The Duke's Wicked Wife

by Elizabeth Bright

Eliza was afraid to guess.

  “I will make every effort to be on my very worst behavior and hope she will be satisfied with that. That is what he said. His very worst behavior!” John’s eyes were wide with indignation.

  She burst into laughter. How very Sebastian-like.

  “Eliza… I do not think he was joking.”

  “No, I believe he was entirely in earnest.”

  The corners of her brother’s mouth drooped in a perplexed frown. “I do not know what to make of this. Why do you laugh? Marriage is not to be taken lightly. One’s husband should be a source of help and comfort, and I fear that Wessex will fail you in this. I fear for your happiness, sister.”

  Eliza rose on her toes to plant an affectionate kiss on her brother’s cheek. “Fear not, John. He is all that you say—vain, conceited, shallow. Will it surprise you very much when I tell you that these are the very things that endear him to me? The world is, if not a better place, then a happier place because he is in it. Let other men, men like yourself, be serious, for you are so much better at it. What of joy and merriment? There must be a place for that, as well.”

  “But what of his morals?” John pressed. “Is there a single widow in all of London that he hasn’t seduced?”

  “Well,” Eliza said mildly. “I have it on good authority that Aunt Mabel steadfastly refused him.”

  Sir John blinked. His cheeks turned a mottled shade of purple. “Has he—”

  “It was a jest,” Eliza said hastily. “Of course he hasn’t ever tried.”

  But her brother had hit on an interesting conundrum, though he didn’t know it. Sebastian had agreed to one child, only one. And since childbirth was the natural outcome of…that…then it served to reason they would no longer do…that…once she had done her duty. Sebastian would naturally seek companionship elsewhere. It wouldn’t be fair of her to demand otherwise.

  Could she bear an unfaithful husband?

  It took but a moment to determine she could. It was not as if they were in love, after all. She had always been aware of his lovers, and it hadn’t interfered with their friendship in the least. Why should it interfere with their marriage, which she hoped would merely be a continuation of their friendship, but in closer quarters?

  For that matter, how many wives had been surprised by their husband’s infidelity? She, at least, knew what to expect.

  “Eliza.” Her brother clasped her hands tightly and met her gaze earnestly. “He is a rake and a scoundrel. How will you be happy married to such a man?”

  “John.” She freed her hands. “You will not say such things. He is a rake, but not a scoundrel. Wessex is a good man. Not in the same way you are, dearest brother, but nevertheless. He is good.”

  The force of her conviction surprised them both.

  Finally, Sir John nodded curtly. “Very well. I am relieved to find you think so, as it is far too late to change your mind. What’s done is done, and the scandal would be too great to bear. But Eliza, know this. You can always come home again. Hyacinth Cottage will be yours.”

  Her breath caught at his words. Hyacinth Cottage. Hers. It was everything she had once hoped for, and nothing she could now have. And she had no one to blame but herself.

  Well, almost no one.

  Damn the duke and his too-tempting mouth.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The moon hung full and large in the dark sky, bathing the world below in a muted glow. Was it a good omen or a harbinger of doom? Riya mulled the possibilities, and then gave a resolved toss of her shoulders. One couldn’t predict the future, after all.

  She hooked a leg over the windowsill, reached for the outstretched tree limb, and down she went. She landed with a soft thump next to her bag, which she had stowed there earlier that afternoon, hidden by the thick trunk of the oak tree.

  She paused for a moment to catch her breath and admire the perfection of her plan. She had, upon the discovery of Eliza kissing the duke in the library, panicked. What husband and wife, newly wed, would want a permanent houseguest? The future she had planned with Eliza—a quiet, independent life at Hyacinth Cottage—had crumbled around her. Ram would insist on returning her home immediately.

  Despite the fact that she’d had less than a day to plot her escape, it was going off without a hitch. And now the moon would light her way to the coaching inn, a scant two miles hence.

  How fortuitous.

