Page 4 of Lusting for the Duke's Kiss
“No one could,” whispered Hetty. “Frank could charm the birds offthe trees. He pretended he was sincere in the regard that he had for me. He pretended that he respected me and sincerely wanted me as his wife.”
“It is no reflection on you, Hetty,” said her mother fiercely. “You are a credit to your father and I. Frank Blackmore did not deserve you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Just between us, I argued with your father at the beginning of your engagement that we could have done better for you. You had many suitors, after all, some who were better placed than Mr Blackmore. But your father insisted that he was the best suitor, and now look at what has happened …”
Hetty felt tears spring into her eyes again, but she bit her lip, determined not to cry. She had cried so much in the last few days she was weary of it. It didn’t help. It didn’t help her situation. No amount of tears was going to change the fact that she was deserted, without a home, forced to crawl back to her parents with her tail between her legs.
This was never supposed to happen to her. She was five and twenty; she had waited so long for a suitable suitor. Her mother was right – since her debut, gentlemen had flocked around her, but she had been cautious, not wanting to rush into anything. It wasn’t the possibility of love that had consumed her – she had never been particularly romantic, and besides, there had only been one brief encounter with a gentleman, years ago, that had ever made her heart quicken. She had accepted that perhaps she was just not meant for romantic love; perhaps she was just too practical for such an emotion.
Frank Blackmore had been different. For starters, he wooed her gradually, seeming to sense her caution. And while she had neverfallen wildly in love with him, she had respected him, thinking that he was a fine gentleman.
She had believed that he would protect her and provide for her. And there had been a small voice in the back of her mind that had whispered to her that she wasn’t getting any younger. That if she was too fussy, she might just end up on the shelf.
And so, she had taken the plunge. And look where it had got her. A deserted wife, with nothing. She did not know how she was going to bear it.
***
It was a subdued dinner that night. They all sat around the new dining table, which would soon belong to someone else, picking at the roasted beef that the cook had prepared.
Hetty suddenly realised that she had to deal with the staff, as well. She needed to tell them that their services were no longer required, that they should seek other positions. She could feel a slight ache begin to throb in her temples. She would do it first thing tomorrow morning.
She glanced at her father, who was sitting at the head of the table, a grim look on his face. He stabbed viciously at his meat.
“If I see that man again,” he suddenly announced in a booming voice, which caused both Hetty and her mother to jump, “I am going to challenge him to a duel. I want to run a blade through his black heart.”
“Husband,” said her mother, looking shocked. “There is no need for such language!”
“Is there not?” asked her father, frowning as he stared at her. “The man abandoned our daughter the day after her wedding. He sold their home from beneath her. I think they are two very good reasons for colourful language regarding the scoundrel.”
Hetty stared at her father. “Papa, I understand how frustrated you are,” she said in a trembling voice. “I am sorry that you have been put in this position. That this shame has been put upon you …”
“Henrietta,” he said, raising his voice again. “I do not want to hear you talk like that! The shame is that man’s alone. You are innocent in all of this. Do not ever feel that you are in any way responsible for this debacle.”
Hetty hung her head so that he could not see the tears, which suddenly stung her eyes. She couldn’t ask for more supportive parents. And yet, even though her father was vehement in his denial that this was in any way her fault, a small kernel of doubt was lodged firmly in her chest, and she could not get rid of it.
Was there something deficit in her that had caused Frank to act in such a brutal way? Had she said the wrong thing, done the wrong thing, to make this happen? If she had been a different woman, might this not have occurred? She had thought that he admired her greatly, that he respected her, even if he wasn’t passionately in love with her. But he had treated her worse than he would treat a stray dog that had just wandered onto his doorstep.
Perhaps itwasher fault, in some way that she could not understand.
“The trunks are all packed,” said her mother, picking up her wine glass. “Everything is in order. We will be ready to leave first thing in the morning.” She paused, gazing around the dining room with sad eyes. “That it has come to this. The solicitor was quite adamant that there was no way to reverse the sale of the house, even in these extraordinary circumstances?”
Her father shook his head, grimly. “The scoundrel was clever,” he said bitterly. “He has done everything by the book. As soon as he had secured Hetty’s dowry, he went ahead with the sale. It is all legally binding, and there is no recourse. Frank Blackmore had the right to sell this house, without Hetty’s consent, of course. That is the law of the land.”
Her mother sighed heavily. “Well, I doubt that Hetty would want to live here alone anyway after what has happened.” She turned to her daughter. “It is best that you come home, my dearest. We can protect you from the full force of the scandal, which shall inevitably come, once word gets out as to what has happened here.”
“Of course it is for the best that Hetty returns to us,” said her father, irritably. “There is no question of that. But it still makes my blood boil that he has got away with this. That he has sailed off into the sunset with Hetty’s dowry as well as the money from this house.” He turned to Hetty, staring at her with intense eyes. “He never hinted at anything that foreshadowed this? Any mention of someone that might have spurred him on to do such a drastic thing?”
Hetty’s blood ran cold. “What do you mean, Papa?”
Her father’s mouth twisted. “I am not sure exactly. But rest assured, I shall be making enquiries as to where he is and what he is doing now. I shall find the rat and find out what he is up to. There is more to this story than meets the eye.”
There was a strained silence in the room, as they all contemplated what had driven Frank Blackmore to such extreme actions.
“He did not say anything much in the note he left me,” said Hetty, in a trembling voice. “Only that he had been having doubts about the marriage in the months leading up to it. He claimed that his decision to flee was spontaneous, that he simply could not go ahead with it.”
“Poppycock,” growled her father. “We all understand that this was a calculated act. The sale of the house prior to the wedding proves it. He made very sure that he had secured your dowry and that the marriage certificate was signed before he acted, making anything that was yours legally his own. This was no spur of the moment choice. He could have backed out of the engagement at any point,but he chose not to.”
“I shall never speak to the Blackmore family again,” declared her mother, in a high, thready voice. “They are dead to us now. To think that one of their members acted in this detestable way. His mother will die of the shame of it. We are not the only ones who will suffer from that man’s actions.”
“I do not wish to associate with them, either,” said her father thoughtfully. “However, they may be useful, right now. As soon as we return to Hillsworth House, I shall be calling on them. Mrs Blackmore might know something about him that we do not. I shall press on her that it is in her benefit, as well as our own, to confess if there is anything about that man they have been hiding.”
