by Sophia Nash
“And that one would be?”
“Something I don’t care to discuss.” His face was now as cynical and hard as the marble busts in the Prince Regent’s apartments.
“Please tell me. I am willing for both of us to have private lives apart from one another but this is too important.” Lord, this was the most embarrassing thing in the world. “What was the other reason?” She could see in his eyes that something was not quite right. “It’s all right. Just tell me.”
“I do not want a child. It has nothing to do with you,” he said quietly. “I ask you not to bring up the subject again.”
“All right,” she said, “but tell me why. As your wife, even if it is not a real marriage, I deserve to know. But I promise never to say a word to anyone.”
His sky blue eyes searched her face.
“Please,” she added.
He looked away. “I do not desire a continuation of the Norwich duchy. It will revert to the Crown upon my death. But I want you to know that I shall settle my affairs, leaving you a significant portion of unentailed wealth when I die. It will be far more than you could possibly need, but I never want you to be in fear of straightened circumstances.”
She should tell him about her ancestry. But for some inexplicable reason she could not find the words to do so. She just did not want to ever doubt his intentions toward her.
“How kind,” she said with an odd note in her voice that she could not hide. “So to reiterate, you want to have relations again. You do not want us to nurture a child. You want both of us to live apart and have complete freedom to do as we choose. And the duchy is to be dissolved all because of a ridiculous curse involving ducks?”
He did not look in the least bit put out. She fingered the edge of her painting apron.
“Exactly.”
“I see,” she said, not seeing anything whatsoever. “And why do you want to lie with me again?”
“Because, it is as I told you. I was not gentle. And . . . and it’s you, March. It was not well done.”
“I told you I was fine.” But something had gone soft inside of her when he’d said, “And it’s you, March.” “But I shall not turn you away if you choose to come to my room at some point.” She suddenly felt very warm, and very shy. Then her sliver of pride, which she carried with her and displayed at only times of extreme stress—pushed up inside of her. “But, I must tell you it will have to be the very last time we lie together. I do not really enjoy such intimacy unless both share a deep love for each other.”
He studied her without a word.
She could not stay another moment. Esme turned on her heel and strode away.
That evening, she felt equally ill at ease when she was near him or had to speak to him. He was such a solid and handsome man, with his aristocratic mien. His premature gray hair was combed back from his noble profile. His large forehead and prominent nose spoke of innate intelligence. He was too handsome for his own good, sitting there at the opposite end of the long, formal table, she thought wryly.
Her best friend, Verity Fitzroy, obviously thought so too, for she kept nudging Esme under the table and raising her eyebrows pointedly.
“Stop it,” she hissed. Her friend finally halted her ridiculous behavior until she invited Esme outside to take a short stroll in the night air, away from the prying eyes and ears of Esme’s husband, mother, and teacher.
“I’m sorry I was so silly at table. I think I’m losing my manners and I’m beginning to act like a child, so little have I been allowed to mingle with others,” Verity said, with a lilt in her voice that belied the sadness in her eyes. “How can I be counted on to act content when my brother has had the audacity to lock me away at Boxwood?”
“Are you ever going to tell me what you did to deserve such archaic treatment?” Esme arched a brow. “Well, you aren’t truly locked away. You’re here now after all.”
“I’m confined to Derbyshire and I’m not to go with my sisters to Town for the Season. But enough about me. How on earth came you to be wed to Norwich? I thought I would explode with curiosity when your mother came to call to invite me tonight.”
“I suppose she explained everything to you?”
“Not a single word. She looked like a beautiful Persian cat who had swallowed the most delicious canary but she would not spit out a single feather. It was most annoying.”
Esme laughed. “That is what I adore about my mother. She will always surprise you. I did not know if she would be able to keep such a secret. But have no fear, my dearest cousin, for you are the one and only person I shall tell the whole of it to. Every last embarrassing, terrible, scandalous detail.”
During a half hour of lightning-fast conversation, Verity was apprised of the outrageous goings-on of the past weeks. Indeed, her friend looked ready to swoon at several points. She even extracted her smelling salts from her reticule. Then again, Verity loved to pull out her smelling salts at every possible occasion as she believed life was one long slog of boredom and she loved dramatics in any form.
After Verity had examined and exhausted every single last possible question surrounding Esme’s rushed marriage, she stopped under a lantern in the tiered gardens.
“He is very handsome,” her cousin said gently. “Do you love him? It would be hard not to fall in love with a man like that.”
“No. I do not love him.”
“But you like him. You esteem him.”
“I esteem him, but I have just enough pride to refuse to love someone who does not love me.”
Verity’s brown eyes were dark and huge in her face. “Tell me he does not love you. I shall bring James’s dueling pistol case, load each weapon and discharge both at his derriere to make sure he understands what an idiot he is. He should instantly love you after all you did for him on that ship.”
“Oh, he likes me, I suppose. He esteems me, I am sure. Like and esteem are the words one uses to express the most boring sentiments in the world.” She paused and cast her gaze at the moon. “But he will never love me. There is something in his expression that makes me think he does not want to love anyone. So I am trying not to take it personally.”
