Page 14 of A Wallflower's Convenient Duke
Chapter 7
Later that distressing morning, the pallid light filtering through the drawn curtains mirrored the heaviness in Blanche's heart. The echoing tick of the grandfather clock in the corner seemed to resonate with the rhythmic beats of her own troubled pulse. Each second felt like an ominous drum roll, foretelling the storm that had unleashed itself upon her life.
If only she could go back in time. If only she couldnotlisten to her mother, who insisted that she needed help with her so-called fainting spell. If she had not gone to the blue parlour, then this morning would be like every other.
But then she also would not have had the chance to talk to the Duke, which was something she could not regret, however much she wanted to.
She had felt herself light up in the opportunity to talk to someone with whom she shared so much in common, and honestly wanted to do so again.
But that was unlikely to happen.
"Miss Ipswich." The sound of the butler calling out to her shook Blanche from her thoughts.
She hurriedly wiped away a stray tear before answering. "Who is it?"
A part of her expected it to be the Duke.
She did not know why he would want to visit with her in the midst of this scandal, but at least if she saw his face, she would feel much less alone in this. After all, this affected him too. Maybe not to the same degree that it would affect her, since it was always worse for women, but maybe they could talk again and find a way to get through this.
She stiffened her spine, expecting his name…
"Lady Haywood."
It was not a crushing blow to hear that it was actually Penelope who had come to visit with her, but it was hard to disguise the disappointment that hit her. But she nodded and forced a composed smile that betrayed none of the turmoil within. As the door creaked open, Penelope's concerned eyes met hers, a silent understanding passing between them.
"Blanche," Penelope whispered, her voice a soothing balm, as she raced to sit with her friend. "I saw the headlines this morning. Are you alright?"
The vulnerability in Penelope's eyes broke down Blanche's fragile defenses, and she allowed her emotions to show just a little bit. "It has been a terrible day, as I am sure you can imagine."
Penelope nodded understandingly. "What happened? I thought you were going to the blue parlour to help out your mother? How did that become this?"
Tears burning in Blanche's eyes. "Mother never came. I waited for her for a while, but she did not arrive."
"And you did not leave once she did not come?"
Blanche shook her head. "The room was filled with the antiquities owned by Lord McGeary so I used the time to take a look at everything that he had in his collection. It was while I was looking that the Duke entered the room."
Penelope gasped understandingly. "So, what did you do?"
"Nothing," she admitted. "It did not even occur to me that I was unchaperoned. I was still thinking about Mother at the time. It was the Duke who spoke to me."
Tears welled up in Blanche's eyes as she recounted the nightmarish turn of events, the scandalous whispers that clung to her like a sinister fog. Each word hung in the air, heavy with the weight of her shattered dreams and the potential ruination of her future.
"He started talking to me first about my pendant, and then we ended up discussing our fathers and their mutual love of artefacts like the one Lord McGeary had on offer. There was nothing scandalous about it at all. Just two like-minded people talking."
"Oh my." At least Penelope was incensed on her behalf. That made Blanche feel a little better.
"I did have to hide when Lord McGeary came in the blue parlour to start his negotiations with the Duke…"
"Do you think it is the baron who talked to the scandal sheets?"
Blanche shrugged hopelessly. "I have no idea, but I did not think that he could see me. I am truly confused. I never imagined," Blanche admitted, her voice a mere whisper, "that a single evening of shared passions and interests could unravel into such a scandalous nightmare. The ton can be merciless, and these tales in the scandal sheets threaten to tarnish everything I have worked for… everything my mother has worked for, and that is the scariest part of all. Because you know how Mother can be."
Penelope reached across the small table, placing a comforting hand over Blanche's trembling one. The warmth of the gesture eased some of the cold fear gripping Blanche's heart. She looked into Penelope's eyes, finding solace in the empathy reflected there.
"And the Duke of Brooksdale," Blanche continued, her voice barely audible, "I allowed myself to hope, ever so briefly, that he might see beyond the facade. That he might come to genuinely know me, not as just another face in the crowded ballrooms but as a woman worth more than fleeting nods and polite pleasantries."
Penelope's eyes mirrored both sympathy and understanding. The complexities of the heart were a maze, andBlanche found herself lost within its twists and turns. The fragile hope she had nurtured now lay shattered, scattered like shards of a delicate porcelain figurine.
