Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“Your Grace,” Ariadne tried to be the voice of reason even while she felt utterly mortified and only wished to run away and hide. “I will happily forget this… mishap if you allow us to leave without anyone being the wiser.”
“Absolutely not,” Ophelia snapped, outraged. “The lord’s actions were unconscionable.”
“And what if I don’t force the marriage?” The duke narrowed his eyes.
Ariadne suddenly gave him her absolute, undivided attention. That face. That savage, masculine face was all angles and intrigue, and his eyes were sharp, intense mystery. The myriad of puckered skin and jarring sliver scars on the left side of his face made her want to look away—but she did not.
The shadow of stubble shading his sharp jaw and firm slant of his lips only added to his mystery, just like the dark hair falling rakishly over his brow.
“Did your brother not touch my daughter?” Ophelia asked.
“By mistake,” Leander pressed. “I mistook her for… someone else?”
Cedric rubbed his brow. “You are not helping your case, Leander.”
“He just admitted it,” Ophelia replied, crossing her arms. “How do you not see this as enough proof? Do you dare to risk the chance that he gets foxed and brags about the innocent woman he compromised, rendering her a pariah to any other suitor?”
A muscle in the duke’s jaw jumped. “I do not take blackmail lightly, my lady.”
“It’s not a threat,” Ophelia said. “It is my utmost fear, and I know your brother is prone to drunkenness. If she is labeled such, she is utterly ruined, and so are her sisters.”
Ariadne felt her head begin to swim again—and she knew it was not for the wine. “Mother, I do not feel so well.”
Pulling her brows together, Ophelia asked, “Oh dear, how are you feeling? Do you need a basin or—”
“I feel faint,” she replied as she did the mistaken move of standing. She wobbled instantly, and before her mother could react, Cedric stepped around Ophelia, practically pushing the woman out of the way to grab Ariadne before she collapsed.
She gasped in surprise, keeping her gaze fixed on his as he took three large strides and placed her on the bed. Meeting her eyes, clearer this time, he was surprised to see a glint of something entirely unexpected in her eyes.
Desire?
Surely not, it had to be repulsion.
No woman ever wanted him this way.
Her body was petite with rounded hips and a full, heaving bosom, an attribute he loved in a woman, but he’d be damned if he made the mistake of giving her ideas. Especially after last night. Once again, he wordlessly warned her not to say a word.
Efficiently, he placed her on the bed, “You need to rest, my lady.” To her mother, he said, “I’ll call the physician to attend to her and Leander. Your wedding will be in three days. In those days, I ban you from leaving this house.”
“What?” Leander gasped. “You cannot imprison me twice!”
“It’s a harsh lesson, but you called it on yourself,” Cedric said. “In the meantime, my butler will handle the details of relocating you to your proper room and have the doctor see to her.”
Pale as a sheet, Leander spun on his heel, “You cannot do this to me!”
“Unfortunately, Lady Fairbrook makes a good point with your recklessness.
I cannot have you mouthing off to hither and yonder about the poor girl and draw your name, mine, and the girl's into scandal.” Cedric said stonily.
“You will make the announcement at breakfast with the guests who are still staying with us.”
He gave his brother a searing look, “Good day, my lady and Leander, if you dare disturb my sleep, I will have you married on the morrow,” Cedric declared.
“Do not leave this room until my people have made sure the floor is clear. If you’re intending to cause more trouble, be warned, madam.
I’ll not suffer your machinations.” His disdain for her was palpable. “Leander, come with me. Now.”
With that, he turned and strode through the door, taking all the air with him. Still faint, Ariadne only wanted to get out of the room and have the privacy to cry her heart out.
“It’s going to be all right,” Ophelia said as she drew up a seat and began to stroke her hair. “I know this was unexpected, but it will be for the best.”
Forcing her eyes open, Ariadne did not understand the wash of pure relief on her mother’s face, which admittedly could have come from the outlook of the tense situation a while ago, but … it did not feel right.
Confused and with a growing sense of dread, she asked, “Mother…did you have a hand in this? Did… did you do this on purpose?”
