by Dayna Quince
“Many? I only count two.”
“Don't discount yourself.”
That made her smile, although she tried to hide it behind an anxious bite to the corner of her lip. He had his arms firmly around her, holding her to his hard body. As far as arguments go, if he employed these kinds of tactics, he would be winning many.
“I can't find an argument for your logic.”
“Good.” He caught her lips and silenced her with a heated wave of desire. She opened readily, dueling with him confidently. She gave him even more of her weight, sliding her hands up around his neck and pressing her hips against his. Chance groaned and pulled away reluctantly. They were in no place to further their intimacy.
“Now, about dinner.” He continued to hold her until she regained her balance. She blinked up at him, her cheeks rosy. “Just act normal, and my father and I will do all the convincing.”
She nodded. “If you say so.” She stepped back, gently pushing off his chest, and straightened her jacket. “I recommend you wear armor, oh, brave knight.”
“Warning noted. Now, I still have to meet with a few tenants. I'd ask you to come along, but you'd be a distraction, and I don't want gossip to spread before we inform your family.”
“I agree. I'll leave you then, although I loathe to return home.”
“My father could use some company,” Chance suggested. “I'll be gone most of the day.”
“I wish I had duties to occupy my time,” Obedience mused as she turned back to Tulip.
Chance smiled as he watched her hips sway. “I promise to keep you occupied when we are married.”
Obedience looked back at him over her shoulder. “Are these wifely duties you speak of?”
Chance grinned salaciously. “What do you know of wifely duties?”
“What do you know of wifely duties?” Obedience returned boldly. “With the exception of what I am not allowed to know until my wedding night, I am well educated on the duties of the wife.”
“Well, be sure that I enthusiastically await to fill in the gap.”
Obedience turned and flipped her hair over her shoulder in mock disgust, mounting her horse before he could assist her. “I'll be sure to let my mother know she won't have to instruct me then.”
“You're afraid of informing her of our betrothal but not about discussing wifely duties? You do understand the assumptions she will make?”
“She will make assumptions either way. It will all fall into my diabolical plot to shame and ruin them.”
Chance shook his head as he mounted his own horse. “Let me handle your mother from now on. You think she is terrible now, just wait until you meet the matrons in town.”
“Those matrons that you charm so admirably?”
“We all have our talents.”
Obedience laughed and her horse circled excitedly. “Humility and charm, just a few of your fine attributes.”
Chance feigned an offended scowl. “I'd like to think you can name more than just those two attributes after last night, Obedience.”
Her lips clamped shut and her cheeks turned a fiery pink.
“Perhaps that was ungentlemanly,” he conceded.
“I will add perceptive to your list of attributes,” Obedience chided, but she smiled nonetheless. “I'll see you at dinner then.” She sprung her horse into a gallop without looking back. She would have to let the wind cool her cheeks.
Chance cursed himself as he watched her go. His baser instincts kept forgetting how innocent she truly was. He had to do better. Whenever she drew near, his mind clouded with desire, but he needed to remain levelheaded and tread carefully. She melted in his arms when he touched her, a sure sign of her natural sensuality, but that didn't mean she was ready for illicit banter. He shook his head as he directed his horse toward the outlying farms. Where was his cold, levelheaded charm when it came to her?
Chapter 8
Obedience was the last to enter the drawing room, timing herself to be a few steps ahead of dinner being announced. She smiled her greeting to everyone, surprised to see the village vicar in attendance, and noting the small smile Chance gave her. She took a steadying breath. Her sister and mother rose as dinner was announced, and as a group, they moved to the dining room. Chance pushed his father's chair after the duke declined to have one of the footmen assist him.
Her mother regally sat at the head of the table with Chance at her right and the duke at her left. Obedience sat between the duke and the vicar and Patience across from her, beside Chance. Her sister looked pleased as punch, twinkling at him every time their eyes met. The first course was served, and Obedience kept her gaze on her plate, only peeking at Chance from beneath her lashes. Her mother cloyingly hung on the duke’s every word. Obedience was surprised he was being so civil and clearly making an effort to patiently engage her mother. Obedience turned to the vicar. They were the only two sitting in silence.
“I'm glad you could join us for dinner on such short notice.”
“The pleasure is mine. Mrs. Ferry is ill with a cold and can't come to cook for me as she usually does. I'm afraid my skills with a pot are subpar.”
“Oh no, I hope she will recover,” Obedience grimaced.
“’Tis a simple cold. I visited her this morning. She is improving, but I advised her to take all the time she needed to fully recover.”
“That's very kind of you. I'll have our cook prepare a basket daily for you until she returns to health. I'd hate for our only vicar to wither away to nothing.”
He laughed and placed a hand on his large stomach. “I sincerely doubt that would happen, but I will accept your offer graciously. You are very kind Miss Wickenham.”
Obedience smiled at him in return. She looked around the table and caught Chance smiling at her. Her eyes widened and she put her head down. The duke leaned closer and whispered in her ear.
“How very duchess-like of you.”
Obedience felt her cheeks burning.
The duke turned back to her mother. “I must commend you, Lady Wickenham. Your daughters are the picture of refinement, and both have the makings of fine ladies of position.”
