by Abby Ayles
The duke’s mouth was opened now, the surprise lingering on his face. Thea could see that of all the things he had expected, this had not even crossed his mind.
She felt the satisfaction and relief of knowing she had finally cornered this man who had been feeling such determination to rule over her. He had spied on her, been suspicious of her. He had made up his mind that she was not worth anything and was nothing more than his property.
He stood in need of apologizing but could not make the words come.
“Enjoy your gift,” Thea spat, making her way towards the door.
“Wait. Please,” he finally said.
“As you wish, Your Grace,” she replied bitterly, not turning to face him.
“I am sorry. I am sorry for how I responded and how I was suspicious of you,” he breathed uneasily.
“You ought to be. You overreacted to a simple gift,” she reiterated.
The duke was silent, and she could almost feel him nodding in agreement.
Thea turned to face him then and stared down on him with the same anger.
“You told me that you would make no demands of love upon me,” Thea said, realizing she had another thing to remind him.
“You said we were agreed in the fact that that would not be expected. You must understand that I am not the sort of woman who would ever disgrace her husband, whether she loved him or not. I would never debase myself so and I would never humiliate you in such a way.
“And despite that,” she continued. “Despite the agreement we had and despite the fact that I would never behave in such a way, I cannot abide your demanding of me. I cannot honor a man who so dishonors me. I cannot respect a man who suspects me.”
Thea felt the tears of anger filling her eyes, but she did not want the duke to see them. After weeks of misery and loneliness and having only material wealth to enjoy, it had come to this. It had come to the point where her husband saw her as less than nothing.
“Mrs.-”
“Do not call me that. Not now, anyway,” she said, stopping him. “If I am worth so little to you then at least call me by my Christian name. My name is Thea. I am not Mrs. Tyndale,” she said, struggling through the last part.
“I am not yours. I am just a woman who was sold to you and this is all I have to show for it,” she added, her voice raising and throwing her hands in the air, letting them fall dramatically back to her side. This was the storm that had rained upon her for simply consenting to the wishes of her father and her now husband.
“I am sorry, Thea,” he said again, quietly.
“Yes, well I have been sorry for quite some time. I have been sorry for myself,” she said with an angry laugh. “I have been sorry for myself and was angry at myself for it. Thank you, Your Grace, for giving me permission to pity my circumstances.”
Thea curtseyed with this last sentiment and left the dining room, making for the bedroom in which she would allow herself to be imprisoned for the night.
She collapsed on her bed and allowed the silent tears to flow freely. After an hour or so, she heard the footsteps of the duke retiring to his room with all the freedom afforded to men.
Thea wondered then if she ever might have such a luxury.
Chapter 26
The duke had allowed Thea to return to their home in Cambridge the day following their dispute. She came to him that morning and, without looking him in the eye, requested the freedom to travel to their home and, if he was willing, to allow Margaret to come to the house.
He had agreed, more than willingly, knowing that it was the very least he could do for Thea in light of all that had happened between them.
It was two days later and the Duke of Sandon was now returning home as well, hoping that his wife had had enough time to herself and he might be able to make amends with her.
The travel took the better part of the day and he spent the whole journey berating himself for his actions.
He had made such a mistake in attempting to set up his wife and trying to trap her for behaving crudely. He had sorely misjudged her based on his own jealousy. There was a part of him that he thought might never be able to move past the fact that their marriage was not built on love and his wife could easily fall in love with another man so long as they had none.
Returning to the estate, he was anxious to see Thea, the woman he wished would one day take pride in him calling her Mrs. Tyndale.
“Very nice to see that you have returned, Your Grace,” Mrs. Markley said, taking the duke’s coat from him.
“Thank you, Mrs. Markley. Might I ask where my wife is at?” he inquired urgently.
Mrs. Markley looked taken aback by his insistence.
“Why, Your Grace, she is in the parlor with her friend Miss Davidson,” the housekeeper replied with a respectful smile.
The Duke of Sandon groaned inwardly. He had forgotten that Margaret might decide to stay for a night or two. He wished a private audience with his wife but understood he had little choice in the matter without appearing rude.
He made his way to the parlor to greet both ladies.
Miss Davidson, whom he had seen only a few times but had never been home when she came to visit, stood and curtseyed very politely the moment he opened the door.
His wife, however, took a moment longer to follow suit and he saw in her frown that her respect was hollow.
