“Very well. Edwards has taken care of everything.” She smiled as she picked the dead bloom off a miniature rose.
“What color is your gown for that evening?”
“A deep red, like this flower. Why?”
“I should like to buy you a new jewel to match.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “There is no need. I shall wear my pearls.”
Pearls? A knot formed in Robert’s stomach. “I have never seen you in pearls, and I have not given you pearls. Tell me, are they from Greenleigh?”
Fiona laughed. “No, do not be daft.”
Robert clenched his fists. His voice rose. “Do you have another admirer I do not know about? Is that what you were doing all those nights at home alone, meeting your lover?”
Fiona turned to face him with a half-smile, curiosity in her eyes. “Are you jealous, my lord?” she asked in a light tone.
“No, I am not jealous, but if you remember, I will divorce you if you cuckold me. Tell me, Fiona, are you having an affair? If you do not tell me the truth and I find out…”
Fiona placed the plant she had been trimming back on the table. She took off her gloves and wiped her hands on her apron. He waited for the shrill barrage that was her denial. When she looked at him, he fully expected to see storm clouds raging in her eyes. What he saw, however, stunned him, for her eyes were filled with sorrow so grave they had drained of all color.
“I am not having an affair, my lord,” she said quietly. “But I do want to thank you for reminding me of our agreement.” With that, she walked out of the room, leaving him to wonder why she hadn’t railed against him as she usually did. Why she carried herself with the air of tragic defeat.
Robert’s annoyance with himself over the imagined affair gnawed at him for the remainder of the day. Of course, Fiona told the truth. It was not in her nature to be duplicitous. But the pearls…who were they from? Yes, he acknowledged to himself, he was jealous, truth be told, insanely jealous, and it was a woman’s vain amusement when a man admitted it. However, he hadn’t participated in such folly in over a decade.
Fiona had never given him a reason to be suspicious, but her lack of answer about the pearls was driving him to distraction. Why could he not trust her? Could it be his own doubts and insecurities over Mary Elizabeth that were plaguing him these many years later?
It had been ten years, ten years, since his humiliation with Mary Elizabeth. Why could he not get her out of his subconscious? Why did he naturally think Fiona would treat him the same way Mary Elizabeth had? They were nothing alike. Not in deed, word, or temperament. Were the scars Mary Elizabeth inflicted on his heart so profound he could never have faith in another woman ever again?
Fiona didn’t deserve that. It was certainly not her fault Mary Elizabeth had broken his heart, and it was certainly not Fiona’s fault he couldn’t get past it. Fiona had done nothing to warrant his contempt, his ridicule, or his insane distrust.
Mary Elizabeth had settled herself in a place in his mind that he would always look back on with regret. He’d never recovered from her leaving him, or her playing him the fool. She was the one who would make him jealous on purpose. She was the one who wanted his title and his name. She was also the one who left him when something better came along.
Fiona was nothing like Mary Elizabeth. Her unpretentious air in dealing with the ton left him mystified. He’d never met another woman so impervious to nobility and breeding. She was genuine and sincere, took everyone she met at face value, and expected the same in return. She cared not that she was a duchess, but took great pride in being one if only to help those less fortunate. Her volunteer work for the orphanage amazed him. And the zeal with which she gathered the ladies to form a committee on the returning soldier’s plight, still left him with a lump in his throat.
Mary Elizabeth had no such compunction. She had always thought in terms of herself, what she could get, have, want that was better than anybody else. Fiona didn’t have a conceited bone in her body. Her first thought was always about what someone else needed. From him and his mother down to Edwards and Merry, and even the little cat she had brought home. She made sure it was given a saucer of milk before she would join him for luncheon that day. She always placed her desires last.
