The Scoundrel Duke of her Heart by Violet Hamers
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Predictably, Nicholas took to avoiding her over the days despite her final words to him that night and Jenny buried herself in her research, surprisingly accomplishing a lot on the recent rock samples she had collected.
Staying away was difficult and she missed him but she wanted him to fight for them. “Don’t you look lovely in lavender?” Daphne stated wryly when she climbed into the carriage and saw Jenny. “Are you mourning?”
Jenny rolled her eyes. “I feel like wearing lavender today.”
They were going shopping for the upcoming ball the Duchess of Seagrave was hosting and Jenny had come to the Down residence to collect Daphne. “That is such a somber color.”
Jenny’s mood was not colorful and her choice of clothing reflected it. They spent their afternoon hopping from one shop to the other, sampling fabrics. All the while, Jenny plastered a smile onto her face, trying her damndest not to betray the wreck that she truly was inside. Daphne would ask questions that Jenny did not have answers to. Besides, she had grown weary of complaining about her pitiable relationship with her husband.
They ordered their dresses from Monsieur Raphael and were leaving his shop when Jenny noticed a quaint little dress shop that she had never visited. The last time she’d been in Bond Street, the dowager had disregarded the shop, dismissing it as too low a place for duchesses to patronize.
"Let's have a look in there, Daph.” She took her arm and drew her into the shop.
They walked in to the sore sight of Vanessa Whittaker standing on a stool as her measurements were being taken by a young girl that could only be an assistant. Jenny had half a mind to turn around and leave.
"Oh, Your Grace!" the modiste, a tall, gangly, and rather stylish brunette dipped into a curtsy, seeming to know Jenny already. "What an honor to finally have you grace our humble shop. I'm Madame Patricia, but you can call me Trish. Everyone calls me Trish."
Jenny found herself smiling—for the first time that day—at how proud Madame Patricia seemed of her moniker. Contrary to Persephone's opinion and the shop's outward appearance, the inside and displays around looked just as good as all the other shops they had been to, if not better than some.
"I heard about your visits to the shops on the street and wondered when it would be our turn to host you," Trish added, beaming.
"That is too tight!" Vanessa snapped at the assistant tending to her, her gaze trailing their every move in the mirror before her. Her eyes found Jenny’s and she smiled smugly.
"Miss Whittaker will have a looser cummerbund with this one too, Libby," Trish instructed the girl attending to Vanessa, “but leave that for now, her grace shall need your undivided attention."
It was Jenny’s turn to smile with satisfaction but she did not. Her gaze held Vanessa's displeased one in the mirror before she turned to introduce Daphne to Madame Patricia who immediately liked her.
"You seem like a very happy person, Miss Bexley," The modiste observed. "You simply radiate it. I like happy people."
Jenny was in agreement with her on that and she said it. “Nothing puts a damper on her. She is like sunshine.”
Daphne colored up demurely before they moved to the sitting area to look at some fabrics and designs.
"You have come to the right place, Your Grace, Miss Bexley. I shall have Libby take good care of you." Trish was practically bouncing on the edge of her seat with excitement.
Libby joined them, leaving Vanessa who descended from the stool and was now putting on her gloves before the mirror. While Jenny and Daphne perused a design catalog, Madame Patricia dragged Libby into an inner chamber to retrieve some fabrics. That was when Vanessa approached them, her features set firmly in a mask of impertinence.
"Getting a new dress are we, Your Grace?" she asked Jenny. "I see you are taking my advice and not getting too comfortable in one dress.” She looked up then as if she was thinking. “Or is it just the thrill of spending His Grace’s fortune that has you out here today?"
Daphne started to intervene, but Jenny stayed her with a hand over hers and a meaningful look. I have this, she silently said and Daphne reluctantly slumped back into her seat. “As—”
"Well, whatever new dress you purchase today, I would advise you to cherish it. Think of it as His Grace's souvenir to you,” Vanessa continued, cutting Jenny off.
"What use has a tree for a souvenir when it is where it should be?" Jenny returned, trying to decipher Vanessa's cryptic advice whilst avoiding betraying any perplexity on her part. She could not understand why her comments always left her disquieted.
