Fairest of Them All (Marriage by Fairytale Book 4) Read online

  Instead of leaving the room, he went to the other side of the desk and sat down. She stared at him as he uncapped the inkwell. Had she misunderstood his identity? He was wearing a servant’s garb, and he looked to be in his early twenties. He couldn’t possibly be the duke. She was certain he was the butler.

  He dipped the quill into the inkwell then turned his attention to her. “I am here on behalf of the Duke of Sutherton. I’ve been instructed to ask you some questions that I will, in turn, pass on to His Grace.”

  Well, at least she knew he wasn’t the duke, but it also meant she might not get to meet him. “May I ask if you have to do this for all of the ladies who wish to marry His Grace?” Or had the duke gotten a chance to look at her through a window and decided she wasn’t what he wanted?

  “There are no others who’ve come forward to marry him. You’re the only one.”

  She hadn’t expected that. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried. On one hand, it meant she had been quick enough to get to him before another lady did. However, it also meant his offer of three hundred pounds hadn’t attracted any other ladies. She recalled the way the two ladies had said there was no way they would marry him. Was that the thinking of every other lady in London, too?

  Well, he had gone through three wives, and from the sound of it, they had all died shortly after marrying him. She supposed that didn’t make him the most attractive bachelor in London.

  “His Grace is serious about the offer he made,” the butler said, interrupting her thoughts. “If you marry him, he will give your family three hundred pounds.”

  “Is he offering that much money because no one will marry him any other way?”

  “I’ve been instructed to be honest and forthright with you. His Grace understands the risk you’re taking. But the good news is that the risk can be avoided if you do one simple thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You must never light a candle when he’s in the same room with you.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

  “His Grace is convinced he’s under a curse. Any lady he weds will die if she sees his face.”

  The butler’s statement almost made her laugh. What a silly thing. There was no such thing as a gentleman’s face putting a lady to death. She was ready to comment on the absurdity of it all when she noted how serious the butler was.

  “I know how it sounds,” the butler said. “I was supposed to wait until I asked the questions before telling you about the curse, but it seems best I tell you beforehand.” He glanced at the parchment in front of him. “If you have changed your mind on marrying His Grace, you may leave.”

  Her gaze went to the missive in her hands. All of her hopes were pinned on what happened this afternoon. She had an aunt and two sisters to think about. True, the duke had gone through three wives, but she couldn’t believe it was because of a curse. That was preposterous. There had to be a logical reason for their deaths. Whatever risk she would take by marrying him, she wasn’t going to die from looking at his face. She knew that for a fact.

  “Since you’ve been honest with me, I will be honest with you,” she finally said. “I don’t believe in curses. I realize some people believe in them, and I accept the duke believes he’s under one. I’m here for my family. My younger brother recently died and left me, my aunt, and my two sisters with very little money. They could use the money His Grace is offering.”

  “Then you accept the risk?”

  “I do.”

  “Very well.” He dipped the quill into the inkwell.

  She thought he was going to start asking her questions, but instead, he wrote a few words on the parchment. Curious, she leaned forward so she could read what he was writing. Hair as dark as raven’s wings, complexion untainted by the sun, brown eyes, rosy lips, hourglass figure, mourning attire due to brother’s death.

  “You’re describing my appearance?” she asked in surprise.

  “He won’t look at you,” the butler replied. “There will never be a trace of light when you’re in the same room with him. He wishes to have an image of you in his mind, so he can have a concept of how you look.”

  “Can I ask for a description of him?”

  “I would offer one if I had ever seen him, but the room he stays in is always dark.”

  “I thought I was the only one who risked death if I looked at him.”

  “The only person I know of who’s seen his face is his step-daughter, and I’m not at liberty to ask her about it. Perhaps you will be able to ask her since you will be her step-mother.”

  Yes, perhaps. She settled back in the chair. This was the strangest situation she’d ever encountered, but she wasn’t going to let that deter her from her goal. She wasn’t doing this for herself. She was doing this for her aunt and sisters. Yes, this situation was strange, but it was better than living on the street.

  “I can now ask you some questions,” the butler said.

  She straightened in the chair and clasped her hands on her lap. “I’m ready.”

  “What’s your age?”

  “Thirty-four.”

  “Have you been married before?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Her hands clasped tighter together. “None of the gentlemen took an interest in me during my Seasons.”

  That hadn’t been easy to admit, but there was no getting out of answering it. Besides, it wasn’t like ladies were lining up to marry the duke. At least not anymore. Maybe at one time they had been. She thought of asking the butler about it, but he probably didn’t know, especially not since he was so young. He couldn’t have been under the duke’s employment for long.

  “What’s your full name?” the butler asked.

  Glad he hadn’t asked her to explain why she hadn’t been able to attract a gentleman in the past, she said, “My full name is Miss Viola Keane.”

  “And your brother?”

  “He was Oliver Keane, Earl of Manning. He was only twenty-eight.”

  “Mind if I ask what happened to him?” the butler softly asked.

