A Spinster to Heal the Duke

Chapter 3

As Elizabeth prepared for bed, a soft knock came at the door. Margaret entered, carrying a small tray with a single cup of tea.

"I delayed your tea," Margaret explained, her smile small. "You seemed rather occupied earlier."

Elizabeth's heart softened as her sister added, "Aunt Petunia told me what happened."

"I'm sorry, Peggy," Elizabeth whispered. The apology weighed heavy on her, knowing how deeply this affected her sister, too.

"If you apologize one more time, I shall... I shall..." Margaret trailed off, searching for a threat.

To Elizabeth's surprise, a small chuckle escaped her lips, the first glimmer of levity in what felt like an eternity.

"I will ensure there is no cheese at breakfast tomorrow," Margaret finished with a triumphant grin.

"No, you will not!" Elizabeth exclaimed, feigning horror.

Cheese had always been Elizabeth's favorite, and she knew well how much Margaret disliked it.

"I shall simply tell cook we are done with cheese, and she will believe me," Margaret shrugged mischievously.

"You deserve to be exiled for even thinking such a thing!" Elizabeth retorted playfully.

"I do not understand your love for what is, in essence, rotten milk," Margaret teased.

"It is not rotten milk , Peggy. You simply lack the refinement to appreciate the culinary art that is cheese," Elizabeth quipped as she reached for the tea.

"Chamomile," Margaret noted with a nod. "It should help you sleep."

Elizabeth took a sip, warmth spreading through her. "Thank you," she said softly.

"I hope it all works out tomorrow," Margaret added, her voice filled with quiet hope.

"It must," Elizabeth replied, her thoughts heavy with the prospect of what tomorrow might bring. There could be no other outcome.

"I cannot wait for the wedding," her sister bounced in excitement now.

"You are running too fast, dear," Elizabeth said.

She couldn't find it in her to share in her sister's anticipation of her marriage. If anything, she was just as apprehensive as she was earlier.

This was not what she'd envisioned for her future.

She may have purposefully decided not to marry before her cousin, Anna, who was already considered a spinster at the age of three and twenty, but she still wanted to marry for the right reasons, and in the right way. Not as a result of a scandal.

Peggy's excitement soon waned when she noticed Elizabeth's pensive demeanor.

"All will be well, Lizzy. You have to trust that it will be," she reassured.

"I caused great trouble, didn't I, Peggy?" Elizabeth sighed.

"You need to stop blaming yourself," she admonished. "We're here for you, Lizzy. And we understand. This happened through no fault of yours," Margaret added.

And Elizabeth wanted to find that reassurance they so generously gave her, but she couldn't.

Nothing seemed to remedy the reality of things for her right now. And neither was there any hope of society's unfair judgement changing.

"I am here for you, Lizzy. Don't ever forget that," Peggy's voice broke into her thoughts. Her younger sister gave her knee a small reassuring squeeze as she added,

"Now, have your tea before it turns cold."

"Percy!" Alexander's voice boomed through the foyer of his brother's lodgings the moment he entered. His steps were quick, filled with an urgency that only deepened as he made his way toward the dining room.

"I'm oddly famished this morning. Let us have breakfast and then leave," he added, his tone brisk, expecting his brother to be lounging somewhere, as usual.

"Your Grace," the butler's voice interrupted, hesitant but clear.

Alexander turned, his brow furrowing in irritation. The butler stood holding a small missive, his expression apologetic.

"His lordship asked that this be given to you upon your arrival," the man said, extending the note.

Alexander's heart sank. "Where is my brother?" he demanded, a cold sense of dread settling in his stomach. Percy was supposed to be here, ready to face the consequences of his actions, not leaving notes behind.

"I believe his lordship has departed on his intended journey, Your Grace," the butler replied, his tone regretful.

"What?" Alexander tore open the letter with a sharp motion, eyes scanning the familiar handwriting, his face paling with each word.

I apologize once again for the troubles, brother. But do understand that I cannot marry. Not for anything. I hope in time that you forgive my foolishness, and that one day, all of this will be forgotten. And I implore that you make no effort to look for me.

Alexander crumpled the letter in his fist, his breath coming in sharp bursts of fury. The silence in the foyer was shattered by his resounding curse.

"You bloody well ruined a lady, Percy. How can that be forgotten?" he shouted into the empty room, his anger echoing off the walls.

"When did he leave?" He turned to the butler, though he knew it was likely too late for any answers to matter. Still, if there was the faintest chance of catching Percy and dragging him back—by force if necessary—he had to try.

"Just before dawn, Your Grace," the butler replied.

Another curse escaped Alexander's lips. Percy would be far from England by now, sailing into the horizon, leaving Alexander to clean up the wreckage he'd left behind.

With a clenched jaw, Alexander whirled around and strode toward the waiting carriage. "We ride to the Dowshire residence," he instructed the coachman, his voice cold with determination.

Upon arriving, Alexander was ushered into the drawing room. His eyes immediately swept over the company—a composed Earl, three ladies seated with varying degrees of apprehension on their faces. His mind raced. One of these women had to be Lady Elizabeth, the woman Percy had so carelessly compromised.

He bowed, though the storm inside him barely allowed for courtesy. "My lord," he greeted the Earl, forcing his voice into something resembling politeness.

As his gaze swept the room, he took in the women. One older, clearly not the lady in question, and the two younger ones—both lovely, though it was the intensity in the blue eyes of one that immediately captured his attention. Her curtsy was graceful, elegant, and when she rose, Alexander realized he was looking into the face of Lady Elizabeth Sutton.

She was lovely, far more so than he had anticipated. Her pale complexion complemented by striking blue eyes and brown locks pinned neatly, rather than in the fripperies other women seemed to favor. She held herself with dignity, despite the tension in the air.