"How naively sweet of you to still consider Seaton your home." Vanessa laughed.
"I beg your pardon?" A knot formed in Jenny’s stomach at the same time a bitter taste rose up her throat.
"Oh, your husband hasn't told you?" Vanessa placed a hand to her chest in mock surprise.
"I should think that you are mature enough to keep our families out of our little chats, Vanessa." She could feel her choler rising at Vanessa's direct involvement of her husband in their petulant bickering.
"Oh, dear Jenny,” Vanessa shook her head with a look of feigned pity on her face. “I shall spare you and get straight to the point since we have company that could rejoin us at any moment." Then she glanced meaningfully in the direction of the inner chamber that Trish and Libby were. "Nicholas has committed bigamy."
Jenny blinked. Surely she had not heard that right. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said, Nicholas has committed bigamy,” she repeated every word slowly. A dull ringing began in Jenny's ears and she gasped, feeling as though the air had been completely knocked out of her.
Vanessa continued. "You see, I knew him back in France and we courted. To cut the long story short, he got a parson to marry us one night after dinner at my house in Versailles. That had been one of the best nights of our lives. Your marriage to him is nothing but a stain that needs to be washed off."
Her thoughts traveled back to that unfortunate night she had gone to seduce Nicholas and he told her about his recently discovering something about himself that would not allow him to give her what she wanted. Was this what he had been referring to?
Jenny sucked in her lip and steadied her breathing. Vanessa had her claws out and would pounce at any weakness.
"Have your lies no limit, Vanessa?" This outburst was from Daphne as Jenny tried to form her thoughts into a cohesive sentence without luck. The look of certainty in the woman’s cold gaze frightened Jenny more than the words she’d just said. Vanessa had told countless lies but this… For the first time since she’d known her, she seemed to be telling the truth and not only with her mouth.
"Oh, I don't need to lie about this, Miss Bexley. Not when I have proof." Vanessa grinned at a furious Daphne before turning back to Jenny. "When you return to your house, my dear, ask him for the proof of our marriage. I am sure he has it with him." She put on her bonnet as Madame Patricia and Libby were coming out of the storage room, dragging boxes of fabrics with them. "If you'll excuse me, ladies, I have somewhere very important I have to be.” She laughed.
"I shall have the waist measurements increased as you requested, Miss Whittaker. Libby will have the finished frocks delivered once they are ready," Trish called to Vanessa who paused at the door.
When she turned, it was to regard Daphne. "You have your father's eyes. At least they are beautiful."
With that final statement, she departed, leaving Jenny and Daphne in an astounded state.
* * *
Nicholas drummed his fingers on his thighs and stole a glance in Jenny’s direction. She had not said a word since they left the house and her eyes had been glued to the window. They were riding to the Seagrave ball and the tension between them was suffocating.
He had kept himself occupied since their return from the park that night. On the occasions that they had met, Jenny had treated him coolly but cordially. In the last two days, however, she had grown too distant. If he didn’t know better, he would say he no longer existed in her world. He understood, though. It was her right to be angry with him. He cleared his throat to get her attention but she did not even spare him a glance. It was like he was not there at all.
Thankfully, they arrived and the silent torture was brought to an end. He climbed down and held his hand out to help her. She took it and she spoke: "Thank you, Nicholas." Her voice had never sounded this indifferent.
They made their way to the ballroom and after the customary exchange of greetings with their hostess, Nicholas's attention was immediately sought by the Earl of Hanover.
“Forgive me, darling,” Adolf said to Jenny, “but I must steal your husband for a moment.”
“Yes, Papa.” She slipped her arm from his and began to turn.
"I shall have him back to you before the first waltz. There is a matter that His Grace simply must see to at once."
She nodded. The former Jenny would have been curious but this one merely glanced about the room, seemingly uninterested in everything that was happening. Reluctantly, Nicholas allowed Adolf to draw him away. At the door, his gaze swept across the room one final time in the hopes that a certain garish dandy was not in the vicinity. He saw Daphne take Jenny’s arm and he was glad of it.
"What is this emergency that I must see to, Lord Hanover?" he asked as they strode down the hall.
