Chapter 10
Selina awoke to someone swearing. Noise that should not have been anywhere near her bedchamber.
But she wasn’t in her bedchamber. She was at Ashbrook Manor, in a very lovely guest chamber that she couldn’t even begin to enjoy. She was honestly surprised that she had slept at all, considering yesterday’s events.
“Oh, mercy, I’ve woken you,” someone said.
Selina sat bolt upright and rubbed her sore eyes. Across the room was a dark-haired, dark-eyed maid, all neat and tidy in her uniform. Not someone Selina would ever have guessed might use such profanity.
“Mary,” the maid said, as if that explained her unexpected presence in the room. “I was told to bring up some of your things, but I didn’t want to leave them in the hallway. Figured I could do it quietly, but apparently not. Forgive me.”
Selina pressed her palms into her temples to ease the beginning of a headache. Whatever sleep she had managed to get, it hadn’t been too restful.
“Are you well, My Lady?” The maid came forward. “Have you a headache?”
Selina nodded.
“Shall I fetch you some tea? I think there’s willow bark in the kitchen,” the maid said. “Doesn’t taste good, but there’s nothing better for a sore head. What’s the culprit? Too much wine at dinner last night?”
“Too many thoughts,” Selina croaked.
Her voice seemed to have dropped an octave this morning.
Mary nodded. “That’ll do it too. So, what do you say to that tea?”
“I think… that would be a fine idea.” Selina neglected to add that perhaps a drop or two of brandy in the tea might be a fine idea too.
“Well, you stretch out your limbs and rouse yourself a little more, and I’ll be back before you know it.” Mary gave a charming, easy smile and scurried back out of the room.
Dazed, Selina considered turning over, pulling a pillow over her head, and trying to pretend like none of this was happening. Another hour or two of sleep might ensure that she woke up back in her own bed, all of this a jarring nightmare.
No, you ought to get up and out of bed.
Habit, and the fragile hope that the situation might change in the warm light of a new day, got her to shove the coverlets back.
Then, she saw the valises that must have caused the swearing in the first place. Three of them, neatly stacked beside a reading chair by an unlit fireplace. There were two hat boxes on the chair itself.
“I am not going home,” she whispered, as if possessed by the dark spirit of reality. “Oh heavens, I am never going home.”
She had been too entrenched in the fog of sleep to fully appreciate what the maid had said to her. Her things were here.
Her father hadn’t just gone home to discuss things with her mother. He had had her belongings packed—or had her mother do it, apparently—and sent them first thing this morning.
It was a matter of a few hours by carriage between their townhouse in London, where they had been staying for the Season, and Ashbrook Manor in the Surrey countryside. Goodness, how prompt her father had been.
The door opened, and the maid breezed back in. “Your tea, My Lady.”
Selina jumped at the abrupt intrusion, her hand flying to her heart.
“Mercy, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Mary cringed. “That’s twice in one morning. I promise, I am usually more discreet than this.”
“It is quite all right.”
Mary set the tray down on the low table by the reading chair, stepping around the valises. “I suppose it must be strange, getting used to the new noises and habits of a household. When I first came here, it took me an age to settle in.”
There was a charm in the woman’s easy manner that soothed Selina.
Seeing as Selina wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, maybe Mary wouldn’t mind being her lady’s maid. The chatter and liveliness would certainly make the rest feel less oppressive, even if just for a short while.
“Shall we get you dressed then, My Lady?” Mary asked, as if reading her mind. “There’s a dress hanging in the armoire, or we can go through your things to see what you might like to wear?”
Selina wasn’t sure she was ready to open the valises and admit that her stay here was permanent.
“The one in the armoire will be fine,” she replied. “No need to make more work for you.”
“As you please, My Lady.”
Behind a wooden privacy screen, Selina changed out of her borrowed nightdress and into a fresh shift. Once that was on, Mary came around to help her with her stays, chattering amiably as she fastened the laces.
“Honestly, we’re all surprised that His Grace has finally chosen a wife. No one has been able to talk about anything else.” Mary tugged the lowest laces, rocking Selina backward. “We thought he’d have his… how should I say this… battlefield approach to women for a few years more.”
“Battlefield approach?”
What on earth was that supposed to mean?
“You know, these soldiers, they don’t know when they might die.
They face injuries and worse every day in those awful places; they don’t have much to entertain themselves,” Mary explained, a smirk in her voice.
“They don’t exactly… deny themselves. They seize whatever ‘opportunity’ they can.
And why not, when they might die tomorrow? ”
Selina still didn’t understand, but she didn’t want to seem dense in front of the maid.
Mary tied a knot in the laces. “Then, they return home to abundance and safety, but the attitude doesn’t change. The only thing that does is the number of opportunities.”
“I see,” Selina lied, not seeing at all.
The maid chuckled, evidently sensing her confusion. “It is a surprise that he is getting married, My Lady, because he has not been able to devote himself to one lady at any one time. Not since he got back.”
At last, understanding dawned on Selina. It rushed in quickly, like a slap to the face.
“Oh… oh, I see.”
She thought of last night by the orangery, the intensity with which he had pressed her against the glass. His uninhibited touch to her waist and cheek, the hunger in his grey eyes. The kiss that she had been certain he was about to press to her lips.
How many others has he—
“He has enjoyed the company of many women?” she rasped, strangely stricken.
“What gentleman has not?” Mary replied in a gentler tone.
Maybe she had realized that she shouldn’t be saying such things about the Duke to the woman who was to become the Duchess.
“Well, quite,” Selina said tightly, though she had no idea.
She was aware that gentlemen were partial to a mistress or two, but she had assumed those were just the married ones. Did they all really begin their education in… carnal matters so early? Was this some open secret? With whom were they dallying?
It seemed a little unfair that gently bred ladies could not be granted the same liberties. Why were they expected to go into marriage blind, the wedding night a mystery—and probably a shock to many—while the gentlemen were permitted to prepare at their leisure?
So, I should expect to share him?
She contemplated asking the maid, but then lost her nerve.
Disappointment settled like a shroud over her as she went through the motions of getting dressed. She put her arms up when she was supposed to and stayed still as Mary buttoned her into the garment and pinned her hair, but asked no more questions, her thoughts too loud for that.
Instead, she half-listened to the drone of the maid talking without actually hearing what was being said. It was some mischief that had happened in the kitchens, maybe something to do with an error in the quantity of beef, but that was all she knew.
“There you go, My Lady,” Mary said at last. “All ready for the day. Shall I pour you some tea now?”
“No, thank you.” Selina stepped out from behind the screen. “My headache is all but gone. Fresh air will see to the rest.”
With one quick glance at the valises and hat boxes, she walked out of the room, her head ringing with the words, I will have to share him. I will just be the wife and the mother of his children.
Once that purpose was fulfilled, what then?
Her heart sank as she thought of her own mother, a silent presence in her own home, just ‘the Duchess’ and never ‘my love’ or ‘my darling’ or even ‘my wife.’
Running now, skirts hiked up, Selina had the most awful feeling that history was doing its best to repeat itself.