The Duchess Takes it All

Chapter Twenty-Four

Several weeks later, Christian paced in front of his desk, the summons from his uncle crumpled in his hand. Frederick, newly returned from his honeymoon, watched him, his brow creased with concern.

“Does it not say why he wants to see you?” he asked.

“No,” Christian said, his gut churning. “I received an invitation to a ball two weeks from now that the Prince Regent is hosting in Onkel Heinrich’s honor and a summons to meet him in three days’ time. No other word. I hadn’t even known he was in the country yet, and he has apparently been here for a week. With Conrad in tow.”

“Your brother is here as well?” Frederick said with surprise.

As well he should. Conrad very rarely left his estates.

“Yes. He had some business dealings in London. Which must be important indeed to pull Conrad from his duties at home. I am more concerned with my uncle.”

“As am I,” Frederick muttered.

“The only reason I can fathom that he would not write to inform me of his imminent nor actual arrival is because he wishes to stave off what he knows will be an unpleasant confrontation.”

“Or you could be jumping to a premature conclusion. Your uncle is our sovereign prince. He is a busy, important man. He is—”

“He is en Schweinehund.”

“Rauchberg!” Frederick said, choking out Christian’s name through his laughter before quickly cutting it off.

He cleared his throat with a quick glance around to ensure they were still alone. “You cannot call a man like your uncle such an insult. He’ll have you thrown in some dungeon in the middle of the Black Forest, and we’ll never see you again.”

Christian glowered, and Frederick visibly tried to rein in his amusement. “Perhaps he—”

“Is avoiding me as long as he can,” Christian said with another glare.

Frederick pursed his lips. “Or perhaps he wishes to congratulate you. He did task you with finding a wife, after all, and you have. What need is there to drag you into his presence when you’ve already done what he asked?”

Christian didn’t bother to stop pacing, just threw Frederick the look that statement deserved. “Prince Heinrich Johan Olaf III of Gr ü nsteinberg descending from his gilded palace and traveling all the way across the Continent to, and I quote, ‘that godforsaken frozen rock’ in order to congratulate me for following an order it would never have occurred to him I would not follow?”

Frederick snorted. “Very well. Perhaps not. Though I still maintain you cannot know for certain until you speak to him.” He watched Christian in silence for a few more moments before saying what they were both thinking. “You already know why he’s here.”

Christian nodded, the fist holding the letter thumping rhythmically against his thigh. “Yes,” he muttered. And the molten ball of lead in his gut told him he was well aware what it must be.

His uncle would have received his letter by now, informing him of Christian’s desire to marry Tamsin. And the only reason Prince Heinrich would have hauled his carcass to England was to stop his nephew from making a marriage he could not or would not sanction.

Christian had feared this very thing. From the moment he’d set eyes on Tamsin and that first flash of longing had struck him dead in the heart, he had feared that he wouldn’t be able to keep her. The laws governing the marriages of the upper nobility in the Holy Roman Empire had always been strict. But with the recent dissolution of the Empire and the creation of the German Confederation, those rules had only grown stricter.

Those families that had managed to maintain their hold on power were determined to keep holding it, at any cost. And the families that had been newly made sovereign, such as his own, were ever more determined to keep the power they had clawed from the new status quo. Even as the news his uncle likely bore would rend his heart from his chest and leave him broken and bleeding, he could not fault his uncle for the decision that had surely been made. After all, what was the happiness of one nephew when compared to the power, prestige, wealth, and security of their entire country, small though it may be?

Christian had been a fool to dare hope.

“I will go with you.”

Tamsin’s voice from the doorway had Christian spinning on his heel to face her, his heart pounding.

“I have not been invited to the ball,” she said with a sad, wry smile. “Nor has any prince summoned me into his presence. But I will broach whatever gates I must to accompany you to see your uncle if you wish.”

He stared at her for a moment. His beautiful, strong, regal duchess. How had he ever doubted that she’d be strong enough to withstand whatever consequences came of their union?

She deserved better than this. Better than he. The thought that anyone, any institution, any law, would dare dictate that this incredible woman wasn’t good enough simply by accident of her birth made a fury thunder through him so fiercely his body trembled with it. He was afraid to speak, afraid to even move, for fear that if he did, he would rip the world to shreds to keep from losing his heart just when he’d found it.

Tamsin came toward him, her eyes never leaving his, until she stood right before him. She reached up to cup his face, her thumb brushing across his cheek. “Whatever his answer is, we will face it together.”

