Page 5 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke
“Evelina, darling, you worry so about the fortunes of others. I am not celebrating anybody’s downfall. I only wish to remain updated about the happenings around the square. It is absolutely riveting social commentary!”
Lady Fernwell was a woman in her forties with the blonde hair that Evelina had inherited. She had it pinned up in the shape of what Veronica could only see as a pinecone from that of an autumnal tree. She leaned on a cane that enhanced the swish of her hips. Evelina said her mother thought it a fashion choice rather than a true aid.
The older woman gracefully let herself sink into a deep-seated armchair and placed the gossip sheet on the table, reading silently. Evelina gave Veronica a look of wicked intent.
“Mama, I do think you should read the sheet out loud to prove justhowriveting it is. Perhaps then Veronica and I shall understand your excitement for it.”
Lady Fernwell glanced up to her daughter first before she regarded Veronica and hesitated. “I cannot possibly.”
There is something about me in there, Veronica realized.Lady Fernwell always greets me kindly with excitement and is not usually so hesitant. She enjoys attention.
“It is quite all right, Lady Fernwell,” Veronica assured her, nodding. “Please read it aloud.”
Lady Fernwell still looked unsure but lifted the sheet up and cleared her throat.
“The ton is still abuzz with the absence of Lord Robert Grantham, who seems to have cast his net far too distantly to reel it back in. The question remains of his whereabouts, but most important, the question of the Grantham heir is posed. Soon, a new heir will need to be named. And then, people of the ton, I must ask: what will happen to Lady Grantham and Lady Veronica when that unfortunate instance happens? And it?—”
“Mama, perhaps that is enough reading for the day?” Evelina interrupted. Veronica did not miss the way the young woman’s eyes flashed at her mama, who pretended not to notice.
Lady Fernwell looked askance at Veronica, who merely lifted her chin, showing her mettle. “It is quite all right,” she said. “Go ahead. People are already speaking of it, I know that. I might as well hear what they are saying.”
Lady Fernwell gave her daughter a somewhat smug look before continuing.
“If this were not terrible enough, there seems to be more rumors among London’s finest circles that involve a certain widow and one Lord Barwicke. Some reports speak of the Lord’s nightly escapades in and out of Grantham House, and it is most scandalous indeed! Who knew the Lord had a penchant for leaping over gates as fine as a racehorse?—”
“Mama!” Evelina cried, interrupted her once more. “You must stop reading. That is enough!”
The parlor was silent as Lady Fernwell trailed off, covering her mouth. Veronica sat stock-still, not even the clink of a teacup any longer enough to pull her from her reverie. A hand closed over hers and squeezed.
Evelina looked at her apologetically, her face caught in a wince.
Veronica shook her head. She knew that these things would be discussed, and the topic of a new heir was something she had deeply buried away. Of course, it would be gossip. The sheet only asked what she was not willing to. And of that of her mother…
It pained her for her mother to be under such scrutiny, but it embarrassed her to know that the gossip sheet had discovered the goings-on far sooner than Veronica might have, if the author had reason to believe Lord Barwicke’s appearance had been a frequent thing.
And it had happened right under her own nose.
Evelina turned to her mother, her face set in grim displeasure, likely about to tell her mother to stop reading, but Lady Fernwell was already continuing.
Veronica’s face pinched in distress as she kept thinking to herself:whowillbe the next Grantham heir?
And what wouldhappen to Veronica and her mother?
“And of course, there is the mention of one of the most eligible bachelors of the season,” Lady Fernwell was still reading, “the Duke of Westley, whose coldness might just form a barrier of icicles around him to protect him from the pushy mamas, all vying for their daughters to become the next Duchess of Westley.”
Veronica’s focus came back to her. “The Duke of Westley?” she asked, recalling the name. “He has returned for the season?”
Lady Fernwell smiled as she looked up from the sheet. “It seems so. The sheet says that His Grace has left his countryside estate of Westley Manor and has returned to his Dalton Square residence, Turner Hall. Oh, do imagine the undoubtedly eager visitors that shall flock, all hoping to make an impression! Although, if he wishes to find a wife, he should first put aside that wretched, cold heart of his. His face was rather poisoned by vicious rumors of a cold heart, they say.”
“I think His Grace should not be set up for failure before he has had a chance to prove himself,” Evelina piped up, her voice bright. “He will have many hopeful debutantes and eligible ladies of thetonto choose from.”
“Then they ought to be weary,” Lady Fernwell sighed. “For he is surely not seeking a love match but one of advantage. I do believe he is the type of man to only consider exchanges a transaction, and he only does with coin.”
“His Grace is a businessman, I believe!” Evelina answered. “You have made him sound like he seeks out ladies of the night.”
“Undoubtedly, he does,” Veronica couldn’t help commenting.
It was common knowledge that any eligible man at any season ball did. To turn a blind eye was the best thing, and to hope for otherwise was rather foolish — especially with a rich, single bachelor such as the Duke.