"We were discussing the economic climate as usual, then got to playing this little game where we place wagers on people's opinions on certain topics," his father-in-law began excitedly. "The one where you're involved is about whether or not the new trade laws will increase or decrease the rate of smuggling. The Marquess of Shellton insists that you will be for the decrease. And I said the increase, of course." Adolf seemed confident that Nicholas would side with him.
"And how much did you put into this wager?" His mood brightened at the Earl's misplaced confidence.
"Nothing of significance," he replied. "And rest assured I am not in the habit of gambling. As you already know, my losses in the past have nothing to do with unfortunate wagers."
Nicholas knew that gambling was an illness and both he and Lord Hanover were fortunate enough to escape its clutches. They entered the gentlemen's game room to the cheer of the waiting audience.
"Ah, Your Grace," Lord Shellton beamed, “We have been aching for your arrival since placing that wager on which side you would pick."
"Never say you placed the wager before I even arrived.” Nicholas’s brows rose. He welcomed the distraction this little game provided.
With bellies full of booze, and lack of better occupation, the Lords would welcome any game, it would seem. "Well, you decided to be fashionably late. We had to occupy ourselves in that time," Lord Shellton said with a chuckle before languidly drawing on his cigar. "So, what is it to be, Your Grace?"
"Five guineas say he is for the increase," his father-in-law's confident voice filled the room.
"Mere five guineas, Lord Hanover?" Lord Hambert called out from where he was sitting with a plate of assorted hors d'oeuvres.
"What? You would like to throw in more, Lord Hambert?" Lord Carlton, who was collecting the sums, asked now.
"Certainly not. I do not engage in such frivolous endeavors. Rather wasteful too, I declare," The portly earl replied.
"At least Hanover has the bullocks to take a risk," Lord Shellton pronounced to cheers and laughter of the men in the room.
Not another word was heard again from Lord Hambert after this as all the attention was given to Nicholas now. The room fell silent in anticipation of his answer.
"Gentlemen," Nicholas said, somehow enjoying the power he appeared to be in possession of at the moment. He allowed that single word to settle before deliberately taking a long breath and continuing, "I should say that the new laws’ impact on the increase or decrease of smuggling is a half and half chance. The odds seem quite even here."
The room was contemplatively quiet before Lord Carlton broke it with, "Ay! What manner of response is that, Your Grace? Are you for or against the increase?"
"I say the chances here are equal,” Nicholas said, an impish smile tugging at the corner of his lips at their mixed expressions.
"So what is it on the wager?" Lord Shellton asked.
"I suppose it is moot now," Lord Hanover declared, scratching his greying nape sheepishly. “The duke has put us all to shame.”
"A bit of an anticlimax, if you ask me. I was certainly looking forward to some money being lost tonight," Lord Carlton grumbled.
"Well, at least your five guineas are safe, Hanover,” Lord Hambert chimed in again, having finished his hors d'oeuvres. “Not that it would make any difference in your financial situation." That last statement was more of a whisper but Nicholas heard it clearly and judging his father-in-law’s mien and the color rising to his face, he, too, had heard it.
The silence that settled in the room indicated that all the gentlemen might have heard him, too. Nicholas opened his mouth to put Hambert in his place but Lord Carlton spoke before him.
"The contents of that platter are sure to make a difference on you, Lord Hambert." Everyone’s eyes traveled to Hambert’s paunchy middle which was practically spilling out of his waistcoat. “Forgot to wear our corset today, did we?”
Lord Hambert turned red with anger and mortification, stuttering in concert with the gentlemen's laughter. Nicholas laughed, too, then he glanced at the door.
"Now, go on back to your wife, Your Grace, and quit looking longingly at the door," Lord Shellton said between puffs of his cigar, clapping him on the shoulder and laughing.
“The duchess had stolen His Grace’s heart, I tell you.” Carlton laughed.
Feeling a lot better, Nicholas exited the gentlemen's retreat and strode down the hall to the ballroom. If he could find Jenny and—
“There you are,” came her voice.
He froze and cursed under his breath, turning around. “What do you want Miss Whittaker?”
