Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage

CHAPTER 29

“My lord. My lord.” Abernathy’s voice shook as he hurried into the study James had been temporarily using at one of his other London properties. Locke hadn’t even announced the man. Abernathy must have raced through the house without stopping.

James tossed his quill aside and sat up straight. “What is it?”

“I had a visit from Horton today.” The older man was breathing heavily and his face was quite red.

“And?”

Abernathy paused in an attempt to catch his breath. “The Duke of Markingham’s valet confessed after another one of the servants came forward and pointed the finger at him.”

James’s eyes went wide. He scrubbed his hand across his face and jumped up from his seat. “Say that again.”

Mr. Abernathy barely paused for a quick breath. “One of the footmen at Markingham Abbey claimed the valet had confessed to him.”

James sucked in his breath. No. This couldn’t be happening. Could it? He braced his hands atop the desk and stared Abernathy in the eye. “Why did the servant just now come forward?”

“Perhaps his conscience was tugging at him, my lord. I don’t know. But the magistrate was called in and the confession was repeated in front of him. He’s on the way to report the entire affair to the lord chancellor here in London this morning.”

James searched the barrister’s face. “What does this mean, Abernathy … will Kate—”

Abernathy nodded rapidly. “She should be freed in a matter of hours, my lord.”

James closed his eyes and reopened them again, slowly.

“There will be a great deal of legal work still to be done, my lord, to be sure, but once the accusation is retracted and the charges dropped, her grace shall be a free woman. And given her title, they’re sure to expedite the matter with all due haste.”

James slowly sat back down though he remained on the edge of the seat. “Thank you, Abernathy. Thank you very much.”

“Yes, well. I wanted to let you know immediately, your lordship.” Abernathy turned toward the door. “I’ll just be going to see to all of it.”

“Abernathy?” James’s voice was steady.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Why did the valet kill Markingham?”

Abernathy shook his head. “Apparently, the duke informed his valet that morning that he intended to replace him with a different man.”

James arched a brow. “Why’s that?”

“It seems Lady Bettina had taken a dislike to him. She had someone in mind from her own household who aspired to the position.”

James’s eyebrow shot up. “Not very sporting of Markingham but hardly a reason to kill a man.”

“Agreed, my lord.” Abernathy bowed. “From what I understand, he’d been employed by Markingham for a great many years. Had served his father, too. No doubt the man was in shock.”

“And so he decided to murder him?” James asked.

“Unfortunately, the duke just so happened to have given his valet his pistol that morning. He’d asked him to see to it that it was properly cleaned. The valet was still holding it when their argument began. Seems it was a crime of passion.” Abernathy shook his head. “Ill-fated timing to be sure.”

James pursed his lips. “And the valet didn’t seem to mind allowing the duchess to be accused of murder?”

Abernathy sighed. “Murder charges tend to bring out the coward in many a man, my lord. Apparently, the valet has been racked with guilt over having put the duchess in such a position. He said he never expected her to be charged. Said he’d hoped Lady Bettina would take the blame. But he has been too frightened to step forward and clear the duchess’s name. Mr. Horton’s continual presence unnerved him. He drank himself into a stupor two nights ago and revealed all to his friend the footman. That chap quickly came forward to report what he’d been told.”

James just shook his head. It was amazing. Truly amazing.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Abernathy added, his hand on the door handle. “Apparently the valet shot the duke in the wardrobe. The thick wooden walls of the room must have muffled the sound of the shot. He dragged his body into the main bedchamber and cleaned up the blood, it seems.”

“That explains why no one heard it, I suppose,” James replied.

Abernathy nodded. “It’s a happy day for the duchess, my lord, to be sure. I cannot wait to go and tell her.”

“By all means then, go.” James gestured toward the door.

After Abernathy left, James leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his neck. Themis trotted up to the side of his chair, waiting to be petted. “It happened, old girl,” he murmured to the dog, pulling out a hand and patting her on the head. “She’s free.”

Themis nuzzled his hand and let out a decidedly emphatic bark.

James pressed a fingertip to the spot between his eyes. Relief washed through him. He’d been anxious for days, hoping against hope. And now that he’d heard the news, he could scarcely believe it. He wished he could see Kate’s beautiful face when she learned she was free.

James spun around in his chair. Ever since that fool Ashbourne had asked him if he was in love, it was all he could think about. Love? No. Love had always been for people who were less controlled than he, less restricted. He couldn’t love Kate. Could he?

Oh, what did it matter? Even if he were madly in love with her, she wanted nothing to do with him. She’d returned to the bloody Tower after all. She’d chosen a prison instead of him and his house. And he didn’t blame her. He’d inserted himself in her life during her darkest hour. Used her for her story and her circumstances. He’d placed her in an impossible position and practically forced her to write a pamphlet. Why would she ever want to see him again?

And even if she did want to see him again, what possible excuse could he conjure to imply a visit was necessary? He owed her money, but he could easily dispatch a servant with that. There was no reason for him to assume she even wanted to see him again. Hadn’t she said so in her note? That they would never see each other again? No. He would not seek her out. Even if it drove him mad. Or killed him.

Or both.

When Mr. Abernathy left her cell, Kate’s knees gave way. She crumpled to the cold stone floor, shudders racking her body. She was saved. Alive. She huddled in a ball, tears streaming down her face. She’d never allowed herself to hope for this. Not really. Or at least she’d told herself that lie all these weeks. But now, every bit of anxiety and emotion came pouring out. She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and sobbed, unabashedly sobbed, relief rolling through her in huge, crashing waves. She’d been saved. Saved. There was some justice in this world after all. Thank you, God. But it hadn’t been God, had it? She had James to thank for it. The odds had been stacked firmly against her. She hadn’t dared to hope. But James. James had. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, he’d hired Abernathy and Mr. Horton. He’d saved her.

She pulled herself up, her back resting against her bed frame, and hugged her knees to her chest. She wiped her eyes. She blew her nose. And she breathed. Just breathed.

What did this really mean? She was still an outcast. She’d never be able to live down the scandal. She’d still have to leave London and never come back. A little smile popped to her lips. But she was alive. Alive. And exonerated. She had another chance at life. Another chance to start over in this world. To not make the same mistake again. Despite the tears that continued to roll down her cheeks, she smiled widely this time. It wouldn’t be difficult. Not making the same mistake merely involved staying as far away from Society as possible and not marrying again. Especially not a peer, and especially not one who didn’t truly love her. An image of James flashed unbidden into her mind.

That was simple, wasn’t it?