Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Everything was perfect for the dinner.
Aurelia had proudly overseen every minute detail herself—from the menu to the placement of the silver. Hothouse blooms filled the vases. Wildflowers from the garden brightened the table. It wasn’t grand, but it was thoughtful. It was hers.
Every place was set. The food was hot. And if it waited much longer, it would spoil.
Yet there were no guests.
Aurelia had checked with Jane several times to ensure the invitations had been properly delivered.
But she had a sinking suspicion that the duke had been right; hosting the dinner was a veritable mistake.
Not because he had any issues with her having a life of her own here, but because no one wanted anything to do with them.
He had known. And once again, he had failed to warn her of the fact before the marriage.
Her anger coiled inside her, but mostly, all she could feel was a bitter disappointment. Shame. How embarrassing that she had prepared this dinner, and now she would have to ask for it to be delivered down to the servants’ quarters. They would enjoy it, but still.
Servants gossiped.
They were not hers—Mrs. Hodge, particularly, was downright hostile. Knowing that she had attempted to do her duty as duchess and failed would not endear her to them. They would believe, and perhaps rightly so, that she was unfit for her position as mistress of Ravenhall after all.
Dear God, what am I doing? I couldn’t have made a worse start to this marriage if I’d tried. Perhaps Lady Fenwick was right, perhaps I…
Heat rushed to her cheeks as a few of the servants dared a glance in her direction. She hovered, mortified, hand inches from the bellpull—about to ring it in full, humiliating defeat—when the dining room doors suddenly burst open.
“Lady Mary Ann, Your Grace,” Fellows announced, his tone utterly unreadable.
A fresh-faced, pretty young lady in deep plum satin glided into the room, her wide eyes catching every flicker of candlelight.
“Goodness gracious, what a well-appointed dinner…” she breathed, before offering Aurelia a touching smile.
“I must apologize for my tardiness and for my father’s absence; he is ill, you see, and while he enjoys the sea air, he did not think himself equal to a dinner.
I attend in his stead, and I hope you will pardon us. ”
Aurelia’s heart, which had been steadily sinking to her shoes, gave a little tumble. She swiftly donned her best smile.
“There is nothing to apologize for, my lady! We should get to eating before the food runs cold.” She clasped Lady Mary Ann’s hand and guided her to the table. “I am quite relieved you agreed to attend. I was beginning to think all my efforts would be for naught.”
Lady Mary Ann looked around with an air of confusion. “No one else has attended?”
“Unfortunately not. I’m sure they were all otherwise engaged given the such short notice, but—” Aurelia toyed with the lace at the end of her sleeve, “—it seems the duke is not so popular here. And we have not been married long, you see,” she finished with a grimace.
“Oh, well, I only moved here last week, so I suppose I remain unmoved by idle rumor. When I received your invitation, I too felt so relieved. And from a duchess, no less!” She beamed contagiously at Aurelia. “I do hope we will become friends!”
“I would like that very much!” Aurelia sat and hesitated as they were served the first course—a white soup sprinkled with almonds. What to tell Lady Mary Ann? What to ask her?
“You… mentioned rumors,” she began tentatively. “About the duke, I take?”
“Oh yes,” Lady Mary Ann said as she dipped her spoon into the soup. “I pay little heed to rumors, of course. There is nowhere so prone to rumor and gossip as small villages, and in my experience, only a fraction is the truth.”
“But… what are the rumors?” Aurelia pressed cautiously. “Someone mentioned something about a murderer?”
“Yes, well, that will be his first wife.” Lady Mary Ann produced the fact as though it was nothing, but Aurelia gaped at her, uncomprehending.
The duke had been married before? She was his second wife?
“The rumor goes that he killed her, though of course that’s ridiculous.
What man kills his wife? No doubt she died of something perfectly innocuous, as it is so easy to do, and the world got up in arms about it.
” She frowned, her brows drawing together like cat whiskers.
“They’re silly rumors, Your Grace. Nothing to fret about.
The people here might believe them, but they would be as likely to believe there’s a ghost haunting the manor—or that the duke is secretly a spy for France. ”
Aurelia tried to nod, but she felt as though her stomach was being turned upside down.
Killed his first wife.
Of course, she could not just believe rumors without questioning them first—and she very much ought to question that one. But there was no smoke without fire, and he had said nothing about another wife.
Kate, he had whispered to her while feverish and half asleep. Was that the name of his former wife? And if he was able to whisper her name with such anguish, then what did that say of the rumors that he killed her?
“Speaking of, where is the duke?” Lady Mary Ann frowned. “I had expected him to be at the head of this dinner.”
“He… chose not to attend,” Aurelia murmured, loathing the embarrassment that fired at her cheeks at the thought. “I suppose he suspected no one would attend and so wanted to distance himself from the entire affair.”
Lady Mary Ann clucked her tongue. “Then I hope he feels the weight of his mistake. I’ve heard he is terribly handsome.”
Aurelia’s cheeks burned hotter still. Handsome didn’t begin to cover it. He was arresting in a way that made rational thought falter the first night she’d spent by his bedside. And Aurelia prided herself on her rational thought.
“Well,” she managed, trying to hide her face in a long gulp of ratafia. “I suppose he is.”
“You suppose?”
“Well, the first time I met him, I thought he was.” She recalled the lap incident, and her blush deepened. “And, I suppose… I still think he is. But we have not, precisely, been getting along since our marriage. I suspect it is not ever going to be anything other than a marriage of convenience.”
“Better a marriage of convenience with a handsome gentleman, I’ll say,” Lady Mary Ann chirped, waving her spoon authoritatively.
“When I go to London next year—for my Presentation at Court, you know, and the London Season—I hope I will find a handsome gentleman willing to marry me. One can forgive a great many faults if one’s husband is rather pleasing on the eye. ”
“Can one,” Aurelia said dryly. Not this one, that’s for certain. “Surely that depends on the faults in question.”
Lady Mary Ann gave a wicked smile. “Yes, but I’ve heard the duke is devastatingly striking. That cancels out the faults and then some in my book.”
Aurelia suppressed an inward groan. He was, and every time she saw him, she was reminded anew of his handsomeness.
But there was also the rumor that he had killed his wife, and if it was true, then no amount of good looks could salvage his character.
The question is, had he killed her?
And if he had—which Aurelia could not dismiss entirely out of hand, no matter how much she might have wanted to—then… would she be next?