Page 72 of The Dark Duke's Virgin

“And the heat…” George shook his head to himself. “Have you been outside at all today? It is absolutely monotonous how hot?—”

“George,” Frederick growled at him, a scowl fixed on his face. “What did you learn?”

George looked at Frederick hesitantly. Another sip of his brandy. A twitching of the side of his mouth. A shadow passing behind his eyes that spoke to just how bad the news he had was.

“Nothing good,” he said with a sigh. “Nothing good…”

And Frederick, bracing himself for the worst, took another sip of his drink. A long and deep one, for he knew now that he was going to need it.

It was three nights ago now that Lady Tattershell had claimed to know Miss Dowding. Only, the busybody gossip had claimed that Miss Dowding was in fact named Miss Dunn, and her father was Lord Edgerton, not Lord Scriven! An obvious mistake, for it had to be, and Frederick was happy to pretend as such for there was no point giving in to such lies.

Try as he might to shake these mistruths from his conscience, Frederick had spent the following day looking at Miss Dowding a little closer. He began to take note of the way she acted whenever he breached the possibility of her moving in with him, a ploy which he had assumed meant that she did not have the same feelings for him as he did her. Now seen in a different light, what if the reason she was so eager to leave with Esther when the time came was because she didn’t want her past coming up? A past that wasn’t the one she had given…

He could not believe it to be true. There was no way! But it ate at Frederick such that he felt he had no choice but to confirm it for the lie it was so he might be able to move on once and for all.

With no other option before him, Frederick had reached out to George to do some digging on his behalf. For two days now, George had ridden throughout London and across the country in search of the truth. And now that he was back, it was time to learn whether Lady Tattershell was mistaken or if there was more to Miss Dowding than anybody knew.

“I started with Lady Tattershell,” George began seriously. “As requested, I kept my reasons for wanting to learn about this Miss Dunn to myself—even if the old bat may have suspected. But Lady Tattershell did not mind telling me what she knew either way. She was eager for it!”

“And Miss Dunn…” A lump grew in Frederick’s throat. “What do we know of her?”

“She is indeed Lord Edgerton’s daughter—the woman is real, if that is what you mean. From what I was able to learn from Lady Tattershell, this Miss Dunn has been missing for two years now.”

“Two - two years?” He could feel the walls closing in.

“Apparently, she ran away from home. Nobody knows the reason, not even Lady Tattershell. Even if she did have her theories.”

“Which were?”

George shrugged. “Apparently, Lord Edgerton is in tremendous debt although strangely Lady Tattershell could not recall any sort of marriage arrangement prior to Miss Dunn fleeing. Even more bizarre…” He hesitated, biting into his lip as if he was not sure whether or not to speak.

“George…” Frederick braced himself. “What is it?”

“Lord Edgerton, or so Lady Tattershell claims, has made little effort to try and find his daughter. In fact, most assume that he sent her away himself. Now, clearly, if she ran away, he might have started the lie to cover himself and not bring embarrassment, but the way Lady Tattershell spoke, it was as if he promulgated it. Although why he would do such a thing…” He clicked his tongue in thought.

“What else?” Frederick asked stiffly.

George’s expression softened, a look of concern, even worry. “You asked me to be careful in my research, so I opted not to visit Lord Edgerton himself. Rather, I visited his sister-in-law’s daughter, for I know her a little and thought it might be a little easier to explain my sudden interest in her cousin.”

“And?”

“I told her that Miss Dunn was thought to have been seen on my estates in the north—that I was there to find a painting of the girl, so I could confirm if it was her or not. Her cousin, a Miss Galpin, was happy to provide me a portrait of this Miss Dunn from when she was roughly sixteen. Not a perfect facsimile as it was a landscape with her in the foreground, but…” He leaned forward, expression soft, even pained. “Frederick, it was her. There could be no doubt.”

“Wh - who?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“Miss Dowding is Miss Dunn. I do not know why. I do not know how. But it is her. It must be.”

The world turned.

Frederick fell back in his chair as his nightmares shifted into reality. As the lies compounded on top of him. As the deceit opened and made itself known. He thought to finish his brandy but felt sick, like he might vomit. He thought to deny the claims but could not see the point as he had suspected this for days. He thought to shout. To let his emotions roar! So many things he wished to do, none of which materialized.

Rather, he simply sat there, struck to silence as the weight of everything came crashing down on top of him.

“I have been doing some thinking,” George continued as Frederick sat in silence. “WhyMiss Dowding—Miss Dunn, whatever! Why she might have done this.” He looked at Frederick for confirmation to continue, but Fredrick was barely able to register it. “Money. It has to be money.”

Frederick forced himself back into the room. “Money? What do you mean?”

“Think about it. Her father is broke—everyone seems to know it. Likely, he was struggling to arrange a suitable marriage for her, a dowry that would cover the extreme debt he is in. What if this entire thing, the charade, was all part of his plan?”

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