What a fool she had been! Peter had obviously only wanted her for her money. Rosalind cursed herself; she had known that from the start, yet she was so upset. She was confused by his behaviour during their dances; he had talked of kissing her. He was no more than a cad! Just like the other members of his family. He had never promised her anything in reality, but his actions, his words, had seemed to promise something they both wanted. She had certainly longed for things to progress, and she had paid for her foolishness in the most public way possible.
He had only wanted herself when his mistress was not around. She had been reprimanding him for not keeping his promise, but she was offering herself to him; that much had been clear. Peter would have won on all counts. He would have had more money than he could possibly need while having his mistress on his doorstep, in fact, visiting his wife every day to taunt her. Oh, how she had been a fool!
The only thing that Rosalind was thankful for was that she had remained strong in front of everyone. She had even managed to answer Lady Joan back. Only in the carriage had she started shaking and, even when Mrs Adams held onto her hands and told her that everything would work out for the best, she had not been able to stop.
In the sanctuary of her bedchamber she had curled into a ball under her covers and remained there all night, falling in and out of a fitful sleep, the thoughts and words haunting her until dawn broke.
Marjorie entered the room at her normal time and was immediately alert to the difference in her employer. “Oh, Your Grace, you are ever so pale! Are you ailing?”
“I have a headache,” Rosalind answered truthfully. “I don’t think I can face any food at the moment.” As if in agreement, her stomach churned ominously.
“I prescribe a warm drink, a cold compress and a darkened room,” came the no-nonsense reply of the maid. She left Rosalind alone to get what she needed and to inform the appropriate staff that their mistress was indisposed.
Rosalind did not have the ability to argue. In fact, the thought of being shut away in her bedchamber for the day was extremely appealing. She was no coward, but she did not have the energy to face morning calls and pretend that everything had been wonderful at the ball.
Peter was also suffering from a bad headache, although his could be accounted for due to an overindulgence of brandy. It was late morning before he left his rooms and was informed that the Duchess was suffering from a headache and was unable to leave her bedchamber. His guilt increased with the news, but he was not about to go banging on Rosalind’s door to try and sort things out. Annabelle was nowhere to be seen, for which he was grateful, but his peace was short-lived when Bryant announced that Lord Kettering had arrived and was desirous of a private meeting with him. Peter groaned, but left the dining room to take Lord Kettering to his study. If nothing else, he had learned about private conversations needing to be kept private.
Lord Kettering looked troubled, his portly frame looking hunched as he followed Peter into the study. The frown that he wore carved great lines across his forehead, but he smiled slightly when Peter offered him some brandy. “Thank you,” he said, accepting a glass. Peter refrained from joining him; he had been hit by a wave of nausea when he had smelt the alcohol.
“You wished for a private conversation?” Peter asked, wanting the meeting to end, so he could go and hide for the remainder of the day.
“Yes, my daughter seems to have done a good job in upsetting the apple cart, so to say,” the embarrassed Lord started. He was an indulgent father, but he had been sent out by his wife under no illusion but that he had to sort the mess out.
“I think I am also to blame,” Peter acknowledged. He should have been stronger and refused such a liaison.
“Yes, well, seems like a bloody mess to me,” Lord Kettering said, his voice rising a little to its usual level. “I hope the Duchess is a forgiving type?” he said hopefully.
“I have absolutely no idea,” Peter replied honestly. It was true; his wife was still a stranger to him, but last night… last night he had thought… but that was before Joan. He sighed, “You are fully aware of the details of my marriage, so I’m afraid I can’t offer you any consolation at this point. I have no idea how my wife will deal with me or Joan after what happened.”
“Oh,” Lord Kettering responded, looking crestfallen. Peter knew the character of Lady Kettering and did not envy his acquaintance’s position.
“How is Joan?” Peter asked.
“Still reeling from the telling off by her mother. I think Muriel frightened every bird out of the tree for ten miles the way she tore a strip off her. Joan is under no illusion what her mother thinks of the situation,” Lord Kettering finished.
“Oh, I am sorry,” Peter said genuinely. “I can’t give her what she wants.”
“What does she want?” Lord Kettering asked, having not been able to determine exactly why the two women in his life were screaming at each other. He doubted the ringing in his ears would stop for days after what he had witnessed.
“She said she was promised the title of Duchess, but there was never any formal agreement between either family. I did not realise until last night just how much she had presumed she would become the next Duchess; I suppose it was naïve of me not to have guessed,” Peter explained. “She must have known that the amount of funds needed could not be provided by anyone in the locality.” He was trying to be diplomatic, but the whole conversation was embarrassing for both of them.
Lord Kettering coughed; himself not normally a fan of such open conversations, he was more used to speaking about the quality of horseflesh or some such shallow topic. “I have told her in the past that she would never be Duchess, but when the news came that you had married she fell into a real temper.”
“I can imagine,” Peter said with sympathy, “But there was nothing I, or anyone else could have done.”
“I know, but her mother has said that she has to see the Duchess and apologise.”
Peter flinched at the thought, “Is that wise?” he asked.
