Page 51 of A Scandalous Love for the Enticing Duke
“I think we know the answer to that question now, don’t we, Agnes? You had thought you would run off into the sunset with that Sheldon boy, and I would never know? Ah. How many more times shall I have to tell you girls? You can never hope to best me at this game. Now, you shall remain there until I say otherwise. Enjoy your stay. Have a good day!” she chimed as she retrieved the keys from the lock. Then, she handed it over to Louis and spun on her feet. Saying nothing more, for Louis knew what to do, she walked away from the pounding, the cries, and the pleas. Just for effect, she gave into the theatrical laughter that had been building up in her belly and relished the sound of it as it ricocheted through the hallways.
By the time she exited the town house, Leandro and Edward were gone and a hackney was already waiting for her. She entered the carriage, and when it began to move, she changed into her black widow attire. Soon, they were at Bond Street, and she was fully transformed into a black widow. As always, the coach halted in front of Lackley’s Press, the firm which was responsible for the forged documents. She had meant every word as she sounded that warning to Alan. She was not one to make empty threats, and by the end of the day, this would be proven. The coachman stopped, and she waited until he had come around to help her out of the carriage.
Certain that her veil was rightly placed, she stepped into the firm. She easily sighted Mr James Lackley, the owner of the firm and her dearest partner in crime. He was busy on his printer and did not notice her presence until she called out to him.
“Mr James.”
He halted immediately and turned around. His eyes promptly lit in recognition, and he bowed. “Ahh! My Lady, you have returned. I was thinking you would not be coming today, any longer. It is quite past the time we agreed.”
“Yes. I got held back, but I am here now. I do hope they are ready?” She looked around, but there were no familiar parchments to be seen. More than that, Mr. James was acting a little bit strange. For one, he seemed nervous, his eyes had darted back and forth more times than she could count in such a short time, and twice now, he had seemed to be peering intently into her veil as though he was curious to discover who was behind the covering. What was this? she wondered. Perhaps, he was suddenly developing cold feet, now that he had been asked to do more false work.
“Yes. They are. I worked on them all through the night. I kept them in the inner room for safekeeping purposes. I did not want to chance them getting in the wrong hands. If you would not mind waiting for a bit, I shall go for them. Please, feel free to take your seat.”
He seemed eager enough, she thought, as she regarded him carefully. Mayhap, it was nothing, and she had simply interpreted wrongly.
“That will not be necessary. I shall be okay to remain on my feet until your return.”
He bowed again and turned to go into the inner room. She watched him as he opened the door and caught a glimpse of several people working before the door closed behind him. Suddenly left alone, she busied herself with taking in the room where she stood. She was so carried away that she did not even look when she heard the door open, simply assuming that it was Mr James, returning with the documents. Then, she heard her name called out by a very familiar voice. Thinking nothing of it, she turned instantly. It wasn’t until she came face to face with her husband that she realised what a mistake that had been. She had answered to her name out of reflex; there was no way out of this now. She had to thaw from her frozen state. Then he spoke again.
“Victoria! So it’s true?”
Chapter 34
Back at the Birmingham town house, the girls were in a fit, trying to wrap their heads around what their mother had just done, Agnes especially. For the past three days since learning of her mother’s deeds, it had been a hard feat, trying to keep an unoffended demeanour around her. Now, she felt as though she may explode with the anger and disbelief raging in her veins.
“I find it beyond me to come to accept that she thought to lock us in, and actually did!” she exclaimed, aware of her voice hitching higher than she had intended. Yet, she could not bring herself to feel the slightest bit of remorse. Her sisters’ expressions told her that they understood her plight. For this, she was grateful. The emotions she had been forced to experience in the days past were taking their toll on her. First, learning about Alan’s supposed betrayal had wrecked her. She had never felt so sick in her entire life, and many times when she laid alone in her bed, isolated from the rest of the world as her fever and flu racked through her, it crossed her mind that perhaps, the end had come. She had gone through various stages as she grieved the loss of a love she had cherished and risked so much for.
There had been denial. Even after she received that damned forged letter, confessing his guilt and offering a weak apology, she had refused to trust that all of it was true. Then, she began to think of all the times she had begged him to take a stand for them over the years, all the times she had begged him to take her away, only to receive his adamant refusal. These things began to fall into place then, and she easily saw why he would have turned her down so many times, knowing that the disappointment broke her heart each time, and still claimed to love her. It was simply because he never had. All those words whispered in her ears in the still of the night when it had just been the two of them, those professions and vows … they had all been lies. Nothing but lies, and she had simply been nothing but a means to an end.
The moment that realisation dawned, anger did with it. She had been livid. At that moment, if he had appeared in her presence, she was certain she would have raised her hands to him in a very unladylike manner. But he had not, and she had been unable to go to him. So left to herself, she had burned. Burned until the fever moved from her soul, her heart, her mind, to her entire body. Then, she had taken ill. She knew not which had been more shocking to learn … that he had been conning her father all this while, or that he had a mistress. Whichever it was, it only told her one suddenly glaring truth – he never loved her. As acceptance came, so did the tears, again. They poured, freshly, heavily, seemingly unending. Then, when she had been left with no more strength to hurt, no more water in her eyes to shed, the sobbing ceased.
