. He pried the small, silver Redgrave crest from his pocket to strengthen his resolve then placed it back within his breeches.
“Are you all set?” he heard sweetly from behind him. Cecelia was standing in the doorway, her hair running in long, strawberry blonde curls over her shoulders, her hands knitted together over her gold-colored morning gown.
Alexander smiled gently. “I am,” he replied as she made her way into the room. “We’re leaving in half an hour. I know I have asked much of you already, but if you could make clear my regret to your parents once more, I would appreciate it.”
Cecelia nodded. “I will. Though I shan’t lie—they’re very upset with you as things stand.”
“I know. As they should be,” he replied then turned to pick up his trunk. “I have done that which is most unforgivable, and I expect no more goodwill than has already been shown.”
“I have no doubt, they will come to terms with things, in time.”
Alexander nodded though he could not be sure of her words. “You have done me an incredible kindness, Cecelia. It’s more than I deserve.”
The woman smiled, and it warmed his heart. “I suppose I am a romantic after all.”
“I suppose I am too,” Alexander quipped tenderly. “Make no mistake. You are a marvelous woman, and you will make a better man than I very happy when the time is right.”
“I didn’t quite like the idea of being a Duchess anyway.”
“No?”
