Page 116 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke
If she had thought the Viscount was there to ransack Dominic’s main study, she was wrong. It looked like the man knew what he was doing and where he was going.
Marianne could see that Linpool had not ventured into this area recently, even though it looked like he had been there before. The study was full of dust and cobwebs like the rest of the forbidden wing. The man shoved her into a chair, then pulled out a pistol and aimed it at her.
“Write,” he commanded.
He pushed a piece of parchment toward her and placed an inked quill in her hand.
Horror filled her. Somehow, she knew where this was going, and she did not like it one bit. Nobody knew they were here. The servants rarely pass by this wing, and it would be safe to assume that nobody would hear her scream from here.
“What do you want me to write?” she asked, mustering a defiant tone.
“You will write your final goodbye,” he began. “Where you will confess to things you’ve done wrong.”
A suicide note. Marianne’s heart sank. Linpool had truly intended to kill her or have her kill herself.
“What have I done wrong?” she asked, trying to remain spirited even as everything seemed to crumble around her.
“A confession. Tell the Duke of Oakmere that you have taken a lover and have been seeing him behind his back. Tell him that you can no longer live with the guilt.”
Marianne’s eyes flashed with indignation. She had never even kissed anyone aside from Dominic—not before, not after. It didn’t matter that their marriage was arranged. She had herscruples. She could not even think of any other man the way she thought of him.
Her hand was poised over the parchment, and she hesitated.
“I-I can tell him that I did something terrible, but do I need to write the specifics?” she asked, negotiating. “I can tell him that I regret all the trouble I’ve caused him.”
“No, Duchess. You will write as I say,” Linpool insisted calmly and dangerously.
Her hand trembled, but she began to write. She did so slowly and painstakingly, as if she was merely learning how to write.
“You can do better than that, and you know it. Write faster,” he barked.
That she did. She wrote faster. This time, though, she did so while ensuring her handwriting was messy and inconsistent.
“No. This won’t do,” Linpool growled, snatching the paper. “Make it neater. Make it look like your penmanship.”
So, he knew what she was trying to do.
“It won’t matter, Linpool,” she muttered. “If I’m dead, nobody, including myself, would care about my penmanship. They’d think I was distraught when I wrote it. And I am, am I not?”
Linpool grabbed her by the neck, making his message clearer. Though she was certain she’d die anyway, the movement still startled her. Her eyes bulged as he squeezed more. Then, the pressure eased, but he forced her to look at him.
“Do you think I am going to immediately kill you? I have plans for you. So many plans.”
“What will you do with the note?” she asked, still trying her best to mask her fear.
“Oh, I can taste possibilities. I can send it to the papers—anonymously, of course. Or I can have someone rush here to find you with the note. I can make it easy on you by leaving it in the Duke’s study.”
“They won’t believe it,” she scoffed.
“Oh, won’t they? The thing with people is that they are willing to believe the worst about others. By doing so, they can feel better about themselves. When the papers get your note, your husband will be disgraced, and I? I will be wealthy!”
“This does not sound like a way to get hold of money. It will only bring upon scandal,” she argued.
“Ah. But Scandal is leverage,” he replied with a smirk.
He let go of her neck and sat in an armchair opposite her, watching her intently.
“Elizabeth may be the pretty one, but you… you’re so protective of your kin. Quite animalistic, one might say. I bet you’re gorgeous when you get down on all fours,” he said with a slight shake of the head, as if in wonder. “It’s a shame you’re loyal to that bastard.”