  “Śubha sandhyā,” came a deep, serious voice.

  She spun around.

  He stepped from the shadows. She waited, breath bated, for his censure. But he seemed in no hurry, and instead looked thoughtfully at the tree that had safely delivered her from her bedroom to the ground.

  “Three times,” he said. “Three times you have run away, and each time you have used a window to escape. I have often wondered about that. Would it not be easier to simply walk out the door? Everyone is asleep, and you are quiet as a mouse. Yet, out the window you go. Why is that?”

  The question surprised her into an honest answer. “I cannot lock the door behind me. Very likely no harm would have come to those I left behind, but nonetheless I would have worried that in leaving I had let some danger in.”

  “Ah.”

  He did not seem inclined to say more, only stood there smiling in an odd way, and she gave an impatient tap of her foot. “How did you know I would run away tonight?”

  “I did not know, until a quarter hour ago. My mind was restless, and I thought to cure it with walking. As the moon is so full and bright tonight, I didn’t even need a lantern. When I saw the bag, I thought it likely that its owner would come to claim it, so I decided to wait. And now here we are.”

  Riya sent a mutinous glare to the smiling moon. When she turned back to Ram, he was regarding her with an odd expression, half amused, half pained.

  “Do you mean to tell me that you discovered me by accident, and it was only happenstance that the window by which you walked was mine?” she demanded. Of all the bad luck.

  “No,” he said. “I did not accidentally walk by your window. I walked by this window because it is yours. Since you are what prevents me from sleep, it seemed only fitting.”

  She sighed. That was so very like him, to lie awake and worry for her. Duty was his lodestar; it underscored everything he did. She ought to have known he would be the one to follow her here, for in his mind she had become yet another responsibility the moment their families agreed they would marry.

  “I am not your responsibility, Ram. However foolish you believe me to be, the consequences are mine to bear. You are neither my father nor my brother.”

  He gave her a startled look. “Your father or brother? No, indeed I am not.” With this firm pronouncement he took up her bag, then raised his brows quizzically. “It does not weigh very much. Have you no more possessions?”

  “This is all I could carry. I left a note to Eliza instructing her that I would write when I found myself settled, and she could send the rest.”

  “Very practical of you. Well, shall we be off, then?”

  She blinked. “To…where?” she asked cautiously. She did not wish to be alone, and there was no better company in the world than Ram when one did not wish to be alone, but neither would she allow him to force her to return to India.

  “You tell me. This is your adventure.”

  “An adventure!” She huffed. “This is not an adventure, Ram. I am not hying off in the middle of the night on a whim to see the temples of Greece or the shops of Paris. I am running because I must. Eliza and I had planned to live the rest of our lives at her cottage in Hampshire. Now that she is to marry, what am I to do? Where am I to go?”

  He paused, shook his head, smiled. “Such a liar you are, Riya.”

  Her spine snapped straight. “I beg your pardon.”

  “Your friends would not have cast you out at any time, much
less alone in the middle of the night. I have known them for but a day, but even I can see that much. No. You are not running from Miss Benton or even the duke. You are running from me. Again. I am beginning to take it personally.” He turned his face to the shadows, his expression inscrutable. “You never answered my question—the one I asked when I first arrived. Answer it now. Why do you run from me?”

  The question made her want to howl. “Why do you follow me?” she cried, impassioned. “That is the question I have for you. Do you not see how impossible it is for me to marry you? You, who have witnessed all my flaws and failings. It will shame you to have such a wife. I will be a stone around your neck, pulling you under the sea. You care for me now, but that will fade with the constant scorn of your friends. And I will have to watch as my husband, who was once my dearest friend, grows to loathe me more day by day. Can you really wish such a misery for either of us? Surely not.”

  He took a rapid step toward her, hands outstretched, before he seemed to remember himself and came to an abrupt halt. He looked about in apparent bemusement. “Is it possible?” he asked the moon. “Riya, do you love me?”