After three more hours of rest, a warm bath, and taming his stubble, his valet helped him into his dark blue coat— something he’d wear each morning. He made his way to the small room he used for his morning meals instead of bothering the staff to set the fifteen-foot dining table.
“Is my coffee ready, Turret?” He asked.
“Two pots are ready, Your Grace,” Will replied while bowing.
“Based on what happened this morning, I may need three,” Cedric grunted.
Flipping the already placed cup into its saucer, Will poured out the drink. “Allan told me what happened. Do you think that lady did it on purpose, or was it truly a mishap?”
“I honestly do not know,” Cedric replied.
Because of their actions years ago, Cedric had elevated the two of his footmen to positions of power in his home, Allan as his butler and Will as his valet. Turret still had a reminder of that night as a faint burn mark on his palm.
“Is the newspaper dated for today?”
“It is right beside your meal, Your Grace.”
Shaking the paper out, he reached for the cup that sat aside the platter of buttered toast he had for breakfast every Wednesday at nine o’clock, on the dot. His stomach roiled as he knew that with the formal breakfast coming up, he would be breaking tradition.
“An upsetting anomaly,” he grunted to himself.
“If it is not too bold, do you think this lady will be a fit match for Lord Leander?” Will asked.
Flicking a look up, Cedric asked, “Is that your tactful way of asking if she is handsome enough to satisfy him?”
“Yes,” Will replied as he set the plate in front of Cedric.
“She’s…pretty,” he paused as he was not sure how to vocalize the feeling he’d felt seeing the young lady.
“…but I sense she is too innocent for him. Leander is one of the worst rakehells in London, well, barely edging out his friend Cumberland, and that man held a three-day bacchanal with five women in his country house.”
“I see,” Will nodded. “Is there anything I may do for you here, or shall I assist the rest of the staff with setting up the formal dining room?”
The door pushed in, and a dark-haired imp stuck her head in, “Father, are you here?”
“Yes, Emily,” he replied. “I am. Do you want to come in?”
At eight, Emily was a precious child with a head for mischief and was a little hellion in her own right.
Her soft oval face, rounded cheeks, tapered to a piquant little chin, facets of her late mother, went nicely with her dark hair, a trait she had inherited from him.
Her eyes were hazel, though, another remnant from her mother.
She skipped into the room, her ruffled light blue muslin skirts dancing about her matching kid-leather slippers. “There you are, Father,” she declared as if he were late for some state function. “Must I have French lessons today?”
“Yes,” he replied, giving her an eye. “You cannot be running off to explore the flowers and every hedge from here to the village every day, you know.”
She pouted. “Mrs. Grimes is a bore.”
“Do you want a new governess?” He asked pointedly.
“…Nooo…”
“Then you’re fine,” he said, “And you must go to your lessons. Do you not want you to grow up into the accomplished woman your mother hoped you would be?” He asked, a pointed brow cocked to his hairline.
Her shoulder sagged, and she rolled her eyes, “Fine, fine, I’ll go. But do you promise to take me to the bookstore this weekend?”
“Have you read all of your birthday books already?” He asked.
“Yes. Twice,” Emily replied. “I do wish I could attend some of your balls, Father.”
“Not until the day you turn ten and eight,” he said firmly.
To his dying day, he would insulate her from the machinations of the ton and the scandals occurring in this very house.
“Your education is more important. Now go along with Turret to your schoolroom, and Turret, after that, you may go to the dining room.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Will bowed, and gestured to the door, “My lady, please.”
As the door closed behind them, Cedric allowed himself to sag into the back of his seat and reached back to slide his fingers behind his neck and down his collar.
He touched the tip of the ridged scar that ran to his waist; thankfully, it was hidden by his clothes, but the memory of the morning after the night sprung to his mind.
“You were very fortunate, my lord,” Doctor Hamilton said while washing his hands.
Numb from the heavy sedatives, Cedric clenched his eyes tight, unable to speak as the smoke and his screaming from the night had left his throat sore.
The injuries from the fire had been too much for him, so his physician had kept him vacillating between being numb and sleeping for nearly a week. He had come to only once, just long enough to ask someone, though he could no longer recall who, about his father.
