The Duke's Divorce (The Reluctant Grooms Series Volume IV)

by Anne Gallagher

  His mother seemed unusually smug this evening, as if she held a great secret. “Did you manage to spend some time with Fiona, or was she gadding about the shops all day with Penny?” He had wondered about his new wife, off and on throughout the afternoon.

  “No, we had a lovely luncheon, and then I introduced her to the staff. I found her a lady’s maid, and then bade her take a nap this afternoon. She should be down presently.”

  And with that, Edwards announced his wife.

  There must be some mistake, Robert thought. The girl who stood before him now was not the same woman he married. She had been passably pretty before, but to say she now looked stunning now was an understatement. The deep purple of her gown offset her translucent skin, the candles giving it a healthy glow. Her hair hung in cascading rivulets over her shoulders and she no longer carried the deep circles under her eyes. If he had seen her in a ballroom, he would have been inclined to ask for an introduction.

  His mother had stopped speaking and both women were now looking at him waiting for a response.

  “Robert, I say, does not Fiona look enchanting this evening?” his mother asked.

  Robert had trouble meeting Fiona’s gaze. “Yes, very lovely, Mother” he finally managed to articulate.

  Fiona had the decency to blush. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “I must say, I had no idea how much a gown could improve your appearance,” Robert said without thinking. Her eyes grew round. Too late, he’d insulted her again.

  “Robert,” his mother admonished.

  “Forgive me, Fiona. I sometimes say what is on my mind without thinking of the consequences. You are very beautiful this evening.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Fiona stared at the floor.

  “I presume this is one of the gowns you purchased with Penny. Might I enquire as to how many you bought?”

  “I purchased three of the ready-made variety, and had Madame Rochelle take measurements for seven more. I hope that is enough.” Fiona looked from Robert to his mother.

  “Only ten,” his mother said. “Goodness me, Fiona, you shall need quite a few more than ten. Why you’ll need afternoon gowns, morning gowns, not to mention ball gowns and a riding costume.” She took her hand and led her to the fire. “I shall make an appointment for us with my modiste and see if we cannot dress you in the style to which you need as duchess.”

  Fiona curtsied. “You are too kind, thank you.”

  Robert stared at his new wife. If this was how a ready-made gown looked on her, he could only imagine the stir she would cause in Society when she appeared in one made to fit.

  Edwards announced dinner and Robert went to take his mother’s arm.

  “Robert, Fiona belongs on your arm now,” his mother said.

  “Yes, of course.” He turned and gave Fiona his arm. “Forgive me.” It had been easy to make the faux pas. He’d been escorting his mother to dinner since his father had passed.

  Dinner was pleasant, and Robert listened to his mother prattle on with the latest gossip. He said very little, only making comments when directly asked. He approved his sisters meeting Fiona before the crush of a family dinner party, which he knew would involve more than family. However, what his mother said next almost made him choke on his pheasant.

  “We should also decide which invitations you would like to accept for the balls, my dear. Well, as soon as your gowns are made.” His mother smiled at him. “You must make an appearance and dance with your new wife at least once. You do not wish the gossipmongers to say you are neglecting your new bride, do you?”

  “No, Mother, not at all,” he lied.

  He had no trouble spending money on Fiona; in fact, he enjoyed the idea now that he saw what a marked improvement it brought. However, those feelings aside, and more to the point, he wished he did not have to be attached to her. After his disastrous failed engagement with Mary-Elizabeth in his early twenties, he vowed never to go that route again. He’d held a place in Society of charming, yet unobtainable gentleman for years, and he liked it. He was handsome, sought after, and could charm his way in or out of a dance or an interlude. No one could resist him. Now, here he was, burdened with a wife, of all things. No more stolen kisses on terraces, or quiet moments in a coach. He’d given Fiona his word as a gentleman.

