Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Sebastian ought to have known the repercussions from their appearance would not be limited to an unpleasant evening, and the knowledge that some gossips would be discussing their marriage.
When they returned home a few days later, he opened the newspaper to find the scandal sheet had his name blazoned across the top.
His heart sank as he scanned the contents.
It has come to our attention that the Duke of Ravenhall has a new wife—but while this duchess may have the beauty, she does not have the breeding.
One can only assume the marriage was made out of desperation, given the duke’s unsavory reputation.
His first wife, the daughter of the Earl of Bramwyck, perished three years prior in a suspicious accident, of which the duke is rumored to be involved.
According to our sources, the marriage was fractious, and the duke would rather his wife perish by his hand than live a lifetime with her.
Knowing all this, do we pity the current duchess—daughter of nobody—or do we praise her conniving ways that by taking advantage of scandal, she was able to aspire to the rank of duchess? Either way, we suspect this union will not be as convenient as first appears.
With a visceral growl, Sebastian hurled the scandal sheet away. Aurelia entered the breakfast room in time to see him throw the entire newspaper into the fire. Flames rose, too bright for the overcast morning, and he stared broodingly into them.
Aurelia came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and snuggling him in question.
Would the rumors never die? What on earth was he to do about it? The world suspected Aurelia of aspiring to her position by means of manipulating him, and suspected him of murdering his first wife and eyeing up his second to do the same.
This was untenable.
“Just some cruel rumors,” he said tightly.
“About… Kate?”
“Someone has been telling someone in the ton that our marriage was fractious. And, no doubt, that I was directly responsible for her death.”
“They don’t know the truth.”
“The truth doesn’t matter when Society is the judge. They have deemed me guilty, and there is nothing I can do to prove them wrong.”
“Time,” she sighed, her cheek pressed against his back. He itched to have some space so he might think about this without fear of hurting her again. “Time is all you need.”
She was wrong, but that didn’t matter. Several years had done nothing. A new marriage had only made things worse.
“We have time,” she said, hands caressing. “And we can stay here. You were right all along. No more London for us.”
“And you’ll be content with that?” He twisted and looked down at her, smoothing her hair back from her face. “And nothing more?”
“Nothing more,” she assured him. “I promise.”
Aurelia was watching Sebastian slowly slip away from her.
Small things: a distant look in his eyes even when he made love to her, and a certain detachment from her activities in their everyday life.
When she proposed changes to the house, his brow furrowed, and he no longer put forth suggestions or involved himself. Rather, often he bid her to wait.
Wait, wait, wait. For what, she never knew, and when she asked, he couldn’t provide an answer.
Eventually, tiring of this, she elected to attend a soiree hosted by Mary Ann and her father. In the absence of her mother, Mary Ann was playing the role of hostess, and Aurelia knew the young lady was eagerly anticipating her Season next year.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” she asked Sebastian as she pulled on her gloves.
He lounged on the sofa in the dressing room, ostensibly reading a book, though on occasion she caught him watching her reflection in the large mirror. “Not in the slightest,” he murmured. “If you recall, we agreed—no more social events.”
“No.” She crossed the room and kissed him; although he returned the kiss, nothing stirred behind his eyes. It was as though a part of him that had once been open to her now slammed shut, and she didn’t know how to open it again. “We agreed on no more London events. This is not a London event.”
“And so I am permitting you to go, little mouse.” He caught her hand before she could pull away, though he was only half-teasing. “But if there are any nasty rumors, promise me you won’t engage.”
She could make no such promises; if there were any nasty rumors spoken around her, she would go out of her way to put them right. As would Mary Ann, she had no doubt.
“It will be fine,” she said instead, dropping a kiss on his forehead and gliding over to the dressing table, rubbing her perfume on the base of her throat. “I must go. Goodbye, sir indomitable thundercloud.”
His dark eyes watched her from the room.
A short carriage ride later, and she had arrived, stepping into Lady Mary Ann’s large but modest home.