  “He got sick with consumption. He’d been ill for two months. We were forbidden to see him. He wanted to make sure we wouldn’t get it.” Her voice drifted off, and it took her a moment to regain her composure. She was sure the duke was used to people dying young since he’d gone through three wives.

  “I’m sorry,” the butler whispered.

  “He was a good brother. He might not have managed the ledger well, but he had a good heart.” She took a deep breath. “Are there any other questions?”

  “The duke would like to know about your entire family. You mentioned your aunt and sisters.”

  “Yes.” Talking about them helped to ease some of the pain. Relieved, she went on to tell him about them.

  The other questions he asked were less personal. He asked her what she liked to eat, what colors she liked, how she liked her bedchamber decorated, and other things that let her know the duke was going to make an effort to make her comfortable while she lived here.

  Finally, the butler put the quill in its holder and covered the inkwell with the cap. “The reason His Grace needs a wife is because his step-daughter will be having her first Season this year. He wishes to have you chaperone her since there are no other relatives to accompany her and he is unable to make any public appearances.”

  “I understand,” she replied. “I’ve been through three Seasons.” Never mind that they hadn’t done her any good. Perhaps she might have more success in helping the step-daughter find a husband. “I can perform the duties of a chaperone.”

  “I think His Grace will approve the marriage, but I need to give this parchment to him,” the butler said as he lifted the paper from the desk.

  “Do you know when I can expect to find out if he’ll marry me?”

  “His Grace has been waiting for almost a month for a lady to make an offer. I don’t think it’ll take long. You might even get a
response tonight.”

  She supposed that was the best she could expect. Naturally, if she’d been able to talk directly to the duke, she might have gotten a “yes” or a “no” immediately. Since the butler had to report to him, she would have to wait. She was tempted to tell the butler she’d wait while he talked to the duke, but she had no right to insist on such a thing. This wasn’t her butler. He wasn’t under any obligation to follow her orders. He was to do what the duke wanted.

  “Thank you,” she finally said, rising to her feet.

  The butler stood up. “You didn’t drink the tea. You may take the cup with you if you wish.”

  She glanced down at the cup. “That’s not necessary. I’ll drink it here.”

  The butler offered her an understanding smile, and she drank the tea, feeling awkward to have to do so while someone was watching her.

  When she was done, he walked around the side of the desk, the parchment still in his hand. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  She forced her gaze off of the paper. Her future depended on that parchment. She’d done all she could. Now, all she could do was wait for the duke to decide whether he would marry her or hold out for another lady. What was she supposed to do about her aunt and sisters if the duke decided he didn’t want her?

  Don’t think about it. You’ve done all you can. Now, you’ll just have to wait.

  She gave him the cup and let him escort her out of the townhouse.

  Chapter Two

  Evander Meyrick, the Duke of Sutherton, stood at the small window of the attic. He had pushed aside the armoire that had been covering it so he could watch the lady as she got into the carriage.

  The vantage point wasn’t ideal. He was unable to get a good look at her. The most he could make out was that she had dark hair and a pleasant figure. He hadn’t been able to make out any features on her face because of her hat. He supposed it didn’t matter what she looked like, but he’d been unable to hide his curiosity. He could only hope she would be strong enough to resist sneaking a peek at him.

  Remembering the butler, he hurried to push the armoire back against the wall. Immediately, the attic was covered in darkness. He made his way to the desk and sat down. He’d had enough time to memorize the steps it took to get to each piece of furniture in the room. He didn’t need light to guide his way, though he did light a candle when he knew he’d be alone for a long period of time.

  He settled into the chair behind his desk and waited for the butler. He thought about having a drink from the decanter he’d placed exactly at an arm’s length to his left, but he decided against it. His hands were shaking too much. The last thing he needed to do was spill the brandy. That would require cleaning it up, and he would need candlelight to do that. He would wait until the butler left. Then he’d have the drink. At forty, one would think he wouldn’t require something to help him cope with the decision he was about to make.

  He sat back in the chair and closed his eyes. He hoped he wasn’t making a terrible mistake. The last thing he wanted to do was bury another wife. The lady who’d just come to this townhouse was still young. She should be allowed to live all the years God had granted her. He had held out for the hope that an old lady might take his offer, preferably one who was on the verge of death already. But this one didn’t have gray hair. She had dark hair.

  Maybe once Tabitha was married, he could leave her here and return to his country estate. All she had to do was make sure Tabitha found a husband this Season. Tabitha was an attractive young lady. She looked a lot like her mother. Both had the same shiny brown hair with auburn highlights in them. The lady who had just left this townhouse had hair darker than that. It was so dark it looked black. It had matched the gown she’d been wearing.

  The lady must be in mourning, and judging by the uniformity of black in her gown, he surmised she recently lost a loved one. He doubted she’d just lost a husband. Ladies typically didn’t seek out another husband so soon. Most likely, it was a parent, or maybe even an aunt or uncle.