“I would take it personally.” Verity reached for Esme’s hand and urged her to sit on the cold earth at the base of the tree. The lantern light shone on their faces.
“Dearest, I have told you everything there is to tell. Now it is my turn to hear what you’ve done to deserve your brother’s ire,” Esme insisted with a smile she forced to her face.
“I cannot.”
“I beg your pardon?” Esme was shocked. They shared absolutely everything between them. They were as close as any two sisters if not more so as they had chosen to be each other’s only confidant and they were cousins.
“It’s only because my brother forbids me to speak of it to anyone. He has never asked that of me and what happened is so awful—even worse in some ways than the events on that ship you spoke of—that I cannot speak of it. While I always tell you everything, this I cannot.”
A long silence erupted. Esme tried not to feel hurt. She had, after all, spilled everything to her dearest cousin.
Verity finally spoke. She lifted her eyebrow. “But I suppose I can give you a few hints. James did not precisely say I could not hint to my best friend in the world.” Verity smiled. “It occurred that awful night before my brother was to be wed in Town. This is really all his fault, although he will never admit it. That night of infamy led you to your predicament and it has led to mine. And the whole of England knows my brother and the rest of the dukes of the royal entourage behave abominably. They deserve every inch of the punishment Prinny metes out.”
Esme said not a word. She could see Verity’s mind working on a way to reveal more. Her cousin did not disappoint.
Verity picked up a dead leaf that had fallen from the gnarled knuckles of the plain trees above, whose branches had grown and knotted together through the decades. She feathered her other hand with the curled, dried brown leaf. �
��While I cannot tell you who, I can tell you that one of the members of the royal entourage was indeed secretly wed that awful night.”
“Dear Lord,” Esme murmured.
“And I arranged it.” Verity appeared a tad pleased with herself. “There is really only one problem.”
“Yes?”
A look of consternation and worry appeared in Verity’s brown eyes. “He doesn’t know.”
“Who doesn’t know!?”
“I told you I cannot reveal names,” Verity said crossly.
“Will you at least tell me if it is Norwich?”
“How absurd,” Verity said. “Of course it isn’t Norwich. I would have told you if it was!”
Esme breathed a sigh of relief. “Is it Abshire?”
“No, of course it is not Abshire!”
“Kress?” Esme knew it had to be Kress. He was the one who had been sent to Cornwall in disgrace.
“I refuse to answer!”
“Hmmmm,” Esme murmured. “Or is it Sussex? No, don’t answer. I see I’ve tested the limits of your patience and I can’t have you angry with me. I need your friendship now more than ever before.”
“Thank you, Esme.” Her cousin looked away. “By the by, have you heard that Abshire has been in the neighborhood of late?”
Esme smiled inwardly. Everyone knew the Duke of Abshire, who lived in the adjacent parish, and the Duke of Candover, Verity’s brother, absolutely despised each other. No one knew why. It was a topic that was off-limits by both families but much discussed behind their backs—by everyone except Esme. She loved her cousins too much, and respected Abshire’s family too. And everyone knew Abshire was an exceedingly jaded rake, but he was witty in an odd sort of way, and the few times Esme had been in his company, he had always noticed her and had had one or two kind or humorous words to say in her direction—such as on her wedding day. She had never felt like a wallflower when she was about this grand duke.
Esme looked at her cousin. “He was in London.”
“Not for very long,” Verity said, not quite meeting her eyes. “He was in Town with the rest of the royal entourage the evening before James left his bride cooling her heels at the altar.”
Esme smiled at Verity. “Is it not odd how sometimes one’s fondest wishes come true during the worst of circumstances?”
Verity burst out laughing. “You said it very politely.”
“Well, have you and your sisters been quietly celebrating?”
“Of course. I cannot tell you how relieved we were when the grand event became the grand finale of five years of—of . . .”
“Oh, go ahead and say it.”
“Of hell,” Verity whispered.
Esme pulled the decimated leaf from her cousin’s hand. All that remained was the skeletal main veins of the leaf. “She was not a nice person, Verity. Everyone knew it. I am so glad she will not be your sister, even if I am sorry she was forced to endure such embarrassment.”
“I know. No one deserves to suffer as she did,” Verity returned.
“Well, I am not so kind as you. The day she had the audacity to hint that she would send you and all your sisters packing after she married your brother, I wanted to find your brother’s dueling pistols too.”
“Well, there are a lot of us.” Verity giggled. “It was the part about suggesting we would all do very well in a religious order that stunned the imagination. Just because we are all of us uniformly ugly does not mean we are pious.”
Esme bit her lips to keep from grinning. “We are not going to have this conversation again, are we? Where we compare our physical attributes and the merits of our great characters? You know I always win this debate.”
Verity picked up another tree leaf and began to pick it apart. Her dark brown eyes and hair appeared black in the moonlight.
