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The duchess stood. “Oh, that might be from Julie. I don’t know who else would send me urgent missives!”
She took the letter and turned toward her friends. “Do you mind if I open it here? I don’t want to wait until I get to my room and—”
“Oh, of course.” Lady Vane waved the question away.
The duchess stepped toward the side table and opened the envelope. Her eyes ran over a few lines of text and just as the conversation resumed, she gasped, tears appearing in her eyes.
Lady Ashbury immediately shot up and approached her friend. “Evie, what’s wrong?”
Jo and Lady Vane stood also.
“Mary,” was the only word that escaped the duchess’s lips before a terrible sob tore through her lips.
Lady Ashbury enveloped her in a hug and handed the letter to Lady Vane. She read it; her face turning pale. It was obvious she was shocked and could not move. Then she raised her pleading eyes toward Jo. “Can you ask…?” She cleared her throat, her voice getting hoarse. “St. Clare, please ask someone to find St. Clare.”
Jo nodded and dashed from the room, her heart racing. She could have called for a maid, but she didn’t want to delay it. The duchess seemed very distressed and in her condition, Jo didn’t want to risk anything. But she also felt that whatever tragedy had befallen the duchess was a very private affair, so she left the women alone.
She ran past one of the footmen and inquired where she could find Viscount St. Clare. He directed her toward the billiard room and she hurried that way.
Jo entered the room full of smoke, banter, and laughter. Her eyes burned, whether from smoke or tears, she didn’t know. She didn’t know what would be the reason for her crying, but she felt extremely upset.
“My lord,” she called from the door. Every man in the room turned toward her.
Richard reached her in two strides. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “St. Clare. I need to speak to Viscount St. Clare.”
“St. Clare,” Richard bellowed, still standing by her side.
The viscount appeared by her side, his usual good-natured smile hidden behind his worried mien.
“The duchess,” Jo said, then faltered.
“Where is she?” The viscount was already on the way out of the room.
“She’s in the marchioness’s chambers.” Jo hurried after him.
“What happened?” he hurled over his shoulder.
“She received some distressing news, I don’t know…” She didn’t finish her sentence. The viscount was moving toward the second floor, taking the stairs three steps at a time, and she wouldn’t be able to keep up even if her petticoats weren’t slowing her down.
When Jo finally reached the marchioness’s chambers, the viscount already had his arms around his wife. Lady Ashbury and Lady Vane silently walked out of the room, trying not to disturb the couple.
The viscount didn’t seem to care whether anybody was in the room, however. He pressed his wife close to his chest and whispered soothing nonsense in her ear.
Despite the tragedy of the scene, Jo couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. She wanted that.
No. Not the tragedy. But the tremendous love of the couple before her. She wanted to have someone to rush to her side without knowing what upset her and to hold her in his arms without caring who looked on. She wanted tender love and not just passionate trysts.
Lady Vane approached Jo and silently led her away from the room. “Evie’s cousin, Mary, the one we were just talking about… she died.”
Jo threw one last horrified gaze toward the embracing couple and followed Lady Vane. She couldn’t believe it. They were just happily discussing her birthday celebration. It was quite obvious that the duchess cared a lot about her cousin. But the woman had already been dead. Jo’s throat constricted.
“How old was she?” Jo croaked out.
Lady Vane swallowed. “She would have turned six and twenty in a few weeks.”
Jo gasped. “So young.”
