“My lord, how is your hand? Have you placed it on ice?”
He flexed his fingers stiffly. “It has felt better. I missed the opportunity for ice last night.”
She did not want to ask why. “No, that is not true, it has only been a few hours.” She turned to the footman. “Ask Cook to prepare a small bowl of ice, with some flannelling.” Fiona brought his hand closer to her and inspected the bruising. She looked up and met his eyes. “Thank you again for rescuing me.”
“You are my wife,” he said. The words seemed to stick in his throat.
She couldn’t help it. She said, “Thank you again for your kindness to me afterward.”
“Yes, well, I did not think the memory of Stockton was anything that you should have to bear.” He removed his hand from hers and went back to reading the paper.
The footman came back with the ice chips and toweling and Robert stood from the table.
“I have a very busy schedule today, Fiona, and shall not see you until the ball this evening. I trust you will make an appointment with your modiste.” He looked down at her.
“Yes, of course, my lord.”
“Robert,” he said sternly.
Fiona smiled. “Yes, of course, Robert.”
He nodded, took the bowl of ice and toweling, and departed the room.
Fiona looked at her eggs and toast. Less than appealing, she ate it anyway. Picking up the newspaper, she saw Robert had folded one corner over. She flipped to the page and saw the gossip column. She did not have to look for the article. It was there, at the top, in bold print.
Dashing Duke Rescues Lady Wife From Would Be Attacker at Berringbourne Ball
The Duke of Cantin raised his fists last night to save his beautiful wife from an attack on her person at the Berringbourne Ball. Eyewitness accounts place Lady Fiona on the terrace taking in the refreshing night air enjoying a glass of lemonade, when a Peer of less than sterling character assaulted her. The Duke of Cantin rushed to his wife’s aid, where he engaged in fisticuffs with the lecherous Lord. Lady Fiona collapsed from her fright and the heroic Duke carried her from the Berringbourne manse. No one can deny Lady Fiona’s spectacular beauty, however, with her obvious lack of social etiquette, is there any way her husband may get through the rest of the Season unscathed.
Fiona set the paper down. Mired in scandal on her very first night on the Town, she wondered if the paper was right. Would Robert make it through the Season without being killed? She would definitely have to do something about that.
*****
Robert laid his hand upside down in the bowl of ice. He was lucky he hadn’t broken anything. Stockton should have known better. Fiona should have known better. Well, she would tonight, and every other night she attended any function. He would remain by her side, and he would decide with whom she could dance, as well as where and when she could have her damnable lemonade.
He grunted as the ice froze his knuckles. The one thing he had not wanted – scandal – surrounded him. He prayed William was right and that something else would take his place tonight. Perhaps he could pay someone to do something foolish. Not bloody likely. Society tried to avoid scandal like the plague. Those lucky enough to survive it were still forever marked. Just like the damned Black Death. Ten years from now, he would still hear the dowagers clucking, “Oh look, there goes Cantin. Remember the night he rounded poor Stockton over his ill-suited wife?” Robert cringed at the thought his life had come down to this.
He wondered if Fiona was right and they could avoid ballrooms for the rest of the Season. Also, not bloody likely. His mother would be heartbroken. He couldn’t wait for her to awaken so he could show her the gossip column. Perhaps she might look at Fiona in a whole other light. Again, not bloody likely.
His mother seemed to care for Fiona a great deal. Why, he couldn’t say. Perhaps it was the uncommon air that hung about her, made her stand out, whether Fiona wanted to or not. He’d presumed his mother had wanted him to marry a woman like herself – obedient, practical, accomplished. Why she insisted he stay married to Fiona, with her temper, nonsensical attitude, and obvious lack of talents, he couldn’t fathom. It could not only be about her exceptional beauty. There were other women just as lovely, well, almost. But why Fiona? What was so damned special about her?
Robert dried his hand and flexed his fingers. Still tight, but in working order. He wondered how Stockton fared this morning. Not that it mattered. He’d gotten what he’d deserved. About time too. Stockton had been seducing unsuspecting wives for years, although a husband had never caught him until last night. Maybe now that he’d been exposed for the cad he was, he would stop. Alas, not bloody likely.
Robert heard footsteps in the hall and glanced at the clock – eight-fifteen. He waited for Edwards to appear and when he did not, Robert returned to the papers on his desk.
Fifteen minutes later, he heard several pair of footsteps. Robert paid them no heed. By nine o’clock, it seemed as if the entire household marched outside the study, fore and aft, from the front of the house to the back. Robert got up from his desk, strode to the door, and flung it open. He startled two footmen who carried large bouquets of flowers.
“What are you doing?” Robert asked.
“Edwards told us to place these in the salon, Your Grace.”
“What are they?”
“Flowers, Your Grace,” James, the Younger said.
“I can see they are flowers. Who are they for?”
“Not my place to know, Your Grace.”
Robert snatched the card from inside the bouquet and read – I hope these help you over your fright from last night. We are not all monsters. Looking forward to dancing with you again. Culpepper, Earl Greenleigh
Robert put the card back and followed the footman down the hall. The green salon looked more like a florist shop. Bouquets of every imaginable size and color adorned every flat surface, including the floor. Robert read several more cards. It seemed his wife was all the rage.
