Free Once a Duchess by Elizabeth Boyce Page B

will be trial enough.”
    Marshall nodded. “As you say.” He leaned on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms.
    “Do not behave in that casual fashion,” Caro scolded. “You’ll make a mess of your coat.”
    Marshall straightened and tugged the cuffs of his black evening jacket while he tried to formulate the best tack to take. His mother had always held a tight rein on the family, brooking no argument against her judgment. While he’d attributed descriptors such as “self-assured” or “confident” to her in the past, he now glimpsed something darker in her motivations.
    “What is this about, son?” Caro demanded impatiently. Her eyes darted to the clock on the mantelpiece before snapping back to him.
    Marshall drew a deep breath. “I saw Isabelle.”
    At the name of his former wife, Caro’s mouth curled into an expression of extreme distaste. “Oh?” She quirked a brow. “Shall I inquire after her health, or may we move on to a pleasanter topic of conversation?”
    “She and I had a talk,” Marshall said, ignoring Caro’s jibe. “We never did talk too much back then, you know. We divorced with scarcely a word passing between us, after the unpleasantness at Hamhurst. Does it not strike you as odd?”
    His mother’s features cooled into a semblance of bland indifference.
    “It strikes me as odd,” he continued.
    “She has the manners of a dock rat,” Caro snapped. “I wouldn’t expect better from a mushroom like her.”
    “Hmm.” Marshall nodded. “That is certainly one perspective.” He held up a finger. “But Isabelle suggests you manipulated events to force us apart.”
    Caro lifted her chin in a guarded expression. Her bejeweled fingers clasped together at her waist.
    “In fact, after I agreed to the divorce, I recall you insisting I hasten to London at once. You did everything you could to part me from my wife.”
    “Your estranged wife, whom you were divorcing,” Caro replied. “You had your father’s business to conclude and Parliament to petition. I hardly think it signifies now.”
    “Why, Mother?” Marshall asked, his eyes wide, seeking. “Why did you deliberately keep us apart?”
    Caro’s lips pursed, then she let out a disgusted sound. “You were too soft-hearted about that girl by half. I didn’t want her conniving her way back into your good graces.”
    Could Isabelle have convinced him to abandon the divorce? His mind once again returned to their undeniable attraction in the inn, and he had to admit she very well could have done such a thing.
    “You wouldn’t want to have given your name to another man’s bastard, would you?” Caro asked. “A commoner’s bastard, at that.”
    He shook his head. “Isabelle had no child.”
    “She would have, eventually,” Caro said emphatically. “Yours or that Miller person’s, and no one to say who the father was, and no choice for you but to claim it.” Her chest heaved against the silky constraints of her gown. “I saved you from that, Marshall.” She jabbed an index finger into the opposite palm. “I saved this family from having a nobody’s bastard become heir to one of the oldest titles in the kingdom.”
    “You interfered,” Marshall said without much heat. Under his breath, he cursed in frustration. Both women were right. Isabelle’s suspicions were well founded, but so were his mother’s reasons for her actions.
    “Yes, I did,” Caro said, “and I would do it again if I had to.” She patted Marshall on the arm. “Come now, it’s a new Season — balls to attend and ladies to woo, perhaps?” Her lips twisted into something he supposed was meant to resemble an encouraging smile.
    He frowned. “You’ll see me at the altar soon enough. Belaboring the issue won’t get me there any faster.”
    Caro gave an injured sniff, but took his mild chiding with an air of satisfaction.
    Marshall still had every intention of choosing a new wife, and soon. However, the Isabelle situation needed sorting out. It