Death of a Duchess, Nellie Steele [non fiction books to read .txt] 📗

Annie ceased her ambling at the mention of Robert’s name, but the break was short lived. She resumed her pacing, clutching her fists tighter.

“If nothing else,” I said, “perhaps we can prevent the man from doing to someone else what he did to you. Please, Annie.”

She stopped and faced me. Her eyes burned red. My heart broke for her. The poor woman had been driven to her own death by the nightmare she endured. A nightmare which would have had a lasting effect on her life had she not chosen to end it. “I realize how you must feel. Because I felt what you did. Ashamed, alone. But you must realize what happened was not your fault, Annie. You must let go of any guilt you feel so you may rest.”

I approached her and reached for her. She evaded my touch, turning her back to me. I proceeded despite the rebuke. Gently, I placed my hand on her shoulder. I felt her shrink away, but I held fast. “You mustn’t hold yourself accountable for this, Annie. The fault lies purely with your attacker.”

Her shoulders shook as she sobbed. “He fathered the child, didn’t he?” I inquired. “Did you realize you carried it? Was it this that drove you to your decision?”

Annie spun to face me, shoving my hand aside. Her eyes burned into me; a scowl set on her face. Fury replaced heartache, and a growl emanated from her.

“Annie,” I attempted to reassure her, “your decision is understandable…”

“NO!” she bellowed, her voice reverberating off the stone walls surrounding us.

The admission, her first spoken word to me, stunned me. My eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Of course it is,” I began when she rushed toward me. She drove me back toward the boarded window. Had the boards not been there, I would have pitched through again.

Pinned against the window, I struggled against her for a moment before pitching forward when she disappeared. I stumbled a step before righting myself. I glanced around the room. Annie was gone.

I smoothed my dress and stepped toward the doorless entry. I scanned the room one last time before retreating down the stairs. I had only succeeded in upsetting Annie. Perhaps she needed more time. More time to come to terms with the attack. More time to come to terms with my knowledge of it. I was not sure but either way, I would learn nothing else today, I surmised.

Chapter 23

As the sun descended in the sky, I dressed for the dinner party. My mind still attempted to sort through the situation with Annie. It found no answers, only questions. I made my best effort to turn my attention to the upcoming evening. I should need all my wits to deal with the uncouth Sir Richard.

“How is that?” Ella inquired after sliding the decorative comb into my hair.

“Perfect, thank you,” I answered.

“And how are you feeling? Will you have the strength for the dinner party after your illness yesterday?”

“I have been asking myself the same question,” I admitted. “I do hope so. It is important to Duke Blackmoore.”

“Then I wish you the best of luck, Your Grace.”

“Thank you,” I said as I rose from the dressing table to pull on my gloves.

I exited the room, traversing the halls to the drawing room. Robert awaited me.

“How lovely you look, dear,” he said, offering me a brandy. I accepted, feeling I would need to draw on it for strength. “I do apologize for this intrusion.”

“A dinner party is hardly an intrusion. I have been rather lax in entertaining as the mistress of the house.”

“Nonsense. It is more than reasonable for you to have spent the first several months setting up your household before entertaining. Though I do not refer to the dinner party, but rather the company we shall keep while at it.”

“Oh,” I answered, realizing his meaning. “Yes. Sir Richard would not have been my first choice in dining guests. However, we shall make the best of it.”

“I do appreciate that sentiment, Lenora,” Robert responded as Buchanan appeared at the door with two couples in tow. I caught a barely perceptible grumble from Robert at the appearance of our guests.

I plastered on a smile and greeted them. Edwin and Sir Richard Prescott brought with them two women from Edinburgh, one named Susie and the other, Goldie. The two giggled together like schoolchildren and draped themselves over their escorts in a most obscene manner.

They polished off their drinks in short order, requesting a second prior to the dinner announcement. Only Edwin outpaced them in imbibing. By the dinner announcement, he had consumed enough alcohol to cause him to stumble as he stood from his chair. His companion found it most entertaining.

As we entered the dining room, I faced the reality of an impending conversation with Sir Richard Prescott, seated to my right. I smiled to him as we were seated.

“And how was your travel to our hamlet, Sir Richard?”

“Agreeable,” he assured me.

He studied me in a way that disconcerted me. I pressed on in an attempt to alleviate my uneasiness. “I hope your stay has been agreeable as well. Though I am certain you are accustomed to more extravagant accommodations offered in larger cities.”

“It is true, the town of Blackmoore is no London, yet it has its… charms. At least, Blackmoore Castle certainly does,” he said with a wink.

I was glad I had not eaten anything yet, otherwise it may have flown from my stomach. I bit back the bile creeping up my throat and plastered on another smile.

“And how are you, Duchess?” he asked. “I heard you suffered an accident. Fell from your horse?”

Sir Richard was well-informed, I mused. “Yes, though I am quite well. I only twisted my ankle and have recovered from it already.”

“How fortunate for you,” Sir Richard responded. “I would so regret to see anything happen to you.”

The remark unsettled me, though I could not say why. I suppressed a shiver as I experienced the sensation of an icy hand running