“Are they so lucky, though?” the first wondered. “I am told several fell in love with him after he cured them of whatever ill-treatment they had suffered at their late husband’s hands. They went their own way afterward, but at what cost? Were they truly cured of their melancholy after such a man, never mind a duke, bedded then left them?”
Prudence struggled to keep listening, but they drifted out of earshot.
“Good lord, no.” Struggling to see through tears, she sank down against the wall and tried to make sense of what she had just overheard.
What had Jacob done?
Howcouldhe?
She was not sure what broke her heart more. That he would do such to another woman or that he had very clearly done the same to her. Now she knew chances were slim that he was actually on their battlement. And if he were, how could she ever go to him now? His behavior sickened her. The idea that he had bedded so many, and likely claimed he loved them just as much as her.
“Blastyou.” It felt like the world crashed down around her. Although inclined to give in to more tears, she needed to temper her emotions until she was out of there. Could she, though? Was such possible when everything around her seemed to have lost its vibrancy? When she felt so utterly heartbroken?
Fortunately, an old, all-too-familiar feeling crept into her veins—iciness she never thought she would feel again. The sort that had sustained her for years when coping with Randolph’s infidelity. Detachment, she forced herself to embrace so she could get out of the castle and on her way back home.
To that end, she gathered herself and glared at the chair Jacob had sat in the evening he’d first begun to swindle her. She had been right all along when calling him Rothesay the Scoundrel. He might not have been when Elizabeth still lived but certainly was after she’d passed.
Prudence was not so foolish to think he had not truly loved his late wife but found his behavior afterward detestable. What game had he been playing? Still played? While part of her wanted to confront him, a larger part refused to lay eyes on him again and refused to try navigating more lies, as she suspected he was quite adept at them.
Knew firsthand he was.
No, her days of dealing with lying men were over. She was not that woman anymore. She had found her footing and could not be bothered. Men who behaved like Jacob were beneath her despite how much she loved him.
So, rhetorical armor at the ready, she squared her shoulders and made her way to Finley, grateful when she did not cross paths with anyone she knew.
“I am not feeling well, so I would have you do me a favor, Finley,” she said. “I do not want the MacLauchlins or Campbells bothered with my departure. Rather, if you would have Mrs. Agnus see to my belongings and have my carriage brought around while I wait, that would be best.”
Clearly concerned, he nodded that he would see to her wishes, hoped she felt better and opened the door for her. She was never so grateful that things were seen to swiftly, and her carriage set out soon after.
“What is it, my lady?” Agnus said gently once they left the castle behind. “Why are we really leaving so quickly?”
“It does not matter.” Now there was no risk of encountering anyone, the walls she had so quickly resurrected crumbled once more as she stared out the window and blinked back tears.
“Oh, dear me.” Agnus moved until she sat beside Prudence rather than across from her and took her hand. “What happened, my lady?”
Where she would have stiffened away from Agnus’ touch a year ago, she was not that woman anymore. So she rested her head on her friend’s shoulder and wept until she was finally able to share everything she had overheard.
“I have no words.” Agnus’ heart was in her eyes. “Other than it does not seem possible of the duke. He seemed too kind a man. Too much in love with you to ever treat you like that. Too decent a person to have ever done such to women before you.”
“Yet he did,” she whispered and closed her eyes. “I wish to sleep now, Agnus. Sleep until I am able to make my way free of all this.”
“I understand but feel I should tell you something first.” Agnus sounded tentative. “Perhaps, in some way, it might help.”
“And what is that?”
“I have more letters from the duke,” Agnus said. “A whole box of them. Ones he never sent, but we felt you should have so you understood just how much he adores you.”
“We?” She opened her eyes and frowned. “Whatever do you mean by that?”
Agnus hesitated a moment before she cleared her throat and finally confessed to what Prudence and Jacob had suspected.
“Where I found Mr. Donal quite displeasing upon our first encounters—” she actually blushed—“we have since grown quite fond of one another, my lady.”
“Have you?” Despite her grief, she could not help but be happy for her maid. “I am so glad to hear that. He is a fine fellow, my friend.” She realized how difficult what had happened might make things going forward, so said what needed saying. “I beg of you, do not let what transpired between the duke and me stand between you two. You should be with Mr. Donal if you have found love. I will dismiss you as soon as we get home with a glowing recommendation and see a carriage bring you to the duke’s castle straight away.”
“You will do no such thing.” Agnus seemed taken aback. “I am your lady’s maid and housekeeper. I will not abandon you. Moreover, I am your friend, am I not?”
“You are.”