He leaned into her hand, turning enough to press a kiss to her palm. “And if the answer isn’t one we want to hear?”

She cupped the other cheek and smiled sadly. Then she drew his face down to hers, kissing him gently before resting her forehead against his. “Then at least we will not have to hear it alone.”

He wrapped her in his arms and held her close. He barely noticed when Frederick left, only registering the click of the door behind him.

They held each other for as long as they could, and then Christian stepped back, giving her what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

“I would be honored to have you with me,” he said.

“Then I shall come. Thankfully, we have a few days to prepare to face the dragon.”

He chuckled as she walked to the door.

“And do not worry, my lord,” she said before stepping out. “I’ll keep horses waiting just in case.”

He smiled, watching her until she disappeared from sight. Her words did actually bring him some measure of peace. Because while he knew she said it in jest, he had no doubt if he asked her, she would do so in truth.

And that cemented his resolve.

He sat at his desk and pulled out a quill and paper. A niggling idea of a possible solution had been dancing around his brain for several days. Longer, perhaps. But it was one he kept ignoring because following through on it would go against everything he’d spent his life striving for. And it wasn’t his choice alone.

But he could ignore it no longer. He was out of time. Even though putting the pen to paper made something in him shrivel and die. He had no other choice left to him. If there was any chance, any possibility…he had to at least try. So when the day came when he must walk away from his duchess, he would know he’d left no stone unturned.

It would not heal his broken heart. But it would perhaps buy him some measure of peace.

…

Tamsin waited in the hallway that led to the suite of rooms in St. James’s Palace that Prince Heinrich was using as his audience chambers while Christian waded through the crowd of people waiting to be received. Everyone, it seemed, wanted a few moments of time with the visiting prince. Everyone but Tamsin and Christian. Yet here they were.

She frowned a bit when Christian pulled a footman aside and handed him a letter, bending closer to him to say a few words and then waiting until the boy hurried off with the letter in hand before he made his way again through the people outside the audience chamber.

“Your Grace,” a nasally voice said, drawing Tamsin’s attention away from the antechamber where Christian had disappeared.

The Duchess of Hartshire sauntered up to her, flanked by several of her fast friends. “I hadn’t expected to see you here.”

The women with her all gave Tamsin a respectful enough greeting, a couple of them with genuine smiles that gave Tamsin hope she might actually call them friends herself one day. Or at least friendly acquaintances.

“Are you also here to try and gain an audience with the prince?” the duchess said, giving her an appraising look. Tamsin couldn’t be sure, but it almost looked as if the woman approved of her presence there.

“No, I am just…here with a friend,” she said, unable, and unwilling, to tell the women why she was really there. And it wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Your…friend?” Lady Resin said. “Would that be the handsome Count of Rauchberg who has been so often in your company?” Her eyes flashed with malicious curiosity, and Tamsin had to bite her tongue to keep from telling the woman what she’d really like to.

“Yes,” she said, straightening her shoulders, refusing to let any of these women shame her.

“Hmm, well,” the duchess said with an impatient wave, surprisingly seeming to dismiss the juicy bit of information that Tamsin was gallivanting about with a handsome eligible bachelor. “Meeting you here is fortuitous indeed.”

Tamsin’s eyes widened. “Oh? How so?”

The duchess stepped a bit closer and leaned in. “I called on the Duchess of Beaubrooke recently, and she told me all about the foundations you’d like to start.”

Tamsin’s mouth opened in a little O , stunned not only that dear Lavinia had been doing what she could to help but also that the Duchess of Hartshire actually seemed interested.

“Yes, I have quite a few plans. Are you interested in helping?”

“Yes. Well, to be honest, I’ve been thinking of putting more energy into helping those less fortunate and just hadn’t gotten around to it. Then between my meeting with Her Grace and coming across a few of those funny caricatures that circulate—you know the ones, those rather cheeky ones by that Anonymous fellow—anyway, it seemed like divine intervention telling me to finally do something about it. So here we are.”

“Oh!” Tamsin said, pride and pleasure flooding her at the confirmation that her art was making a difference. “Well, that’s wonderful. As I said, I have many plans. I am just lacking in—”

“Funds, donors, all the usual, yes, yes,” the duchess said, waving it all off like it was of no consequence. “You needn’t worry about all that. My husband could even be persuaded, I’m sure, to use his influence to facilitate the purchase of the property you’ve been looking at.”

