Chapter 29
James
“She’s gone, then,” Gideon said as he settled in the drawing room at James’s townhouse a few days later.
“Yes,” James confirmed. “She has gone. I have made inquiries about how to secure an annulment, but I have not yet decided on the best way forward.”
“But she does not want it,” Gideon pointed out.
“She will want it in due course. She is utterly miserable, according to my aunt.”
“As are you, by the looks of it.”
“I am quite all right,” James insisted.
Of course, that wasn’t true. He had barely slept for a week and a half, what with thoughts of Frances haunting him at all hours. And whenever he wasn’t thinking of her, he thought of his brother.
He brought nothing but misery to the people around him.
“And Somerset Trust?” Gideon asked, clearly trying to steer the conversation elsewhere.
“I have requested a meeting when I return to the country. I will explain to them that I should not have had to go to the lengths of finding a wife—fake or otherwise—to appease them, and that the estate’s success since I have taken over should speak for itself.
If not, I will sell this place. I will sell every painting and candlestick I have to get out from under their thumb.
I should’ve done so from the beginning. I was stupid and prideful not to. ”
“It would be easier if you had not pushed away the one woman who knows your darkest secret and still chose to remain married to you. If you’d let her.” Gideon drawled, “If I were Somerset Trust, I would call the loan just because you are such an unreasonable idiot.”
“Thank you,” James said bitterly.
“That’s what friends are here for. To tell you the truth when you cannot see it and—”
“Excuse me, Your Grace,” Franklin called from the doorway. “Your godmother is here again.”
James frowned and got up. He met his godmother in the foyer and was glad not to see the fury he had the last time they had spoken.
There was no anger in her eyes. Although there was something else that was even more concerning.
Determination. The look she always got when she had an idea that was going to result in him doing something he didn’t want.
“James,” she greeted. “Oh, and Lord Ashford. I am unsure if it is good or bad that you are also here. We shall have to see. Come into the drawing room and sit.”
She was already acting as if this were her own house. Still, James followed her like an obedient little boy, as did Gideon. The two of them sat down on the settee, while she marched up and down like a schoolmistress.
“Aunt Eugenia, what brings you here? Is something the matter with Frances?” he asked.
“Indeed, there is something the matter with Frances. Her father is coming today. We wrote him a letter to let him know of the developments, and he has come to, in all likelihood, take her back to Bedfordshire.”
“He cannot do that,” James protested. “She is not his to command, is she now? She is still a duchess.”
“Yes, but for how much longer? He knows that you intend to have the marriage annulled. No doubt he also understands that you will pay her a substantial sum, whether she wants it or not. And no doubt he has his eyes on it.”
“Well, that is not his money to have,” he huffed.
“Well, technically, it will be,” Gideon piped up. “She will be unwed once more. And while legally speaking, she could own property, you know as well as I that her father would have considerable influence over how she manages it. He would pressure her, control her access to it.”
“Well,” James raised his hands, “what can I do? I cannot allow this to happen. The property is hers. The trust is hers.”
“A woman cannot own property that easily,” Aunt Eugenia said, her tone matter-of-fact.
“The same is true of money. He will try his very best to get his hands on it. I doubt he is trying to enrich himself. It is likely his wretched wife. Regardless, they will do their best to turn a fortune. They always know how to make a situation benefit them. But that is not truly why I am concerned. I can keep the money in my account. I am more concerned about her well-being. They will attempt to take her back to Bedfordshire, and even if they fail to do that, it will surely be a less-than-pleasant encounter.”
“What can I do?” James asked.
“You can come with me, and you can take responsibility. They will try to blame her and cast a bad light upon her, make it sound as though she made a mistake. It must be made clear to them that it is you. It is all you. Your decision. You are the one who presents the problem in this marriage.”
Gideon chuckled beside him. “I always thought your aunt was most astute, most magnificent.”
“I am his godmother, not his aunt,” Aunt Eugenia corrected. “But I appreciate the kind words.” She looked at James again. “That is the least you can do for her. You owe her that much.”
James nodded. “I know it. I do. I must speak to her father. Make him understand that she has done nothing wrong.”
“You may wish to consider remaining married to her in order to provide her legal protection,” Gideon suggested.
James had just thought of that, indeed. He would have to look into how all of this worked.
Here he was again, having made impulsive decisions and having caused nothing but harm.
“This is a perfect example of why I should not be married in the first place,” he muttered bitterly. “I decided that we should be wed because it served me in the moment, because I could not think of anything else. I let my impulsiveness get the better of me.”
“That is not true, and you know it,” Aunt Eugenia said. “You thought long and hard before you made this decision. It was not impulsive. You must stop blaming yourself for everything. Although in this case, it really is your fault.”
“Aunt Eugenia—”
She raised her hand and looked at Gideon. “Pray, are you aware of my godson’s situation as it relates to his father and brother, and how his brother died?”
Gideon nodded. “Yes, he told me long ago. Foolish, if you ask me, to take on the burden.”
“Gideon,” James hissed.