Esme took the leaf from her favorite cousin and forced her back to the right track. “You mentioned Abshire was in London the night before James was to wed too.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Verity inhaled long and slow. “Something happened. But it was nothing. I promise you. It was just the stupidest, most abominable mistake and misunderstanding. Nothing happened at all. And James knows that. He believes me. But it concerns Abshire and you know how much they detest each other. And once James takes a decision, no matter how idiotic, he is as immovable as a tomb. Abshire refuses to consider my idea. Actually, no one cares what I have to say about the matter.” Verity stopped after such a long explanation. “Promise me you will not ask me to clarify anything. The only other thing I can add is that I have refused to obey James’s order.”
“I won’t ask what Abshire’s role is in all this. And even though I sense he is a gentleman under all his ridiculous layers of worldly reserve, I know enough to know he would not like to accede to anything James would ask of him even if it was to his benefit. But is there any other path that you’ve considered that will release you from your brother’s order?” Esme stared at her friend’s profile in the darkness.
“I will stay here until I am old and gray before I take a decision that will so wholly disappoint me.”
Esme asked her dear friend gently, “Do you love him?” There was no need to say Abshire’s name.
“Of course not.” Verity said too quickly. “And what has love to do with anything? Are you in love with Norwich? No, don’t answer. I know you are not. We are talking about honor and reputation—which is what makes this so ridiculous since there is not a single hint of damage to my saintly reputation.” She paused. “And I have another thing weighing heavily on my mind.”
“And what is that?”
“I’m so ridiculous.” She paused on the gravel path between the climbing roses. “I should not have said a word.”
“Of course you should have. Am I not your confidante? Did you not help me when I was at my bleakest?” Esme reminded her.
“You look even worse now.”
Esme gave her a look. “And that is why we get on so well. You never censure your thoughts.”
“Well, to be honest, I was just trying to change the topic. It’s the reverse, in truth. You appear far lovelier than I’ve ever seen you. Are you willing to share the talents of that lady’s maid the Prince Regent sent here to tend you?”
“Jacqueline Cooper?”
“Do you think you could spare her tomorrow to help me look half as pretty as you do right now?”
“And what is so important about tomorrow?”
Verity looked away. “Abshire is to visit.”
“Now that is interesting. Did not James say he would shoot him if he ever dared to set foot on Candover property again? Although, obviously an exception must be made for some reason you will not say. Still, does James know Abshire is paying a call? And did I tell you, James was my witness during the secret wedding?”
Verity smiled. “It’s your eyes.”
“My eyes?” Esme bit her bottom lip. “What have my eyes to do with Abshire or my ridiculous, hushed-up marriage?”
“They are more beautiful than ever, but they are haunted. No, it is your eyes that ruin the effect Madame Cooper created. What has happened, Esme? Is the marriage that difficult? He seems very kind.”
“No. It is everything right,” she contradicted. “He values independence and freedom and he’s vowed to allow me both. He says he wants me to do what I love, to travel and paint. We are not to be in each other’s pockets. It is to be a dream of a marriage. It will be so perfect and easy that we will not even have to lay eyes on each other except perhaps on Easter Day and perhaps Michaelmas, when we will attend church together to keep the tongues from wagging. The rest of the time he will be in London, and I,” she paused, “anywhere except London.”
Verity’s velvet brown eyes were huge in her face. “He said that? In those very words?” she breathed.
Esme nodded. “Except the part about Easter Day and Michaelmas.”
“Why it sounds perfect!” Verity chuckled. “You are the
most independent creature, are you not? And you will be able to paint to your heart’s content. No one will bother you. I wish I were you. I would like nothing better than to never again be under a brother or a future husband’s thumb.”
Esme looked away. “I know,” she said slowly. “I am happy.”
Verity grabbed her friend’s chin between two fingers and drew her face back toward her. “Now, you listen to me, Esme Mannon Morgan March Montagu . . . My, you have a lot of M’s in your name. Listen to—”
“Yes?”
“Your problems are very simple compared to mine.”
“I know. They always are.”
“Stop agreeing with me.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You just told me to stop agreeing with you so I did. Make up your mind.”
“Oh, Esme. I’ve missed you. Can you not steal me away when you depart? I am certain I will find a solution to my awful predicament if you allow me to hide in your trunks along with my abigail.”
“Your abigail? And how is the fair Amelia?”
“As beautiful as always. And just as outspoken. But then that is why I adore her, as you know.”
“Won’t Amelia be hurt if you ask Madame Cooper to attend to you and even do your hair?”
“I don’t care about my hair. There is very little one can do with hair as straight as a stick. But . . . what did she do to your eyes? They are very different.”
Esme harrumphed. “ ’Tis not my eyes. She plucked half my brows. Can you not tell?”
“Well, now I can since you mention it. Your eyes look farther apart, and larger. They are the most important part of your face now. I should attempt to take a likeness of you. I’d like nothing better than one of your canvases right at this moment.”
Esme looked at her and they both dissolved into a gale of giggles.
Verity mopped her face. “Oh, all right. I won’t. I do owe you far too many canvases than I can afford now that my brother has cut my quarterly pin money to a third of the usual.”
Esme took both her cousin’s hands in her own and really looked at her. “Will you not tell me what Abshire did or said to you? Why is he coming to call?” She desperately hoped it would lead to her cousin’s happiness.