Tamsin was momentarily struck speechless. Lavinia had been busy indeed. “That…that would be wonderful, Your Grace.”

The duchess nodded. “Of course, your involvement must needs be limited for a bit longer, until you are out of mourning.” Her eyes roved over Tamsin’s lavender gown with a faint hint of disapproval, though the shade was perfectly acceptable for a woman a couple weeks from ending her mourning period. “But in a few months’ time, perhaps—”

“Oh,” Tamsin said. “I’m sure it’s not necessary to wait that long. It has been almost a full year, after all. And—”

“When my first husband died, it was eighteen months before I fully rejoined society,” Lady Restin said. Her sickly-sweet voice made Tamsin want to block her ears, but instead she pasted on what she hoped was a politely blank expression and nodded.

“Is that so?” she mumbled.

“Oh yes. In fact, I was quite taken by surprise to see you out and about. Especially as you are so often in the company of your…friend. I know a year is the bare minimum, but after all, forgive me for saying so, you are mourning the man who elevated you out of obscurity.”

“Yes, I suppose that is true,” Tamsin said, her body going numb.

“When my Henry died, it was three years before I even entertained the idea of remarrying,” Lady Mary, the Earl of Chauncey’s wife, said.

“Oh?” Tamsin couldn’t muster more of a response than that. She greatly feared she already knew what these women were hinting about.

“Of course, such decisions are so personal, but we are just trying to make you aware of how it looks, my dear,” the duchess said. “With the rumors already circulating about you and your mysterious count…”

“Lord Rauchberg is my son’s co-guardian and the trustee of his estates. I could hardly turn him out into the streets, even if I wished to,” Tamsin said. “And he has been of tremendous help to me.” She didn’t know why she felt the need to defend him—especially when, until fairly recently, she had wanted to shorten his stay herself.

The fact that the rumors the women were hinting at were true sent an insidious finger of shame through Tamsin that angered her…but embarrassed her enough to keep her from fighting back too vehemently.

“We aren’t saying we think the rumors are true, mind you,” the duchess said. “Of course the man has every right to oversee his ward and trusts. And naturally, we are equally certain there is nothing to the rumors that anything…untoward is going on between the two of you…”

Tamsin raised her gaze to meet the duchess’s and lifted her chin, trying to remind herself of her resolve. She wouldn’t let these women intimidate her or let them taint something as wonderful as what she and Christian had. Tamsin couldn’t even label it herself. But she refused to let them paint it as something shameful.

“I’m sure you can understand, though,” the duchess continued, “why we’d feel more comfortable if you could do something to put these rumors to rest. After all, if we are to be associated with you, especially if we agree to be involved in something as intricate as these foundations, we must all be above reproach.”

“Naturally,” Tamsin said coolly. “Though there is little that can be done to stop gossipmongers who are determined to spread untruths.”

“To be sure,” Lady Resin said. “But…it could help if you perhaps extended your mourning period. Stepped back for just a bit longer.”

“Extend my mourning?” Tamsin asked, both horrified at the suggestion and excited they seemed willing and eager to help with her foundations.

“Just for a little while,” Lady Mary said. “After all, my dear, a full year has not even passed, yet you are here, mingling with the court.”

“But that’s not why I’m here.”

“I’m sure it’s not, my dear,” the duchess said. “But you can understand how it appears.”

Tamsin hesitated for a second and then slowly nodded. Because as much as she hated to admit it, she knew exactly how it appeared. And for once, appearances weren’t deceiving. “I suppose so.”

“Excellent! Then surely you agree that keeping a low profile, just for a few more months, is for the best.”

Tamsin’s stomach sank. The last thing she wanted to do was extend her mourning. She’d been isolated for almost an entire year. And had been secluded even before that due to her pregnancy and her husband’s antiquated ideas.

Still…this was the first time these women had deigned to speak to her. And they were interested in helping make her dreams of the foundling hospital come true. All the children she could help with such a foundation were surely worth a few more months of exile.

She found herself nodding before she had fully made her decision.

“Wonderful!” the duchess said. “I will call on you in a few weeks…perhaps we better make it a month…and we can speak further about these plans of yours.”

“That would be lovely,” Tamsin heard herself say through the ringing in her ears.

She nodded at the women as they took their leave, staring at their retreating forms until she felt the warmth of someone standing at her back.

She spun around. “Christian,” she whispered.