Chapter 25 #2
“You are making a mistake. Your wife clearly adores you and is willing to see past your peculiarities, and yet here you are, thinking of casting her off like yesterday’s news.
What happened to the man who would always do the opposite of what his father wanted?
Did you not join the militia because you wanted to, despite your father’s objections? ”
It was true. His father had wanted him to join the army, make a hero out of him, but James had joined a local militia instead. That way, he could fulfill his duty to his country while also disappointing his father, which had been exactly what he had wanted to do at the time.
But that was before Marcus had died.
“All my life, I strived to do the opposite of what my father wanted,” he said.
“That is true, because he did not care for me, and I did not care for him. But all of that changed when Marcus died. I became the heir. It is my responsibility to be an upstanding citizen, to be the best duke I can be, to fulfill my promises to my tenants and to myself. And I cannot do that if I am involved with a woman who muddies my thinking. Love is foolishness. I have always told you that.” He felt his heart beating faster as the blood pumped through him.
“Do not forget why Marcus was involved in a duel in the first place—his foolish love for that idiotic girl who didn’t even want him. ”
“Must you always think that love is foolish and pointless and dangerous because your brother was a fool in love? Are you likely to take up arms for Frances? Is she likely to demand it of you?”
James paused, because the truth was, he would have. If that horse had been a highwayman, he would have fought him. He would not have thought twice about it.
And that was another thing that scared him. Frances was awakening feelings in him he had never felt before, the sort of feelings that would make a man lose control.
“But here’s the thing, James,” Gideon said quietly. “Your father… do you think he ever loved anyone enough to fear losing them?”
James looked up sharply.
“Do you think,” Gideon continued, “that your father ever cared about anyone besides himself? That he ever felt what you’re feeling right now?”
“I… No, I suppose not.”
“Then how can you become him? A man who doesn’t care cannot become a man who cares too much. You’re nothing like your father. You never were. The fact that you’re sitting here, terrified of losing your wife, proves it.”
James stared at his friend. He had never thought of it that way.
“I cannot continue to have her in my life,” he insisted, but with less conviction now. “The more time I spend with her, the more I care for her. And I cannot have that. That is not the life I want.”
“Is it perhaps a life you want, but are too afraid to have?” Gideon asked.
“Have you ever considered taking up employment with one of the scandal sheets so you can write helpful advice to ladies in need?” James scoffed.
“No, but perhaps I should. All the nobility seem to be getting into business these days, and that is an entirely untapped market.”
James shook his head.
Gideon knocked on the table. “Come now, let us get up. Play some billiards. Throw some darts. Anything other than sitting here, looking at your Friday-faced self. Maybe it will distract you from your thoughts, and you will stop planning the end of what might be a most delightful marriage.”
James got up and followed his friend, though even as he did, he already knew what he had to do.
He had to end this. Before it was too late. Before he lost Frances the way he had lost Marcus.
Better to lose her now, on his terms, than to lose her later in a way he couldn’t control.
“I cannot believe that he kissed you!” Marianne gasped, grabbing Frances by the arm. “Do you think you’re going to be happy together now?”
“I hope so,” Frances said. “I could scarcely believe it when he kissed me. One second, I was certain that I would die; the next, I was lying on the ground in the middle of the park, and he was above me, kissing me.”
She grabbed Marianne’s other hand and looked at her. “And I understood in that moment that everything he has done—his coldness, his controlled manner, the way he blows hot and cold—is all because he is afraid to lose someone again. The things he told me about Marcus…”
She paused, not wanting to give away too much.
“He told me the effect Marcus’s death had on him,” she said, knowing that was vague enough. “I finally felt that I truly understood him..”
“Have you spoken to him since?”
“No. We walked back to your house afterwards, and kept our conversation contained to the recklessness of the horse’s owner and James’s desire to introduce a bill to punish those who do not keep proper control of their animals.”
“That sounds very much like him. But you did not kiss again?”
Frances glanced into the glass displays of the shops they were passing on Bond Street, seeing her reflection. She had wondered if she looked different, now that she had been kissed by the man she could no longer deny she loved.
She had expected to look different, but she didn’t. She was still the same.
