Chapter Two
Benningfield House
Hanover Square
Mayfair, England
Emma Benningfield nee Wingate, Duchess of Thornton, let a frown pull at the corners of her lips while she cast a glance to the windows of the drawing room.
“At least it’s not snowing.”
The tinkling laughter from her best friend, Lady Susan, widow of the Earl of Lyttleton, tugged Emma’s attention from the windows.
“That is the only good thing about February. It might be a shortened month, and most of the snow might be over, but when it does come, it makes me decidedly grumpy. It makes me remember far too much.”
“Well, you have every right to be that, after the year you just passed.”
“There is that.” The other woman frowned. “I do miss my William.”
Last year, just after seeing the Old Year out, Susan’s husband of ten years died suddenly from an apoplexy. No one could have known, and she had been properly devastated. She’d vanished into mourning and had only just emerged in the past couple of days.
“I’m sorry all the same, Susan. I know how much you adored him and he you.”
It had often been made Emma jealous. Of course, she’d never revealed that to her best friend, for it would have hurt her feelings.
Susan had married eight years before she had, but she had been the greatest support of Emma’s, sitting with her for days when news from the war fronts had come slowly, reassuring her that Cecil would have luck on his side and come home to her at the end of it.
In fact, it had been Susan who’d introduced her to Thornton at that ball.
It seemed so long ago now, but in truth, it had been only a handful of years.
“In many ways, I think William and I had the perfect marriage.” Susan’s eyes took on a faraway look, as if she were peering back in time.
“He always enjoyed the wintertime. It didn’t matter that I did not.
He’d often force me to bundle up for the cold then take me out into the countryside if we were there so he could show me his favorite old haunts on the estate.
” She shook her head with a slight smile. “I miss those times.”
Oddly, Emma could sympathize with that. There was something quite special about being in a man’s company, especially one with whom you shared a specific bond.
When Thornton had finally come home from the war, he’d been horribly hurt and had lasting scars, but she’d married him because she’d fallen in love with him through the letters they’d exchanged while he’d been away fighting for England.
She thought she’d had that bond with him, but two months into their marriage, he’d abruptly left London for his country estate, and what was more, he didn’t give her an explanation as to why.
That had hurt more than anything. The way he’d shut her out as if he didn’t trust her, or worse, as if he didn’t care.
Had he married her in haste only to repent at leisure? Not that there had been any pleasure in the nearly two years they’d been apart.
Wondering if the state of her union made her—and him—an embarrassment or an object of pity within the beau monde, she shoved the thoughts away. “Perhaps, in time, you’ll feel the need to marry again.”
“Oh, I don’t know. What I had with William was… unexplainable. I’m not certain I can find that with someone else.”
Emma nodded. “Give it time. You needn’t decide anything now, and you are only just out of societal mourning.
You will grieve him for the rest of your life, no doubt.
” Hadn’t she done the same when Thornton hadn’t come back to London?
Hadn’t written her a single letter from his country estate saying something… anything?
“Honestly, I don’t know what I’ll do without him. Everything has been at sixes and sevens. And there is a void there where he used to be. Wherever I look, there are little reminders of him, of us together, and when I turn to ask him a question, I only find emptiness there.”
The sadness in Susan’s voice sent the urge to cry deep within Emma’s own chest. With as much strength as she could muster, she fought them back.
I am done shedding tears over him.
“As odd as it sounds, I understand that. It catches you unawares at times, and then you mourn all over again.” Except, in her case, she was mourning a man still alive, though she suspected the man she’d once known, the man she’d once fallen in love with, had died in the war, and he didn’t realize it yet.
Against her better judgment, Emma let the memories have at her.
Oh, when she’d met him at that ball, there had been an instant connection on every level.
Easily, she’d thought the duke was the man of her dreams. After two dances that night, he’d pulled her aside and had proposed marriage to her; they’d known each other at that point for a handful of hours, but she knew.
There had been an unerring certainty about the decision, for she had envisioned a life with Thornton, a life where she could see them happy and content with each other. So she’d accepted and he’d kissed her.
