Chapter 16
Kalina
Everything was moving in a whirl around her, so fast that Kalina’s head felt like it was spinning.
The contracts had been signed. The Duke of Ormonde had been dispatched back to London to retrieve a special license from the Archbishop.
Hereford had disappeared from the library without a second glance, muttering something about needing to write his family.
The idea of having to eventually face his family made Kalina’s stomach turn over again.
Despite Lady Astrid’s clear displeasure with the circumstances, she and her mother had jumped into action. The household was bustling with footmen and maids scurrying about, readying the manor for a ducal wedding.
Whispers followed Kalina through the house wherever she went.
No one believed that Hereford had ended up in her bed by chance.
Everyone but her mother and father seemed to believe she was at fault. Once Hereford had left the library, her mother had demanded to know what he had done, and her father had confessed what they already suspected.
He’d led a drunken Hereford to Kalina’s room and left him in her bed.
He was the one who had trapped the duke into marriage with her.
Now, her mother was angrier at her father than she’d ever seen.
So was Kalina, but she did not want to make matters worse between her parents, so she could not vent that anger.
She was afraid if she were to show her upset, her mother would do something…
drastic. Kalina did not know what. But with her whole life in turmoil, she needed her parents not to be entirely at odds with each other.
She needed them to be the steady support they had always been.
Which meant bottling up her own emotions rather than giving her mother more fuel for her fire.
Ashwin was hiding out with Rupert Blackstone, keeping well away from all the ruckus, and she could not blame him. His friend, at least, was standing by his side.
Though she could not blame her friends. They had known Hereford for far longer than she had known them. They knew he was an honorable man and had not actually ruined her. By now, the duke had surely told them what her father had done.
Wandering to the window of her room, Kalina stared at the long drive leading up to the manor.
It felt like an entire lifetime ago that she’d ridden in the carriage along its length, to be warmly welcomed into Lady Astrid’s home, full of hopes that she might impress a duke enough to gain a proposal.
That life felt like it belonged to someone else.
Once again, she was an outcast.
Now, she would be leaving her parents’ home for Hereford’s, but he did not truly want her there.
Once again, she belonged nowhere.
Her eyes and throat burned, and she leaned forward to press her forehead against the cool glass. She felt almost feverish.
“Kalina, come help us choose your wedding gown,” her mother said gently, putting her hand on Kalina’s shoulder and drawing her back away from the window.
Turning Kalina in place, her mother’s warm, dark eyes traveled over Kalina’s expression, searching for something.
“You do not have to do this, you know. We can go back to India. English society is not everything.”
Had she been any happier in India?
She had not felt like she belonged there, either.
If she did not belong anywhere, then what did it matter where she was unhappy?
At least here in England, she would marry a duke, then her father could be happy.
In India, he had been unhappy, her mother had been unhappy, and she and Ashwin had been unhappy.
Now, her grandfather would be forced to acknowledge them, giving her father what he’d hoped for.
Ashwin had made at least one friend, who was standing by him.
And her mother… well, at least here she was not being ignored by her family.
They were too far away for them to ignore her.
“I want to stay. I want to marry the duke.” She managed to push a tremulous smile onto her lips again.
It did not fool her mother, who frowned at her, then sighed.
Behind her, Margaret was hovering with a worried expression on her face, wringing her hands.
“Do not be mad at Father, please. He was trying to help. To give me what he thought I wanted.”
Mother pressed her lips together in a thin line, breathing in through her nose. Her nostrils flared, and she gave her head a little shake.
“Your father…” She took another deep breath. “Your father likely had good intentions; he often does. That does not excuse the questionability of his actions.”
“I do not want you fighting while at my wedding,” she pleaded. “The situation is difficult enough if you are not getting on… I need both of you.”
The look in her mother’s eyes softened, and she reached up to brush an errant lock of hair away from Kalina’s face, tucking it behind her ear.
“You have both of us. Always. No matter how much your father makes me want to shake him sometimes. My anger at him does not affect either of our feelings toward you.” She sighed. “But I will try to ease my temper. For your sake.”
Relaxing, knowing that was the first step toward her mother forgiving her father, Kalina nodded.
“Would you like to choose a dress now?” her mother asked.
No, she would not like to, but she knew she needed to.
Kalina nodded again. This was not how she’d pictured choosing her wedding gown.
She’d imagined being at the modistes with her mother, picking the fabric, poring over the possible designs.
Instead, they were selecting one from what she had on hand.
“I pulled out the blush because it is the closest to white, and I know that’s all the rage for weddings now,” Margaret said, holding up both dresses. “But I also think the pink silk would look lovely. And you have not worn it yet.”
The silk was a much brighter hue, cut to perfection.
It was an attention-getting dress. Kalina felt very much that she’d had enough attention.
The more she could make this appear like a regular wedding to the rest of the guests, the better it would be.
The blush had pink underskirts, heavily trimmed with cream lace, which lightened them.
The overskirt was trimmed with lace and a pink ribbon that matched the hue of the underskirts exactly.
Layers of lace bolstered the hips of the skirt where it connected to the bodice, which was also adorned with a panel of lace down the center.
Tiny puff sleeves of the same fabric as the underskirt were topped with more lace that lifted into the air like little wings.
The neckline was scandalously low for a day dress, but no lower than the pink silk.
It was the closest thing she had on hand to a fashionable wedding gown.