James hadn’t looked any different either. In fact, her stomach twisted a little when she recalled the way he had looked rather tense by the time they returned to the ball the previous evening.
They hadn’t conversed much in the carriage either, but she had chalked that down to him feeling somewhat at sea, given what had occurred between them. Still, now that she was discussing it with her cousin, she couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy.
“I think it’s going to be wonderful,” Marianne went on, not waiting for her answer.
“The two of you make such a beautiful pair. Besides, James has always needed someone to keep his feet on the ground. Do you think you will live in London most of the time? I would like that. It’s much closer than Somerset. ”
“I would like that too,” Frances said. “We have not spoken about it yet, but I am sure we will this afternoon. He is at the club now, but when he returns, I am certain we will discuss it.”
“It would be so much nicer if all of us lived close by, and you will be able to see Aunt Eugenia. Can you imagine how envious your father, your stepsister, and your stepmother will be?”
“Half-sister,” Frances corrected. “But yes, she will be envious. She already is.”
“Yes, with you being a duchess and all. But now that you have a handsome husband who adores you? And you’ll have a quiver full of children. Oh, you must go back to the Langley estate and present him to your stepmother and half-sister. Just to see the looks on their faces.”
“You know she is your cousin, too,” Frances pointed out.
“Yes, she is, but given everything you have told me about her, I must say I do not care for her. But in any case, perhaps she will change. Perhaps she can come and live with you and James, and it can be a wonderful opportunity for her too.”
Frances shook her head. “You do not know my sister. She would only use this as an opportunity to advance her own position.” She paused. “I suppose I have done it too, in a way.”
“Not really. After all, James is the one who gave you no choice.”
“He did. He did give me a choice,” she countered, suddenly feeling as though she ought to defend her husband. “I could’ve said no.”
“Let me ask you a question,” Marianne said as they passed the milliner’s and paused to look into the window at the wares. “Was there no part of you that cared for him even a little bit when you were staying at Aunt Eugenia’s?”
Frances smiled. “I suppose there was. He has always vexed me, but at the same time, he has always fascinated me. I cannot quite explain it, but we have certain ways that we can understand each other. Our strained relationships with our fathers, for example. There is much that we have in common. He is far less haughty than I initially thought.”
“I told you. He is a good man. He cares. And he clearly adores you. I saw the way he looked at you at the ball, both before and after you returned from the park.”
Frances’s cheeks reddened at that.
Could this really be true? Could this be the beginning of something she had never thought possible?
A true marriage between herself and James?
Could she really not only be a duchess but also be a wife who was loved?
Could she become a mother one day? Could she have the family she had always wished she had, the one she might’ve had if her mother hadn’t died?
Her heart swelled at the thought, and she linked her arm with Marianne’s.
“You know, perhaps I will be the second duchess in your set and the forth cousin married to a titled gentleman, after all. And more than just in name.”
“That’s the way of it,” Marianne said.
They parted ways shortly after, and Frances made her way back toward Mayfair. The walk wasn’t long, and she was glad for it. She needed time to think. To prepare.
What would she say to James? How would she begin?
Perhaps she would simply walk up to him and kiss him again. Show him that she wasn’t afraid. That she wanted this. Wanted him.
Or perhaps she should be more measured. More careful. Tell him that she understood his fears, but that she was willing to face them together.
She passed a flower stand at the corner and paused. Daffodils. Her mother’s favorite. She bought a small bunch, thinking she would put them in her room. A reminder that spring was coming. That new beginnings were possible.
Her heart was beating faster as she approached their townhouse. Their townhouse. Not his. Not hers. But theirs.
She had to keep reminding herself that things were different now. Everything had changed last night in the park. When he had kissed her, he had shown her what he truly felt. And she knew with absolute certainty that he cared for her.
She just had to make him see that it was all right to care. That loving someone didn’t mean losing them.
Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the doorknob. This was silly. She was being ridiculous. He had kissed her. Everything was fine. Better than fine. So why did she feel so nervous?
“Don’t be foolish,” she whispered to herself. “He loves you. You know he does.”
And she did know it. She had seen it in his eyes last night. The fear, yes, but also the love. The desperate, terrified love.