Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage

to her right caught her attention.

“I heard the duchess is leaving for the Continent as soon as possible,” said a shrill female voice.

Kate glanced over her shoulder. She didn’t recognize the hefty woman dressed in a horrendous puce color or her older male counterpart dressed in bright peach, but Kate was rooted to the spot.

“Yes, well, it cannot happen quickly enough if you ask me. She should leave this town as soon as possible,” the man answered.

“I’ve heard she’s staying in a hotel,” the woman said in a disgusted tone.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” replied the man. “Some establishments will take in any riffraff.”

The woman took a sip of champagne. “I, for one, shall never believe she didn’t kill him. The valet may have confessed, but I don’t believe it for one moment.”

The man nodded and his jowls shook. “Neither do I.”

Tears of anger stung the backs of Kate’s eyes. She turned to move away from the conversation, not wanting to hear a bit more of it. This was why she couldn’t come into London Society. Ever. Even if she were wearing a disguise. She wasn’t welcome here and she never would be. She would find Lily and Annie and give her regrets, and quietly slip upstairs to her guest chamber. She never should have come.

She took her first step, just as a tall man wearing all black with a dark green mask pushed past her. He addressed his comments to the couple who’d just been speaking.

“Please tell me, Lady Cranberry, that you were not just speaking of Kate, the dowager Duchess of Markingham,” the tall man said in a clipped voice.

Kate’s breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t move. She knew that voice. Familiar and deep and wonderful. James. She hadn’t recognized him when he’d brushed past her, but now there was no mistaking it. He was here and he appeared to be coming to her defense. She moved to the side of the table again and picked up another glass of champagne, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, but a small crowd had already begun to form around the threesome since James had raised his voice.

“Lord Medford, is that you?” Lady Cranberry straightened to her full height, which wasn’t very high at all.

“It is,” he replied through clenched teeth.

Kate moved into the corner behind a potted palm and clutched her champagne flute, her gaze darting back and forth. The group around the other three was growing and no one was paying a bit of attention to her, thank heavens.

“What if we were speaking of the duchess?” Lord Cranberry cleared his throat. “Do you dare to defend that trollop?”

James took two steps toward the shorter man and towered over him. “Yes. I. Do.” There was no mistaking the tightly controlled anger in his voice.

The crowd was growing larger and larger.

Lord Cranberry straightened his shoulders too. He hefted his girth as if he were trying to suck it in. “Seems you would have learned your lesson, Medford. Harboring her. I’m surprised Lady Catherine let you in the door tonight. She’s clearly not attending to her guest list properly.”

James’s voice was a low growl. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Only that you keep company like that and you get what you deserve,” Lady Cranberry retorted, her nose in the air. “Everyone knows your town house was destroyed because you were harboring that rubbish.”

James’s voice thundered loudly enough for the entire assembled crowd to hear. His feet were braced apart and he shook with unleashed fury. “Know this. The dowager Duchess of Markingham is better than either one of you will ever be. She’s a kind, generous, loving person who was falsely accused and who has since been exonerated.”

Lord Cranberry’s face turned cranberry, and it did not go well with peach. He tugged at his lapels. “She may have been exonerated but that doesn’t prove—”

“Yes. It. Does. You small-minded twit,” James replied. “And if I ever hear you breathe another unkind word about her, you’ll have me to answer to. Do you understand?”

Lord and Lady Cranberry huffed and puffed. They searched around as if looking for friendly faces in the crowd to agree with them. Everyone else seemed suddenly preoccupied with their conversations, as if they hadn’t all just been staring aghast at Medford’s confrontation with the couple.

James turned to the assembled group, his glass of brandy sloshing over his hand. “Does everyone hear that? The same goes for all of you. Anyone who utters a word against the duchess will answer to me.”

Complete silence.

James stalked off then. Pushing through the crowd, he made his way out of the ballroom. The mass of people erupted in a sea of whispers and speculation. The entire ballroom, it seemed, was talking about him. And her. Oh, he’d really gone and done it now. But he’d defended her. Gloriously, wonderfully, heroically defended her.

Kate watched him go, with tears welling in her eyes.

CHAPTER 42

Kate downed the rest of her champagne for courage and hurriedly set the empty flute on a side table. Tears blinding her, she pushed her way through the crowd. She elbowed and shoved. The partygoers were wall-to-wall, all whispering, giggling, and conjecturing. She couldn’t get past them. They all seemed to be headed in the opposite direction, trying to get to the back of the ballroom to see what all the fuss was about. But Kate, Kate was trying to get to the front of the ballroom, to follow James out the door.

She finally made it, pushing past scores of people, her wide blue skirts not helping at all. She threw open the double doors to the ballroom and rushed into the cold corridor, looking both ways. In the shadowy darkness, she glimpsed the black of James’s evening attire slipping through a set of French doors onto a balcony at the end of the hallway. She picked up her skirts and ran, her blue slippers slapping against the marble floors.

By the time she made it to the end of the hallway, she was breathing heavily, her chest aching. She dropped her skirts and grasped the handles to the French doors, pushed them open and stepped out onto the balcony. The freezing wind whipped across her face, but she could barely feel it.

James was there, alone, his arms braced on the balustrade, his drink still in his hand. He stared off across the rooftops, his breath making streams in the night sky.

He was so noble and handsome and … perfect. Her heart wrenched. She wouldn’t have believed it before. If she hadn’t heard his speech to the Cranberrys. But those hadn’t been the words of a man who was just trying to do the right thing. Those had been the words of a man who cared. Truly cared. Loved her, perhaps? Every word he’d said had seared her heart and she couldn’t leave without giving them one more chance.

“James,” she breathed.

He turned around at the sound of her voice. He paused. He set his jaw. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I came with Lily and Annie, and I am, here that is, and I … I heard what you said … to the Cranberrys.”

He spat his words through a clenched jaw. “The Cranberrys don’t know what the hell they’re talking about.”

“James.” She moved over to him and touched his sleeve. “Thank you.”

He stood up straight and took a drink. “You’re always thanking me, Kate. And you have nothing to thank me for.”

“I have everything to thank you for.”

He eyed her up and down. “I assume you are still leaving for the Continent tomorrow.”

She struggled to breathe evenly. Oh God, she knew it. The next few moments would decide their entire future. “It … depends,” she murmured.

He narrowed his eyes on her. “Upon what?”

“On whether you still want to marry me.” Her voice broke on the last two words.

James lifted his free hand and let it fall back to his side. Then his face went hard, like stone, and Kate’s