Robert called for Edwards who appeared in seconds.
“Your Grace?”
“Edwards, where is my wife?”
“I believe she is walking with her maid, Your Grace.”
“When she returns, show her to my study.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Robert returned to his desk, the paperwork forgotten. His hope of never entering another ballroom – quashed. Fiona was now the darling of Society.
*****
Fiona and Merry entered through the kitchens and ascended the servants’ stairs to her rooms. Donning a simple calico morning gown, she wondered if Robert remained vexed over the gossip in the paper. Naturally, he would be. He remained vexed over their marriage. She descended the front stairs and met Edwards in the hall.
“His Grace would like to see you in his study, your ladyship.”
“Of course he does, Mr. Edwards,” she muttered. Of the last nineteen days living at Cantin House, she had been summoned to Robert’s study on eleven occasions. Why should today be any different? Especially after last night.
She found Robert pacing in front of the windows.
“You requested my presence?” she asked.
“It seems you have set the ton on fire.” He looked displeased. “Have you been to the salon?”
“No. Edwards said you wanted to see me and I came straightaway.”
“Come with me.”
Robert led her from the room, down the hall and into what she had formerly known as the green salon. It now resembled a garden.
“Gracious me, has your mother seen these?” Fiona asked.
“Why should my mother wish to see your flowers?”
“My flowers? Whatever do you mean?” She sniffed at a bouquet of yellow roses.
“Fiona, it seems the incident at the Berringbourne’s last night has made you la célébrité extraordinaire.”
Fiona stared at him. “My lord, I hope you realize I never expected this attention, nor do I wish it. As I said la
st night, if I never step foot in another ballroom, it shall be too soon.”
“Be that as it may, we must indulge your admirers. If you do not at least acknowledge them, they will turn on you and you will find, after our annulment, there will be no husband forthcoming. I suggest you learn from this experience and set the precedent as to who will take my place when our marriage ends. There are some very fine prospects listed among your paramours here. You would be wise to cultivate their interest.”
“You cannot be serious!” Aghast, Fiona could not believe Robert had said such a despicable thing.
“I am most serious,” Robert said.
“Even after what you did for me last night?”
Robert cleared his throat. “What I did was nothing more than to erase a bad memory. At your request. That will never happen again. However, from now until the end of our marriage you will not be allowed any more freedom in the ballrooms. A chaperone shall be by your side every night. If it is not me, the chaperone shall decide with whom you may dance, and if you wish to walk on any more terraces, they shall accompany you.”
Fiona could not believe the audacity. Throwing last night back in her face, deciding how she would go on in the ballrooms was madness.
“Why do not you pick out which of these men you think I should marry. It seems I cannot be trusted to make any decisions on my own.” She turned and fled the room.
*****
Deuce take it! Did the chit not realize what an excellent opportunity lay at her feet? She did not have to go husband hunting. The husbands were hunting her!
Robert left the house and strode to his club. He checked his watch – half-ten. Damn, too early for a drink. Perhaps a quiet coffee then, in the library where he wouldn’t have to smell the cloying aroma of so many flowers.
Unfortunately, that was not to be. As soon as he entered his club, his friends set upon him in what could only be termed congratulations.
“About time someone took Stockton to hand.”
“You’ve done us all a great favor, Cantin.”
“He would not dare show his face to Lady Fiona after that thrashing.”
Robert glanced around the room. Thankfully, he saw Davingdale in the far corner.
“If you would excuse me, gentlemen, I have pressing business to attend.” Robert left his admirers and stalked off to where the earl sat. Throwing himself in the chair, he slumped against its back.
Thomas Merrit, Sixth Earl of Davingdale said nothing, but looked at him with a quizzical brow.
“Nineteen bouquets of flowers have arrived at the house” Robert said without preamble. “It seems my wife has made a bit of an impression.”
“You knew it was bound to happen.”
“Yes, but I thought I would be able to ease into it. I had no idea the fops would take to her so quickly.”
“As you said yourself, she is an uncommon beauty. Why should they not?”
“Yes, well, the rules have changed. I will not be defending her honor in such a manner again.” Robert signaled a passing waiter. The hell with coffee. “Brandy,” he requested.
“A little early in the day, is it not?” Davingdale leaned back in his chair.
“The woman is driving me to Bedlam.”
“Robert, you are driving yourself to Bedlam.”
“Surely, you would not let your own wife get into such a predicament.”
“Robert, I do not have said wife, so I could not know what I would or would not do if such an occasion arose. However, as you mentioned to me upon your return from Scotland, you will annul your marriage within six months. Why do you care what happens to her, or how many scrapes she falls into?”
Robert took a gulp of the amber and let it burn down his throat.
“I do not know.” Why did he care?
“I think you may be falling in love with her,” Davingdale said quietly.
“Do not be daft. Falling in love with Fiona? What utter nonsense.”