  He’d never kept a mistress, his dalliances had been fleeting affairs. His father had imparted his wisdom of women at a very early age – Do what you will and be discreet. Never keep a woman for any length of time, they shall always try to trap you. You will know the right woman for your wife, upon first sight, as sure as you know your own name.

  Robert looked at his bride. A lovely gown and a new hairstyle had created a rare thing of beauty. He was terrified of the sensation she would make. Inundated with invitations, he would have to escort her and pretend to make the pretty. His seat in Parliament would also be changed, he would need to hold his own dinners and balls now. For what act in Lords had not been gone over in a library or card room at least a hundred times before it passed? How could he allow Fiona to preside over his table? She knew nothing of the world, Society, or especially politics. He would become a laughingstock.

  He needed a drink. Robert placed his napkin on his plate and rose from the table.

  “Where are you going, dearest?” his mother asked.

  “To my club, Mother. I need to speak with a colleague about an important matter concerning the new shipping line.” ‘Twas a blatant lie, but his mother would never know the difference.

  “Surely, you do not wish to leave Fiona on her first night in London?”

  He glanced at his wife, her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes downcast.

  “Forgive me, my dear. It is unavoidable. My time in Scotland left me with much to do on my return.”

  Fiona glanced up at him briefly and then back down again.

  “Robert, I am sure this business could wait until morning,” his mother said a little more forcefully.

  “Mother, if I am to keep Fiona in as many gowns as you seem to require, I must attend to the matters at hand. I will take my leave of you now. Good night.” He strode from the room, regretting his tone and his words, but that did not deter him. He could not stay another minute in Fiona’s presence.

  *****

  Merry waited to help her with her gown and brush out her hair again. Tomorrow Fiona looked forward to a long bath before meeting Robert’s sisters at breakfast. Then she would be attending Lady Cantin on, what her new mother-in-law called, the ‘rounds’.

  Fiona, dressed in her simple cotton nightrail, crawled into bed and slid under the covers. Merry had stoked the fire before she departed. Fiona lay there listening to the crackling of the embers and wondered what would truly become of her as Robert’s wife.

  Perhaps she might entrust some of her apprehension to Lady Penny. On their outing, Penny did seem to know all the ways around a marriage. And although she and Robert were married in name only, she would like it to appear they were happy. Wasn’t that what he asked of her? Hadn’t they fallen in love, or so the story went. Shouldn’t they then spend time together alone, to at least make it seem as if they were in love? Especially in front of his mother?

  Fiona let the day’s events take over her thoughts. Shopping with Penny was a pleasant experience. To find such delightful things and not have to pay for them was exhilarating. But she did know she could not spend all Robert’s money on such frivolity. When this marriage ended, she wouldn’t need any of the things she bought if she went back to Scotland. There was no use for them in the Highlands.

  Fiona slipped into the warmth of sleep, her last thought being of Robert, naked.

  Something disturbed her and she slowly opened her eyes. Still dark, she found Robert staring at her.

  “You are beautiful. You do know that, do you not?” His voice rang heavily. Was he sossed again?

  “Thank you, my lord.” Fiona reached for the covers and drew them up to her chest. He might be her husband, but their mutual
agreement would be preserved. He said he did not want to bed her, so why was he in her room?

  Robert sat down on the edge of the bed. “Forgive me for this evening. It seems my friends felt neglected and wanted to congratulate me further. My mother would not understand.”

  “Of course, my lord.” Fiona inched her way to a sitting position.

  He took up her hand and patted it. “I think you and I will do nicely, once I get used to the idea of being married. ‘Tis a hard thing for a man to acknowledge his wife when one has been so long in the single state.”

  Fiona nodded. “I understand.”

  “No, I do not think you do. But perhaps you will. I wish to tell you, Fiona, that I do like you, very much, in fact. However, I do not love you and I’m afraid there is nothing for it.”

  “Yes, you said that on our wedding day.” Fiona wondered why he felt the need to bring it up again. She wasn’t a simpleton.

