Page 18 of The Truth about the Duke
“It is only a story, recall,” Lord Kendall said, quietly as Henry fought to keep from pacing in the drawing room, aware of just how much scrutiny it would bring. “A rumor. A whisper. That is all.”
Henry said nothing, practically snatching the newspaper out of the footman’s hand when it returned with it. It did not take long for him to find the article, his breathing becoming quicker by the second as he read through the lines.
‘There is a story that the Duke of Melrose’s heirlooms were lost and lost to a friend of the previous Duke. It is said that the late Duke of Melrose was returning home one evening, only to be stopped by a highwayman who stole the family heirlooms from him – heirlooms that he was bringing home from London. In the ensuing fight, the Duke struck the highwayman’s face with his blade and escaped with his life! For any who believe it, the late Duke stated that the culprit was none other than the late Lord Harleton though this was never proven.’
“What?” Henry read over the lines again, trying to understand them, trying to make sense of all that he read. How could it be that his father had believed such a thing for years but had never told him of it? And how had the writer of this article found out when he had not had any awareness of it?
“I – I must – ” Stalking blindly through the gathered crowd, Henry made his way through them with as much dignity as he could, suddenly determined for solace and solitude. This was an utter shock, for though he had always been told that the heirlooms had been lost but never that they had been stolen! He had not heard about the highwayman, had not been told that there had been a suspected theft and certainly had not understood that his father had believed it to be his close friendthat would be akin to Henry accepting that Lord Kendall had done something truly dreadful! No, he could not accept it.
But if they are lost, then is it not my duty to find them again?
Pushing open the first door he saw, Henry strode into another room, lit only by the fire. Pushing one hand to his forehead, he paused for a moment, only to turn t make to shut the door, desirous only for his own company at present.
“Your Grace. If you would excuse me before you shut the door, then I would be grateful.”
Henry started violently, his hand dropping to his side as he looked into the gloom, trying to ascertain who it was.
His stomach dropped.Why does she have to be here, at this moment?“Lady… Lady Lydia?”
“Melrose, are you quite all right?”
Henry glanced to his left, seeing Lord Kendall hurry in. His eyes went to Lady Lydia, rounding a little as though Henry had deliberately stepped inside to be in her company. That, or mayhap he was surprised at her lack of chaperone.
Lady Lydia pointed to the door. “Forgive me, Lord Kendall, I was just about to take my leave. The Duke stepped into the library without being aware of my presence.”
With a small smile, Lord Kendall nodded. “You sought some solitude in here, mayhap?”
With a nod of her own, Lady Lydia made to quit the room but something in Henry forced him to step forward, to catch her hand in his. “Wait.”
It was a command he gave her, of that he was well aware, but her presence here was the only opportunity he had to apologize for what he had done. Yes, his mind was filled with all that The London Chronicle had said but at the same time, he had not forgotten his responsibility here.
“I – I need to apologize.” Henry closed his eyes as he spoke, feeling each word burning on his lips. He wanted to speak hisapology quickly, desired only to have it spoken so that he might instead concentrate on the story in The London Chronicle. “I spoke harshly to you and I must now apologize for it.”
“Your Grace?”
Confusion filled her voice and Henry opened his eyes, gritting his teeth for a moment over the fact that he would have to explain precisely what it was he meant. “In the park, at the fashionable hour. I spoke sharply and without consideration and I can see that it must have been hurtful, despite your seeming lack of regard for my words.” He held her gaze, trying his best to prove, in both his standing and his tone, that he was genuine in his desire to express regret over his actions. “I sincerely apologize, Lady Lydia. I ought not to have said anything of the sort to you.”
Silence was his only answer – and for some minutes, at that! Lady Lydia’s eyes widened and Henry found himself a little struck by just how vivid they were. They were like emeralds, gleaming and pure. His breathing became a little steadier as he looked into her eyes; her presence seeming to calm him for some inexplicable reason. Henry felt his heart slow to a steadier pace, seeing Lady Lydia’s expression soften just a little.
“I am grateful to you for your acknowledgment of that.” She glanced away for a moment. “I will not pretend that I was not affected by what you said, Your Grace.”
A fresh guilt ripped at his heart. Clearly, he had caused her more pain than he had recognized. “It will not happen again.”
With another long look, she finally turned to make for the door, only to pause. “Might I be so bold as to ask whether you are quite well, Your Grace?”
Reminded of what it was that troubled him now that his apology was completed, Henry let out a low exclamation, pushing his fingers into his hair as he bowed his head. “No, I am not, Lady Lydia, but that is not your concern.” He had not meantthat to be harsh in any way but nor did he want her to trouble herself with matters that were not for her to know of.
“I am well aware of that, but I am only expressing concern for you.”
Glancing at her, Henry rubbed one hand over his eyes again, aware that she had snapped back at him. Trying to gentle his voice, he shook his head. “No, there is nothing you can do.” He looked to Lord Kendall, who was now frowning heavily. “Nothinganyof you can do. It is only I who can discover if what has been written is true.”
Lady Lydia pressed her lips together for a moment, then asked him the question he had seen in her eyes. “What has been written?
With a flick of his fingers, Henry began to pace, quite certain that almost everyone – Lady Lydia included – would have read what was in The London Chronicle by now. “You know of what I speak, I am sure. For everyone in thetonappears to have read The London Chronicle today.”
“Oh.” The awareness in her voice made him grimace though he continued to pace, watching her now and again and wondering why she did not take her leave.
“It is only a story,” Lord Kendall said, breaking the silence. “You did not know about this? About any of it?”
