Page 41 of The Madame Catches Her Duke

“There was no reason for her to deny such ludicrous and insulting claims,” Tobias said, slumping into the chair next to Rowan and facing the warmth of the fire. They sat in silence for a few moments—so long that Rowan thought his friend was so bored with the conversation that he’d fallen asleep. Finally, he said, “I have never had an interest in Marce beyond friendship. You brought her to Kent, forced her to pose as your wife, and all but left her to fend for herself when in residence. That was not fair.”

“I know that now.”

“No, I do not think you do.” Tobias turned to face Rowan. “Marce is a resilient woman.”

“I am aware.”

“She is beautiful…beyond the classic beauty favored by the ton.”

Rowan reached out blindly and collected this drink. “There is no question about that.”

“You stole her chance at a normal future.”

Rowan could only shrug. He’d done what Tobias accused him of. There was no reason to deny it.

“You blackmailed her into acting as your wife for eight years,” Tobias growled. “Do you think this scandal will not make its way to London? The gossips may have been kept in the dark about your charade up until now, but once you take possession of Craven House, the scandal sheets will have their way. Marce will be ruined. And not only that, she gave up all these years to you. Years she should have been searching for a husband who truly loved her. Years where she could have had her own family. All for what? To satisfy your animosity toward your father?”

“She is but the proprietress of a brothel,” Rowan countered. “How many prospects did she think to have? I allowed her to keep her family home. Her siblings had a roof over their heads because I did not walk in and cast them all from the property my dukedom rightfully owns. If anything, she should thank me.”

“If we were not longtime friends, and you did not have nearly six inches on me, I would demand retribution for your words.”

“Those are the only reasons?” Rowan prodded, glancing at this friend from the corner of his eye.

“Those, and I would hate for your mother to be disappointed with me.”

“Something I obviously have no qualms about.”

“I do not believe that to be true.”

Rowan chuckled bitterly. How could Tobias still think there were redeeming qualities to him? “Mayhap I deserve to be called to account for my behavior.”

“That will solve nothing, and likely injure us both,” Tobias mused. “What would better serve would be for us to discuss your plans to fix this. After what you did to Marce, and her brother’s betrayal before you, she will surely never trust a man again.”

“What of her brother?” Rowan crossed his legs at the ankle, refusing to alert Tobias to his piqued interest in the change of topic. “I have heard they are close.”

“Not Lord Garrett.” Tobias shook his head, staring down into his tumbler as he swirled the liquid. “Her eldest brother. Buckston.”

“The Marquess of Buckston?” Rowan’s neck heated, and his pulse increased. “I was not aware that Marce’s mother was Buckston’s mistress at one time.”

“Not mistress.” Tobias’s voice echoed in the room as if he’d shouted it. “Wife. Marce’s mother was the Marchioness of Buckston, the former Lord Buckston’s second wife. Marce and Garrett were born of their marriage.”

“That would make her the current Lord Buckston’s half-sibling. She’s Benton’s sister?” Rowan stood, fleeing the fire’s warmth as his skin heated past the point of being tolerable. “Davenport. I never suspected that she was from that Davenport line.”

“Not many do.”

“But how did Sasha, a bloody marchioness, come to run a brothel?”

“Benton cast the lot of them from their home after his father’s death. Left them with only the measly funds his father had earmarked for a dowager allowance.”

“That blackguard!” Rowan paced the room, needing a way to expel his irritation. “And she accused me of possessing a black soul.”

“Oh, your soul is still black as night, my friend. Do not think that learning any of this absolves you of your misdeeds. Marce may not be here to hold you accountable, but I am. You did to her exactly what her brother did.”

It is not the same at all. Rowan couldn’t bring himself to utter the words aloud…because it was a lie. Yet another falsehood compounded on the many he’d already told himself, his mother, Tobias, and Marce.

“Marce was thrown from her home at the age of seven,” Tobias sighed. “Lady Buckston’s friends turned away from her and offered no assistance after she was shunned by Buckston’s son and heir. She did what she had to do to support her family, much as Marce has been doing all these years with her siblings.”

It was too much to comprehend. Rowan longed to escape the room and return to his home. Or, even better, leave Kent altogether in an attempt to distance himself from the truth he’d blinded himself to all these years.