"And my daughter, Lady Anna Sutton," the Earl continued, introducing the other young woman who gave a far less graceful curtsy, looking almost disinterested in the formalities.

Alexander barely registered her as he turned his attention back to Lady Elizabeth, whose gaze was now fixed on him, a flicker of hope in her eyes. Hope that he was about to crush.

"I expect the young lord will be joining us shortly?" Petunia Sutton, the matron, inquired, her gaze shifting toward the door.

Alexander's chest tightened. He needed to tread carefully, though the truth would inevitably cause them pain.

"My brother shan't be joining us," Alexander said, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the room.

The atmosphere shifted as the ladies exchanged glances, and he could see the confusion begin to spread across their faces.

"Percy refuses to marry," he said, the words sharp, cutting. "In fact, he is already aboard a ship, sailing far away from England as we speak."

A collective gasp of shock filled the room. Lady Elizabeth's face drained of color, the hope that had briefly flickered in her eyes extinguished in an instant.

"So you mean to say that your brother has jilted me," Lady Elizabeth said, stepping forward with surprising composure, though the ice in her gaze was unmistakable.

Alexander forced himself to meet her eyes, though her stare was cold enough to burn. "Put that way, I suppose..." he began, but her voice cut through his words.

"Your letter indicated otherwise, Your Grace," she reminded him, her tone sharp with accusation.

Before he could respond, Petunia spoke, sounding as though she was in disbelief. "Gone? How can this be?"

Alexander's frustration simmered just beneath the surface. "I'm afraid I let my brother slip through my grasp."

"Is your brother an eel, Your Grace?" Lady Elizabeth asked, her biting sarcasm catching him off guard. A snort came from Lady Anna's direction.

The Earl cleared his throat, his posture stiff as he spoke. "Is there no chance of your brother taking responsibility for what he has done to my niece, Sterlin?"

The Earl's calm, controlled fury was palpable, and Alexander could hardly blame him. He felt the same burning rage toward Percy, but there was nothing to be done. Percy had made his choice.

"I'm afraid not," Alexander replied.

"Then why did you send that missive last night?" Lady Elizabeth asked, her voice cutting through the tense air. "I beg your pardon, but to give us hope only to dash it like this is most unfair. We do not deserve such deceit atop everything else we are enduring."

Alexander met her gaze, his jaw tightening. "I did not deceive anyone, Lady Elizabeth. That was not my intention."

"It still does not explain why you sent the missive reassuring us, only to show up now with news of your brother's flight," she pressed.

Her words, though carrying genuine hurt, began to grate on him. She was not giving him a moment to explain, nor did she seem to want to hear the truth. He understood her anger, but the insinuation that he had deceived her was more than he could bear.

"I know my brother," Alexander began, his voice firm, "but I cannot claim to know his every intention or plan."

"Just as I am certain you cannot claim to know your cousin's mind," he added, his gaze briefly flickering to Lady Anna before returning to the fury in Elizabeth's eyes.

"My cousin has the purest of intentions," she retorted, her chin lifting in defiance.

"I have no doubts of that," Alexander agreed, though his patience was thinning. "But sadly, I cannot say the same for my brother. Percy made me believe last night that he had resolved to do the honorable thing. And this morning, when I went to fetch him from his lodgings, I was greeted by a missive—his regrets."

"Regrets?" Elizabeth echoed, disbelief dripping from her words. "So that is it? He compromises my future, my family's standing, and simply leaves, as though it means nothing?"

Her anger was palpable, the weight of it pressing down on him, making him feel as though it was his fault, as if he had personally wronged her.

"Clearly, your brother has no honor, Your Grace," she said, holding his gaze with such fierce intensity that Alexander felt as though she were accusing him of lacking integrity. The bitterness in her tone dug at him. He could feel the blame settling on his shoulders, and the truth of it stung. Perhaps, if he had kept a closer eye on Percy, if he had intervened sooner, this mess could have been avoided.

But Percy had been through so much—too much. He had deserved some freedom, some respite from the burdens of life. Alexander had allowed him that, and now, here was the consequence.

"My brother is a man of honor," Alexander said, though his voice lacked its usual strength. "He wouldn't have acted without reason."

"A good reason for ruining people's lives?" Elizabeth scoffed, her words heavy with disdain. "I cannot believe this."

Alexander felt his irritation rising once again. Wasn't she equally responsible for this situation? Surely whatever had transpired in that powder room had not been one-sided. And yet, she stood here, taking responsibility where Percy had fled. That thought alone cooled his rising temper. At least she was here, standing before him, facing the consequences of the scandal—where his brother had run away like a coward.

"Elizabeth, dear, calm down," the Earl of Dowshire interjected, his voice gentle but firm. "Let us sort through this without raising our voices."

Alexander nodded gratefully in the Earl's direction, the tension in the room easing slightly, though Elizabeth's fiery gaze remained fixed on him.

"Why are you here, Your Grace?" she demanded, her voice still sharp, despite her uncle's attempt to diffuse the situation. "Since your brother has run away, what use is your visit to us?"

Her words struck him, and he swallowed, steeling himself for what he was about to say. It was the only path left, and though it was far from what he had ever envisioned, it was necessary.

"I have come to take responsibility for my brother's actions," Alexander declared, his voice steady, though a gasp echoed through the room.

Lady Petunia and Lady Anna exchanged shocked glances, while Elizabeth stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"I beg your pardon?" Lady Elizabeth whispered, her voice barely audible, as though she could not comprehend what she had just heard.

"Did we hear you correctly, Sterlin?" Dowshire asked, his brow furrowing as he leaned forward, scrutinizing the Duke.

"I shall marry your niece in my brother's stead, Lord Dowshire," Alexander said, his authority clear.