  Robert snorted. “Our wedding day. Both of us held at gunpoint by your damnable father. ‘Twas no wedding, Fiona. Not any that I have ever seen before.”

  He patted her hand again. “Fiona, I wish we had met under better circumstances. I think our lives would be altogether changed.”

  “What circumstances would have changed them?” Fiona asked.

  “Well, if you had come to Town, and we met the usual way through an introduction at a ball or by mutual acquaintance. We could have gotten to know one another in a different light, instead of being thrust together in this farce of a marriage.”

  Fiona let his words sink in. “Perhaps we could get to know each other now, my lord?”

  Robert didn’t speak. He rose from the bed and walked to the door that separated their rooms. Turning to her, he said softly, “Good night, Fiona.”

  *****

  Robert closed the door to his bedchamber. Had Fiona just issued him an invitation to join her in bed? Surely not. Robert removed his rumpled clothing and left them on the chair for his valet. He never should have gone into her bedchamber. What was he thinking? Nothing at all, it seemed. His friends had wished him well with toast after toast. He’d pretended to drink with them, but stopped after three glasses. He knew his limits with alcohol very well. His head was muddled, but not so much that he wouldn’t be up at the break of dawn on the morrow. He couldn’t say the same for any of his comrades.

  Upon returning home, as he walked down the corridor to his rooms, Robert had wondered if Fiona had taken quarter in the duchess’ chamber. His mother had occupied the rooms for a time after his father passed, but left them due to her memories there. She said she couldn’t face the fact her husband was not on the other side of the door any longer, so retreated to the east side of the house and had a suite of rooms that overlooked the gardens. Robert had not wanted to move into his father’s bedroom, but his mother convinced him it was his place, and after a time, he felt comforted by his father’s presence. He could still smell his father’s scent when he opened the mahogany armoire.

  Opening the door to his mother’s old room, Robert fully expected to find it empty. It dawned on him that of course, Fiona would chamber there. She was his wife, the duchess. His mother would never allow whispers from the servants.

  Robert had stared at the sleeping woman. He could not deny her newfound beauty. He hadn’t meant to wake her, he hadn’t wanted to speak to her. He’d only wanted to know what to do about her, as if staring at her while she slept would give him answers.

  Robert sat on the edge of his chair and stared into the fire. Perhaps he should get to know her better. They were married after all, for at least another one-hundred-sixty-seven days. No. He could not. He must keep her at arm’s distance. He would tell his mother to keep her distance as well. He knew without a doubt, that if Fiona and his mother became friends, his mother would demand he stay married to her. And that he would never do. He did not love her, and never would. Quite honestly, she was not his type.

  Robert slid into his bed and nestled himself into the comfort of his pillow. Sleep came quickly and the last thought Robert had, was of Fiona lying on his chest the night she had been frightened of the thunderstorm.

  Chapter Seven

  Fiona awoke to the sounds of Merry as she came into the room. The maid deposited a tray on the bedside table and then opened the curtains.

  “Good morning, Merry. How do you fare today?” Fiona stretched and then flung the covers off the bed.

  “Very well, your ladyship, and you?”

  “I slept very well, thank you.” She hunted under the bed for the chamber pot “Where is the pot?”

  “’Tis in the water closet, your ladyship.”

  “Yes, of course.” She would have to get used to these modern conveniences. Fiona made her way to the antechamber, marveling at the convenience and wondered what her father would think. He still used the privy out behind the chicken yard even in the dead of winter.

  “I took the liberty of pressing out your morning gown for the breakfast with the ladies, mum,” Merry said when Fiona came back into the room.

  Fiona picked up the cup of hot chocolate and murmured a thank you while she sipped.

  “Shall I attend your bath now?”

  “Yes, that would be lovely, thank you, Merry.” Fiona could still not get over how things were done in London. The efficiency of the staff left her feeling as if she’d been stranded in another land. She no longer had to cook meals, make her own clothes, nor did she have to haul and heat water for her own bath. She could become accustomed to being a duke’s wife. However, she knew all too soon, the luxurious lifestyle she was now leading would end. She wondered if she would be able to find another man to take Robert’s place when her marriage dissolved. She thought not, at least not one quite so generous or handsome.