“Miss Davidson. Mrs.- Wife,” he said, settling on a word with which to greet her, and ignoring the way her eyes narrowed at the sound of it.
“Miss Davidson, how is your stay?” he asked.
“It is terribly lovely, Your Grace. Your home is astounding,” she said with a girlish laugh that caused her curls to bounce.
“Well, your friend has certainly made her mark on it. I am very fortunate to have such an accomplished young woman to furnish our home,” the duke said, ensuring that he used the word ‘our’ to remind his wife that it was her own home to be proud of as well.
“And will you be with us long?” he added, curious to know when he might have a good amount of time to be alone with his wife to talk about all that had transpired.
“I fear I must leave tomorrow morning,” she replied with a pout to her face.
The duke was relieved to hear it. He would be able to allow the young women to have dinner together and he could, perhaps, even have the William come that evening so he could explain everything.
Then, the following day, he would be able to see his wife alone and thank her for the book.
“We shall be sad to see you go,” he lied. Again, he saw a look from his wife, telling him that she read through everything he said and would not believe a word from him for as long as she might have the displeasure of knowing him.
“Well then, I must leave you to it. I do not wish to interrupt the time you have with one another. But it is a pleasure, Miss Davidson. Enjoy your evening,” he said, bowing and taking his leave.
Once he was out the door, he ordered his card to be sent to the Duke of Arborshire as quickly as possible.
The duke waited in his study and within the hour, his friend arrived.
“I was surprised to hear from you. Were you not due back on the weekend?” William questioned, shaking the Duke of Sandon’s hand.
“Indeed, but we were rushed back early on rather pressing business,” he replied, gesturing for his friend to take a seat.
The men made themselves comfortable and, as usual, brandy was poured.
“I see there is a change in your appearance,” William noted, watching him.
“Indeed…”
“So, you’ve come to see the truth? You are a man with a look of disappointment. A man who has been broken because he believed a lie,” he extracted.
“Oh, it was quite a falsehood,” the Duke of Sandon replied.
“Tell me. How bad was it? Did you catch her with a young man or did she simply confess?” the man said in disgust.
“Duke, the falsehood which I believed was of your own making,” the Duke
of Sandon said, having heard enough of the accusations and assumptions.
William looked at him curiously as if this was not what he had expected to hear from him.
“Must I say it again? You were wrong. You were wrong, and yet I allowed myself to believe you for a time. I allowed myself to grow suspicious of my wife and think the worst of her,” the Duke of Sandon explained, struggling through angry breaths.
“I followed her. I attempted to set up a trap. And all I did was reveal my own horrible nature. I caused her to hurt. I accused her to her face and when she came at me with every logical explanation I had been too blind to see, I simply gave up.”
The duke’s friend looked at him, open-mouthed and concerned.
“What exactly do you mean by her logical explanations?” he inquired, unconvinced.
“The lad you saw her with when she was shopping with her sisters. It was just as I had assumed. He was a shopkeeper. It was his duty to entertain young women who came in seeking gowns. There is no harm in that. How is she to make a purchase if she be not allowed to speak to the merchant?
“And Lord Davenberry’s son? Ha! It was not for her own sake that she spoke with him but that of her youngest sister. A sister for whom she is seeking an adequate marriage with a good family. There are few families as good and prestigious as the Marquess of Davenberry’s.
“And the most foolish of all my suspicions was the one I brought upon myself when I found her speaking with a young man in a tearoom. I saw him give her a present. The present, as it happened, was for me. He was a bookseller. She had purchased for me a rare volume that must be worth nearly every cent I gave her to spend during her time in town.”
After this, the duke allowed himself a moment. Recounting the tale all over again was bringing back the same agony and guilt that he had felt from the beginning of his wife’s explanations.
She had been a good woman and he had not seen it.
“Do you believe all this to be factual?” William asked, his resolve weakening.
“I know it to be. In truth, I think I have perhaps found a woman who is better than many others. A woman kind enough to, despite not liking me very much, try and purchase a gift for me out of respect. A woman who has often been cold and aloof, but remains willing to try when she can bring herself to trust me.
“I have betrayed that trust in every manner,” the duke confessed.
“You speak highly of her so suddenly. Did you not, before, believe her to be the same as any other young woman seeking a fortune?” his friend asked.
“I must confess that it has not taken me so long as it ought to have to understand how wrong I was in that. She never agreed to marry for my fortune. She agreed to marry me because it was what her father insisted upon.
