“It isn’t the same!” Emily couldn’t allow them to assume her marriage was the same as theirs. “He doesn’t love me! He’s gone out of his way to make certain I understand that he never will. As soon as I’m settled, he’s going to resume his travels.”
And then she burst into tears.
Cecily pressed a handkerchief into her hand. “Oh, Em.”
“Are you sure?” Sophia asked, ever the optimist.
“I’m so stupid.” Emily tried to bring her tears under control. “I know I promised in the beginning that I’d be perfectly fine with this. In fact, everything about it sounded wildly promising. But then all this other stuff happened and… I know how I’m supposed to feel, but I just can’t seem to stop myself from feeling… so…”
“Disappointed?” Cecily asked.
“Brokenhearted?” Sophia added.
Emily nodded. “Yes. To both. And I’m not in love with him! I swear, I’m not! It’s just that…”
They all sat silently for a moment, filling in the end of the sentence for themselves.
“Oh, we know,” Cecily finally acknowledged.
“I’m sorry for acting like such a ninny.” Emily sniffed loudly. “I just… I don’t exactly know how to do all of this. We’re supposed to travel to London, so his father knows of our marriage, and then Marcus said we’d travel to his estate. I’m terrified one minute, enraptured in those other minutes, and utterly confused in between.”
Sophia was shaking her head. “Waters departed from London last week. Dev mentioned it to me the just today. He asked if I thought Blakely might be received in London since the duke has left town.”
A maid stepped into the room quietly. “Pardon me, your grace.” She curtsied toward Sophia. “His grace wishes to meet with Lady Blakely if she’s not indisposed right now.”
Cecily and Sophia scrutinized her even closer than before. Emily shifted in her seat and then rose with a tight smile. “Likely he has a few words regarding Lord Carlisle. I did, after all…”
“Before leaving for Gretna Green, you requested I make some inquiries for you.” Prescott stared at her knowingly.
The duke sat across from Emily, behind the ancient desk used by generations of dukes before him. Although worn and scarred, the wood gleamed from polish.
Emily straightened her back at his words. She’d been preparing herself for this meeting since the day they departed. And yet when she’d first been summoned, she thought he might take it upon himself to reprimand her for her scandalous behavior while a guest in his home.
After all, she’d trapped Lord Carlisle and then failed to present herself for his proposal the next morning.
“Did you find anything then, your grace?” It seemed odd, sometimes, to refer to him so formally when Sophia spoke of him as though he were the sweetest man to ever live. But sitting in his office, watching his black eyes as he perused the papers before him, she had a sudden desire to cower in her seat.
“I deliberated inviting your husband to this meeting, considering the matter concerns him. But I wasn’t certain you had informed him yet, as to the nature of your inquiries.” Disapproval set an edge to his tone.
Emily bit her lip and shook her head. “I have not.” Oh, no! What had he found? His demeanor seemed to indicate that he may have discovered something of note.
He grunted. “It might have been simpler if you had.” And then he returned his attention to the papers once again. “Miss Meggie Thistlebum apparently was not at all what, or whom, she presented herself to be a decade ago. And the man living with her was not her father. He was, in fact, her husband. The investigator I sent to look into these matters located the magistrate who removed them from Waters’ estate. My man followed their trail to a small village north of Manchester where they lived openly as man and wife until Mr. Thistlebum passed away two years ago. The couple was notably childless.”
“And the woman?”
“Has moved to town where she has found work in a brothel.”
Emily swallowed hard.
“Marcus’ father didn’t lie to him, then.”
Prescott shook his head wearily. “It would seem he did not.”
What did all of this mean? She’d suspected that Miss Thistlebum might have taken advantage of Marcus but to have lied about a husband! And a child! Marcus did not have a son living in squalor somewhere, nor was his dear, sweet Meggie pining for the child’s absent father. She’d taken advantage of the unchecked passion of a randy youth in order to line her own pockets, it seemed.
The Duke of Waters had been telling the truth.
“I expected there might have been a few discrepancies, but nothing like this.” She looked to Prescott in shock.
