“So that is why you wanted to secure Lady Charity’s hand as quickly as possible.”
Eammon sucked in a sharp breath, his chest tightening. “It is. If anyone uncovers the truth, I lose everything—the title, the lands, the life I’ve built. And worse—our family falls with me.” His hands gripped his hair, fingers digging into his scalp as dread coiled in his stomach.
He dropped his head in his hands. “I was never comfortable with this deception. I wished my parents had lied to me outright, told me the lie as truth as well but…”
“You were old enough to know better,” Thomas said and Eammon shrugged.
“I know it. And I know better now. I never should have accepted the title of Duke of Leith. I should have told my father that I could not take it on. It was always a question of time until somebody found out and used the information. Even if I can prevent it this time, it will happen. I am a fraud.”
Thomas got up and stepped beside him, placing one hand on his shoulder.
“You are not a fraud. You may have been born illegitimately, but you are a duke through and through. You are honorable, kind, you tend to your tenant farmers and your lands, and you are loyal to the Queen,” Thomas said. And though Eammon knew all of this was true, he also had that doubt in his stomach which never quite ceased. And now there was more…
“I cannot help but realize that to protect myself, I must ruin Lady Charity’s life by making her my wife,” he said. Thomas removed his hand.
“It is hardly a burden to be a duchess, old chum. Besides, did you not say she was to wed Markham? That would have been a sad fate in any case but now we know the Book of Confidences exists, we know that likely he wished to wed her because of it. Do you suppose he knows of its existence?”
“Perhaps. There has been rumor of it for years, as we know well,” he replied. It was true. For many years there had been speculation over the book, if it was real or not. “If Markham found out that it was in fact real, he would have stopped at nothing to get his hands on it. I am doing the same after all. Although…” he paused and rubbed his chin as a thought came to him. He had not considered it sooner but now that he was confronted with the new reality, memories of the past came flooding back.
“Lord Pembroke said something to me at my father’s funeral. Something I dismissed as the ramblings of an old man. He said that the promise my father gave him had to be upheld by me, that he expected he could count on me,” he said.
Thomas drew his eyebrows together.“What promise?”
“I could not think of it until now but I recall now when I was a boy, the night my parents told me that I would be duke, that I had to pretend my birth parents were never my parents, I overheard Lord Pembroke and my father speaking. I did not put it together then but it must have been the night Pembroke was able to arrange for the forgeries.” He leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to remember what he’d overheard twenty-one years ago.
“He wanted my father to protect Lady Charity and any sisters she might have, should he die before they wed. My father promised him that,” he said.
Thomas’ eyebrows shot up. “So when Pembroke told you he’d hold you to the promise, he meant that he wanted you to protect Lady Charity. Do you think that is why he wrote in his will she was to wed? Because he thought you would know that he wanted you to wed her?”
Eammon shook his head. “I cannot imagine it. After all, I scarcely remembered my father’s promise. In fact, Father never spoke to me of it.”
Thomas wetted his lips. “Likely he did not think he would pass so soon.”
Eammon took this in and sat quietly. His father had not been old when he’d passed. Not yet sixty. His death had been a shock to them all, as he was the first of his generation to pass. His aunts and uncles, some of them older than he, were in excellent health. In fact, his father had been in excellent health as well. He’d gone hunting the day before he passed with no indication that anything was amiss.
It would make sense that he’d assumed he had many years left to live, and with Pembroke still alive and Lady Charity of marriageable age, he’d likely put the matter out of his mind.
But now, it had caught up to his son. And Lord Pembroke’s daughter.
Protect Charity …
It was a task set for his father and one passed along to him now. If Lord Pembroke had intended for him to be the one to marry her or if he had been forced to add the stipulation of marriage to his will somehow, it did not matter now.
What mattered was that he would have to marry Lady Charity to protect not just himself, but her, from men like Lord Markham, who would surely seek to unravel every secret he could. And bring down Eammon’s world along with it.
CHAPTER8
Charity
The following morning, Charity and Millie stood on the pavement as the Duke of Leith’s carriage rambled down the road toward them. They were both dressed in the very best that Millie’s wardrobe could provide. Charity glanced down at herself, taking in the gown she wore. It was a delicate promenade dress in soft lavender, featuring a fitted bodice with lace and a full bell-shaped skirt, supported by layers of crinoline. The long sleeves were adorned with pearl buttons, and a matching bonnet with silk ribbons framed her face.
Millie had also carefully applied her makeup in a style befitting a lady. Given that Millie—like Charity—usually had her makeup applied for her and lacked experience in doing it herself, Charity thought it looked rather well. Her face bore a light dusting of rice powder, giving her complexion a pale appearance. Her lips shimmered with red, thanks to a beeswax pomade Millie’s maid had made for her the day before in honor of the ball. Charity wasn’t certain what it was made of, but the scent of roses hinted at least one ingredient.
Unlike the day before, her hair was free of the false locks Stevens had arranged. Instead, Millie had managed to style it into a modest chignon at the nape of her neck, secured with a pearl-tipped pin. It was a far cry from the elaborate wedding coiffure she had once envisioned.
In fact, none of this was how she had imagined her wedding day.
She had dreamed of an elaborate gown, of a morning spent preparing alongside her mother and sister, of maids fluttering around her while the whole house vibrated with activity. The cooks would be busy preparing a meal, and the footmen would be setting up tables and chairs in the garden.