“Here I have seen her coldness in not wanting to be my wife when I ought to have seen her submission in marrying me anyway. She is a young woman of a great many qualities. I wish only that I had confessed them to myself sooner,” the Duke of Sandon admitted.
“You sound dangerously close to a man who has actually begun to care about his wife,” William warned with a slight grin.
“I confess it. The truth is, I have feared so greatly that she was disrespecting me. I feared that she had found another man and would taint my good name. But what I had not admitted was the fact that disrespect has been far from my only fear,” he said.
“Oh? And what is the rest of your fear?” his friend prodded in a tone that did not denote serious conversation.
The duke brushed aside his friend’s callousness.
“I fear that she will truly fall in love with another man. I fear that I am terribly jealous. I fear that I do, indeed, care for her,” the Duke of Sandon finally said.
His friend leaned back and watched him intently, not entirely believing what he was hearing. The duke no longer cared. He had come to realize that he was noticing his wife as a wife and no longer as merely a matter of convenience.
He wished his mother could see the reality of that. He wished he could express it to his friends and to society.
But most importantly, he wished he could express this to his dark-haired wife.
He thought she might never believe him, even if he tried. But it would not matter in the end. He would have to tell her at some point.
He would not tell her when they discussed things the following day. The duke would bide his time. He would wait until she was ready.
“I cannot quite express how I feel about your revelations,” William admitted.
“And why should you have any reservations against it?” the Duke of Sandon asked, understanding that his friend did not entirely approve.
“She is not the sort of woman suited to your station. We all thought it was kind enough of you to show her family a bit of charity, but going so far as marriage seemed rather excessive to most. Hearing that you are now at the point of actually loving her? I cannot condone it,” William said.
“I must tell you honestly that I do not care whether you condone it or not. This is how I have come to feel. Your opinion on the matter really does not impact me,” the Duke of Sandon said with a satisfied nod.
“Well then, I wish you the best of luck in your marriage. I hope that your belief, your faith in the young woman, truly comes to pass. I cannot see this infatuation of yours ending well, but I suppose that’s what mistresses are for,” William said flippantly.
“No, mistresses are an excuse for wives to hide their own indiscretions,” the Duke of Sandon replied, realizing too late that his words reeked of petty rivalry.
He had made an indirect accusation against William’s wife. One that he did not suspect to be true, much as the accusations against his own wife had not been.
“Forgive me. That was not what I truly feel,” he said with a sigh.
His friend continued to look away, annoyed by the conversation.
“I think I ought to be going,” he said.
“Yes, yes you ought,” the duke replied.
When his friend had gone, the Duke of Sandon felt lighter and freer than he remembered feeling for quite some time. He had finally confessed a truth he had been denying.
He did care for his wife. He cared for her and hoped she might one day care for him. But first, he would have to see how the following morning played out.
Chapter 27
“Do I have your approval to spend a few days with Margaret, Your Grace?” Thea asked coldly the following morning, standing before the Duke who was behind the desk in his study.
The Duke of Sandon looked at her with a pained expression, setting down some of his papers.
“If that is your wish, Mrs. Tyndale, then I will certainly support it,” he replied, using her married name in such a way that frustrated her.
Thea nodded and turned to leave.
“Would you mind returning to me before you leave? I mean, once you have packed your things. I should like to see you one last time,” he told her.
Thea turned back and looked at him curiously.
“I cannot imagine why you should want that, Your Grace, but if you insist upon it then it must be so,” she replied, making a swift exit.
As she made up the stairs and to her room, Thea considered all of the confusion of the previous days. She had been suspected and tricked, then proven herself. And after, she heard a conversation between the Duke and a friend of his, presumably a nobleman as well, who hated her.
She wondered at how the Duke of Sandon had responded and how he had spoken so highly of her in the midst of that.
Thea packed her things, enough for four days. She had been uncertain as to whether or not the Duke would be willing to grant her the time away. But assuming that he remained embarrassed, it made sense.
The books piled in her room were tempting, but Thea didn’t want to take them. She didn’t want to feel like she needed anything at all from him.
She decided to leave the books. For the next few days, she would simply enjoy the life she had had before. It
was the life she had been able to engage in when it was just her family and Margaret and those she cared for.
She didn’t need any reminders of the Duke of Sandon with her. There was enough clouding her thoughts when it came to him.
Thea grabbed the small carpet bag and descended the stairs. She left the bag with the coachman and went back to the study as promised.