Then he’d left for his military commission the next day.
After that, there was nothing to do but wait for him.
He’d been a prolific letter writer, and through those words, she’d fallen in love with him.
The way he described his experiences in his regiment, how he felt responsible as a captain for those beneath him, how he agonized whenever he lost one of his men…
It had let her see another side to him, one he probably never showed to anyone else, for after everything, Thornton was a private man for all he used to grow aroused by his penchant for exhibitionism.
“I heard the duke has returned to London.”
The sound of Susan’s voice once more wrenched Emma from her thoughts. She nodded. “He has.”
“Have you seen him yet?”
“I have not, and now I’m wondering if he even cares at all. Perhaps I’m courting scandal for absolutely no reason, and he won’t call on me at all.” Imagine that embarrassment.
Oh, the first two months of their union had been all-consuming, and the carnal sessions between them had been numerous and explosive.
Then, everything had changed, and she didn’t know why.
Still didn’t. For whatever reason, with no explanation, the duke had left her in London and removed to his country estate.
Refused to let her visit. Refused to answer her letters demanding an explanation.
Refused to talk to her or have anything else to do with her.
There was just… nothing, and she’d been left to pick up the pieces.
“I doubt that.” Susan shook her head. A faint smile curved her lips. “A man like Thornton will have taken notice of what you’ve been doing here. I’ll wager it won’t have been in vain. You must be patient.”
Emma grunted. “Haven’t I been that for nearly two years?” And she was completely done with that. She couldn’t continue to exist in this netherworld of being married yet not even a wife.
“It’s a pity you can’t go into his club and confront him there.”
“That would be the easier ploy, but since they don’t allow women—or rather not proper society ladies—that is impossible.” Of course, she could always dress herself as a young man, but that required effort, and she felt she’d already expended quite enough to gain her husband’s attention.
At Christmastide nearly two months ago, she’d had enough of being heartbroken and decided to create enough scandal that it would draw him to London. Thorton had come to town, but for whatever reason, he didn’t call at his Mayfair townhouse, and she’d once again looked the fool.
Instead, just after the new year, he returned to the country.
Until this week. She’d heard rumors that he was in London and preferred to stay at his club. Even after all the scandal and flirting she’d worked at since Christmastide, he still chose to ignore her.
What is wrong with me that I can’t capture my own husband’s attention any longer?
Susan sighed. She brushed a piece of lint off the skirt of her dove-gray dress. “What will you do, then?”
“I don’t know.” His recent rebuff had driven up her annoyance, and that, in turn, had accelerated and magnified the scandal she wished to enter into.
He would pay attention to her, damn it, and this time around, she would up the ante.
“Perhaps I will flirt with a few men enough to make Thornton think I’ve taken a lover. ”
“No one would blame you if that truly happened,” Susan said in a lowered voice.
“He has made it abundantly clear that he wants nothing to do with you or a true union.” She pressed her lips together as she glanced at Emma with pity and concern warring for dominance in her eyes.
“You haven’t had a real marriage since you married the duke, I fear. ”
“Outside of those first two months? You are absolutely right.” A shuddering sigh escaped her.
“I wed him two years ago on Valentine’s Day, only had two months with him before he left me in April of that year.
Almost as if he vanished into thin air except, I knew where he was.
Worse, I knew he was alive but actively ignoring me. ”
And she still didn’t know the reason.
Susan leaned over and patted Emma’s hand. “It’s good that the housekeeper wrote to you and kept you informed, though.”
“Yes.” Emma nodded. “I appreciated that. Despite being hurt and confused regarding his abandonment, I worry over him, don’t want anything horrid to happen to him.” Did she still care? Of course, but what good would it do if he didn’t?
For long moments, silence reigned between them as they both stared into the flames crackling in the fireplace. Then Susan stirred.
“Do you think he’ll come to see you soon? If nothing else, to put an end to a marriage he possibly never wanted to begin with?”