“Fortunate,” he mumbled as the doctor exited his room.
Carefully, he pried the edge of the bandages on his side to peek at the skin underneath. His skin was gone, just patches of scorched, stinging flesh. Cedric sighed, clenching his teeth together to fight back tears of both pain and anger.
“Cedric,” Leander stepped into the room, his face rigid with distaste. “The breakfast is starting.”
His brother looked presentable, peacock blue waistcoat and dark jacket, white day breeches and perfectly tied cravat—but Leander was undeniably soused.
“Good god, man,” Cedric felt another headache coming on. “How did you get foxed in three hours?”
“I am not drunk,” Leander defended himself. “And even if I were, can you blame me? You condemned me to a life I certainly did not want with a woman who is as attractive as the wallpaper in the ballroom.”
Oddly insulted for the poor girl, Cedric snapped, “This is partially your fault. Do not drag the lady’s looks into this.”
“Assuming I had privacy in my own rooms was too much to ask then?” Leander scowled.
“No, but knowing you are from a very influential family and that you are a target for many schemes should and knowing how to avoid them should be one of the most important things on your mind,” Cedric said firmly. “You grew complacent, Leander, and this is your punishment.”
“Girls,” Ophelia gestured to the door of Ariadne’s proper guest room. “Please, go ahead of us to the dining room, please. Ariadne and I need to speak privately.”
Staring blankly at her reflection in the brass-rimmed floor-length mirror, Ariadne wondered if this gown, a square-necked blue one with puff sleeves, was the best choice for her engagement announcement.
My engagement announcement.
“Aria—”
“Did you do it on purpose?” the troubled young lady snapped while clenching her hands at her sides. “Do you put me in that man’s room by design, mother?”
A long sigh left Ophelia, an act that made Ariadne want to spin around and run far, far away. It was telling more than the matron could have ever voiced.
Instantly, her body began to wash hot and cold, a strange vibration running up her spine, and she felt a slicing sensation under her ribs, as if her mother had stuck a serrated knife directly into her heart.
“Yes, I did,” the dowager admitted. “But it's not for a whim, Ariadne. I had to do something to get our family the help we need, or else, soon we will be begging on the streets.”
“W-what could ever force you to make me the sacrifice?” Ariadne choked with tears brimming in the back of her eyes. “Why—why did you rip away any chance of happiness I could have ever had?!”
Looking tortured, Ophelia said, “Your uncle Thaddeus is giving us pennies to live on, while using the remains of your father’s fortune on himself.
You know he is a dandy, and they have a very luxurious and lascivious image to maintain.
This was the last hurrah for us, Ariadne, and I—I had to do something drastic. ”
The words came from her lips, but they seemed to come from some place far away, a hollow void, coated in ice and sharp knives. It did nothing to numb the pain that was spreading through her like the first crack in a vase, threatening to splinter her into pieces.
“But now, you are to wed a duke’s brother,” her mother pushed. “It’s the best match, and because of you, your sisters will have the platform to meet the ones they will love.”
The betrayal was too raw.
“But what about the one I was supposed to love?” Ariadne said bitterly, “What about that? You stole that from me.”
“It’s only a—”
A knock on the door interrupted her mother’s frantic plea, only for her to sigh and turn to the door, “Enter.”
A young woman in a maid’s clothes came in to curtsey. “I apologize for any interruption, but His Grace is about to call the breakfast function to order.”
“Thank you,” Ophelia said, standing, her dark green velvet dress matched with her turban. “We’ll be there soon.”
The maid curtsied again and then headed out of the room. As Ophelia turned to Ariadne, she turned away, unable to look her mother straight in the eyes.
“We do not want to be late,” Ophelia said while looking straight ahead.
“Go ahead of me,” she said.
“Ariadne,” her mother said, then paused, “When you have your own children, you’ll understand what I did.”
Ariadne shook her head slowly, “No, mother, I do not think I ever will, and if I do, it will take me some time. Please, give me a moment.”
Pausing at the door, Ophelia’s face fell as she said, “Please forgive me, Ariadne. If there had been any other choice, I would have chosen it.”