Page 93 of Never Dare a Duke
“I think the four of us did.”
“Really? And when will two of us hear what two of you discovered?”
“Probably this afternoon, when Lady Elizabeth calls for the results. Do tell Miss Bury that I hope she finds love at last with Mr. Fitzwilliam. And that I thank her for her belief in me.”
“Of course!”
“But now I must pack. Write to me as soon as you can and tell me everything.”
They hugged fiercely.
By the afternoon, Abigail was all packed and ready to leave. She’d had luncheon served on a tray in her room, and Gwen stopped by again to say that almost everyone was trying to act as if nothing had happened. Why wouldn’t they want to stay and see what would unfold next?
A footman took her baggage to the carriage, but she didn’t feel right about just sneaking away. So she stood in the corridor outside the drawing room and listened as Christopher displayed the manuscript he said he found alone, using clues provided by Abigail, Gwen, and Mr. Wesley.
“Why, Madingley, you win!” said Elizabeth with forced enthusiasm.
“I did not discover the clues, so I cannot claim the credit,” he said, gesturing toward the blushing Gwen.
“So you think the ghost was a playwright?” Lady Swarthbeck said with obvious disapproval. “How shocking.”
Abigail wanted quite childishly to pull the old woman’s hair.
The duke only laughed, as if nothing in the world could bother him.
Abigail’s tears were threatening again.
“Miss Shaw?” said a voice behind her.
She turned to find the duchess standing in the corridor watching her.
“You look dressed for travel,” she continued. “Did you plan to leave without saying good-bye?”
“Oh, no, Your Grace! I was waiting for Lady Elizabeth to be finished, and then I had hoped to speak with both of you.”
“Then please proceed to my morning room, and I’ll bring my daughter.”
“Would you mind…not telling the duke? It would only upset him. I promise to explain why.”
Dark Spanish eyes regarded her solemnly, curiously, but at last she nodded. Abigail went to the morning room, where the wait seemed endless. She kept fearing that Christopher would barge in and make everything worse.
But at last the duchess was preceded by her daughter, and the three of them sat down to face each other.
Abigail took a deep breath. “Your son already knows everything I’m about to tell you, so please do not think I am going behind his back. I am not a gentleman’s daughter; my father owns theMorning Journalin London.”
Elizabeth’s eyes grew wider and wider, but the duchess’s expression only showed reserved interest.
“I came here in disguise because I thought I could discover the secret in Madingley’s past and write an article to save my father’s newspaper.”
Elizabeth gasped.
“I didn’t write it, obviously, because once I grew to know and understand the duke, I could not betray him—or his family. I was foolish ever to think I could go through with it, but you must understand how desperate I’d felt. And then Miss Preston made sure a far worse article was published, all to punish the duke.”
“I knew she’d done it!” Elizabeth said with heat.
“But it could have been you, Miss Shaw,” said the duchess in an impassive voice.
Abigail could not hide her guilty blush. “Yes, it could have been, until I came to my senses. But now I think the best way to counter it is to write a better story, one telling the full truth.”
