Page 88 of From Unwanted to Duchess
CHAPTER 28
Frances
Frances sat at the piano, forcing her fingers to press down on the black and white keys, but she could not focus. The elderly instructor who was sitting next to her smiled at her kindly.
“It is quite all right. You will get there, eventually. But for today, I think we should stop.”
They had only been playing for fifteen minutes, and the fact that the instructor was already giving up told her just how dreadful she was.
This was her second lesson this week. She had scarcely made it through the first one because she hadn’t been able to focus at all. And today, while she had managed to hit a few notes, it had not been much better.
A week and a half had passed since she and James had parted ways. She had gone back to living in the same chamber under her aunt’s roof. Aunt Eugenia had fortunately agreed to let her stay as a companion, so she didn’t have to return to Bedfordshire in disgrace.
She already dreaded when her father was going to find out that she and James were going to separate and have their marriage annulled. It would be a nightmare. But at least she wouldn’t have to look him in the face.
“Has the instructor left?” Marianne asked as she stepped into the room.
Her cousin had stayed with her for the last few days. They had decided that what Frances needed was a companion, which was ironic, given that she herself had been hired as a companion.
“I could not focus,” Frances sighed.
Marianne sat next to her and rubbed her back. “I know it must be difficult. I could plant a facer on him, if you like.”
“He would richly deserve it.”
“Indeed. I only wish that I could understand why he is the way he is. So changeable. He is not quite like this with the rest of his family and relations, but he has been so terrible with you. I do not understand it. I know that he cares for you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
“It was so foolish of me to fall in love with him,” Frances said quietly. “What utter folly. I was a perfect ninny to believe otherwise. I should’ve known it would never work, that he could never leave the past behind. But I thought perhaps with me, he could start over. And it would be different. I wanted to show him that he was worthy of love, deserving of affection and regard, and that he was not the terrible man his father made him believe he was.”
Marianne paused. “What do you mean? I know that he and his father were always at daggers drawn and that he could be cruel at times, had a most savage temper. But I do not understand.”
Frances shrugged. “It is not my story to tell.”
“Seems to me it is now,” Marianne said. “He has treated you most abominably. You do not deserve it, and I must truly believe that. Perhaps there is something I am missing about his character, unless there is some reason you can’t explain to me why you think he is the way he is.”
Frances sighed, dropping her shoulders. “He believes he is responsible for his brother’s death.”
“Because of that wretched duel? Because he was Marcus’s second? Surely, he must know by now that it had nothing to do with him. It was not his fault.”
“No. His brother didn’t die in the duel. That was a convenient story. He was wounded in the duel, yes, but he died during an argument that broke out between James and his father that verynight. The former Duke blamed James for allowing the duel to go ahead, even though he was barely older than a boy. His father said unforgivable things, and James—his blood was up. He lost his temper and struck him. His father returned the blow with interest, struck him back, and a quarrel ensued during which his father nearly throttled him within an inch of his life.”
“What?” Marianne gasped in horror. “I cannot believe it. But why did none of us hear anything about this? And how did this result in Marcus’s death?”
“James thought his father was going to kill him. He was being choked almost to unconsciousness, and in his terror, he grabbed a fire poker to defend himself. However, his father took it from him and swung it backward—perhaps he was going to throw it behind him—only to hit Marcus, who had bent over their father to pull him away from JamesThe poker hit him in the head, and then he fell and hit his head on the fireplace. Either one of the blows might’ve killed him.”
“Oh my goodness.” Marianne clapped a hand over her mouth. “I cannot believe he kept that to himself all these years. All this time, bearing it alone. Poor James,” she whispered. “To carry such a burden all these years. No wonder he is the way he is.”
“Yes,” Frances said bitterly. “But that does not excuse the way he has treated me. I understand his pain, but I will not be collateral damage.”
“I knew it,” Aunt Eugenia said, entering the room. “I heard raised voices, and I recognize that tone. You are discussing James, are you not?”
“We are,” Marianne confirmed.
“And Frances has just told you the whole sordid tale, I suspect.” Aunt Eugenia settled into a chair. “James was always the sort to shoulder every burden, to take everything to heart. And his father was a wretched man, a cruel tyrant. A monster in a gentleman’s clothing. But worse, I imagine, he blamed James. Let me guess—his father blamed him, even though he was the one who dealt the final blow?”
“Yes,” Frances uttered. “Afterward, his father made everyone believe that Marcus was killed in the duel. They quickly buried him, and James had to keep the truth a secret.”
“Because it would be ruinous for the Duke if word got out that he had killed his own son,” Aunt Eugenia said. “So he blamed it all on James, who was young and impressionable. Little more than a lad, easily swayed.”