Lady Wickenham beamed at Patience, her own cheeks ruby with pleasure. “Why, how kind of you to say.”
Another course was set before them, and Obedience tried to calm her nerves as the food and wine flowed. At any other time, the dinner would have been enjoyable, but she found herself anxiously waiting for the other shoe to drop. The final course was set before them, a decadent array of fruit, cream puffs and jellies, and little cups of vanilla pudding.
Obedience declined dessert as her stomach was already achingly full. She sat back in her chair, hands folded in her lap. Around her the conversation continued, the vicar chuckling over Chance’s humorous tale, and the duke rhapsodizing over his newest litter of pups. Obedience had seen them, and while she was not an adequate judge of their future hunting abilities, they were positively adorable with their round little tummies and playful growls. She felt as if she was in a dream, the surroundings pleasant and casual, but she knew that soon it could turn into a nightmare. The hourglass in her mind had run empty, and her anxiety was growing as first Chance and then the duke finished their stories and took sips from their wine glasses. A calm silence settled over the table. The candles had burned more than halfway, and rivulets of wax coated the candlesticks. The last of the plates had been cleared, and she could see her mother sharing a speaking glance with Patience.
Obedience was about to suggest they move to the drawing room, but the duke took her hand under the table and gave it a firm squeeze. She stilled and looked up at Chance. He was looking at her as he smiled. Patience saw the smile and turned to look at Obedience as well. The duke cleared his throat, instantly commanding the attention of the room.
“Lady Wickenham, thank you for the lovely repast, but I did not request the invitation to dine with you purely for the delight of your company.”
Obedience could feel her hand sweating under his
. His hand felt so large compared to hers, rough and yet comforting. She turned her hand until she returned the grasp. She would let them champion her tonight, draw strength from this man who had filled the hole her father had left in her heart.
Her mother’s eyes widened, a single brow rising in inquiry.
“You see, as my years have dwindled, I have come to the conclusion that it is time for my son to wed. Time is not in my favor, and with that knowledge, I have decided that your daughter would make an exceptional wife for my son.”
Lady Wickenham gasped delightedly and looked to Patience. Patience was staring in wide-eyed shock at the duke and then at Chance. “Why... I-I'm honored, but this is rather an unusual way to go about it.”
Obedience covered her mouth with her hand. She wasn't sure if she were going to laugh or lose her accounts.
“Nonsense, Patience. The duke has made his choice and, given the situation, has proceeded with haste. It is a wise decision.” Lady Wickenham nodded exaggeratedly.
“I think there has been a misunderstanding,” Chance finally spoke. “It is Obedience who has done me the supreme honor of agreeing to be my wife. She has been a dear friend of mine since we were children and a great comfort to my father in my absence.”
The table again went silent, only this time it was charged with uncomfortable tension. Her mother’s eyes pinned her to her seat and Obedience stared back at her, bolstered by the presence of the duke beside her.
“When did this happen?” her mother asked incredulously.
“Yesterday,” Obedience said.
“And you did not think to tell me?”
“No, the duke requested that he do so.”
“What about me, Obedience?” Patience asked with disdain.
Obedience looked to her sister. She was shaking in her chair, her skin pale. “You are so selfish. All you ever do is think of yourself, and the one time I need you to be on my side and do what I need, you decide to marry the man yourself!”
“I'm sorry, Patience, for however you feel I have wronged you, but Cha—” Obedience caught herself. “Lord Willowton and I have known each other for many years... I could not refuse him.”
“’Tis my fault.” Chance turned to Patience. “I sought Obedience from the beginning.”
“This is preposterous.” Lady Wickenham broke in. “Any fool can see that Patience is more suited to the role of duchess. I know that you've had an acquaintance with my daughter”—Lady Wickenham flung her hand dismissively at Obedience—“but that does not mean you should marry her.” She turned in appeal to the duke. “Our families have been neighbors for generations. It is in your best interest to choose Patience to be the next duchess.”
The duke frowned, but before he could speak, Chance spoke again. “I've already made my choice, Lady Wickenham, and Obedience has accepted. My father only suggested Obedience, and I agreed. The final say is mine,” he said strongly.
“But surely you can change your mind for the better candidate?” Lady Wickenham offered.
“Yes,” Patience turned to him pleadingly. “We can all forget that you proposed to Obedience, and you can propose to me instead.”
“Uh, this is rather personal. I should take my leave.” The vicar shifted to get up.
Obedience looked up at him in shame. He had been so still, she had forgotten he was there to witness her humiliation. Everyone fell silent as the vicar left.
“Oh! Obedience can marry the vicar, and I can marry Lord Willowton. Then everyone will be happy,” Patience rallied.
“I'm not going to marry the vicar,” Obedience ground out.
“I simply can't let you marry Lord Willowton,” her mother decreed. She turned to Chance. “You can have Patience but not Obedience.”
Chance glowered at her. “Obedience is of age. Neither she nor I need your permission. I will marry her whether you wish it or not. My apologies, Miss Patience, I hope you find every happiness in life, but it was never my intent—nor will it ever be—to marry you.”
