“We wanted to protect her,” Lady Margaret added. Her voice sounded weak now compared to the resolve that had underscored it just a few minutes earlier.
“By lying to her about her heritage?” They were mad, both of them.
“It was for her own good,” Lady Margaret said as she perched herself on the edge of the sofa and poured an extra cup of tea for her husband before turning her attention to Anthony and offering him a fragile smile. “More tea, Your Grace?”
Struck dumb by the incredulity of it all, Anthony slumped back down on his chair and nodded mutely. Isabella was the granddaughter of the Marquess of Deerford and she hadn’t the slightest idea.Bloody hell.
“We had our reasons for keeping this from her, you understand,” Mr. Chilcott said. “It was ... easier than telling her the truth.”
Easier for whom?Anthony wondered. He swallowed hard as he tried to come to terms with it all. The deception was monumental, and he found his anger rising at the thought that these people could have lied so thoroughly to their children for so many years without any apparent shame. “Why?” he asked. “Why did you do it?”
There was a beat of silence before Lady Margaret responded. “Because I wanted to keep my girls safe from the humiliation of what happened to me and because I wanted to keep myself safe as well.”
“From what I have been told, you were kidnapped.” Anthony looked to each of them in turn to see if what he said was true, only to find Lady Margaret biting nervously on her lip while Mr. Chilcott lowered his gaze to his lap. Realization struck, and Anthony found it impossible to look away from the man who sat in the other armchair. “Good Lord. She ran away with you! What were you? A footman or her father’s secretary—his valet, perhaps?”
“I was the stable master,” Mr. Chilcott said. He looked up, and there was a shadow of torment in his eyes that could not be dismissed. “And just so we’re clear, Margaret and I did nothing wrong. We love each other as much now as we did back then, probably more, but her father—”
“Is distraught, by the way,” Anthony said. He returned his attention to Lady Margaret. “And so is your mother. Heaven above, did you even think to consider what your running away would do to them? They’ve been worried senseless about you.”
“My father,” Lady Margaret said, her words sounding measured, “is the reason behind all of this. If he wouldn’t have ...” Her words trailed off as a shadow crossed her face. It was obvious that she was wrestling with the decision of how much to divulge.
Reflex pressed Anthony to encourage her with words, but he thought better of it and decided to hold silent instead. He was desperate for answers now, but he sensed that he would be more likely to get them if he gave Lady Margaret the time and space she required. So he leaned back in his chair and waited.
When she finally spoke, it was in such a soft whisper that Anthony had to strain to hear her. “When I turned eighteen and had my coming out, my parents did all in their power to ensure a good match for me. I have no siblings, Your Grace, so my dowry was astronomical. Naturally, every bachelor in England came to call on me, expressing a keen desire to court me, or my money, to be more precise. To put it in perspective, I received no fewer than ten proposals that first week. My parents were ecstatic, of course, but I ...” She paused momentarily as she fidgeted with her gown. With an almost shy smile about her lips she looked to her husband. “I had already made my choice. I’d fallen in love with Walter and knew that he loved me in return.”
“Except he wasn’t a man your parents could accept,” Anthony muttered.
“No,” she said, reaching for her teacup and taking a small sip. “But I knew I had to try and fight for what I wanted, so I told them about my feelings for Walter—that I loved him desperately and wanted to marry him. My dowry would have allowed us to live a comfortable life, but my father refused to listen. He was furious, in fact. First, he told me that I was insane to think that he would allow me to marry his stable master, then he gave me a seething speech about how love was for children and about how I had a duty to adhere to, and then he sacked Walter. I was devastated and refused to leave my room for a whole week.
“My father eventually came to make amends with me. He told me how sorry he was for his outburst but that I must realize what a shock I’d given both him and my mother. Of course I could, so when he begged forgiveness for his rash response and told me he would let me marry Walter after all if that was what would make me happy, I believed him.” Anthony tensed at the sound of her ominous tone. “The Shrewsburry Ball was to take place that evening, and my father suggested we go together as a family. In the morning, he would send for Walter and give him his blessing.
“As was to be expected, given my successful debut, the gentlemen lined up to claim a dance with me the moment we arrived. One of these gentlemen was Lord Jouve. He was terribly charming with that crooked smile of his, and when he spoke to me he didn’t seem to have that same eagerness about him that all the other gentlemen had. He asked me to accompany him in a reel, and I accepted, thinking nothing of it.
“Once the dance was over, we toured the periphery of the ballroom together, during which he engaged me in the most interesting conversation about the stars. I was so enthralled by what he was telling me that it didn’t occur to me to say no when he offered to take me outside and show me some of the many constellations. It was terribly naïve of me of course, for he spared not a moment before taking advantage, and who do you suppose arrived on the scene just in time to witness my ruin?”
Anthony knew, and yet it was far too horrid to contemplate.
“As it turned out, Lord Jouve was in dire financial straits. He needed my dowry, so when my father went to him and suggested he compromise me, the two forged a plan that would see me married to an aristocrat just as my father wanted, while Lord Jouve would reap the benefits.” Lady Margaret expelled a deep breath as her eyes met Anthony’s. “I left home that same evening, still dressed in my ball gown.”
Silence filled the room. What Lord Deerford had put his daughter through was unpardonable—the ultimate betrayal. And to mask the disgrace, he’d concocted the kidnapping story. It didn’t surprise Anthony in the least that she’d stayed away all these years, though it must have taken great resilience for her not to have contacted her mother. Surely she must have suspected how deeply her absence had wounded Lady Deerford.
But, however regrettable Lady Margaret’s past was, it didn’t change the fact that Anthony wanted to marry her daughter. Society was still likely to frown—perhaps even more so with her blood ties to the infamous lady who’d taken up with the stable master so long ago. The scandal would probably rock the Kingsborough name, but there were also those who would stand by him, and besides, Anthony mused, it was worth the risk. “You have to tell Isabella,” he said.
“What?” the Chilcotts said in unison.
“As sorry as I am for everything that has happened to you, my lady, you have no right to impose yourself on your daughter’s future like this. Don’t you see that in doing so you’re doing to her precisely what your father did to you?” He saw the look of indignation on her face, but he pressed on before she had a chance to speak. “I love your daughter and have every intention of making her my wife, so if you don’t tell her the truth, then I will. Hell, she thinks herself unsuitable to be duchess when nothing could be further from the truth. She’s the granddaughter of a marquess, for heaven’s sake!”
“I ... I cannot bear the thought of seeing him again,” Lady Margaret said. There was no doubt about whom she was referring to. “And I worry about what Isabella will say—what she will think of us when she learns the truth.”
“The sooner you tell her the better,” Anthony said. “And once that’s done, I hope you’ll give me your blessing. I’d like to propose to her before Mr. Roberts does.”
“You know, I’m still not clear on why you disapprove of him so vehemently,” Lady Margaret said. “Is there something we ought to know, or is your dislike for the man based purely on the fact that he’s competing for her hand?”
Anthony looked to Mr. Chilcott. “You haven’t told her, have you?”
“I must admit that I found your claim hard to believe and decided to confront Mr. Roberts directly. He assured me that he has every intention of seeing to Isabella’s comfort.”
Of course he did. What Mr. Chilcott had apparently chosen to ignore was that once Mr. Roberts married Isabella there would be nothing to stop him from doing as he pleased with her.
