She stepped into her room, expecting it to be as she’d left it, two large trunks packed with her personal belongings near the empty wardrobe and her bed made up where she’d tossed and turned the previous night.
Instead, the bed was stripped and the trunks were conspicuously absent.
And she knew her father well enough to know that such details were not accidental.
The ringing in her ear had subsided a little, and her opposite cheek ached. Unable to imagine what was to become of her, she lowered herself into the chair near the bed, only to jump when the door opened a moment later.
Hoping it was her mother, she was disappointed instead to see her mother’s lady’s maid, Mrs. Jennings. “Your belongings have been delivered to the Duke of Dewberry’s residence,” the maid announced, carrying a pitcher of water and a handful of clean linens. “You are to prepare to meet with your betrothed downstairs.”
With the persistent ringing, Nia wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. “Dewberry? Is here?” Was it possible that despite all she’d gone through today, her fate remained the same?
“The bishop, who has most charitably agreed to perform the ceremony here, should be arriving anytime now.”
Mrs. Jennings’ voice dripped with disapproval.
“And my mother?” Nia knew she held no power over her father, but her mother cared for her and might show some sympathy.
“She’s taken some tonic and is resting.” Mrs. Jennings had her back to Nia while she poured water onto a linen. When she finished, she crossed to where Nia sat and pressed the damp cloth to Nia’s cheek. “What were you thinking, my lady? Her Grace nearly suffered apoplexy. Your actions have exposed your parents to great ridicule. This is worse than Lady Marigold’s betrayal. Your poor mother. Don’t you think she’s endured enough?”
Her mother took to her bed on those occasions when her father was more out of temper than usual, and once there, refused to see anyone—sometimes for several days.
Goldie was gone. Her mother wasn’t going to help. Nia had disgraced herself in front of the Mayfair elite, and all of it had been for nothing!
Because she was still going to be forced into marrying Dewberry. A tremor shook her.
This time, there would be no escape. She’d thought Baron Westcott was her hero, but he was just like everyone else.
It did not matter that he’d looked apologetic as her father dragged her out of his house. He’d led her to believe she had some control of her own destiny and then gone behind her back and sent for her father.
Lesson learned.
One of the chambermaids appeared at Nia’s door, which the lady’s maid had left ajar. “Pardon, Mrs. Jennings.” She addressed the older woman. “But Her Grace is asking for you.”
The lady’s maid frowned as she squeezed water out of the cloth. “Hold this to your face.” She pressed it into Nia’s hand. “It’ll keep the bruising down. Your father will send for you when the bishop arrives.”
This time, Mrs. Jennings not only closed the door behind her, but Nia heard the lock set from outside.
Nia shook her head and straightened her spine. She couldn’t go through with it. She could not! She glanced toward her window and noticed the vines dangling near the ledge.
Jasper stared out the window as the duke’s carriage pulled away. He ought to feel relief upon relinquishing the young lady back to her father. He ought to be pleased that he needn’t concern himself with either his reputation or establishing her somewhere safe and comfortable. Crossings had removed the burden of Lady Gardenia completely.
But Jasper failed to experience even a small sense of reprieve.
He scrubbed a hand down his face, still staring at the spot on the pavement where the coach had been until a surge of anger shot through him. One of his own people had gone to Crossings—betraying his trust. Jasper was not a harsh or overly demanding employer, but such disloyalty was not acceptable.
Turning, Jasper made his way to the foyer and then eyed his butler. Dudley had served his father before him, and if anyone would know who had sold him out, it would be him.
“What can I do for you, my lord?” Dudley addressed him.
Jasper rubbed his chin. “Crossings was tipped off by one of our own.”
“I’m fairly certain it was Flynn. I’ve no proof, but he’s gone absent this afternoon and that’s particularly damning.” The butler frowned. “I’ve sent Michaels after him.”
Flynn had been hired less than a fortnight earlier—sent over from an agency. “I’ll have a word with Flynn when he returns. If he returns.” But Jasper didn’t turn to leave just yet.
“Do you… associate with any of Crossings’ servants?” he asked. As Dudley’s employer, Jasper realized he was on the verge of overstepping. Because personal information shared between household servants wasn’t always divulged.
“Yes, my lord. There’s a group of us that meet at least once a month to play cards. Mr. Bulwark is one of them.”