  “Of course I love you! Why else would I run away? Do you think I could ever allow you to lower yourself so terribly?”

  This time when he reached for her he didn’t stop himself. He snatched her up, held her close against his rapidly beating heart, and his mouth crashed hungrily on hers. She gasped in surprise and pleasure.

  It did not feel like duty when his clever tongue stroked hers.

  It did not feel like obligation when she raked her fingernails against his scalp and he clutched her tighter in response.

  This was desire. This was need.

  “Amara shona,” he murmured, his breath hot against her cheek. “Amara atma.”

  This was love.

  No! She had not crossed an ocean only to weaken now. Slowly, she eased free of his embrace.

  “Ram,” she said gently.

  He shook his head in adamant denial. “No. You will not refuse us our happiness because of him. Abesh made you promises. You did nothing wrong.”

  When she raised her eyebrows in disbelief, he smiled wryly. “Oh, very well. You should not have disobeyed your brother. You should not have left me without saying goodbye. Such mistakes can be fixed. It is not wrong to trust those we love. It is not wrong to have faith, and to expect the best in others. Abesh betrayed and abandoned you. The shame is his, not yours.”

  She stared at Ram wonderingly and found nothing but sincerity and trust shining in his eyes. He truly meant it. She lowered her chin to rest her forehead against his strong chest.

  “I thought the worst moment of my life was when I realized Abesh had abandoned me, but I was wrong. I thought I would die from shame and my brother’s disappointment. But when my brother told me we were to be married, my heart broke. I knew it was you who had arranged it, that you had done it to save me. I knew what it must have cost you to convince your mother and father. You are such a good man, Ram. I knew in that moment that I loved you, and that was why I could not marry you. I couldn’t let you be ashamed of me.” She breathed in his scent, of spice and home, and gathered her strength. “Nothing has changed. I cannot marry you.”

  He went very still. “You crossed an ocean, made a home in a foreign land. There is nothing you cannot do. You are so brave, Riya. Be brave for me, too. We will not live in the village of our families, although we will not be very far away. If the stories follow us, we will bear it together, and if it becomes unbearable, then we will flee back to England. Or would you prefer to make our home here now? We can do that. There is always a solution. Always.”

  She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. “Truly?”

  “Darling friend. There is nothing bigger in this world than the ocean, and I, too, conquered it for the one I love. We do not know the future. What of it? I will love you always. That is enough.”

  Happiness flowed through her like a cresting wave.

  “Make your choice, Riya. The world is ours. Where shall we live?”

  Happy heart beat against happy heart.

  “Take me home, Ram.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Never do that again, Riya,” Eliza said. One hand still clutched the letter—a mere three sentences—while her other held tight to her friend’s arm, lest she try to escape once more. “You gave me such a fright.”

  “I won’t,” Riya promised.

  Eliza narrowed her eyes. Riya did not look nearly chastened enough, given the circumstances. No, she looked like a woman who had been kissed well and thoroughly by her lover.

  “I thought you had written the note under duress,” Eliza said. “I thought Mr. Vidyasagar had kidnapped you to force you back to India.”

  “Kidnapped me!” Riya gave a shocked laugh. “He would never. But Eliza…” She hesitated. “I am returning to India. With Ram.”

  The letter fluttered to the floor, and Eliza clasped both Riya’s hands in her own. “Don’t run away, Riya. You have a home with me for as long as you wish. Hyacinth Cottage will be mine after I marry, and you are welcome to it, if that is what you prefer. I know it is not what we discussed—how could we have foreseen this?—but I will not abandon you, have no fear of that.”

  “Oh! That is very kind of you.” Riya’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “But I am not running away. For the first time in my life, I am running toward something. And, oh heavens, I am happy.” She squeezed Eliza’s hands. “I am so very happy, Eliza.”

  Eliza searched her face, seeking the truth. When she found it, her own eyes grew damp. “You love him?”

  “I love him.”