Situated on a sizable piece of land, it was everything a gentleman’s home ought to be, and when Aurelia was escorted to the drawing room, she found Mary Ann already holding court to the local ladies of the community.
The same ladies who had spurned her attempts at an overture when she first arrived in the area.
“Duchess!” Mary Ann sprang up, her arms outstretched. She looked positively radiant in the candlelight, her blonde curls limned with gold and her pretty blue eyes laughing. “I’m so glad you could make it. Everyone, this is the Duchess of Ravenhall, my dearest friend!”
Aurelia smiled graciously, deciding then and there not to hold a grudge—or at least not be seen to hold a grudge. “It is a pleasure to meet you all.”
Mary Ann ran quickly through the introductions, and another young lady—who would also be attending her debut in London next year—took to the head of the room to serenade them all on the harp.
Mary Ann maneuvered herself so she was seated beside Aurelia. “I take it the duke did not want to attend tonight?” she whispered.
“No. I suppose I didn’t tell you about what happened last time. He would rather stay home and let the rumors die down themselves.”
“But you’re here,” Mary Ann praised. “Well done. That must have been difficult.”
“Not so difficult knowing you’re here.” Aurelia squeezed her friend’s hand in gratitude. “And knowing that everyone here originally rejected me.”
“Now they will have no choice but to accept you.” Mary Ann beamed. “Really, it could not have happened more perfectly.”
The door opened, interrupting the harp, and when Aurelia looked up, she froze. There, striding toward her as though he owned the house and everything in it, appeared Lord Redwood.
Tall, almost handsome if it weren’t for the perpetual sneer on his face, he glimpsed her and immediately dovetailed to her side.
Mary Ann rose. “Oh!” she squeaked, flushing slightly. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not entirely sure who you might be.”
“—That would be Lord Redwood,” her family’s butler announced hastily, having obviously hurried past the gentleman.
“My aunt sends her apologies,” Lord Redwood simpered, bowing deeply over Mary Ann’s hand. “So, I’ve come in her stead. I hope I will be an acceptable replacement.”
“Oh.” Mary Ann sent a glance at Aurelia, who felt her stomach sink.
The Duchess of Fenwick had been invited?
“I’m… sure my father will be very sorry to hear it,” she said politely.
“I know he wished to see the duchess. Come, let me introduce you.” With an apologetic look at Aurelia, she led Lord Redwood to where her father was sitting by the fire, blankets draped over his fragile frame.
Aurelia attempted to catch her breath. No doubt Mary Ann had been certain the duchess wouldn’t attend, but if she had, the situation would have been terrible for her reputation. So much for rebuilding—this alone would be enough to ruin everything.
Truthfully, Lord Redwood’s presence might well be enough for that anyway.
The girl playing the harp continued, and Aurelia sat by herself as she contemplated what to do. Leave before dinner and risk people whispering about her, or remain in place and also risk people whispering about her?
Her question was answered as Lord Redwood sank into the chair beside her, clapping languidly.
“Duchess,” he announced, giving her a lascivious glance she wished she could slap from his face. “I confess I am delighted to find you here.”
Aurelia pulled herself up. “No doubt.”
“Oh, my dear, you wound me. I had not come so I could make any jests at your expense. After all, you are now a duchess!” His expression turned contemplative.
“Did you offer him what you refused to offer me? I must confess—it would not have worked on me, so you played your hand rather impeccably if so. Although what boon is marriage to such a man, really?”
“More of a boon than I would get from a marriage to you,” she mumbled, her stomach turning. “He is kind to me.”
Lord Redwood adopted an oily smile. “Such lukewarm praise. But then, I suppose it would be, considering his plans for you.”
Ice prickled down Aurelia’s back, but she did her best not to show it on her face. “I can’t imagine you would know more about his plans than I do.”
Not that she knew of any plans.
A tightness grew in her chest nonetheless.
“Naturally, I know nothing personally. But he has acquaintances in London—and people talk. Surely you must know that by now. The wonderful people of the city have such inventive names for you. Would you like to hear some of them?”
