Chapter Twelve
“I was never afraid of failure; for I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest.” – John Keats
Ursula struggled into a sitting position, eyes wide.
She felt as though her breath kept catching in her throat.
The brilliant, blinding sensation she had begun to experience was retreating quickly.
She was suddenly conscious that her night gown was tucked up around her knees and hastily yanked it down again.
“I… I don’t understand,” she stammered. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No! No, Ursula, you did not. You are blameless. The fault here is mine.” Graham let out a shuddering breath, passing a hand over his face. “I cannot do this.”
“Oh,” Ursula whispered. “I… I have heard whispers of this, that some men are not able to… I mean, they can’t…”
“What? No!”
“I don’t mind,” she assured him hastily. “You cannot help it, and…”
He held out his hands, giving a nervous chuckle. “I… I can perform my marital duties, Ursula. I can, but I will not. That is what I meant to say.”
Ursula flinched. “Oh. I see. Well, of course I should not like to pressure you. Whatever I did wrong, I…”
“You did nothing wrong,” Graham assured her once again. “I simply remembered… somebody. It was a rather powerful memory, and I…” he trailed off, passing a hand through his hair, and heaved a sigh. “It is rather hard to explain.”
Ursula swallowed hard, working up the courage to speak.
“Were you ever in love, Graham?”
He blinked, eyes widening. “What a question!”
“That is not an answer.”
He let out a long sigh. “Very well, I suppose you have the right to know that I was once very much in love, although it came to nothing. Her name was Jane.”
“I see. Did this Jane look anything like me?”
He blinked at her, baffled. “No, not at all. Ursula, please believe that this has nothing to do with you. I just believe that perhaps it is not such a good idea, not now at least.”
“Oh,” she said flatly. “I see.”
He darted forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and backed away.
“We are both tired,” he said, with the unwavering conviction of a gentleman who does not intend to be corrected. “We barely know each other, and this is our first night as a wedded couple. However, it will not be our last. I shall see you in the morning, Ursula. Sleep well.”
He did not await her reply, but turned abruptly on his heel and vacated the room with haste. The door closed firmly behind him as he departed.
Ursula sat there for a long moment, reeling in disbelief.
After the moment had passed, the numbness and shock faded away, leaving Ursula to face a nauseating wave of humiliation.
He rejected me. He doesn’t want me. He tried to force himself to… to… but it wasn’t enough.
This Jane, whoever she is, holds his heart.
Ursula did not often grapple with humiliation.
Mama had coached her thoroughly before she was sent out into Society.
There had been etiquette lessons, scenarios to work through, finishing schools, practise runs, and so on.
She had been prepared. And once she did enter into Society, she was sufficiently cautious and beautiful to avoid censure over either her manners or her looks. She was lucky, and she knew this.
In short, she had never encountered a rejection of this magnitude. What woman would? Surely every matrimony was consummated in an ordinary manner. Why was her husband so repulsed by her?
And then he kissed me on the forehead, like a child.
He pities me.
It hurt. A wave of misery and self-pity washed over her, mingled with an odd sensation of frustration. She had been so close to something wonderful, only to have it snatched away from her. Covering her face with her hands, Ursula burst into tears.
***
Graham had not slept well. His eyed his face in the mirror with resignation and displeasure. He was pale, his eyes were puffy, and there was a general air of tiredness about him.
Capital, indeed as a grim humour spread across his countenance. Precisely the spectacle one anticipates the morning after a gentleman's first night with his new bride.
Guilt nagged at him, as well as a lingering feeling of frustration regarding the previous evening.
He was sure that cutting off their intimacy was the correct thing to do.
While Ursula had not seemed uncomfortable as such, what right had he to demand such an act of intimacy with her?
She barely knew him. She had been ordered to wed him to save herself and had duly obeyed.
No doubt she’d received the same grim lecture about Marital Duties and what a husband would expect from his wife and had prepared herself to submit.
Well, Graham did not want her to submit. She deserved better, and so did he. The very least he could do was to give them time to get to know each other a little better.
Besides, there had been a moment when her fingers tightened on the nape of his neck that reminded him so strongly of Jane that it made him jump.
He and Jane had enjoyed more intimacy than a courting couple ought to, but whenever he went too far or did something she did not like, she had a tendency to press on the nape of his neck, or tug on his hair or ear.
It was a sign he learned to recognize, and Ursula’s touch had jolted something inside him.
It hadn’t changed the fact that he had left her room aching with arousal, wanting nothing more than to walk back into the room and pull her into his arms.
Enough of that, fool, Graham thought, readjusting his cravat in the mirror.
Is it so impossible to get through breakfast?
He hadn’t expected to see Ursula at the breakfast table and faltered a little when he walked into the room.
She was breathtakingly beautiful, dressed in a deep yellow silk gown, her hair done up simply with ringlets allowed to fall down her neck.