Patience's mouth dropped open. She glared at Chance, and then at Obedience. “It seems the having has already been had, Mother.”
Obedience felt her face redden in what she hoped would be likened to anger and not guilt, though she didn't believe she had anything to feel guilty over. Either way, her sister’s implications stung with the force of a slap.
“That is enough,” the duke said quietly, but his voice was hard as granite, and it demanded silence. “I knew you both were cracked, but I had hoped we could come to a peaceful conclusion.”
“Sir?” Her mother brought a shaking hand to her mouth.
“You are a most wretched woman, and you've passed it on to your youngest daughter. But Obedience is wonderful. She is brave, humble, kind, and considerate. It is true I suggested her to my son, and he—of sound mind and intelligence—is able to see all her fine attributes as well and agreed. There will be no more discussion. There will not be another harsh word spoken against her. Since you are incapable of being an appropriate mother to her, I will remove her from your abrasive hands. Due to my failing health, the wedding will take place immediately. Whether Obedience finds it in her heart to invite you is up to her, but I will have nothing to do with you.” He turned to Obedience. “Go get your things, we are leaving immediately.”
Obedience looked around in shock. Just like that, the vitriol from her mother and sister was silenced, but they still stared at her with undisguised hate. Chance stood and came around to pull out her chair. Obedience slowly stood. Her knees were shaky and weak. She left without looking back, climbing the stairs in a daze. Upon reaching her room, she rang for Myra.
She blinked as she looked around the room and tried to absorb what was happening. She was leaving this moment, and it was most likely she would never return. She stared at the walls, papered in cream with little purple flowers. These four walls had been hers from the moment she had outgrown the nursery. She looked at the trinkets on the mantel, the stacks of books on her nightstand. She sat on her bed and stared at the vanity where only earlier Patience had dreamed of her future with Chance. A wave of heartache fell over her, and she started to cry. She wished it were all different. She wished she could have known the kind of friendship and love she'd witnessed between sisters. She wished her mother could have cared more for her and been more tender. That's all she had really wanted.
Now she was leaving. She looked around the room, at the memories it held, and decided she didn't want to take any of it with her. Myra knocked on the door and entered, her eyes wide and uncertain.
“You rang?”
“I... I need you to help me pack a trunk. I'm leaving tonight.”
Myra stood by the door. “You're leaving?”
Obedience nodded and wiped at her tears. “I'm leaving, Myra, and I'm never coming back.”
Obedience stood angrily and pulled a trunk from under her bed. As she opened her wardrobe and started digging through dresses, Myra went to her dresser and began to pull out her necessary undergarments. Obedience pulled out dresses and tossed them haphazardly in the trunk, scooping up armfuls of garments and dumping them in without care. A box at the bottom caught her eye and she froze.
Slowly bending down, she picked up the box and returned to sit on the bed. It was an old music box, the painted design of flowers against white faded and chipped. She slowly opened the lid, a little flower springing up and spinning on its brittle stem as a tinkling song began to play. She was flooded with memories of her father. In the hollowed out space below the dancing flower, Obedience pulled out a folded piece of paper. She opened it—a drawing of her and her father sitting under a tree on a sunny day. He had drawn it for her, a memento of their walks in the countryside, a love of nature that they shared. Those walks had been so special to her. It was the only time she’d had his undivided attention. She stared at the likeness of his face, now faded with time.
“Is that your father?”
Chance startled her. Obedience looked up and ga
ve him a watery smile. “Yes.”
Chance sat down beside her and ran a finger over the faded paint. “Childhood memento?”
“You could say that. I hadn't opened it in so long that I forgot about it.”
“Are you all right? Things got rather uncomfortable down there.”
Obedience looked down at the sketch and ran her finger along the edge. “Yes... I don't know.”
Chance put his arm around her shoulders and tucked her against his side. “I promise it will all be all right.”
“I just... I don't understand why they hate me. What have I done?” she asked bleakly.
“I find it very hard to believe you've done anything to deserve such treatment. You deserve so much more than this. All I can do is to take you away from here. If they choose to mend fences with you, then I will not stand in your way, but I'm leaving the decision up to you. I know this must be a terrible shock, but if you can be brave a little longer, I think it will smooth itself out.”
Obedience scoffed. “It all seems so bleak. I'm leaving the only home I've ever known. My mother and sister think I've disgraced my family to prevent Patience from marrying you. It's like some horrible novel. Will I ever come back here? Will they cut me in public or spread lies about us?” She shivered. The roiling emotions inside her made her feel nauseated and cold.
“I'm finished, Miss Obedience.” Myra stepped before them. “I rang for Edward to carry it down.”
“Just the one trunk?” Chance looked around in puzzlement.
“There isn't time for more. I just want to leave.” Obedience stood and walked to the door.
Chance stepped closer to Myra. “See that everything she needs is packed tonight, and I will send for it as soon as we reach the house. You will be rewarded handsomely.”
“Thank you, my lord, but there is no need. I will do as you ask because Miss Obedience has always been kind to me.”
“Thank you.” Chance nodded and followed Obedience from the room. Obedience waited outside her door. When Chance appeared, he took her hand and led her down the hall.