  A knock came at the attic door. He jerked up in the chair. His hands began to shake again, and, once more, he had to resist the urge to drink the brandy. It was a terrible thing he was doing. He couldn’t help but think he was about to confine another innocent lady to her death.

  No, it doesn’t have to be that way. As long as she never sees your face, she’ll be fine. You just need to be strong enough. Make sure she understands how important it is that you remain in the dark.

  “Enter,” he told the butler.

  The butler opened the door, the passageway behind him as dark as the attic. Yes, the butler was probably safe. The other servants were probably safe. But at this point, Evander was so paranoid that he didn’t take the chance of showing his face to anyone except for Tabitha.

  “The lady just left,” the butler said. “I have the answers to the questions you wanted me to ask her.”

  “Did you give her the terms of the marriage?” Evander asked.

  “Yes, I told her she must never look at your face.”

  “Did she accept that?”

  “She did.”

  Good. The last wife he had hadn’t agreed to the terms right away. In fact, she had taken a look at him the same day they married. He didn’t go near her after that, but she still died. Within two weeks, he had buried her. He’d thought if he didn’t consummate the marriage, he might spare her. But it hadn’t worked. She’d suffered a fall off a horse. No one had figured out what had happened until that evening when the butler found her miles from the manor. Afterwards, that butler had quit. One of the maids had quit, too. Evander couldn’t blame them. They’d seen the deaths of his three wives. Why would they want to stay around for more?

  “She seems like a sensible lady,” the butler continued. “She wishes to marry you in order to help her family. Her brother faced an untimely death due to an illness, and he left them in a delicate financial situation.”

  So she was willing to take her chances in order to take care of her family. Evander couldn’t help but admire her for that. What kind of person was he to bring potential harm to a lady who was so unselfish?

  “Also,” the butler added, “I think you’d like to know she holds herself very well. It’s obvious she’s used to the customs in London. She won’t have any trouble introducing Lady Tabitha to polite society.”

  At the reminder of his step-daughter, Evander felt some of his courage return. He could marry this lady, and he would take every precaution to protect her. He would do his due diligence this time.

  Evander rose from the chair and walked over to the butler. He had heard the butler take exactly five steps into the attic. All he had to do was count twenty, and he reached him.

  “I’ll take the answers,” Evander told him.

  The room was so dark that he wouldn’t have known the butler jerked unless he’d heard him take a step back.

  “My apologies,” Evander said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you heard me approach.”

  “You’re surprisingly quiet, Your Grace.”

  Was he? He must have gotten so used to being alone in this silent room that everything sounded loud to him. He took the parchment. “Thank you for conducting the interview. I felt it would make her feel more at ease if she didn’t have to talk to me in this attic.”

  The other servants were afraid to come near him. The butler had been the only one who’d been willing to come directly to the attic to talk to him. Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen the effects of the curse yet. To him, it was all a theory.

  “I’ll read her answers then send her a reply,” Evander told the butler. “Come back in an hour.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Evander listened as the butler left the room and waited until the door of the attic was shut before he went back to his desk. He sat in his chair, set the paper on the desk, and opened the top drawer to his right.

  He felt for the matches and found one. He struck it, and the flame lit up the im
mediate area around him. He squinted. For some reason, it seemed brighter than the sun. But then, the sun hadn’t been in his direct vision. He brought the flame to the wick of the candle. He blew the match out then set it in the small tin container at the edge of his desk.

  Now, for the answers. He’d gotten a glimpse of her, and the butler had given him useful information, but this would tell him what he most wanted to know. He read through the answers slowly, letting the words provide him with a better idea of what kind of lady would be willing to marry someone noted for burying wives.

  As the butler had said, she was a sensible lady. From the way she dressed to the foods she liked to eat to the way she liked her bedchamber decorated, there was nothing that indicated she did anything in excess. Her tastes were practical and simple. Perhaps she would be sensible enough to keep her promise to never look at his face.

  He supposed he would get an idea of how good she was about keeping her word when he married her. If she didn’t make a move to get a candle or try to find a window, that would be an indication she might be safe in this house with him. If, however, she made a move to do any of those two things, he would refuse the marriage and send her back home. He hadn’t done that with his third wife. That was his mistake. He wasn’t going to make that one again. Yes, the wedding ceremony would be a good test. If she passed it, then he would feel much better about having her here.

  Encouraged, he picked up a fresh piece of parchment and began to pen his response.

  ***

  “Your nephew was a good gentleman,” Lady Pruett was telling Viola’s aunt while the three ladies sat in the drawing room. “My husband and his friend benefited from his friendship. They’ll both miss him.”

  Viola was having trouble focusing on the two ladies. Her gaze kept going to the clock above the fireplace mantle. It’d been three hours since she went to the Duke of Sutherton’s townhouse, and she still hadn’t heard either way on whether or not he would marry her. She hated this. She considered herself to be a patient person, but so much depended on his response. All day she’d tried to come up with something else she could do to help her family, and the only answer she kept coming up with was marriage to the duke.