Page 61 of In Scandal with the Duke
“Yes, Your Grace,” Brooks responded promptly, preparing to handle whatever tasks were necessary.
Once in his study, James pulled out several sheets of crisp paper from the top drawer of his desk. His mind was set; he would do whatever it took to repair the damage done to Elizabeth’s reputation, even if it meant leveraging or severing long-standing relationships within theton. He was prepared to use his influence ruthlessly if required.
The first letter he wrote was to David Pettigrew, the Earl of Darlington, a man whose financial troubles James was uniquely positioned to exploit in exchange for a favor that would aid Elizabeth.
Darlington,
It has come to my attention that your estates are currently facing financial challenges, and you are in pursuit of investors for your forthcoming venture with Viscount Lynton. I am prepared to offer substantial investment, though it would require a particular concession on your part.
As you are aware, your wife, the Countess of Darlington, holds significant sway within the social circles of the ton. Her influence could prove invaluable under the current circumstances. A family of my acquaintance, the Armstrongs, has recently suffered undue social detriment. I am seeking to rectify this situation, and her intervention could facilitate their reestablishment in society.
I trust the countess will exercise her considerable capabilities with discretion and efficacy. Please convey to her the importance of this matter and the mutual benefits our cooperation would ensure.
I look forward to your prompt and favorable reply, ensuring our mutual interests align for the betterment of all parties involved.
Yours sincerely,
James, Duke of Basil
After sealing the letter, James leaned back in his chair, his mind already plotting the next moves. He would have to be careful and precise in his approach, using the influence he held as a duke not just to threaten or coerce but to negotiate and align interests. His next letter was to another influential member of theton, the Marquess of Hadleigh, whose wife was held in high esteem. He wrote with a clear, forceful hand, making it evident that the marquess’s cooperation would be mutually beneficial. James even promised the marquess one of his prize studs for this favor.
James wrote three more letters. Each word was measured and deliberately aimed at weaving a network of support that would be difficult for anyone to untangle. It was clear his displeasure would be earned if they refused. His last letter for the day was to the Daily Gossip. After dispatching his butler, Brooks, with the letters, James walked toward the window overlooking the gardens.
Elizabeth, I am so damn sorry for the hurt you must have endured.
Even if he were to never see her again, today marked the beginning of his fight not just for Elizabeth’s honor but for her heart, proving that his love was not merely a fleeting passion but a committed force capable of righting the wrongs she had endured.
CHAPTER22
Elizabeth lay in her bed, the rhythmic sounds of knocking and hammering from nearby construction sites filled the morning air, providing an oddly soothing backdrop to her thoughts. The burgeoning city of New York buzzed with energy as wealthy businessmen, much like her father, expanded their empires by buying up plots of land to erect grand mansions. These sprawling homes, each more opulent than the last, were symbols of success and power in the bustling metropolis.
Elizabeth had returned home just three days ago, completing a six-week voyage from England—a journey she had hoped would clear her mind and soothe her wounded spirit. Yet, the familiar sights and sounds of New York did little to ease the ache in her heart. Instead of the warm embrace of home, she felt a stark disconnect, and the sense of belonging Elizabeth anticipated feeling once home was deplorably absent. She felt unmoored, her heart no closer to healing than it had been a week ago.
The nightly dreams had not stopped. Staring at the ceiling, she fought to recall her dream, for in that realm with James, there was only laughter and happiness, a feeling of pure contentment, and those sensations lingered with her as she drifted from sleep into awareness. Once fully awake, only a sense of heartbreak plagued her. She pushed from the bed, ringing the bell to summon her lady’s maid. Once Magda arrived, she helped Elizabeth perform her morning toiletries. An hour later, she was presentable in a bright golden gown that flattered her shape, with her hair caught up in an artful chignon. She ventured downstairs, seeking out her father in his study.
“Bette,” he said warmly, rising to enfold her in a hug. “How I’ve missed you. Have I told you?”
“Yes, Papa,” she said, smiling. “At least six times.”
He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. They parted, and she went to sit on the sofa close to the window, curling her feet beneath her legs in a rather unladylike manner. Her father did not rebuke her, and even if he had, Elizabeth would have ignored it.
Her father sat behind his rather impressive oak desk and stared at her with quiet contemplation. Elizabeth knew he sensed her despondency, but he had not probed. It was one of the qualities she appreciated most about her father: his gentle understanding and patience.
“I received a rather enlightening letter from your mother, Bette.”
Swallowing her groan, she met her father’s steady regard. “Oh?”
“Hmm.” He plucked up two envelopes. “It seems you left a scandal behind in London, one that you were remiss in telling me about.”
“Did mama inform you it was a scandal of her own making?”
Her father’s expression softened. “She explained the whole of it to me, Bette. Your mother is shattered.”
A spark of ire lit in her chest, but it quickly vanished, for she felt that even then, she had no more emotions to give. “I am sure mama is only out of sorts because the duke did not fall in line with her machinations. I presume mama told you the full truth of it, Papa?”
“She did.”
Elizabeth smiled tightly. “Who knew someone could be so against their choices being stolen from them,” she said caustically. “Mother and Aunt Sally certainly never imagined it.”