“The blush,” she said, pointing to the dress in Margaret’s left hand. “As you say, it is closer to white.”
“Very good, miss.” Turning, Margaret put the pink silk back into the wardrobe. Kalina watched it go with a kind of longing. She wondered if she would ever have the chance to wear it now or if Hereford would banish her to rusticate in the country in revenge for being trapped into marriage with her.
What her life would look like as his wife…
She could not begin to guess.
That was a problem for the future. Right now, she needed to get through the next few days, then she would contemplate what retribution she might have to live with.
Once her gown and jewelry had been chosen, Kalina shooed her mother and Margaret out of the room. She needed some space to think. Some time.
Normally, she would have thrown herself down on the bed to do so, but she found herself reluctant to approach the offending piece of furniture again. Not that it was the bed’s fault there had been a man in it with her, but she was not ready to return to it.
Instead, she went back to the window and sat down on the cushioned seat. Though she stared out into the sunny day, she was not truly seeing anything. Now that she was alone, the morning replayed in her head.
Waking up.
Realizing there was a man beside her.
Screaming.
What could she have done differently?
How could she have stopped it?
Why had her father done that?
A question she had not been able to ask him as yet. One that she would need complete privacy for, just in case his answer made matters with her mother worse. But she could not fathom what he had been thinking.
A knock at her door made her jerk upright, bouncing to her feet as surprise ran through her.
“Come in.”
The door opened to reveal Lady Astrid. Immediately, Kalina’s mouth went dry, and her palms turned clammy as she faced the young woman who had been so kind to her…
and whose hospitality Kalina’s father had so abused.
It did not help that Lady Astrid’s expression was a smooth mask of blank neutrality, which fair screamed her displeasure.
“Is your mother not here?” Lady Astrid asked, looking around the room with a frown. “I thought you were in here together.”
“No, I… I needed a moment to myself.” Kalina’s heart was racing in her chest, her empty stomach now filled with butterflies. “Lady Astrid… I…”
“The ballroom is being set up,” Lady Astrid interrupted, as though Kalina had not started speaking.
She did it so smoothly, it was entirely possible that she had not heard Kalina’s stuttering words, but from the way she avoided Kalina’s gaze, it was unlikely that was the case.
“If you and your mother would like any input on the decorations.”
The idea of trying to direct the decoration of Lady Astrid’s ballroom for this farce of a wedding made Kalina feel distinctly ill.
“No, thank you.” She shook her head. “I am sure you have it well in hand. Lady Astrid… I want you to know… I did not…” Because she had not expected anyone to come to her door, she was ill-prepared. She did not know what she wanted to say, much less how to say it, and yet she could not help but try.
“You did not…” Lady Astrid raised her eyebrow, meeting Kalina’s gaze for the first time, and Kalina realized that the other woman was seething.
“You did not intend to trap one of my friends into marriage when you accepted the invitation to my home? Or you did not mean to do it so poorly that it was obvious?”
“I… I…” Kalina silently cursed her father for putting her in this position.
“Your father did take advantage of Nathanial’s inebriated state to put him in your bed, did he not?” Lady Astrid asked when Kalina could not find her tongue.
Kalina closed her eyes, gripping her skirts in her fists as the shame ran through her. Yes, her father had done exactly that.
“Then, this morning, you and your maid ensured that there were plenty of witnesses with your screams.”
Oh gods… they had… though not intentionally. But if Margaret had not screamed, if she had not screamed, perhaps she could have woken Hereford. Shooed him out of her room. Hidden him in the wardrobe. Something. But she had reacted in exactly the wrong manner, sealing their fate.
What could she say in her defense? Was there anything at all? Her father had set the events in motion deliberately. Everything that came afterward had been put into place by his design.
She opened her eyes and met Lady Astrid’s hard gaze.
“I am sorry.” Her voice was a mere thread of a whisper. She was sorry. Sorry for what her father had done. Sorry for her inadvertent role in it. Sorry that the Blackstones’ hospitality had been abused by her family.
Lady Astrid huffed, tilting her head back and staring up at the ceiling as if pleading for patience from a higher power. It only took her a moment to regain her control and meet Kalina’s eyes again.
“What I do not understand is that we were helping you. We were all helping you. You did not need to do… this.” She gestured angrily at the bed, directing her feelings about this morning at it in very much the same way Kalina had. “There was no good reason for it.”
When Kalina stood there, mute, because she could not think of anything to say—because she did not understand why her father had acted as he had either—Lady Astrid huffed again and whirled around.
The door slammed behind her, and, despite the thick carpet in the hall, Kalina could hear her stomping away because she was walking with such angry vehemence.
Slowly, Kalina sank down onto the window seat. Her head dropped, her gaze fixing on a single point on the ornate rug that filled the majority of the room. It felt like she could hardly breathe.
She pressed her hand to her chest, trying to stop the pounding of her heart, to ease the pressure on her chest. It did nothing.
The emotions were welling up inside her, refusing to be pushed down, overwhelming her strength.
When she closed her eyes, she felt a tear slide down her cheek to drip off the bottom of her chin.
Clenching her jaw did nothing, and a horrible sound escaped as the pain inside her expanded. Grabbing hold of one of the cushions at her side, she curled into a tiny ball and buried her face in its velvet softness to cover the sounds of her broken-hearted sobs.