Page 52 of The Duke's All That
Yet it was the flash of pain in Miss MacInnes’s eyes that made her realize his relatives did not necessarily wish for the estrangement between them. She recalled what Iain had told her, of the pain this family had gone through in the past decades, so much loss and grief. It was all there in Miss MacInnes’s eyes, in her voice, in the slope of her shoulders.
Before Seraphina knew what she was about, she called out to the woman.
“Perhaps you might like to accompany me back to the inn to give your regards to him yourself.”
The woman stopped in her tracks, causing one older gentleman to stumble and glare at her as he moved past. But Miss MacInnes paid him no heed. Turning and peering at Seraphina, she was silent for a moment before saying, her voice thick, “I don’t believe Iain would welcome that, Miss Athwart.”
Which was quite possibly true. Even so, she could not allow this opportunity to pass. She was not one for believing in a higher power, of course, or in fate. She believed one had to make what they could of one’s life, that there was no one on heaven or earth who could intervene. Her time in the asylum had taught her that. And then after, when it had been her, and her alone, who had done everything she could to save her sisters. No, she did not believe there was anyone looking out for her but herself.
Even so, she could not deny that her meeting Miss MacInnes in the street was too coincidental. Certainly too coincidental for her to pass up this chance to reconcile them. Perhaps this would be just the thing to heal Iain, a gift of sorts, before they began a life together.
Moving closer to the young woman, Seraphina said with all the certainty of her conviction that this was the right thing to do, “I do believe that you accompanying me back to that inn could be a much-needed turning point in your relationship, Miss MacInnes.”
The woman considered Seraphina for a solemn moment before giving a reluctant nod. “Perhaps you’re right, Miss Athwart. And it would do my grandmother good to repair our relationship with Iain. I’ll go fetch her then, shall I?”
Before the woman could so much as move, however, the door to the shop opened and the elderly woman appeared, a footman trailing behind her. The woman’s eyes widened when she saw Seraphina, her gaze tripping in agitation to her granddaughter before returning to Seraphina. She truly was a frail-looking thing, her skin translucent, her limbs painfully thin, her shoulders stooped, as if the weight of the grief of the past decades had been too much for her to bear. Seraphina’s heart ached for her.
But at the same time an unease had taken up residence in her chest. She had not fully noticed Miss MacInnes’s elegant attire before, as distracted as she had been to get back to Iain. But the older woman’s appearance made Seraphina realize that these women were of the upper class. It had been a good many years since she had worn such expensive clothing herself, but she had been schooled in proper attire practically since birth, and she would not ever forget it. No, what these women wore was something above the common man or woman, with a quiet luxury that spoke of a striking wealth.
“Gran,” Miss MacInnes said, voice gentle as she moved to her grandmother’s side and tucked an arm through hers, oblivious to Seraphina’s sudden disquiet, “I would like to introduce you to Miss Seraphina Athwart. And her pet, Phineas, of course,” she finished with a small smile Seraphina’s way.
“And Miss Athwart,” she continued as Seraphina looked on with a growing dread, drawing the older woman closer to Seraphina, “it is my honor to introduce you to my and Iain’s grandmother, the Duchess of Balgair.”
Chapter 23
Seraphina felt as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. The Duchess of Balgair? Surely the woman must be jesting. Iain would have never left something of this magnitude out. If this woman, his father’s mother, was a duchess, it meant Iain was…
A duke.
“I-I’m sorry?” she asked, certain her ears had been playing a trick on her. Iain had been a poor orphan. There was no way in heaven or on earth he was a duke.
“The Duchess of Balgair,” Miss MacInnes repeated, shooting a slightly bewildered look at her grandmother.
Dear God, it had not been her imagination. Seraphina’s stomach lurched, and for a horrifying moment she thought she would cast up her accounts. He was a duke. Which meant that every consolation she’d had about their similar low status had been nothing but smoke and mirrors, the mere wishes of a foolish woman. Yes, there was still atitle between them. Though this time it was so much worse. It had been one thing for the daughter of an earl to marry an orphan. It was quite another for a former prostitute to marry aduke.
But the women were looking at her in expectation. Swallowing down the bile that rose in her throat, she forced a smile and curtsied. “Your Grace, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Which seemed the right and normal thing to do—truly a miracle for the turmoil Seraphina was in. Miss MacInnes’s smile widened as she turned to speak to her grandmother. “Miss Athwart is an old friend of Iain’s. She suggested we accompany her back to the inn to visit with him.”
Which suddenly seemed like the worst idea in the history of the world. Dear God, she was barely holding herself together as it was. If she had to stand silently by while Iain met with his family, while he came to the realization that she had learned his secret and now knew he was a bloody duke, she would break.
But no, she was made of sterner stuff than that. And besides, no matter that he had omitted the immense fact that he was a duke all this time, the truth of the matter was, even in the shock of the moment she understood why he had done it. He had been determined to secure their divorce and had believed only the worst of her. He had been led to believe she had left him because of his lowly status by her own father. To his mind, proclaiming he was a duke—which meant, dear God, that she was a duchess, but she could not contemplate that right now—could have endangered that.
In his mind at least. She would have never given a bloody damn that he was a duke. In fact, it would have propelledher to agree to his request for a divorce all the quicker. She did not want to be aduchess. All she wanted, all she’d ever wanted, was a quiet, safe life with her sisters. Being a duchess would have put that all into peril, pinning her under a magnifying lens, endangering everything she had worked so hard for. It would have brought to light every horrible thing that had happened to her, laying it out for the whole world to see, including those beloved sisters who she had spent nearly a decade and a half shielding from the worst that life had to offer. No, she would never have wanted to be a duchess.
Bile rose in her throat. Which was a bit of horrible, cruel irony, as those were the very things that prevented her from remaining married to him. Her whole reasoning for staying with him had been that they could live a simple, quiet life together. But with Iain being a duke, there was no way that could happen now. The brilliant dreams she’d dared to dream just minutes ago evaporated into the air, not a trace of them left for her to clasp onto.
But the two women were looking at her in expectation. Drawing herself to her full height, taking on a mantle of calm she did not feel, she did as she had always done and kept on the course. No matter that they must see this separation through—now more than ever—she found she still cared for his future happiness.
“If you’re amenable,” she said, “I can bring you to see him right now.”
The duchess’s eyes lit with a combination of hope and uncertainty. But in the end she nodded, and Seraphina, falling into step beside the two women, led the way back to Iain and, hopefully, a bit of healing for this family. Though there could be no such healing for her.
Iain, settled in his room at the inn, the letter to the Lord President written and sent off, paced as he waited with equal parts anticipation and dread for word that Seraphina had returned. While he was anxious to have her by his side again and felt somehow incomplete without her near, he also knew that when she did arrive it would only be to wait for word that they could depart for the Court of Sessions and end things between them. Not only that, but it would finally be time to reveal to her who he was, and what he had kept from her all this time, first out of spite, then out of a need for her to want him for himself and not for his blasted title—a fat lot of good that had done him. She didn’t want him at all, at least not in any permanent aspect. And he knew she would hate him for keeping it from her, just as he hated himself.
But where had she gone? She had appeared almost brittle when she’d left, and it had taken everything in him not to take hold of her and beg her to stay with him and ask her to reconsider this whole blasted scheme. His steps increased in speed as he passed back and forth before the hearth, his agitation growing. Was she safe? Should he go looking for her? Just when he thought he would go mad with waiting, there was a sudden knock at the door.
But it wasn’t Seraphina who stood there. No, it was a young maid, who looked up at him with wide eyes.
