Page 94 of His Tempting Duchess

We?

“I wish I could believe you,” she muttered. “I… I only wish I could have been more prepared for this.”

There was more silence. Cassian reached out, as if to rest a hand on her shoulder, then pulled away at the last moment.

Emily’s heart ached.

I never will have his heart. What a pity, because he has mine.

“Corderoy Jenkins wrote to me this morning,” she heard herself say, “warning me about it. Of course, it was too late, but it was kind of her to try.”

“I cannot understand how word got out.”

Emily bit her lip. “I believe I know. Isabel, the maid, she… she is gone from the house, I hear. The housekeeper was in quite a panic about it. I believe Isabel overheard something about my identity as Anon, and therefore took the information to a publisher and claimed the reward.”

Cassian sucked in a breath. “The little wretch. She’ll be sorry for this.”

“No, Cassian, leave her. She has lost her position here, of course, but I cannot blame her. Didn’t you say that she supported her aged parents and sent all of her money back to them? I imagine the reward was too big to resist.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Truly, I cannot blame her. I donotblame her. Besides, the damage is done, and striking out at her will do nobody any good. If it had not been her who exposed me, it would have been somebody else. This was inevitable, I think.”

“If you say so,” Cassian muttered.

There was a moment of silence while he crossed his arms, eyeing the papers. Suddenly, his face brightened.

Imbued with a burst of energy, he dropped his arms and strode across the room to the fireplace. Of course, at this hour of the morning, with the sun streaming into the breakfast room, there was no need for a fire, although the logs were all laid out in preparation for later in the day.

Bewildered, Emily watched him squat down by the hearth and set about lighting it.

“What on earth are you doing, Cassian?”

“What does it look like?”

She sighed. “We can summon a servant to light the fire.”

He chuckled. “You’ve already begun to grow into the role of duchess, I see. I can light a fire myself, my dear.”

She bit her lip, reddening. “If you say so. You haven’t yet told me what you’re doing.”

“We must take action, and swiftly,” he responded curtly, not looking back at her. “We must show that youareAnon—I noticed the doubt some papers cast on your identity—and that I, as your husband and the Duke of Clapton, support you. We must throw a party, my dear. We will send out invitations to everybody, including the Prince Regent, and we will showcase your very first painting of his commission.”

Emily sucked in a breath. “Won’t the Prince be angry if I show off his paintings to other people? Aren’t they only for his eyes?”

The fire caught, flames licking up the kindling, growing in strength. Cassian rose to his feet, striding back to the breakfast table. Without further ado, he snatched up handfuls of paper and crumpled them in his hands. Scandal sheets and newspapers alike were screwed up into tight, little balls, reduced to… well, kindling.

He turned back to the fire and tossed some of the paper balls into it. At once, the flames eagerly ate up the paper, turning the cruel words and accusations into ash. Emily watched, transfixed, as a particularly unkind scandal sheet—The Mincing Miss,it was called—was reduced to a faint greyish powder.

“There,” Cassian uttered. “That nonsense is where it belongs. Now, let’s talk about the party.”

“Party?” Emily echoed, a little baffled.

“Yes, the party we will throw to showcase your art. Weren’t you listening, dear? All will be well.”

Emily bit her lip, staring at the now-roaring fire. It was too hot for the small room, filling the space with a sticky heat that made her skin prickle. It didn’t matter in the slightest that the papers were burned up. The words were not gone. A variety of choice sentences bounced around in her head.

“Miss Belmont’s shockingly ambitious grab for influence and attention is a most unladylike business.”

“One must wonder how deeply the duke regrets his rather charitable choice to marry a woman who will undoubtedly bring the deepest shame upon the family name.”

“The subjects of Anon’s paintings, the style and details most unsuitable for a true lady, are greatly controversial, and likely to drop quickly out of the hearts of the public due to this shocking turn of events.”

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