The Duke's Accidental Wife (Dukes of War Book 7) (22 page)

Kate tugged on a pair of too-tight gloves and strode from her bedchamber.

When she reached the front door, the butler stood at the ready with two umbrellas and two pelisses.

Aunt Havens was nowhere to be seen.

Kate didn’t need to glance at her pocket watch to know they were running out of time. She needed to get there early. She needed to be there
now
.

With a sigh, she turned on her heel and made her way to the guest quarters.

Aunt Havens sat in the middle of the floor amongst a pile of spilled linens, playing with Jasper.

Kate tried very hard to keep her head from exploding.

“Aunt,” she said with all the patience her heart could muster. “What in the world are you doing?”

“Playing,” Aunt Havens replied joyfully. “I’ve just found a puppy.”

Kate’s mouth dried. Aunt Havens had been Aunt Havens a mere hour ago. And now…

“What is the puppy’s name?” she asked thickly.

“He won’t tell me,” her aunt replied with a laugh. Her eyes widened as she glanced up at Kate. “You look lovely. Are you going somewhere?”

Guilt and indecision wracked her. She’d
promised
her aunt could attend tonight’s gala.

She’d also promised hundreds of other attendees that the event would go off without a hitch. There was no possible way to manage the performances and patronages whilst simultaneously keeping a firm eye on Aunt Havens.

Not like this.

“No,” she lied through the breaking of her heart. “I’m just…playing dress-up.”

Aunt Havens smiled. “I love playing dress-up. I’ll join you when I’m tired of the puppy.”

Kate did her best to smile back. It wouldn’t stay on her face.

“You stay here,” she said instead. “Don’t leave this room. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Aunt Havens frowned. “You
are
going somewhere!”

“Of course not,” Kate managed. Her spine tightened with guilt. “I would never leave you. I just need you to stay right here until I come back.”

Aunt Havens shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m the one with the puppy.”

Kate dropped to her knees and forced her aunt to meet her eyes. “Swear it. Tell me you won’t leave this room until I come back to get you.”

“I swear, sourpuss.” Aunt Havens touched her nose to the puppy’s. “Can I name him Bear?”

Kate tried to smile. “You should name him Jasper.”

“Jasper,” Aunt Havens repeated.

The puppy barked.

Aunt Havens laughed in delight. “He likes it!”

Kate pushed to her feet and met the worried eyes of Aunt Havens’ lady’s maid. “She stays in this room no matter what. Understood?”

The lady’s maid nodded rapidly.

Kate kissed her aunt’s wrinkled cheek. “I love you. Stay here.”

Aunt Havens didn’t answer.

Kate backed out of the room and then hurried toward the door. The gala was already a disaster. No Ravenwood. No Aunt Havens. No
Kate
if she didn’t get out of this house and into the coach in the next few moments.

Her heart thumped as the carriage rattled toward the theatre. She felt awful for lying to Aunt Havens. Once she awoke from her confusion, she wouldn’t even recall the conversation happening. All she would remember was that Kate had promised to bring her along then betrayed her by leaving her behind.

She desperately wished her last lucid moments with her aunt hadn’t been spent fighting.

Rain beat down on the roof, on the windows, on the street. No pedestrians were outside. The cobblestones were buried beneath great puddles of mud.

 
When she arrived at the theatre, she had even less time to prepare than she’d feared. She rushed from one person to the next, encouraging performers, speaking to the staff.

Already guests were beginning to arrive.

Would they enjoy their experience? Would they even stay once they realized their sainted duke was not there?

Kate fought a sense of nausea. She had counted on Ravenwood’s presence to motivate patronage and give a sense of aristocratic approval to the event. She feared his absence would convey the exact opposite message. That even
he
could not be bothered to support his wife’s mad ideas.

Her body riddled with frustration. She had spent her adult life battling naysayers. People who believed a woman couldn’t achieve things. People who believed communities like the one she was trying to build couldn’t be achieved by anyone.

She had intended to prove them wrong.

It wouldn’t be easy. There were a thousand interlocking parts to consider, most of them human and therefore utterly unpredictable. The countesses and earls were just as mercurial as the acrobats and opera singers. She had to be more than alert. For this to work, it had to be perfect.

The theatre filled to the rafters.

Kate’s heart pounded.

Slowly, the curtain opened.

Music swelled as the orchestra began to play the opening for a skilled troupe of ballet dancers. Kate gripped her arms about her chest. The dancers leaped and twirled across the stage in time to the music. Every step, clockwork precision. Every leap, breathtaking.

The performance was flawless.

When it ended, the spellbound audience rose to their feet in applause. Kate could barely make herself heard when she walked on stage and asked them to please hold the applause until the end of the show, when they would all have an opportunity to speak with the performers themselves.

Next were the acrobats, the dramatists, the singers. Act after act, applause after applause. The audience couldn’t help themselves. And Kate couldn’t stop smiling. The first act was nearly over and the event was already a roaring success.

“Your grace?”

She turned to see the theatre manager hurrying toward her. “Yes?”

He wrung his hands apologetically. “There’s a…gentleman here to see you. He says it’s of utmost importance that he speak with you.”