  “Then all will be well.” She smiled, though her hands trembled. It was bittersweet, this moment. Riya deserved all the happiness in the world, and Eliza would never stand in her way. If she had hoped to have her friend close at hand as she embarked on a new path that she had never hoped to tread, well…that was best left unsaid. But from the gentle squeeze of Riya’s hands, it seemed that her friend understood.

  “All will be well,” Eliza said again, more firmly this time. “For both of us.”

  If she said it often enough, it might even become true.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “It’s not too late to change your mind,” Riya told Eliza earnestly. “The ship leaves for India tomorrow morning. It would be a fitting end to my own saga, don’t you think? I ran to England to escape my marriage, and now you can run away to India to escape yours. We can even visit our friends in Egypt.”

  “You did not escape your marriage, dearest. All you did was delay it for a while.” Eliza patted her friend on the arm. “I fear the same would be true for me, as well. Wessex, of a certainty, would not endure the discomfort of ocean travel to bring me home again, but he would send a man to do the job, and we would find ourselves here, just like this, a year or so later.”

  It was a Wednesday, an auspicious day for a wedding, according to superstition. St. George’s was stuffed full with their dearly beloved…and several dozen strangers. Dukes and duchesses, marquesses and marchionesses, earls and countesses, all donned in their finest to witness the Duke of Wessex finally wed. Even the Prince Regent himself was in attendance.

  Eliza stood in the vestibule with Riya. Any moment now, her brother would arrive to walk her down the aisle and hand her over to Sebastian, who would forevermore be her lord and master. An odd thought, and one she preferred not to dwell upon.

  The door opened and Alice swept through it, looking lovely in a silk dress of deep purple. Adelaide, in pale blue, was close behind.

  “Dearest, you are the most gorgeous bride that ever was.” Alice embraced her gently, taking care not to wrinkle Eliza’s gown. “But it’s not too late to change your mind. My carriage is just outside.”

  Eliza laughed. “My gown is too beautiful to waste. I fear I must go t
hrough with it.”

  It was, without question, a splendid gown. Ivory silk overlaid with silver net, and more silver lace trimmed thickly at the hem and bust. Sleeves that fell daintily to her elbows in defiance of the snowflakes that fell outside. She wore no veil, but small sapphires gleamed darkly in her hair.

  Alice pulled back to study her. When she was satisfied, she gave a small shrug of her shoulders. “Do you know, I’m really very fond of Wessex. He was so helpful in bringing Abingdon and me together.”

  “Was he?” Eliza asked.

  “Oh, yes. He told me I was being a fool, though he was kind about it.”

  Eliza laughed again. That was very like him, both the scolding and the kindness.

  “My only qualm comes not from the man, but from the marriage itself.” Alice hesitated, a small furrow marring her brow. “You have always professed that your path lay elsewhere. It is not only that you have never wanted this, but that you have feared it, as well.”

  Eliza looked down at her wedding bouquet. Orange blossoms from Sebastian’s orangery. “I am still afraid. I had hoped to escape the fate of my mothers, but it seems that women will be forced along this journey whether we wish it or no. Not,” she added hastily, upon noting that Alice’s eyes had narrowed to dangerous slits, “that Wessex has coerced me in any way. I am here of my own choosing.” Her own mistake, rather. “But when the whole world has determined a set path, it proves very difficult to forge one’s own. Do not be unhappy for me, darling. I have not succumbed entirely to society’s demands, and I have made a few of my own.”

  Alice squeezed her hands. “I do hope you will be very happy, Eliza. I truly believe you will be.”

  “Why, of course she will be!” Aunt Mabel said, causing Alice to let out a startled yelp. “My dearest niece, I can tell you this with absolute assurance, there is no better man for you. I have watched you both since the very beginning of your friendship. You have not always seen me, dear girl, but I have always seen you.”

  With this startling pronouncement, she waved her arms to guide her friends forward. “Come now, we must find our seats. Sir John is here.”