  Merry came out of the water closet and informed Fiona it would only be a few more minutes for her bath.

  “Has my husband gone down to breakfast, do you know?” Fiona asked.

  “I do not believe so. His Grace dines at seven on the dot every morning.”

  Fiona glanced at the little clock. Six. Breakfast with his sisters was not until ten. Perhaps she could have another cup of chocolate with Robert before he began his day. Surely, that would not be disagreeable to him.

  *****

  Robert seated himself at the breakfast table with his plate and opened the morning paper. He read with interest until his eye caught his name in the gossip column.

  Duke of Cantin Weds

  The Duke of Cantin has found a bride, according to this reporter’s sources, whilst on his latest foray to the Highlands. Cantin House would not verify the rumor, but this reporter has it on good authority His Grace is now off the marriage mart. This reporter has also confirmed she is a beauty indeed, but lacks, what we shall call, the social graces. It is reported the new Lady Cantin did not know the difference between a pelisse and a shawl. Do we dare to wonder if she knows the difference between a fork and spoon? Or a Marquess and an Earl? What was His Grace thinking in bringing home a Scottish bride? We shall see.

  Robert slammed the paper down on the table making the footman jump. Obviously, the rumor mills had beaten him to the formal announcement. He would have to send his to the paper directly. Now, not only would he have to acknowledge Fiona, he would have to be seen in public with her. And the paper had brought his very fears to the forefront. Proper etiquette demanded she know whom to curtsy to, whom to dance with, whom not to, and Heaven forbid if she made a mistake. She would turn Robert into a laughingstock in front of the whole of Society. Here, in this house, her mistakes could be overlooked. In public was a different matter altogether. He would have to speak to his mother immediately.

  “Edwards,” Robert bellowed.

  The butler appeared instantly.

  “Please inform my mother’s maid I wish to speak with her upon waking. It is of the utmost importance.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “An emergency, Edwards,” he reiterated.

  “Of co
urse, Your Grace.” Edwards bowed out of the room.

  Robert sipped his coffee. The good humor he had found before breakfast left him. What this travesty of a marriage had cost him he wouldn’t be sure until he tested the water. Perhaps they could delay an appearance in Society. But how long could that last? Fiona had already been out to the shops. She had been seen.

  Pushing his half-eaten breakfast aside, he rose to head to his study.

  Fiona stepped into the room. “Good morning, my lord,” she said.

  Robert looked at the bane of his existence. “Fiona, you will not leave this house under any circumstances until you have spoken with my mother. Is that understood?”

  “May I ask why?” Fiona raised her head a notch and met his cold expression with one of her own.

  “My mother shall explain it, and for Heaven’s sake, please be extremely careful in what you say to my sisters. Is that clear?”

  Fiona nodded, but said nothing.

  He stormed from the room.

  *****

  What could she have possibly done to provoke such an insane demand? Not leave the house? She strode to the buffet, helped herself to a small plate of coddled eggs, and sat down at her place at the table. Taking up Robert’s newspaper, her eye caught the announcement. No wonder he wishes me not to leave the house, he’s afraid I’m going to embarrass him. She snorted. Not leave the house? He was mad! Of course she would leave the house, whenever, to wherever, she chose. She was not a prisoner and would not be treated as such.

  Finished with her eggs, Fiona proceeded upstairs, swept into her room, and began to pace. Not be allowed to leave the house! Who did her husband think he was? The King? She rang for Merry and waited impatiently for her maid. When the girl arrived, Fiona demanded help getting out of the beautiful lavender gown she wore and slipped her old wool from Scotland over her head. She laced up her boots and found her serviceable black cloak in the back of the closet.

  “Your ladyship, where are you going?” Merry asked nervously.