Kate’s heart lifted.
Ravenwood
. No, that made no sense. The theatre manager wouldn’t have referred to him as “a gentleman” but rather “his grace.” And he would’ve shown Ravenwood to his seat immediately.

“I don’t have time for interruptions.” She gestured toward the stage. “I’m the one who has to cue each act, and it’s almost time for the jugglers to take their bow.”

A man stepped forward from the shadows. “My apologies, your grace. I would not have come if I hadn’t felt it urgent.”

“
Simmons?
” She stared at her butler in befuddlement. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s Mrs. Havens,” he said, his face pale. “She’s gone.”

“Gone?” Kate repeated stupidly. “How can Aunt Havens be gone?”

Simmons’ eyes didn’t quite meet hers. “The puppy got loose. He slipped outside and your aunt couldn’t catch him and we all raced into the walking paths to find him before any harm could befall him. We were concentrating so hard on Jasper… It was dark as pitch and raining buckets, and we could barely see each other, much less the puppy. When we finally got him back inside, we discovered Mrs. Havens was gone.”

“You found the puppy.” Kate broke into a cold sweat. “And lost my aunt.”

The butler’s cheeks flushed with shame. “I take full responsibi—”

“I’m to blame,” she interrupted, her stomach bottoming as terror took her. Aunt Havens was old and frail. And all alone. Somewhere.

Even from inside the theatre, the occasional crack of thunder could still be heard. The downpour was swift and merciless. Aunt Havens was in very real danger.

She searched frantically for her pelisse before remembering she’d left it at the other side of the theatre. There was no time. She had to find her aunt now before something terrible happened that couldn’t be undone.

In a panic, she pushed past the butler and raced for the stairs. If anything happened to Aunt Havens…

“She promised she would stay home. Stay safe.” Kate’s voice cracked as she pushed out of the theatre and stepped into the driving rain. The carriage stood waiting, but Kate didn’t even know where to begin to look. She stared up at the clouds. Aunt Havens was lost.

And it might be too late to find her.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ravenwood entered White’s with the memory of his wife’s hurt seared into his brain.

He had given her the poem. It had taken hours to write. Days to finalize. Even if she found it puerile and laughable, she would at least know how much it had cost him to hand it to her. How much he loved her.

But it didn’t mean she would forgive him for going back on his word.

He curled his fingers into fists and glared at the featherbrains who had ruined his night—and possibly his relationship—with their stupid obsession with seeing their faces on coins.

The problem with giving his word was that he had already given it. He was a duke. His first duty was to the Crown. To his country. That inherently meant everything and everyone had to come second. If he allowed these buffoons to ruin the economy, what kind of world he be making for his wife? For their children?

He had to do the right thing. But he’d be damned if he let it take all night.

Lord Montague rose to his feet as soon as he spotted Ravenwood striding through the door. “Gentlemen, gentlemen. As promised, the Duke of Ravenwood is here with incontrovertible proof to explain why the wisest decision, the
only
decision the Coinage Committee can make, is to reintroduce silver coins for denominations of forty shillings or less, establish a single gold standard for all transactions, and ensure a standard weight of all sovereigns relative to a twenty-two carat troy pound.”

The moonfaced lords stared at Montague as if he were speaking Chinese. To them, it probably was.

That was the battle he and Ravenwood had been fighting since the beginning.

A battle Ravenwood intended to win right here.

Tonight.

He grabbed an empty tray from a passing servant and collected all the full and half-full glasses and snifters crowding the private table.

Ignoring all cries of
what’s the meaning of this
and
you’re not my headmaster, Ravenwood
, he handed the full tray off to a servant with instructions that no further beverages were to be served to any member of the current party without the Duke of Ravenwood’s sole and express approbation.

 
Then he got to work.

For the next hour and a half, he and Montague slowly but surely turned the topic of England’s fiduciary system from minting vainglorious fripperies to taking a solid look at the state of the economy and what changes might staunch the post-war slide, rather than exacerbate it.

He had never talked so much or so loudly. At first the others were startled into silence by his vociferousness and unyielding glare. Soon, however, the idea began to dawn in even the tiniest brains that the most diverting ideas for them was far from the best path for England.

Ravenwood stood at the head of the table, his face an implacable mask of ice. “It is your responsibility, your
duty
, to hold this country and every person in it in high esteem. My wife, my children, deserve to live in a stable world. Where the value of a sovereign today is the same as it is tomorrow. So does your wife. So do your children. So do all of you.”

They stared back at him, mouths agape.

“We are not only accountable for safeguarding the economy from further ravages. We are in the unique position of being powerful enough to ensure its stability for centuries to come.”

They gazed at each other with a new kind of avarice.

Good. Ravenwood could use that to his advantage.

He placed both hands on the table and looked at each one in turn. “Do you want to be known as the dandies who put their faces on failing coins? Or do you want to be remembered as the peers who marshaled the resources of the House of Lords and restored England’s position as the strongest economy in the world?”

In that moment, the damage was undone and the ridiculous coinage designs forgotten. No one wanted their face protruding from a mere penny when they could be immortalized as heroes instead. They would pass a Coinage Act focused on saving the economy, not their egos.