Valerie Bowman - Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage

Kate felt a bit bolstered by his encouragement. She closed her eyes, trying to remember. She blew out a breath. “The previous evening, my husband had informed me that he refused to grant me a divorce.” She opened her eyes again.

Abernathy merely nodded, as if a duchess announced every day that she intended to divorce her duke. The man continued busily scribbling. “You had asked his grace for a divorce?”

“Yes.” She squeezed her clammy hands together in her lap.

Mr. Abernathy scribbled more. “When had you first mentioned a divorce to his grace?”

“I’d written to him, the week before. I’d been waiting for George to come to the Abbey and discuss it with me.”

More scribbling. “And that’s why he was there?”

“Yes.”

Abernathy looked up from his paper. “And he didn’t come alone?”

“No.” She gulped and her throat ached. “Lady Bettina, his … his mistress, was with him.”

James pounded his fist on the desktop, and the teacups bounced. The duchess and Abernathy turned to stare at him. Damn it. If that ass Markingham weren’t dead, James would like to land a punch squarely on his jaw right now. How dare the cad bring his mistress with him to discuss his marriage with his wife?

Abernathy returned his attention to the duchess, his hand poised over the parchment once again. “Did anyone else accompany his grace?”

Her eyes searched the ceiling. “His valet, Tucker, was with him as well.”

Abernathy kept his eyes trained on the paper while he busily wrote. “And what did your husband say to you?”

“He said…” She swallowed again. “He informed me … that he and Lady Bettina were in love.”

James cursed under his breath.

Abernathy didn’t look up. “But he refused your request for a divorce?”

She nodded. “Yes. As you know, the grounds for divorce are very … delicate and he refused to consider it.”

Abernathy cleared his throat. “And did you argue with him about the divorce that evening?”

She looked out the window, her eyes staring as if she were reliving what must have been a horrendous night. “No, not that night. I was … in shock.”

“Shocked that he refused to grant you the divorce?” Abernathy clarified.

“Yes. And that he told me he was in love. It made no sense to me that he wouldn’t want the divorce if he could be rid of me. You see, he’d … he’d been unfaithful many times before but he’d never been so bold as to tell me he was in love with any of them.”

James clenched his fist. If Markingham were as big an ass to everyone else as he was to his wife, no doubt he had a steady queue of people wanting to murder him.

Abernathy nodded. “What happened later that night? Did you see his grace, or Lady Bettina?”

Kate cleared her throat. “I did not. I spent the evening alone in my bedchamber. I asked my maid to bring me my dinner there.”

“And you didn’t see either one of them again until the next morning?” Abernathy continued.

“That’s correct.”

Abernathy paused for a sip from his teacup. “So, the next morning, when did you see them again?”

Kate also took a sip with a shaky hand. “I didn’t see Lady Bettina again until … after…” She glanced away.

“And his grace?” Abernathy asked evenly.

Her voice was high, strained. “He came to say good-bye. He told me he never wanted to see me again. He said he was returning to London and wouldn’t be back until I’d vacated the Abbey. He wanted me to move to a small property he owns near Carlisle. To be out of his way, once and for all, I suppose.”

Abernathy’s wrinkled hand shuffled across the parchment. “And that’s why you fought?”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes and pressed two fingertips to one lid. “I told him I was leaving, that I would seek a divorce with or without his consent. That I intended to come to London, to live here.”

Abernathy frowned. “And he wasn’t pleased with that?”

She shook her head frantically. “No. He yelled. Told me that he forbade it.”

“And what was your reply?” Abernathy scribbled furiously.

“I yelled back. I told him I didn’t care anymore what he wanted me to do. I was through taking orders from him. I’d spent the last ten years alone in the country, without him, without anyone, and I was going to leave.” She was shaking, trembling, and James could tell how much the experience had cost her. His heart wrenched for the woman who’d had to remain hidden in the country, alone for so long. But then Lily’s words from a few days ago came back to taunt him. I give you one week of dealing with the duchess before you’re assisting with her defense. Damn it, he didn’t want to care. Didn’t want to get involved. He shouldn’t have stayed in the room to hear all of this.