“But she asked me a question. I am answering. Is she not entitled to an answer?”
James waved a dismissive hand. “How do you know, Aunt Eugenia? Did Frances tell you?”
“She confided in her friend, and I happened to overhear her,” Aunt Eugenia said.
“And I am glad I did. James, have you ever thought that perhaps you were holding onto this guilt because it keeps you from accepting the awful truth that your father was simply a terrible man? That it keeps you from thinking about how he mistreated you and how unkind he was to you all these years? You wrap yourself in this cloak of guilt, telling yourself that you are the reason your brother is dead, even though deep down, you must know that is not true, because it keeps you from feeling the pain of having a father who did not love you.”
James had always known his father didn’t love him, but having somebody else spell it out was painful.
“That is what I thought,” Gideon chimed in. “And perhaps you’ve been determined not to be married because you are afraid of not only losing someone you love like you lost your brother, but also of being rejected.”
James got up. He did not appreciate this confederacy that had spontaneously formed against him.
“I do not wish to talk about this.”
“No,” Aunt Eugenia said, “and you haven’t for many, many years.
But perhaps it is time. You have a young woman who adores you and who wants to be with you, and you have hurt her because you are so consumed by guilt over something you had nothing to do with.
You were afraid to lose her in a tragic way, like you lost your brother, or to wake up one day and realize that she no longer loves you. ”
“Is that so strange to believe?” James raised his shoulders.
“That I fear losing those I love? I fret without end that something would happen to you, Aunt Eugenia, or to you, Gideon. The two of you are the only family I have left. And the fear I have of losing Frances to some unforeseen tragedy—it is multifold when compared to the fear I have for the two of you, which already is immense in and of itself.”
“You cannot prevent tragedies all your life,” Gideon said quietly, as though soothing an errant horse.
“No, I cannot. But I can stop myself from being involved in such situations.”
“Except you cannot,” Aunt Eugenia argued.
“You already love her. It does not matter if you annul the marriage or not. Your love will remain there. Perhaps it will fade over time, but you will always feel something for her. You will always care what happens to her, and if something does happen to her, you will feel the pain. If her father takes away, you will feel that guilt. That is what it is to feel responsible and to love someone. And you will always wonder what if.”
James groaned and looked down. “I understand that.”
“As for your other fear,” Gideon said, “that she may stop loving you one day, as your father seems to have done—that applies to any relationship. I could wake up one morning and decide I am quite done with our friendship.”
“By Jove,” James huffed. “Gideon, that is immensely helpful and makes me feel so much more secure.”
“You are very welcome.” Gideon smirked. “But in all seriousness, I do not anticipate that to happen, but one can never know what happens in life. However, I do believe that if you are married to the right person, such a thing will never occur. You may go through difficulties, but you will always end up together. I truly believe that.”
“Young man,” Aunt Eugenia interjected, unable to suppress a smile, “I will say those are strong words, and they may have a stronger impact if the one wielding them was not an eternal bachelor.”
“No longer,” Gideon quipped. “I do have a lady.”
“What?” Aunt Eugenia and James blurted at once.
Gideon shrugged. “I have not suddenly discovered my romantic tendencies. They were always there, but they have been amplified because I met a beautiful young woman. Cassandra. I intend to propose to her.”
“Well, well,” Aunt Eugenia drawled. “Even your hardened bachelor of a friend has found love.” She turned to James.
“Now, Gideon is quite correct in his assessment of love. There were many times when Frederick and I did not see eye to eye. There were periods where we fought like cats and dogs for days on end. Once, I even packed up the carriage and went to visit a good friend of mine in Scotland for six weeks. Frederick wrote me letters several times a week and sent them by express messenger, which cost a fortune back then.”
She leaned against the windowsill, a serene smile on her lips.
“I gave in eventually, and we found our way back to each other.”
“What was the quarrel about?” James asked, for it had to have been something severe if she had left her husband for several weeks.
She shrugged. “I cannot recall. It was a very long time ago. But that is the thing—I cannot remember the cause of our quarrel, but I can remember my reaction and the feeling of loss I experienced by being away from him for so long, even though I was very angry at whatever his infraction was. But my point is, we went back to one another. Because that is what love is—finding a way together.”
James nodded. Perhaps he had been foolish. He had let fear govern his life, his days. He had let his father’s words diminish him, make him doubt himself.
But it was true—his father had been an awful person. He had never loved him, and the truth was, James wasn’t quite certain if his father had ever truly loved Marcus either.
His father had focused on Marcus because he was the heir, but true affection? James had never seen it.
Was he really throwing away everything good in his life because of his father’s ill treatment and his own self-inflicted wounds?
“I can see you are thinking about what we have said, which is good.” Aunt Eugenia gave an approving nod.
“However, right now is not the time for self-reflection. Frances’s father is expected within the hour, and if you want to be of use to her, you had better get up, comb your hair, splash your face with some water so you do not look like the walking dead, and come with me. ”
James took a deep breath. “Very well. I shall do so.”