For the last month or so, Fiona seemed to be waiting for something. What it was Robert couldn’t say. And she seemed to have found it at Penny’s that one particular afternoon. However, with the look she gave him this morning in the conservatory, it appeared she no longer cared about what it had been, as though nothing in the world would matter to her ever again. Almost as if the person she loved most in the world had died.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The anguish that gripped Fiona over Robert’s accusation felled her. In her room, she lay across her bed, inconsolable. Merry, clearly unused to seeing her mistress so distraught, brought anything she thought Fiona could need, but there was nothing that would ease the ache in her heart. Robert had no idea how much he had hurt her, how hateful he had been with those hideous words…I will divorce you if you cuckold me. He hadn’t even allowed her to explain the pearls, but jumped to his own disgusting conclusions.
Fiona was grateful she had never confessed her love to him. How many times had she tried to tell him, and always, something held her back. Thankfully now, he would never know.
Everything Robert had done and said these last weeks, meant nothing. His praise, his flattery, his flirtations, all lies. For in the end, no matter what he said, or how he acted toward her, he would still be rid of her. He was nothing more than a scurrilous hateful libertine, spewing fabrication and falsehood to make her become his biddable wife.
She sat up, and dried her eyes. Well, no more. Nothing he would ever say would matter to her, for if she meant so little to him, then he certainly didn’t merit any consideration from her. Now that she knew all hope for a true marriage was lost, that the annulment was inevitable, she replaced her grief with a firm determination. She would never open her heart to any man ever again. It was just too painful. She had lived this long without love, she would live without it forever if this was the agony it wrought.
She needed to get out of the house, as far away as she could. She would liked to have packed and left forever, but she needed a plan first. And she couldn’t think about leaving for good until she was in a better frame of mind. She climbed off the bed.
“Merry, I think I should like to go for a drive. Would you be so kind to inform Eammon of my intentions and have the old carriage brought about?” She reached into the armoire for her very plain calico day dress she used to wear in Scotland. Its violet hue soothed her.
“But your ladyship,” Merry said, while automatically undoing the buttons on Fiona’s morning gown. “Would you not like to drive in the new one His Grace had made for you? It looks so lovely.”
“No, Merry. Not today.” Not with the Cantin crest adorning the side panels. Fiona did not wish to be recognized. “And please have Eammon wait for us in the mews instead of ‘round front. If anyone questions what you are doing, where you are going, tell them you are picking me flowers. I do not wish for anyone to know what we are about.”
Merry, finished with the buttons, shot her a speculative glance, and left to do her bidding.
Fiona placed wet flannelling on her face to try and remove some of the puffiness from her eyes, but saw it was no use. Another thing she had no cause to care over. Her days as the Duchess of Cantin would soon be over, and her looks did not matter anymore. Not that they ever had.
She slid into the old calico, took her giant sunbonnet off the peg, and placed it on her head. She grabbed her favorite shawl, slipped her reticule in her pocket, and made her way down the servants’ staircase. Just her luck, Edwards stood in the kitchen. She picked up the cat sitting on the windowsill and buried her face in its neck.
“Are you going out, Lady Fiona?” Edwards asked.
Of course he would inform Robert of her whereabouts. “Ju
st to enjoy the garden, Mr. Edwards. Lady Joanna’s roses need a little pruning.” She tilted her face enough to answer him without him seeing her eyes.
“Ah, yes. Well, do not stay out too long. You do not wish to become overheated.”
She smiled under her bonnet. “No, of course not.” She put down the cat, picked up her mother-in-law’s gardening basket, and waited until Edwards left the room before she set it down again and walked out the back door.
Eammon and Merry waited beside the landaulet. “I believe I would like to take a ride out of the city, Eammon. Somewhere where the air is fresh and the grass is green.”
“You do not wish to ride in the park, then, your ladyship?”
“No, Eammon, I do not wish to see any of my acquaintance. I long for solitude. I have a lot of thinking to do.”
He helped her into the coach. Merry took his hand to join her and Fiona said, “Merry, why do not you ride up front with Eammon.” Clearly the poor child did not know what to make of Fiona’s abnormal behaviour. First the crying, then the lying, now the ride out of town up front instead of beside her. Fiona said in a soothing tone, “I am well, Merry. I need you with me, but I wish to be alone. ‘Tis all right. Sit up front with Eammon.”