“Robert, I saw how you watched her from across the ballroom last night. You could not keep your eyes from her. I also saw what you did to Stockton. A man who did not care, would not have beaten another senseless. They had to carry him home. And the way you took her out of the Berringbourne’s, well, that was tenderness in itself.”
“She is my wife. I am the Duke of Cantin. To do any less would ruin my reputation.”
“Ballocks! Your reputation is unbreakable. No amount of scandal could mar it, and you know it. You could whip Fiona naked in the streets and naught would be said. You care for her. You are just too damn proud to admit it.”
A fleeting glimpse of a near-naked Fiona stretched out on her bed flashed before his eyes. No, he could not care for her. She was a shrew. Why look at what she said to him about her suitors. Ungrateful wench.
“I may, as you say, care for her, but not in the way that you think. She is like my little sister. I have to protect her from foolishness.”
“Ballocks again, I say! Tell me, did you not forbid her to wear that gown last night?”
Robert sat upright in his chair. “She told you that?”
“Of course not. I overheard her ask Lady Pen if the gown was too revealing, and when she asked why, Fiona said you had wanted her to change it to something that did not flaunt her assets, as it were.”
“Did you not find it indecorous?” Robert demanded.
“As a matter of fact, I did not. I thought she looked quite stunning actually.”
“Well, you would,” Robert said morosely.
“If I had a wife and she chose to wear something thus, I would not stop her. I like to see a little more of a woman’s décolletage, yes. Taking it off her after the night ended, I think, would bring great delight to both of us.”
Robert blushed crimson, and he knew it, for Davingdale raised an eyebrow.
“Have you broken your own vow of chastity, Robert?”
“I helped her off with her gown. But I did not consummate the marriage.”
“Much to your great dismay, I take it.” Davingdale smiled.
“Thomas, that is not what is at issue here. Fiona has taken the ton by storm and it is only a matter of time before something else happens. What if I must meet some fool at dawn? What would happen to my reputation then?”
“You are friends with His Highness. Nothing would happen to you.”
“So you say. However, the Regent has limited power. He may not be able to save me from death for killing a Peer.”
“Robert, you are getting carried away by your own imagination. Fiona is a delightful creature. Perhaps if you got to know her better, you would care to make her your wife in the truest sense of the word.”
“Now you sound like my mother.”
“Mothers generally know what is best for their children.”
Robert gulped the rest of his brandy and stood. He needed to escape this conversation. He needed to escape the confines of this wretched marriage, sooner, rather than later. Before he could not escape at all.
“I take my leave of you, Thomas. I presume I shall see you tonight.”
“Whether you wish to or not,” Davingdale said. “I cannot help the feeling your wife will lend an air of fascination to the festivities.” He laughed as Robert walked away.
Robert left the club and walked back to his house. Upon his arrival, Edwards informed him his mother requested his presence.
Chapter Thirteen
“You wished to see me, Mother,” Robert said strolling into the breakfast room.
His mother looked up from her plate, tight lines drawn across her normally placid forehead.
“How could you be so insensitive?” Lady Joanna took up her teacup.
“Pray, what have I done now?” Robert asked. He stood with his hands in his pockets waiting for the set-down.
“Telling poor Fiona she needed to find another husband.” His mother slammed her teacup back in its saucer, rattling the other china on the table.
“Well, it is true, Mother. I do not see the
harm in her choosing from one of the suitors now clamoring for her attention. She could cultivate some very eligible bachelors. Greenleigh seems to be quite enamored of her already and as her time as my wife is short, I believe it would behoove her to make the best of the current situation. Do you not think?”
His mother snorted. “Robert, I do not know you any longer and are turning out to be someone I do not think I like very much.”
“Mother, please. I told you right from the very beginning, this marriage was a sham and Fiona and I would never remain married. I was honest with you so there would be no misunderstanding, as there seems to be now. Fiona does not suit me and I will not be trapped in a loveless marriage. I am resolved on this point and you will not change my mind. Whatever ideas you may have about my remaining married to Fiona, disregard them.” Robert left his mother sitting with her mouth pressed to a fine line.
Entering his study, Robert noticed the heavy envelope sitting atop the stack of correspondence on his desk. Breaking open the seal, he found a report from his overseer at the estate in Swansea. A lesser property, it had never held any great promise and his father had often talked of selling it, but had never gotten around to it. As Robert read the report, an idea formed and he couldn’t shake it. Perhaps it was the cowards’ way out, however, it seemed like the perfect solution to his problems.
*****
Fiona dressed carefully for the ball that night in a simple dark blue silk gown with an extremely modest neckline. The modiste had been surprised at the request to have all her gowns altered.
“But Madame, ‘zees is all the fashion,” the seamstress sputtered. “You are no longer a school miss, but a Duchess. You must look like ze Duchess.”
“It is not my request, but my husband’s,” Fiona explained.
The dressmaker clucked and nodded, and Fiona indeed felt like a child. Instead of being at her father’s knee, she was now at her husband’s and Fiona didn’t know which was worse.
The Duke's Divorce (The Reluctant Grooms Series Volume IV) Page 10
