Page 60 of In Scandal with the Duke
“Seen what?”
“A scandal sheet mention of that disgraceful wretch, Miss Armstrong.”
Cold fury lit in James’s veins. “What did you call her?”
A smile quirked the marquess’s mouth. “Ah … you do not agree.”
“Who dares call her so?”
Oliver handed him a newssheet, and James found the mention of her. As he read, certain phrases raked at his heart like poison-tipped talons.
Social climber
Disgraceful and scandalous
Shameless
Not welcomed in the ton
She should return to New York
James’s heart pounded, and a hollow sensation settled in his belly. These derisive applications were undeserving, especially for a woman as kind, giving, and unpretentious as Elizabeth. He crushed the papers, the fury burning colder. “How do they fucking dare?”
“You really were not aware,” Oliver murmured.
“No. I would not have let it stand.”
“Your scandal with Miss Armstrong is being talked about in several drawing rooms. When we did not see you at Aphrodite or White’s, we presumed you were dealing with it.”
“Only a few witnessed what happened,” James said icily. “And they spread this nonsense to hurt her even more than …”Than me. He raked his fingers through sweat-dampened hair. “I need to go.”
“What happened?” his friend asked. “The scandal about town seems to be worse than the ones that usually mentioned you. Did Miss Armstrong truly plot a trap to force you into marriage?”
James stood still for several beats, and then he said, “A trap was plotted, but she was not a part of it. I was a damn fool for not realizing it sooner. The woman I know—compassionate, clever and honest, a person determined to live a life that was happy and one that she decided upon would never do something so underhanded as to steal my choice from me. Her mother and aunt plotted the compromising trap. I hurt her with my words and lack of faith in her character.”
“You like her,” Oliver said, sounding a bit shocked.
“No,” James said gruffly, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I love Elizabeth Armstrong with everything inside of me.”
The realization hit James harder than expected, leaving him to grapple with feelings he hadn’t acknowledged until now. The clarity of his own desires and feeling settled over him with unsettling certainty. “I must go to her.”
Oliver winced. “You might have a problem there.”
“What?”
“I saw Armstrong earlier. He … his sister left England yesterday for New York and has vowed to never return here.”
A crushing weight descended on James’s chest. “She is gone.”
“Yes. However, her mother remains in England. I heard that Viscountess Barnaby and Mrs. Armstrong lost a few friends in their social circle. Brandon seemed crushed. Apparently, once his sister decides on a matter, she never changes her mind. Some of the words he snarled into his drink were ‘wilful,’ ‘stubborn’ and ‘hellion.’”
James let out a sharp exhalation. The reality of Elizabeth’s situation struck him with painful clarity—she would likely never wish to return to England, a place now marred by betrayal, public disgrace, and the bitter memory of having been let down by those she should have been able to trust the most. Her family’s scheming had done irreparable damage, and he himself had added to her hurt with his doubts and harsh words.
James quickly grabbed his clothes and began dressing with hurried movements. “I have urgent matters to attend to.”
His friend, sensing the seriousness of the moment, simply nodded. He offered no words, but his expression was laden with curiosity and concern. James left the townhouse at a brisk pace, his strides lengthening into a run by the time he reached his own residence. Upon entering, he was met with the surprised look of his butler, Brooks, who noted his master’s unusually disheveled appearance but wisely chose to remain silent.
“I have several letters that need to be sent out today,” James said.