When Merry was settled, Eammon snapped the reins and they headed off down the mews. Fiona didn’t care where they went, as long as they left London. With the front half of the carriage top down, the breeze flowed over Fiona, and she took off her bonnet.
Fiona leaned into the corner of the squabs and closed her eyes. They rode for some time before Fiona caught the scent of freshly cut hay. She peered out from behind the carriage hood and saw they were well past the city limits and in some sort of farming community. She maneuvered the straps, which held the back of the carriage hood upright. It came down with a thud and Eammon turned in his seat.
“Lady Fiona, I would have taken care of that.”
Fiona smiled. “Not necessary. I managed. Where are we exactly?” Fiona took in the picturesque countryside with cows dotting the fields along with corn and rye.
“St. John’s Wood, or nearly there. The village is a few miles further.”
“Do you know of a reputable spot for luncheon?” she asked. “Nothing fashionable, however, I think a cup of tea and a pastry would do well.”
“Of course, my lady.”
Fiona breathed in the fresh air and as they came upon the little village noted how simple it was. A milliner, grocery, cobbler, blacksmith, an inn, a tavern, and a small bakery, surrounded the village green. A church and cemetery sat off to the side of the main square. ‘Twas nothing like London, and Fiona thought it would make a nice refuge. Perhaps this is where she would settle when Robert was finally rid of her. Of course, she could always go back to Scotland, and her father, but then, she could always go to the sea. She recalled her days in Swansea with Robert and although the memories were painful, she liked the idea of living by the ocean.
She pushed all thoughts of where she would live out of her mind as Eammon led them through High Street and turned left at the blacksmith. He pulled up in front of a lovely little cottage surrounded by a white picket fence. Was this someone’s house?
Eammon jumped down from his perch and tied the reins, then proceeded to help Merry off the equipage. He then brought the step down for her.
“’Tis a place I know that I think you will like, my lady. Nothing fancy, yet the biscuits are very good. I believe you might enjoy the atmosphere as well.”
“Thank you, Eammon.” She pulled several coins from her reticule and handed them to Eammon. “Why do not you and Merry have a little walk. Take luncheon if you will. I will find you when I am finished.”
Eammon nodded and stepped away. Merry asked if she was sure she would be all right.
“Oh yes, Merry, I am perfectly well. I need to sort my thoughts. Do not worry. I shall not come to any harm.” She took her maid’s hand and squeezed it. “Now run along and enjoy your time with Eammon.”
She watched her servants walk down the road before she turned and entered the cottage.
Eammon was right, the atmosphere was delightful with large plants and cozy furnishings. Not quite a restaurant, not quite a patisserie, Fiona was reading the bill of fare when she heard her name called.
“Lady Fiona, to what do I owe the extraordinary pleasure of meeting you here?”
Fiona turned and found Lord Greenleigh. “Greenleigh, this is a pleasure. How do you do?”
“I’m very well, thank you. Tell me, are you dining alone? Would you care to join me? I find my table with an excellent view, but it would be a great deal lovelier with you sitting across from me.”
Fiona nodded. “That would be nice, yes, thank you.”
He led her to his table, and he was right, the view was incomparable. Overlooking the small gardens in the back of the house, the large windows were open and the smell of lavender and roses calmed her unsettled mind.
A waiter took her order and after delivering her lemonade, Fiona said to Greenleigh, “Thank you again, for asking me to join you. I had thought I wanted to be alone, but your company is proving much better for my nerves.”
“What has Cantin done now? Declared you cannot walk about in the sunshine without a parasol?”
A slight smile touched her lips. “You know my husband very well, it seems. No, nothing of the sort. Although his pomposity is growing old and I find I cannot wait for the day….” Oh no, had she gone too far? She glanced at Greenleigh who wore a curious expression on his face.
“Wait for what day, Lady Fiona?”