“I have no idea, but my wife heard the threat that the Duchess made last night and is taking it seriously; she is not so wrapped up in her own self-importance as Joan is. At the end of the day, a Duchess will always outrank a Lady; and if Joan is in danger of receiving the cut direct, it would ruin her.”
“I don’t think it would come to that,” Peter soothed, although he felt a little panicked at what Rosalind could do if she chose.
“Joan hasn’t got many friends; my wife pointed out all the reasons why quite clearly this morning,” Lord Kettering said with feeling at the memory. “Such action by the Duchess could give many people the excuse they have been looking for, and Joan would be cast adrift. My daughter has been foolish, but I don’t want her to be punished by our whole social circle,” Lord Kettering explained.
Peter had some sympathy for the man; he was only protecting his daughter as Peter had protected his sister. “I shall speak to my wife; I am sure that this can be overcome to all our satisfaction.” He managed to sound more positive than he felt.
*
It was two days before Rosalind was able to breakfast downstairs. She looked pale and drawn, but at least the headache had subsided. Thankfully the dining room was empty, so she could breakfast in relative peace.
She was soon joined by Annabelle and Annie. Annabelle had spent her time with Annie during Rosalind’s indisposition. Annie had been afraid that Rosalind was going to die as her other relatives had, and Annabelle and Mrs Fisher had spent a lot of time consoling the young woman.
Annie immediately approached Rosalind and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. As Rosalind was still seated, she rested her head on Annie’s shoulder.
“I was afraid,” Annie said quietly.
“There was no need; it was just a headache. I’m sorry it upset you,” Rosalind said gently.
“You aren’t going to die?” Annie asked, moving a little in front of Rosalind, so she could look into her eyes.
“
No, I’m not going to die,” Rosalind said with a smile. Annie seemed content and sat at the table. “If you would like to go on a walk today, I would appreciate the company,” Rosalind said. She was not used to staying indoors for so long and wanted to feel less confined.
“Ooh, yes,” Annie answered.
The group was disturbed by Peter’s entrance. The atmosphere immediately changed, everyone apart from Annie knowing why.
“Good morning,” Peter said, trying to sound more jovial than he felt. The expression on Rosalind’s and Annabelle’s faces did not bode well. “Are you feeling better Rosalind?”
“My headache has eased, thank you,” Rosalind said coolly.
“Good.” Peter indicated that the staff could leave and waited to continue his conversation when the family were alone. “I had a visit from Lord Kettering two days ago.”
“Oh?” Rosalind replied, but she felt anger bubbling up inside.
“He is very sorry for the upset that Lady Joan caused. She wishes to come and apologise to you for her behaviour at the ball,” Peter said.
“Only at the ball?” Rosalind said, through visibly gritted teeth. The tense atmosphere caught Annie’s attention, and she put down her spoon and watched her brother and his wife carefully, for once her easy chatter stilled.
“I don’t understand,” Peter responded.
“I’m sure you don’t,” Rosalind snapped, her husband’s ignorance causing the anger to burst forth. “She has attended this house almost every day since my arrival. At every opportunity she has insulted, ridiculed and tormented me, but I have borne it. I hoped that I had stood my ground and gave her as much of a put-down that she had given my wider family and myself. But she had an ace up her sleeve, hadn’t she? She had the one thing that I had in name only: she had you! Oh don’t look surprised; you should have been more discreet if you wanted to keep your illicit secret safe. We agreed that we would always be honest with each other. We promised that; but within weeks, you have broken that promise.”
“It is not how it seems,” Peter said, defending himself.
“A liaison with Lady Joan cannot be brushed under the carpet,” Rosalind snapped. “If you insist on having a mistress, have the common decency to not parade her under my nose! Now, if you would all excuse me.” Rosalind stood and walked to the door; she never looked back at the group seated at the table, but closed the door firmly behind her.
Annabelle turned to Peter, “I thought that you liked my sister, a lot more than she first realised. I see I was mistaken and can only imagine that it was a cruel ploy on your part. I can only feel guilty in my part in promoting you to her.”
“Annabelle, this is all a terrible misunderstanding,” Peter said. “I need to speak to Rosalind and clear this mess up.” He stood and threw his fork on the table in frustration. He had to make Rosalind understand him.
When Peter left, Annabelle realised that Annie was crying quietly. “Oh Annie! Don’t cry. It is a silly argument!”
“Lady Joan has upset Rosalind,” Annie sobbed.
“Yes, but Rosalind will soon be fine; she is never unhappy for long,” Annabelle reassured her.
“Lady Joan is always upsetting someone,” Annie sniffed. “She caused Robert and Peter to argue.”
“Did she?” Annabelle replied. “Well, it seems this time she will be visiting Rosalind to say that she is sorry, so all will be well.”
Chapter 11
Peter tried to follow Rosalind, but she locked herself in her bedchamber. He was not about to bang on her door and bring everyone running to find out what the commotion was. He retreated to his library and put his head in his hands; he had no idea what to do.
His torment was increased further when Bryant, the butler, announced Mrs Adams would like to see him. He groaned, but stood to welcome the long-time friend.
