Page 32 of The Virgin Duchess

The Baron would see them as a target. Were he here, he would take advantage of their situation.

“Lady Denmead,” Frederick stepped forward, keeping his voice low, “I am truly sorry that you have been thrust into thissituation, and I wonder if I might provide a bit of…information that could very well assist you as you look to remarry or find a suitable spouse for your daughter.”

For the first time all evening, Frederick didn’t have to act a part or exaggerate his desire to share information. Looking at the reserved Lady Catherine, it was all too easy to see Rose’s face where hers lay.

“Of course, Your Grace. I…I am surprised at the suddenness of your assistance. But it would be foolish of me to turn down anything that might aid my family.”

He smiled again, his chest squeezing. “The Baron of Halfacre has recently gone missing. Prior to his…departure, I have it on good authority that he was engaging in a rather vigorous pursuit of a wife. I would caution against taking him up on that offer.”

Lady Denmead cocked her head, her brow furrowing as she stepped between Frederick and her daughter.

“Oh? And why is that?”

Frederick swallowed, steeling his nerves. “I have heard directly from a young lady with whom I am a trusted friend that the Baron attempted to woo her away for a clandestine union in Scotland. And all of it down purely to gain the young woman’s money. Paperwork had been drafted up that would have given it all to him the moment they were wed.”

Eyes widening to the size of saucers, Lady Denmead pulled her daughter close. He could see it there on her face, the concern that the very same thing could have happened to her daughter were they in their current situation any sooner.

“He’s also been known to take up with the women soliciting their wares who enter his hell. And while it may be less of a concern directly, he rigs fights in his hell as well, ensuring that his business reaps all the rewards and takes everything it can from anyone who has the misfortune of entering those seedy halls.”

“You speak the truth? You can promise me that?” Lady Denmead looked utterly horrified, and Frederick felt icy slither down his spine. “Please, Your Grace, I am not one for trifle talk. But securing the future of my daughter is of the utmost importance.”

He sighed, reaching out for the woman’s gloved hand. “I speak the truth. I wish that I weren’t. I wish that it was a rumor or exaggeration. But I personally know that he is the man I’ve claimed him to be.”

Understanding spread over her face, and the Marchioness and her daughter looked at each other before turning back to him.

“Thank you, Your Grace. You have done us both a service, and we will be sure to relay this information to any other women in our situation.”

Nodding once more, Frederick smiled sadly and released Lady Denmead’s hand.

“That is all I wish to see done. For this man to at last face the consequences of his actions.”

Lady Denmead’s eyes held Frederick’s, and there was a stony coldness to them. She stepped forward again, closing the distance between them even more, and he could tell that the Marchioness meant to whisper to him. He offered his ear, watching Lady Catherine as she pulled into herself like she was nervous that she might be stepped on.

“That is what any good man would wish, and any mother at that rate. I will not see him harm more girls if I can help it, Your Grace. And truly, you are more kind than you know to detail the slights. Too many sit in silence while young girls are married off to men who are little more than scoundrels.”

Lady Denmead stepped back, eyeing him severely one final time. “Thank you.”

As she walked away with her daughter, both of them heading for the door to make their exit, Frederick watched them curiously. He didn’t want to assume anything, but from what Lady Denmead had just said to him, it seemed very likely that the late Marquess was as much of a bastard as the Baron.

Frederick let out a heavy sigh, remembering his drink and sipping at it idly before the sound of footsteps brought his attention around away from the hilarious portrait he’d been studying. Turning, he found Charlotte approaching him with some speed, her expression stern.

“Could you not leave anyone alone for the evening?” She folded her arms over her chest at him, drawing Frederick’s attention to the low curve of her gown’s neckline. “Her husband has just passed, and you are interrupting her to seek out your Baron.”

Shock hit Frederick squarely in the chest, and he took a half step backward. Charlotte had been staring daggers at him for the whole of the evening. However, it was still something else to be actively told by her that he was bothering people in his search for the Baron.

“Charlotte, I?—”

“Don’t. I would hate to have to tell me something that I should not be privy to.”

Without another word, Charlotte turned on her heel and stormed away. Frederick was left confused and feeling something akin to hurt festering in his chest. His wife was furious with him. There was no mistaking it, and still, that wasn’t the greatest of his concerns.

No, it was his own reaction that was the real issue. He was desperate to explain himself to her, to get Charlotte to understand the situation so that she might see him favorably once more. Her opinion of him mattered overmuch to him, and Frederick was overwhelmingly disappointed in himself that it did.

A bride of convenience…and a heart that doesn’t believe that in the slightest.

Chapter Sixteen

“What on earth does the man think he’s doing?!” Charlotte paced back and forth across her room, hollering to no one but herself. “It is preposterous.”

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