As she was nursed back to health by her physician – the kind Mr Knightley, so did she, her heart. Upon receiving the news, she had thought herself lucky that she had Nicholas, that she would marry him, and he would make her happy, kiss her ache away, erase every memory of Alan and replace them with new ones, memories she would cherish for an entire lifetime. However, as her mind’s fog cleared, she saw how foolish she had been in her thinking. Nicholas could not do that to her. Most of all, she could not marry him with an aching heart. A heart which mourned the loss of another man, who despite the cruel betrayal it suffered, still wanted that man. That was when she made the decision. She would tell the truth to her father. She would refuse to marry Nicholas, and she would speak to Alan whenever he deemed fit to step foot in London again. She would look him in the eye and have him tell to her face why he had done this wicked thing to her, when all she had ever done was love him. With that plan hatched, she began to recover in all the innermost places that hurt and as she did, so did her body.
That was when Eleanor visited and made the shocking revelation. Her sister was in love with Nicholas, and he with her. Oh, but the sheer wonder of it all! She had been flabbergasted. Too astonished to think or say anything. Yet, Agnes saw the spark in Eleanor’s eyes as she spoke of him; she heard the longing in her voice, and she had known right away that it was true. The moment she recovered from her awe, she felt a sudden sense of happiness. Strange, she knew, yet it had been the first true glimpse of sunshine in her otherwise, bleak heart. She instantly saw her grief for the blessing it was, for she never would have gotten that revelation, otherwise. Eleanor loved Nicholas. It explained her sadness, her withdrawal. Nicholas loved Eleanor, it explained all the times Agnes had seen in his eyes that she wasn’t who he wanted. All those looks past her whenever he visited, as though he was searching for something. He had only been searching for Eleanor, who did a great work at evading him. Again, the world shifted and righted on its axis. It was instantly clear what was to be done. She had to make certain that Eleanor and Nicholas ended up together. Only, Isabelle had decided to join in that moment and had made a revelation of her own.
She could only liken her experience that day to a journey on a carriage, through a road filled with bumps that were her varying emotions. They hit her and jumbled her, tossed her about, as though her comfort meant little. Disbelief, shock, anger. She had felt it all towards her mother. Then finally, as she got herself to see beyond the problem her mother posed, she saw the candle of hope flickering once again, with light. Though she had suffered for nothing, she had only been thrilled to learn that Alan loved her truly and plans were already underway to ensure that they would spend the rest of their lives belonging to one another, as they should.
Upon Isabelle’s request, she had given her word to keep her calm until all was over. That had been necessary because she had been willing to march to her mother and have a confrontation. However, her dearest sister had pointed out the foolishness in that. All was not over, and the only person who could truly get Victoria to stop, was her father. It was their word against hers. A terribly unfavourable situation. They had to bide their time, and bide their time, they had. For this reason, she had acted like all was well with her mother. Had smiled and engaged in small talk, while she seethed inside with mild anger and an iota of irritation. Only this morning, she had decided to do herself a good deed and let go of every ill feeling, work towards offering the woman she loved, regardless, forgiveness. Then she had gone and locked them up!
“This is preposterous! Father must learn of this! How could she have done this to us, her own children? How can she have no regard for our happiness, the woman who brought us into this world? Damnation! I cannot get myself to calm.” She was pacing. It was what she did when she was not banging against the door, trying to get Louis to open it. There could only be one person trusted with keeping them locked in. She had not one doubt that it was Louis.
“Agnes, you must. Please, for the love of God, I cannot claim to understand how you feel but being so riled up is only relinquishing victory to her. Take deep breaths. Unless Louis opens up that door, there is no hope to escape here. We can only wait.”
Agnes stopped pacing, unable to disregard the voice of reason that was Isabelle’s. Indeed, little else could be done until her mother decided it was time to let her out. For her own benefit, she must seek her calmness. Yielding Isabelle’s advice, she dragged in a lungful of breath and let it out in steady streams. She repeated this twice more, and by the end of the third exhale, she felt better. Her head seemed to have cleared, and she felt a little lighter.
She looked at her sisters who were looking at her, questions in their eyes. The concern that resided therein also, tugged at her heart, and she found herself giving into a smile as she sighed. Oh, but she adored them, loved them greatly.
“You were right, Isabelle. I do feel calmer. I thank thee for that.”
“I am glad you do. Now, please halt your pacing and take your seat; forgive me, but I find it terribly distracting.” Isabelle’s eyes twinkled so that Agnes could not find it in her to pick offence. Not that she ever would have. Nonetheless, she gave into the request and found herself a chair to settle into.
“At least, we have tea,” Eleanor spoke, finally joining in on the conversation. Her smile dazzled, and Agnes thought of how much a lucky man Nicholas Stamford was. She found solace in the knowledge that he was a noble man by heart. He would certainly do well by her.
She looked around, and her eyes caught the bowl of biscuits. She got up, retrieved it, and adjusted her chair so that she too would be closer to her sisters, in the camp they had made by the door.
“We also have biscuits. It is certainly nice to know that we would not starve while in captivity,” she teased, holding up the bowl, a smile in her voice. If her sisters could find humour in this situation, so could she.
“Ahh. Yes. Beyond that, I reckon Mother would not want to have us starve, either way. Surely, she would have made provisions for our lunch.”