“Of course not.” Aurelia sat ramrod straight.
Sebastian had told her not to do anything foolish, and running from Lord Redwood now would certainly constitute foolish.
People would talk. But worst of all, this odious man would think he had won.
After everything, she couldn’t bear to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten to her.
The best revenge was indifference.
Lord Redwood leaned in. “It’s hardly surprising he intends to send you away once you’ve borne his children,” he whispered.
“After all, just about everyone knows he never cared for a wife, much less one such as yourself—a girl with no family, nothing to recommend her. I mean, it certainly wasn’t a love match, was it? ”
Her heart thumped. No, she couldn’t claim that.
“He has given me no indication that he intends to send me anywhere,” she hissed back politely.
“No?” He smirked wolfishly. “Then he has spoken openly of the future, I suppose? And of your very own tiny little imperative role in it? Has he mentioned his reason for marriage at all, at least?”
Of course he had!—and his reason for marriage had been purely for heirs. But once they had shaken things up, they had gotten along well together. He liked her.
At least, so she believed. He certainly enjoyed spending time in bed with her, but was that the same thing? Was that enthusiasm a product of his desire to sire children?
No, she couldn’t allow doubt to creep in. It was precisely what this venomous serpent strove to achieve. Once she returned home, she would speak to Sebastian about their future in no uncertain terms, and at his refusal, everything would return to normality.
Though, if normality was anything like the past week as opposed to her first few weeks at Ravenhall, it was no longer a utopia she wished to revisit.
…Was there some truth in Redwood’s words then?
“Ah, such loyalty,” Lord Redwood sighed when she said nothing.
“Truly, it is touching to see you so adamantly cling to your version of the truth. He ought to be delighted. Moved, in fact. How charming your defense of him is. Have you fallen in love with him, duchess? That would be a Shakespearean tragedy, indeed.”
“And what would you know about love?” she demanded through numb lips. “You have hardly courted it.”
“No, I deal in far more rational realities.” He leaned back in his chair, apparently watching the next young lady on the altar of sacrificial performance.
“As does your husband, the duke. Irrationalities such as love do not exist in our spheres.” At whatever expression was on her face—she did her best to hide it, but her heart felt as though it pounded against her ribcage—he gave a mock sigh.
“Ah, poor little fledgling, trapped in her gilded cage with the eyes of the world on her. Better to have been my mistress, sweetness, as your mother was. I would never have given you such a pedestal from which to fall.”
“No, you would have given me shame instead.”
“I would have given you honesty at least.”
“Sebastian has been honest with me!” she snapped suddenly.
“Has he?” Lord Redwood arched a brow. “Keep your voice down, my dear, or you will attract unwanted attention. Such a shame you were never brought up as a fine lady; that will hamper your chances of ever impressing the ton, don’t you think?
But not to fear—you are still pretty. For the next ten years, you will have your beauty on your side.
Beyond that… well, you will always have my pity. ”
Aurelia rose, knowing the attention of the room was on her, but unable to sit by quietly while Lord Redwood insulted her so thoroughly.
“You are mistaken, Redwood,” she gritted, her chest rising and falling with the strength of her anger.
“I may not have been born to a title, but in turn, I have learned something you never did—position does not command respect, it reveals whether you deserve it.
And the truth is, if not for your name and your coin, no one would tolerate you long enough to find out how empty you really are.
“Perhaps that is why you cling to them so fiercely!”
To her irritation, he smirked, the corner of his mouth pulling up. “I enjoy seeing your naivety. Goodbye, little duchess. Don’t forget to ask that duke of yours what he intends to do with you when the dust settles. Like mother, like daughter.”
Rather than storm from the room, as she might have done a few months ago, Aurelia retreated to sit by Mary Ann, who had been watching the exchange with wide eyes.
“Don’t ask,” she said tightly.
“I wouldn’t deign…”
Aurelia sighed. The sooner she returned home and spoke to Sebastian, the better she would feel.