“Good morning Mrs Adams,” Peter said with a bow.
“Your wife is indisposed for the third day running, so I am reduced to seeing you,” came the cold retort.
“Mrs Adams…” Peter started.
“How are you going to make this better?” Mrs Adams asked in her usual direct way.
“Rosalind has been suffering from a headache these few days, but this morning I tried to speak to her,” Peter said. “I had a visit from Lord Kettering; Lady Joan wishes to visit her and apologise.”
“She’s been told to apologise, more like,” Mrs Adams said with derision. “That girl has gone worse these last few years. How are you going to handle the visit?”
“I explained to Rosalind about it this morning, and she didn’t take too kindly to the suggestion,” Peter said, rubbing his hand through his hair. “I didn’t anticipate situations like this when I entered into the married state.”
“Oh stop your self-pity!” Mrs Adams snapped. “I warned you about how Joan was treating Rosalind, and you did nothing to stop it. Joan would have gained confidence from your lack of support to your wife, and look where that has led!”
“Joan feels cheated,” Peter tried to explain.
“Stop being so diplomatic!” Mrs Adams said. “Joan has been a fool and, unfortunately for her, she has now met someone who is prepared to stand up to her. I suggest you don’t let Joan near the place until Rosalind has had time to calm down, or the rift will be a permanent one. Let’s hope that when she is calmer, Rosalind is magnanimous enough to let this foolish incident pass.”
“Lord Kettering asked me if my wife was forgiving, and do you know I couldn’t answer him?” Peter acknowledged sadly.
“So you don’t know your wife; most of the ton are strangers when they marry. Your marriage is not too dissimilar in that respect,” Mrs Adams acknowledged. “It’s up to you to decide if you want to make the effort to get to know her.”
“She won’t let me near her,” Peter said.
“She is hurting! Of course she won’t let you near her! It’s up to you to find a way to put everything back in order.”
“I’ll send a letter to Lord Kettering and keep Joan away for a time.”
“That’s the most sensible thing you’ve said in a long time,” Mrs Adams said.
*
Peter paced his bedchamber; he needed to speak to Rosalind. His wife had kept herself locked away in her bedchamber all day. The only way of trying to clear this up was to speak to her face to face; only she had the door firmly closed.
He was suddenly struck with an idea and walked through his dressing room. It led to a shared sitting room between his and his wife’s rooms. He approached the door to her dressing room with a little trepidation. He had never attempted to enter her bedchamber since they had married; he had no idea if the doors were kept locked or not.
The handle turned and the door opened. Peter looked inside the dressing room, feeling more like an intruder than a husband. The room was empty of anyone, so Peter was able to approach the bedchamber door unheeded.
Once again the handle turned, and the door opened. Peter threw caution to the wind and walked into the room. Rosalind sat on a chaise lounge, reading a book. She looked up at the door opening and sat up quickly when she realised who was entering her room.
Peter closed the door behind him. “Are you expecting your maid?” he asked. He needed to know if they were in danger of being interrupted.
“No, I told her that I didn’t want to be disturbed.” Rosalind answered honestly, but her tone was cool. She was annoyed to see Peter invading her sanctuary, but she also felt nervous; they had never been so private before.
“Good. Rosalind, I need to speak to you,” Peter said, crossing over to where she sat and placing himself on the edge of the seat.
Rosalind wriggled up, so she was fully upright and swung her legs onto the floor. She suddenly felt vulnerable, but she was not about to let her uncertainty overcome her. “I think we’ve said all that needs to be said, haven’t we?”
“No!” Peter said firmly. “You don’t understand. Joan means nothing to me: I don’t even like the woman!”
Peter stood and walked to the fireplace. He gripped the mantelpiece so hard that Rosalind could see the whites of his knuckles. The fact that he was so angry alarmed Rosalind a little, but she was not about to let him gain the advantage by showing her fear. “She is not and never has been my mistress!” he ground out.
“Yet, she claimed that she had been promised the title, and it was obvious that she was offering herself to you! At least give me credit for understanding what I heard,” Rosalind snapped.
“I don’t know if she was made promises or not; it seems she was intimate with Robert, not me,” Peter said quietly. It was time to be honest; he had to clear the air between them. It was too important to him.
“Robert?” Rosalind asked, her anger faltering as her mind raced over the conversations that had taken place.
“Yes, Robert,” Peter said, walking back over to the seat. “I hadn’t realised until the evening of the ball just how involved they were. Robert had obviously made promises that he knew he would not keep.”
“Annie said that you argued with Robert over Lady Joan,” Rosalind acknowledged, feeling calmer at the belief that Peter had not had a liaison with Lady Joan.
“We did,” Peter said. “It would have been a bigger argument if I’d known how far things had gone. She may have her faults, but she did not deserve to be told lies by Robert. He knew as well as I did he had to marry an heiress.”
“I don’t like lies, even when they involve someone as annoying as Lady Joan,” Rosalind said with a hint of a smile. She had a tendency to be quick to anger, but always calmed down just as quickly.
Rosalind: A Regency Romance (The Four Sisters Series Book 1) Page 9