Fiona wondered if she should bare her secrets. Greenleigh was indeed trustworthy, she considered him a very good friend, and at this juncture, she had no one else in which to confide.
“Lady Fiona,” Greenleigh said. “I can see you are clearly troubled.” He reached across the table and clasped her fingers. “Your eyes are red-rimmed and puffed beyond measure. You do not wear the same confident countenance I regard with such esteem. Please, allow me to listen to your worries and be of some help if I may. On my honour as a gentleman, you may be assured of my confidentiality.”
Fiona wasn’t sure if the sincerity of his words, or the promise of his silence broke down her defenses, but over the next hour Fiona unburdened her heavy heart.
Greenleigh listened, nodded, and slipped her his handkerchief when she broke down in tears once more. Thankfully, they sat away from the rest of the diners who could not witness her upheaval.
“And so you see, Greenleigh, Robert has no wish to stay married to me. I was a fool to ever think that he would.” Fiona heaved a shudder. Her crying spent, her soul divested of its burden, the only thing she desired now was to wake from the nightmare that had become her life.
“My dearest girl, I am so sorry you have had such a sorry time of it. Cantin should be pummeled with the same ferocity as he did to Stockton.”
“No.” She smiled weakly. “It is my ultimate cross to bear. I placed myself in this precarious position. I have only myself to blame.”
“Lady Fiona, how can you blame yourself? You did what you thought was right for the situation in Scotland. You were only thinking of the sorry sod, not the trouble it would bring further down the road.” He took up her hand again. “Tell me, is there anything I might do for you? Any way I could make this intolerable circumstance better? I would do anything to erase the sadness from your spirit.”
Fiona squeezed his fingers. “Thank you, Greenleigh, but no. You have already done so much just in listening to me.” She heard the chimes of the church bells ringing in the distance. “I must go. ‘Tis a journey I do not wish to make, but I must.” She rose from her seat.
Greenleigh stood.
“I trust I will see you at our ball?” she asked. “Pray you will reserve a dance or two for me.”
“Of course.” Greenleigh placed her hand on his arm and walked her out to her carriage.
Fiona found Eammon and Merry already waited for her.
&nb
sp; At the carriage, Greenleigh said, “I am at your complete disposal, my lady.” He took her hand and kissed it. “At the ball or whenever you wish it. If there is ever any way I may be of some small assistance to you, please do not hesitate to ask.” He helped her into the carriage.
“Thank you, Greenleigh,” Fiona said. “The measure of your friendship means the world to me.”
Eammon snapped the reins and the carriage jerked forward. Fiona turned once to wave to Greenleigh and then faced forward. Her life from this moment on would never be the same.
Fiona stepped into Cantin House after her outing, and met her mother-in-law coming down the stairs.
“Fiona, dearest, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Tell me, is there anything you wish me to do for the party tomorrow evening?”
“No, thank you. Edwards has everything well in hand.”
“Dearest.” Lady Joanna placed a hand on Fiona’s arm. “Are you well? You look quite done in.”
“A sudden headache, but ‘tis nothing that I will not get over. If you would excuse me, I wish to lie down.”
“Of course.”
Fiona left her mother-in-law staring after her with concern in her eyes.
Upstairs in her room, Fiona lay across the bed exhausted from the day’s tumult. Within minutes, she was asleep.
*****
It had been a long session in Parliament and Robert lost his focus several times. Makeby would have taken the vote had it not been for Ellis standing up. Robert’s accusation of Fiona had been mindless, a pique of jealousy he couldn’t contain, and his thoughts were centered on it all day. How could he make it up to her?
Entering the house, Robert made his way to the dining room to find the footmen cleaning up the dishes from a solitary seat. Edwards hovered at the sideboard.
“Where is my wife, Edwards? Whose ball is she attending this evening?”
“Her ladyship is not attending this evening. She is abed.”
Was that a tone he heard in Edwards’ voice? “Is she not feeling well again?” Perhaps her malaise had returned.
The Duke's Divorce (The Reluctant Grooms Series Volume IV) Page 21