Abernathy faced the duchess head-on. “Several people overheard your argument that morning, did they not?”

She nodded. “I’ve come to understand they did. But at the time I had no idea anyone was listening, though it doesn’t surprise me. We were not attempting to keep our voices low. We were both extremely agitated.”

Abernathy pushed his spectacles up on his nose once more. “Yes, your grace. My apologies, but we’re nearly finished. However, this next part may be rather difficult for you.”

She took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m ready, Mr. Abernathy.”

“Your grace,” Abernathy said. “Did you say anything else to your husband that morning that those listening would have taken … amiss?”

She wrung her hands with a vengeance. “I did.”

Abernathy paused to dip the quill back in the inkwell. “What did you say?”

Kate straightened her shoulders. “I said I’d see him dead before I remained married to him.”

If the duchess’s statement shocked Abernathy, he betrayed his surprise by neither word nor deed. “Why did you say that, your grace?” was all the barrister asked. The man was skilled at his job, James had to admit, quite skilled.

Kate buried her face in her hands. “I didn’t mean it. Not literally at least. I was so ashamed, humiliated, angry. I reacted out of fear. But I didn’t mean it. And I certainly never would have done it.”

Mr. Abernathy laid down his quill, reached over, and placed his hand atop hers. “I understand, your grace.”

James watched the exchange through narrowed eyes. He didn’t know what to make of it. She wasn’t crying but she was distraught. She seemed strong but she also appeared vulnerable. She was either a bloody brilliant actress or the most unlucky woman in the kingdom, and damn it, James couldn’t tell. He’d always prided himself on being able to sum up people quickly, make decisions about their character, their integrity. But the duchess remained a mystery to him. A beautiful mystery.

She expelled a long breath. “Oh, they might as well just burn me now. I know my story sounds just dreadful.”

“Stay strong, your grace. You’re doing an excellent job,” Abernathy replied.

The duchess’s jaw clenched. “Please, Mr. Abernathy, do not call me ‘your grace.’”

The barrister nodded. “Very well. Now.” He grabbed up his quill again. “After your argument, your husband left the room?”

She tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth. “Yes, I assume he went to his own bedchamber.”

“And when did you … see him next?” Abernathy asked.

She rubbed her forehead. “It was less than an hour later. I wanted to ask him when he planned to leave. I should have sent a servant.”

Abernathy made a note. “Did you go to his bedchamber to apologize?”

She shook her head and straightened her shoulders. Her voice was steady, calm, direct. “No. I did not.”

James’s gaze snapped to her face. He respected the hell out of that answer. It would have been so easy for her to say yes. It might have made her look a bit less guilty. Instead, she held her head high and told … the truth. She hadn’t gone to Markingham’s bedchamber to apologize. And from what James had just heard of the man’s treatment of her, he couldn’t blame her.

“Forgive me, but I must ask,” Abernathy continued, eyeing the duchess carefully over the rims of his spectacles. “What did you see when you entered your husband’s bedchamber?”

“Take your time,” James added, watching her closely.

She was quiet for several long seconds, and James saw the tears she was valiantly trying to quash shimmering in the blue depths of her eyes. “I knocked,” she whispered, holding up her fist as if she were back there in front of the door to Markingham’s room. “Quietly at first and then more loudly. There was no answer.”

“Go ahead,” Abernathy prompted, in a calm, steady voice.

She shook her head slightly, and one red-gold curl came loose from her bun and fell to her cheek. “And then I don’t know why, but something … something made me decide to open the door, to not turn away and assume he’d already left.”

A nod from the barrister. “Yes.”

Kate expelled a shaky breath. “I turned the handle and opened the door. I pushed it open and stepped inside.”

“What did you see?” If Abernathy was anything like James, he was holding his breath too.

“It was cold in the room. Dark. I had to blink to focus, to see anything.”

“Yes.” Abernathy nodded.

Kate’s voice shook. “There he was.” The far-off look was back in her eyes. James was certain she was reliving every awful moment of it.

“He was lying on the floor. Twisted, bloody.” She cupped her hand over her mouth.

“He was dead?” Abernathy prompted.

“Yes.” She mumbled through her hand. Her voice cracked.