Stenfax swallowed hard. Elise would likely not survive socially, it seemed. Once upon a time he would have been happy for that. Now he felt a strange urge to protect her from the consequences.
Not that he could.
“You know that Felicity had…troubles with her husband,” Stenfax said softly. “A certain kind of trouble. I simply want to ensure the man isn’t abusing Elise in any way. As I would if I suspected such a thing fromanyman in my acquaintance.”
Folly cocked his head with an incredulous expression. “Certainly. It hasnothingto do with your past engagement to the woman and your present…dalliance.”
“Not present,” Stenfax reminded him. Reminded himself.
Marina sighed. “If you are determined, then I can tell you little good about Ambrose. He and our other cousin Roger were born on the very same day, so when Toby died, the two of them went to absolute war over the title. Both of them are cruel bullies, just as the last duke was.”
Stenfax nodded. As much as he’d tried to steer clear of information regarding the inheritance of the hated title of Duke of Kirkford earlier in the year, he did know all that.
“But do you think he would…harm Elise?” he pressed.
Marina exchanged a look with Folly. “All my cousins are cruel,” she said softly. “And certainly capable of terrible things. I always suspected that Ambrose was jealous of Toby, of his marriage to Elise. And Toby flaunted it, flauntedherlike a prize he’d won. I wouldn’t doubt that Ambrose is pursuing some kind of vile interest in her now that she’s a widow, but to physically harm her…I just don’t know, Stenfax.”
This was not comforting. He gripped the chair arms hard enough that he felt them creak beneath his fists.
When he was silent a long time, Folly said, “I suppose one good escape for Elise would be a marriage.”
Stenfax flinched at the idea. “She isn’t to be out of mourning for another few months. And that scene at the ball would likely make it difficult.”
“It may be part of why Ambrose created it,” Marina said with a frown. “If Elise is resistant to his advances, he is the kind of man who would work to eliminate any hope for her to escape.”
Stenfax got to his feet. The more he heard, the more concerned he was for Elise’s safety in this volatile situation. And the more he realized just why she was pursuing a protector. Scandal surrounding her wouldn’t matter to a man who only wanted her as a lover. And with the right man she would find a home, money for herself and true protection from the new duke’s twisted desires.
But she had to find that protector soon, it seemed.
“You are very involved in this for a man who claims to have no connection to the duchess,” Folly said.
Stenfax frowned as he looked at his friends. “I never said I had no connection. We all know that isn’t true. I just hope I can ask you not to speak to Gray about this conversation. You know how he worries.”
Marina laughed. “If you don’t think Gray isn’t already worried, you’re a fool, my dear. He is convinced you may be caught in Elise’s web a second time. Only Rosalinde has kept him from locking you up in a cage and shipping you back to the country already.”
“Thank God for Rosalinde,” Stenfax muttered. “But please, I promise you both, I will not get myself hurt again. I just…I just want to make sure she won’t either.”
Marina tilted her head, and for a moment she had the strangest expression on her face. Then she said, “Are you certain you can perform both those feats at once?”
In truth, he wasn’t. But he had to try. To protect Elise, hehadto try.
Elise wrote a line in her letter and sighed. This activity should not have taken the last hour, but she was dreadfully distracted and unable to focus.
She knew exactly why she was distracted. Lucien. She had been utterly miserable in the three days since they’d last been together. She’d wept, she’d stayed in her bed. The mourning she’d been pretending to feel for Toby was easily achieved at the thought of truly never seeing Lucien again.
She’d lost him once before, but this time seemed…worse.
She hadn’t even been able to drag herself to Vivien’s. Which was a very bad thing. Ambrose had written her once during the past three days. He was pushing her to either get in his bed or get out to the street.
So she was running out of time. But how could she surrender herself to a lover when everything hurt so much? Would she simply pretend any man in her bed was the man she really wanted there? Would she become one of those mistresses with the empty eyes who laughed while her soul was eaten from the inside out?
“There isn’t any choice,” she murmured, pushing her letter away and covering her eyes with her hand.
“Your Grace, I’m sorry to disturb.”
She turned to find her butler, Wiggins, standing at the parlor door. His lined face was pulled down in a deep frown and she caught her breath.
“If my visitor is Ambrose, tell him I have a headache. Tell him I’m dead for all I care, I don’t want to see him,” she said, harsher than she should have.
