Page 71 of The Duke on Her List
“It concerns me plenty,” the lady sniffed. “I am Lady Claire Fishburn. My father is the Earl of Weston. And had it not been for Lady Agnes’ machinations, His Grace and I would have married months ago.”
Agnes stared. “What are you talking about?”
“I suppose he never told you about me,” Lady Claire said. “Yes, the two of us were very near to courtship when you intervened. I don’t know what you did, but I know there was some scandal involving the two of you, and I’m certain you orchestrated it on purpose. Perhaps you despaired of your chances of ever getting a gentleman’s interest—well, I wouldn’t be surprised. Who would look twice at a spinster like you? But His Grace is a good man, and if he thought he had to court you in order to save your reputation, I’m sure he would have done it, especially if you begged him or threatened him.”
“Agnes never threatened anyone,” Violet snapped, stepping forward. “And she’s never begged for anything in her life.”
“That’s right,” Dorothy agreed. “It seems to me, Lady Claire, that if the duke had wanted to court you, he would have done so. You can’t just blame other people for the fact that it didn’t go the way you would have liked it to.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lady Claire said. “Neither of you do. He never took you seriously, Lady Agnes. Everyone knows that. If he had, he would have asked you to stay with him when you tried to end the courtship. And did he? Did he even try to fight to keep you?”
Agnes opened her mouth and then closed it again.
It was likely—more than likely—that this lady was talking nonsense when it came to the suggestion of a courtship between herself and Gabriel. She didn’t know the whole story of Agnes’ involvement with Gabriel. She couldn’t know how many times Gabriel had stressed that he didn’t want any kind of relationship with anyone at all, that his entire aim was to push people away from him.
But Lady Claire was right about one thing.
Agnes had ended the arrangement with Gabriel—and Gabriel had not protested. Not once.
He hadn’t tried to get her to stay with him. He had agreed with her that their needs were met and that it was time to end things. She could only guess at his reasons, of course, though in her innermost heart she feared that it might have to do with that kiss. Perhaps she had been substandard in some way. She had thought it was wonderful, but what did she know about the quality of kisses? That had been the first time she’d ever done it.
It was probably a mess. That probably made it that much easier for him to let me go.
Lady Claire had seen the doubt on Agnes’ face, and now her smile grew wider, more vicious. “She knows I’m right,” she said to the trio at large. “She knows that His Grace never cared for her, and that he was only courting her out of some misguided sense of obligation. He thought he had to do it. If he hadn’t felt that way, he would never have gone near such a notorious woman. No gentleman ever would.” She shook her head. “I’m surprised you aren’t ashamed to show your face here tonight, Lady Agnes, and I think you’d be doing everyone a favor if you just went home.”
Agnes was surprised—mortified—by how much Lady Claire’s words affected her.
She didn’t want to admit to feeling anything at all in response to what this cruel woman was saying. Lady Claire really didn’t know anything about her relationship with Gabriel. But she had guessed at something that was true, and something that was at the heart of Agnes’ worries about the situation.
Perhaps Gabriel is glad to be rid of me.
It would answer some of the questions that had plagued her, certainly. It would explain the sense she’d had that he was angry with her. Anger wasn’t what she had perceived after all—it was just a cooling toward her now that he didn’t need to pretend anymore. He was doing the thing she hadn’t managed to do. He was going back to the life he had been living before the two of them had met, a life in which he hadn’t needed to worry about anyone other than Helena and himself.
He isn’t angry at me;he’s just not pretending that he cares anymore, and it’s a painful thing to experience.
It was a painful thing even to think about. She turned her face away from Lady Claire, not wanting that horrible woman to see that she had struck a blow—but she imagined Lady Claire probably knew by the way her smile grew even wider. She had meant to cause hurt here, and she had done it. She wanted to upset Agnes so greatly that Agnes would be forced to flee this party.
She wants me gone.
The worst part was that it was working. Agnes wanted to go. She longed to retreat to the safety of her home and forget everything that had happened tonight—but she knew that she couldn’t. It simply wasn’t an option. If she went home now, the distress of this moment would only follow her. It would linger with her and render her unable to think about anything else.
She had to stand her ground. In this moment, she was being tested, and she had no choice but to pass the test if she was to have any hope of returning to a life like the one she’d led before Gabriel had entered it.
She took a deep breath. “I’m familiar with your games,” she told Lady Claire. “But I’m afraid you’re not going to manipulate me so easily, Lady Claire. I can see that you want to chase me off, but you won’t make me leave this party.”
“Are you so stubborn that you would insist on staying when nobody wants you here?” Claire asked. Then she shook her head. “I don’t even know why I’m asking. Of course you are. You’d have to be, to have come here in the first place. You must have known that His Grace would not want to see you, but you came because you needed to force the issue.” She leaned closer. “Rest assured that it makes no difference what you do, Lady Agnes. There is nothing you can say that will win his favor. His Grace is done with you. You might as well accept that and return to the pathetic life you have carved out for yourself.”
Agnes wished she could close her eyes and disappear altogether. She knew that people were beginning to notice this argument. They were starting to look in her direction. So much for her hopes of going relatively unnoticed.
And then a voice, deep and familiar, filled the air.
“What on Earth is going on here?”
CHAPTER 33
The sight of Gabriel made Agnes’ pulse accelerate at once, and she cursed herself for being so responsive to his appearance. It shouldn’t make such a difference to her that he was suddenly standing in front of her, that he was engaging with her nearly directly—not entirely so, for he hadn’t made eye contact with her or spoken her name.
Shewished he would.
