Page 86 of The Duchess He Couldn’t Resist

“Is she the one you’ve been talking to me about?” Charles confirmed her suspicions.

Clair nodded with a triumphant smile.

“The very same.”

Marigold’s blood ran cold. She had no idea what lies she had told her cousin, but she knew well that the new Earl of Covington would somehow be convinced that his cousin, a duchess far above his station and the only reason that he was back, staying in a house that was still standing with the staff fully paid, was the worst person in the world.

“I find it appalling, Your Grace,” her cousin somehow maintained his composure while insulting her, “that you would have the audacity to come back here after what you have done.”

“I did nothing…...”

“You have squandered the family fortune. You have sold off the little we had left and then abandoned your mother, who has been suffering since you turned your back on her. And now, you ask for my help?”

Marigold glanced at her mother only to find her gloating before turning her face into a pitiful expression when Charles turned his attention to her. It was almost admirable how her mother would twist reality to make her the victim and Marigold the villain in every situation.

“Lord Covington,” Marigold decided to use her station and her newfound certainty, even if it was faltering, “I must assure you that none of these things happened, and if you would just listen to my version…”

“Your version would be nothing but lies,” Charles said.

Marigold needed no more proof to know that Clair’s poison had seeped through her cousin, and there was no way to change his mind.

“I am sorry, Your Grace, but I will not have you in my house. You will have to find somewhere else to go.”

That’s all he said before the door closed in her face. Marigold stood there defeated, almost crushed. She stood at the doorstep, staring at the closed door, and her hands were shaking. Her eyes were burning, ready to cry, but she would not give her mother or anyone else in the world the satisfaction. Despite what everyone thought about her, she had done nothing wrong.

But the bitter truth remained that she had nowhere else to go. She had sent the carriage that belonged to the Duke away. Where was she supposed to go now? She had no one in this world.

Then she realized that was not entirely true. There was at least one more person who knew the real her and, as far as she knew, still valued her. Lily. She thought of her friend, her warmth, her wisdom. And Owen. He probably already knew the truth, and she would have to do less explaining and less hiding. They would take her in, give her time to figure out what she was going to do from now on, and come to terms with the new reality that was her life.

With renewed hope, she turned toward the street. It was a long walk to reach the residence of the siblings, but she had been walking for miles when she couldn’t even afford the carriage, and she hadn’t been a duchess long enough to forget her old habits.

She tightened her fist around the handle of her little luggage and turned to the street that would lead her straight to Lily.

Marigold had never visited her friends, saying that it was more appropriate for them to come to their house. And somehow, despite Brandon being the misanthrope everybody claimed, Verdant House was always open for them.

Realizing that most people were looking at her, recognizing her, and glancing at the luggage she was carrying, Marigold decided to make use of the servant streets that she knew to reach her target and make less of a scene and a spectacle out of herself. Not that she minded; she was always the subject of whispers, but now any gossip would affect him too. Despite her relationship with Brandon, she would never wish him harm.

She turned into the quieter back streets and alleys, making sure not to lose her way. Her old habits came back. She walked quickly, head down, her bag clutched to her chest. It would be best if she reached Lily and Owen before the dark came upon her.

“I would be damned if it isn’t my little rabbit.”

Marigold stopped in her tracks. There was no mistaking that voice. It had been hissed in her ear so many times. Donny.

“I almost didn’t recognize you with the fancy new clothes.” Donny’s voice drifted closer. “A rabbit is a rabbit, no matter the fur.”

Marigold dared look up. Her heart leapt to her throat, and her hands went cold. Right there before her stood Donny and three of his goons, leering at her. She was back where it all started. She was not the same.

“What do you want, Donny?” she asked, her voice steadier than before.

“What do I want?” Donny stepped closer. “I want what I have always wanted. My little rabbit is trapped, and now, I have you.”

“The debt was repaid. Now step back.”

Donny laughed, an ugly, cruel sound. His goons followed his example.

“Look at you.” He came closer and touched a strand of her hair.

“Do not touch me!” Marigold commanded.