Page 66 of Finding Hope
“You ungrateful, arrogant wretch!” she seethed.
“You, madam, will interfere no more, or you will see yourself removed far from Davenmere and anything to do with it. Do I make myself clear?”
She did not answer, she only glared. “You will regret this day.”
“I already do, your Grace. I already do. And if you harm one hair on Miss Whitford’s head, you will be paid in kind tenfold.”
“We will see about that!” She turned and stormed off to the Dower House, leaving Max standing there wondering what had just happened. He stood still for a few minutes, trying to bring his boiling blood back to some semblance of calm. Never before had anyone caused him to lose control in such a manner. He was known for his cold control at all times.
Had she been the one tormenting Hope? Max feared it was so as realization struck him with the force of a knife to the chest. The extent of her obsession had made her hysterical, and she felt it was her duty to keep Max away from Hope.
The handwriting had not been hers, but her maid or her secretary would have obeyed her commands without daring to demur.
It was also very plausible that she could have locked Hope in the bath house and then unlocked it again. How else would she have known he had declared himself, had she not been watching and listening?
The more he considered, the more sick he felt. She was also known to be an excellent shot. But had she aimed to kill or merely to frighten?
There was also the easy access to the henbane: she was one of the few who would have known where it was.
In his life, he had known his mother to be many things, but he would never have supposed her capable of this. It was not so much hatred for Hope as it was pride of the cursed dukedom. Hope had dared to get in the way of her Grace’s plans.
Max had not accused the Duchess outright because he did not wish her to know his suspicions in the small chance that it was not her. It would only make the situation worse. However, he would set men to watch the Duchess at all times, because he feared she had lost any vestige of sanity. She had looked prepared to commit murder just then. But had she tried tokillHope? By God, if he discovered it was her intention, it would be nigh impossible not to commit matricide.
There was not enough proof, but he needed to stop the persecution before it went any further, and before anyone discovered who was doing this. The Duchess might not think he valued their lineage, but if her actions were discovered, it would forever be attached to the Davenmere name.
How could he catch the Duchess in the act, while at the same time preventing any harm to come to Hope?
He could not think of any solution where he would not have to confide in her. Knowing Hope, she would not welcome him back unless she knew she was no longer in danger. She would not be satisfied unless she knew who had been doing this.
The possibility of this ending well was slim.
With a heavy heart, he returned to the ball, wishing it were over. He was not certain he could paste on the false façade and pretend everything was as it should be when it was anything but.
He stood at the terrace doors from which he had exited earlier. He watched and pondered how to handle his mother and Hope. Falling in love should have been the happiest time of his life, yet it seemed Hope was correct in that she needed to stay away from him. As he watched her dancing with Major Stuart, he knew he would not rest until she was his.
CHAPTER 17
Hope had been exhausted enough from dancing that she was able to sleep without tossing and turning or having nightmares, which was quite surprising after the quarrel with the Duchess.
When she woke the next morning, Faith had already gone, and a maid was bringing her hot water. Hope got down from the bed and pulled on her wrapper as she tucked her feet into her slippers. Out of habit, she splashed her face and patted it dry, then unravelled her plaits, and began to brush her hair.
“Have you need of anything else, miss? Many guests are leaving today, so there is a great bustle downstairs,” the maid told her.
“I would like a cup of tea.”
“Yes, miss,” she said, bobbing a curtsy. “Lady Westwood told me to say she’s in her room if you have need of anything, and just to knock.”
Hope went to the balcony and opened the doors to inhale the fresh air. The sound of the river was so soothing to her spirit that she could almost forget all the horrible things that had happened. Desperately, she wanted to think they weren’t real, but the Duchess’s words had erased any doubt that she was thelikely source of the threats. The only person who had expressed outright disapproval of her was the Duchess. Why would a duchess be threatened by such a one as her? The only possible reason was if she seriously considered Hope a contender for Rotham’s hand…it wasn’t enough that Hope had already decided she could not have him.
Which meant that she could never be with Rotham. It would be best for her to leave—especially with the Duke having taken a turn for the worse. She suspected many of the guests would also be leaving, which at least would not make her own departure—and the reason for it—so obvious.
The maid returned with the tea, and having prepared a cup, Hope sat and tried to find comfort in the beauty that surrounded her.
Leaving Davenmere would be difficult, because it also meant severing herself from Rotham forever. If there were any other way…she shook her head. It was no use. How could she tell him her suspicions? How could she tell him that she suspected his mother of trying to bribe her and possibly kill her? Hope could not do that, nor could she live with being the cause of such a rift.
It did not appear they were close or even affectionate, that was true enough, but there was nothing more sacred to the aristocracy than their good name. Yet, after his tender love and kisses at the bath house, living without Rotham was too much to contemplate. She choked on a sob and let some tears fall until she was resigned to her fate.
A knock on the door disturbed her hard-won composure, and she wiped at her eyes and checked herself in the mirror before opening the door.
