Page 57 of A Duchess Untouched

What if I have been mistaken?

But how could this be a mistake? They mentioned his name. She wondered if they knew Matthew Sheffield was the Duke of Wentley and, therefore, her husband. Probably not; otherwise, they would not have mentioned this affair in front of her.

Oh, what a fool she had been.

Her mind tried to make sense of the events of the last few weeks. Matthew had seemed enamored with her, and he always sought her out, but… he had also been absent at times, with no explanation of where he was headed.

Then again, their marriage had begun with his voluntary disappearance from her life. He could do it again. Was that why he wanted to stay in London longer this time? Had this other woman changed his mind and made him decide to stay? Had he been following her around the country all along?

“Are you all right, Your Grace?” asked Mrs. Debbs.

“I am perfectly fine. Tell me, what else do you know about this affair at Essex House?” she asked Mrs. Pike.

The older woman looked at her, uncertain now.

“Your Grace, it is only idle talk among servants. I cannot be bold enough to assume—”

“Tell me what else you know, Mrs. Pike,” Selina insisted, keeping her voice soft but firm. “I would be grateful.”

The widow gripped the washboard for support as she said, “Well, my sister told me that the maid in question has been working at Essex House for less than a year, Your Grace.”

“I see. Anything else you have heard about her? Has she come from the country up north?”

“That I do not know, Your Grace, but I was told that she has a young boy, of about five years.”

A boy of about five…

“You would not suppose that it is an illegitimate one, would you?” Mrs. Hartley asked.

“I would not put it past her. A pretty thing like her, poor soul. Lord knows what has happened to her. This is why I said we women should be wary of those scoundrels.”

All the women nodded solemnly, but Selina’s mind was already elsewhere, racing.

A boy of about five! Could it be…

Calculations raced through Selina’s mind. The maid had a five-year-old son. She had been married for just over four years, and Matthew had abandoned their marriage almost as soon as they wed to be with the maid and their son. What if the maid had always been the one he loved, and he had only been forced to marry Selina to keep the scandal quiet? What if she and her child were why he had insisted they attend the Essex ball—and why he had seemed so distracted? The possibilities were clear to Selina, but she did not dare put them into words. She did not dare to let herself believe them.

“Your Grace?” Mrs. Debbs called, walking toward Selina, looking worried. “Are you sure you are feeling well? You look pale as a sheet.”

“Please do not worry about me. I am fine,” Selina said, but found it very strange that her own voice seemed to come from a distance. “However… I think I will take my leave for now. It has been a tiring afternoon, and I need to rest. I will see you soon. In a week’s time. I will come with more supplies to fill your kitchen.”

There were murmurs of appreciation, but Selina could no longer look at the widows’ faces. The mere smell of the small parish and the stale soap from the washing seemed to overpower her, filling her nostrils and making her temples throb. She was certain that if she did not leave this suffocatingly warm place at once, she would upend the contents of her stomach there and then.

I need some air.

Selina stepped out into the chilly air and took a deep breath, then another. When that did nothing to quell her nausea, her heart began to race. She was choking; she was drowning, but she willed herself to get out of the road and back home.

She kept telling herself that it all would be all right. She had lived without her husband for so many years. She could do it again.

However, no matter how many times she told herself this, it did nothing to stop the tears from streaming down her face. As she moved to retrieve her handkerchief, she noticed a few heads poking out of the small parish’s door, and she decided she could not let herself crumble in public.

Selina spotted her carriage waiting at the curb and tried to walk toward it. It was so close, yet each step felt like a struggle. Her slippers suddenly felt heavy, and the ground seemed to tilt beneath her feet.

She forced herself toward the carriage, but her vision dissolved into dark smudges.

“Home… I wish to go home…” Her knees gave way.

Just before the world went completely black, she heard the coachman cry, “Your Grace!”