But never once had he doubted his parents’ love. He’d never thought that their union would fail. And yet in his hand he held the letter Lady Anne Kembal had sent her husband. She had left him and was going to make their separation public.
The air whooshed out of Gideon. This was a disaster.
“She has left me. I can’t believe it. Twenty-seven years of marriage and this is how she treats me. Just a note jotted down on a piece of paper, informing me that it’s all over. And the things that she accuses me of . . . I don’t understand.”
Gideon read the short letter once more. His mother’s accusations were vague at best. She hadn’t actually accused her husband of any particular crime. But he knew that hadn’t ever gotten in the way of the duchess starting a fight.
He stirred from his thoughts as his father struggled to his knees. Clifford swayed and gripped hold of the edge of the desk but made no progress in getting to his feet. Gideon came quickly to his side and, placing his hands under the duke’s arms, helped him to stand.
“Just wait here for a moment. Hold onto the desk for support. Don’t try to go anywhere, not until the room has stopped spinning,” cautioned Gideon.
“I am going to be here for a long time if that is the case,” replied Clifford.
There were things to do. Serious matters to discuss. But the best support he could give his father tonight was to help him to his bedroom and make sure a large bedpan was placed beside the bed just in case the whisky didn’t stay down. “Wait there. I shall go and get Richard. We will make sure you get safely to your room. Tomorrow morning, when you feel up to things, then we can talk.”
The duke nodded. “Thank you. Afterwards, will you go and sit with the girls? Someone has to tell them what has happened. That their Mama and G are not coming home. I should do it, but I don’t think I can.” Clifford’s voice cracked. He clearly wouldn’t be able to get through such an ordeal. He’d breakdown in front of his children. No one, especially the younger Kembals should have to bear witness to such a heartbreaking scene.
“Of course, I will, Papa. I shall let the girls and Matthew know about the letter. I won’t tell them everything that Mama wrote, because I don’t think that would serve any purpose.”
His younger siblings were going to be shattered as it was; they didn’t need to know about the spite or vitriol the duchess had penned to her husband in her missive. The Kembal children knew not to take sides when it came to their parents and their battles.
“I will be back shortly,” said Gideon.
Leaving his father holding on for grim death to the desk, Gideon went to find Richard. As he headed upstairs to the next floor, Gideon racked his brains. Getting his father to the privacy and safety of his own room was going to be the easy part. How on earth was he going to explain the implosion of their family to his brothers and sisters?
No matter what he or anyone else did, he sensed that tonight would be the last night of peace in the Kembal household for a very long time. The minute that London society caught wind of the news that the Duke and Duchess of Mowbray had separated, thehaut tonand its vicious rumor mill would kick into gear, and all hell would break loose.
ChapterNine
Late January, 1818
Mowbray House, London
The knock at the door stirred Gideon from his musings. “Come,” he said. He ceased staring out of the window of his father’s study and turned in his chair as the Mowbray House head butler stepped into the room. The servant glanced behind his shoulder, then reached for the door. The latch gave a gentle click as he closed it behind him.
This doesn’t look good. What new crisis has arisen? I’m not sure if I can handle much more.
The butler cleared his throat. “May I have a word with your lordship? It’s about a delicate matter.”
Gideon winced. Those words could only mean trouble. And since it was the most senior member of the household staff asking for a moment of his time, Gideon could safely assume that the delicate matter involved his father.
He rose from behind his father’s desk, shifting the papers he had just finished with into another pile. In the weeks since the arrival of the duchess’s letter from Rome, the Duke of Mowbray hadn’t left the ducal suite. He had abandoned nearly all of his duties, which meant that much of the day-to-day management of the dukedom had fallen to his eldest son and heir. It was a heavy burden.
At night, Gideon found no respite. Coco and Victoria were in near constant tears. Matthew and Richard were the bearers of many questions. The main one being, of course,what was to become of their family?
Gideon moved away from the desk and came to stand in front of the worried faced butler. “Is His Grace alright?” he asked.
“He seemed a little better earlier in the week - he even mentioned having plans to leave his room.” The butler shook his head. “He talks about these things, but I…well I am afraid for him. For his state of mind.”
That last remark had Gideon turning his head away as he fought to maintain his composure.
Steady. Don’t fall apart in front of the servants.
Gideon wasn’t ashamed to confess that he’d had moments of unrestrained weeping during the past month. At first, it had been due to the shock of hearing the news of his mother leaving his father, but over recent days, his tears had transformed into those of silent rage.
For what the duchess had done. Not only to her family, but to the duke.
“What specifically gives you reason to doubt my father’s mental state?”
