Page 51 of The Icy Duke Claims a Bride

“Stay on Lord Edwin’s good side until you have him absolutely trapped. Whatever you do, don’t make an enemy of the man until you have weapons to fight him…”

Sir Martin had certainly provided Hugh with further food for thought, as well as a depressing certainty that his uncle was likely guilty of everything suspected of him.

This belief also made him feel a sense of failure. While Society might think him intimidating, anti-social, or rude, Hugh had always prided himself on adhering to his principles. Now, it seemed that he had failed to see criminality under his very nose.

He was appalled that he could have let Edwin manage the Redbridge estate affairs for so long. While his uncle’s known misdeeds were all related to his own business affairs, he might easily have carried out further illicit acts on Hugh’s behalf.

Hugh cursed aloud at this thought. He had often stepped aside to avoid frightening those who dealt with the Redbridge estate business. But would it not have been better for those people todeal with an honest man, even if intimidated by him? Instead, his estate had been run by a rogue with superficial charm.

The world would have done better to be afraid of nondescript Lord Edwin Vaughan rather than the scarred and saturnine Duke of Redbridge…

“Have you had bad news?” a woman’s voice asked, startling Hugh out of his reverie as he walked back through the garden after his interview with Sir Martin.

Looking up, Hugh saw a familiar tall, elegant woman in a blue dress and jacket of military motif, her face veiled so that her only visible features were a few stray auburn ringlets at her swanlike neck.

“Sarah,” he returned with a wary smile, unbothered by seeing his former lover again, but highly conscious of his married state and Catherine’s jealousy. “I didn’t see you here earlier.”

“I was a late arrival, but your presence is far more surprising than mine, Hugh.”

He shrugged, hoping to keep their encounter brief and find Catherine. “Things change, especially now that I am married.”

“Indeed, things have changed,” Lady Brightling agreed with a smile in her voice. “I’m very happy for you both, I really am. You even danced with your Duchess without your mask at Lady Tarleton’s ball. I never thought I’d see that.”

“You never asked me to take my mask off,” he reminded her, “and I would not have done so.”

“No,” she agreed. “I knew I could not show my own face to the world, and I would have been a hypocrite if I asked you to do the opposite… But it doesn’t matter now. Let’s stay in the present. Are this afternoon’s rumors true?”

“Which rumors?” Hugh laughed disinterestedly. “There seem to be so many rumors swirling around. Or perhaps there have always been as many and I never listened to them before now.”

“The rumors that Redbridge might soon expect an heir,” Lady Brightling stated.

Hugh blinked. “What? Who has been saying that?” he asked tersely.

“Is it not true? You and your Duchess were heard discussing the matter this afternoon, apparently, although it might have been exaggerated or misconstrued.”

“I don’t know if it’s true yet,” he admitted, ever more conscious that he wanted to be discussing this with Catherine rather than Lady Brightling. “But how has such a private matter come to be the subject of gossip? I saw no one nearby when Catherine and I were talking.”

“Servants,” Lady Brightling answered matter-of-fact. “You never see the best servants, Hugh. They make it their business tobe invisible, after all. But you were certainly overheard by a garrulous maid on her way back from some errand. I heard her break the news to some of her colleagues and then stepped in both to ascertain the facts and request that they all hold their tongues.”

“Thank you.” He sighed wearily. “I would prefer that my wife and I had our own time to work out such personal matters before the world at large seizes them from us.”

“Well, I don’t expect the story will be contained for very long. You and Her Grace would be advised to prepare yourselves swiftly for when the world comes calling.”

“I appreciate the warning, Sarah,” Hugh said. “But now, I must find Catherine.”

“There she is.” Lady Brightling nodded towards the figure in pale green on the top lawn.

Catherine was looking directly at him with an expression he recognized as cold fury, and he hoped that Lady Brightling’s veil was thick enough to shield her from it.

With a bow to his former lover, he made his way back to his wife and braced himself for the storm he could already see on the horizon.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“What were you doing with that woman?” Catherine demanded, keeping her voice low to avoid drawing the other guests’ attention. “I saw you. I’ve been watching you for a full five minutes.”

Inwardly, she cursed all men, but especially her father and Hugh. It vexed Catherine that the blue of her husband’s eyes made her ache with longing all over again and that the shape of his lips evoked memories of everything he could do with that talented mouth.

“Yes, I was speaking to Sarah—Lady Brightling,” he said in an eminently even voice that grated on Catherine’s nerves, partly because it made her sound so unreasonable by comparison. “I told you that she’s an old friend of mine.”

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