“Good morning,” she said, sipping her tea. She presented herself with flawless composure. Her complexion was unblemished and fresh as if she had enjoyed the most profound slumber.
I made the right choice, Graham thought, advancing into the room. I did well to leave her alone last night.
“I thought you’d be taking breakfast in bed,” he remarked, taking his usual seat. “Wedded women usually do.”
“I don’t believe I fancy it, to be more than honest. Besides, I’m used to getting up for breakfast, and I thought I might as well do so today. There’s herring for breakfast, by the way.”
He smiled faintly, and helped himself to a herring, along with some bacon, eggs, and several slices of toast.
“I hope you slept well?” he ventured at last.
She smiled again. “Remarkably well, thank you. The bed is most comfortable.”
“I am pleased. You must mention to Mrs. Richards if you would like anything to be changed.”
“I shall. I can think of nothing, however.”
A silence fell over the table.
This is ridiculous, Graham thought miserably. We are making small talk as though we are very loose acquaintances, rather than husband and wife.
He set down his fork with a clatter.
“Ursula, I hope you are not upset over last night,” he said plainly, making sure to avoid meeting her eye. “I had no intention of offending you.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Offended me? Why, no.”
He blinked at her. She was very convincing, staring coolly back at him.
“Are you sure? I was rather abrupt. The day had been long, we’d drunk a good deal of champagne… well, never mind. I would never have intended to hurt you.”
She took another sip. “Well, let us be grateful that I am not offended, then.”
She’s lying. She’s furious, Graham realised with a jolt. But I was quite convinced of its justness, putting distance between us. Did I hurt her pride somehow? Perhaps so, but she should not need to endure marital relations to save her pride.
He considered, briefly, the idea that Ursula had been looking forward to sharing his bed but rapidly dismissed it.
It seemed unrealistic, really. Everybody know that Ursula, as the Diamond of the Season with an ambitious mamma, was looking to make a good match.
She had allowed several men to pursue her, men who anybody with eyes could see that she was not the slightest bit attracted to.
She was clearly willing to make a match solely for money and status.
Graham did not blame her for that. Many young women did just the same. However, it did indicate that she was a practical woman, one who did not much care about intimacy and her own feelings about it.
Well, that would not do with Graham. He had never, ever lain with an unwilling woman, or even an ambivalent one, and had no intention of beginning to do so.
He glanced up, dragging his eyes from his plate, and found Ursula looking directly at him, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed. At once, she looked away, and he felt his stomach drop.
What does she want from me?
Before he had a moment to speak, the door creaked open and Richards stepped apologetically in.
“Your lordship, the Dowager Lady Sinclair is here. She is demanding to be shown in.”
Graham sighed. “Oh, my word. I suppose we had better show her in. What are your thoughts on the matter, Ursula?”
Ursula had poured herself another cup of tea and was serenely sipping it, all trace of her earlier discontent entirely gone.
“Whatever you wish, husband,” she answered mildly.
She certainly is angry at me, Graham though morosely, but that was a problem for later. For now, he had a more pressing problem.
“Show her in, then, Richards,” he said. The butler bowed mournfully and left the room.
Seconds later, Graham heard his mother’s voice drifting along the hallway.
“…told you that I would be welcome! Goodness gracious me, Richards, you are a great fool.”
An instant later and Margaret burst into the breakfast-room, sailing to her habitual seat at the head of the table and plumping down hard.
“That butler of yours is getting quite uppity, Graham,” she groused, shooting poor Richards a glare. “He said that I may not be welcome! Can you imagine it?”
“It is the morning after my wedding, Mother,” Graham answered grimly. “Guests are not customary.”
“Yes, well, I am your mother. I imagine that if Ursula’s mother came to visit, she would be given admittance.”
Graham glanced over at Ursula, trying to catch her eye. Ursula only stared down at her tea and said nothing.
His mother seemed to decide to drop the subject. Sniffing, she shifted, making herself more comfortable, and poured herself a cup of tea.
“Well, you two are not in particularly high spirits, are you?” she remarked, glancing from one to another. “For newlyweds, I would say you are rather subdued. I hope you the adjustment to marital life is not proving too challenging.”
Graham clenched his teeth. “Mother, please. We are adjusting very well. I am just…” he paused, not wanting to say tired. “… I am just trying to enjoy my breakfast. We both are.”
“Hmm,” Margaret grunted. “If you say so. Ursula, I must just say that no man wants to see such a discontented and sour face on his wife first thing in the morning.”
“Mother!” Graham snapped. “I won’t allow you to speak to my wife in such a way.”
Ursula shot him a quick, surprised glance. He was under the impression that he saw a little gratitude there, too, before it was gone.
Margaret scowled. "Indeed, there is no call for such warmth of temper. I thought she might enjoy a little advice from a woman who has been wedded, that’s all.”
An awkward silence fell over the table after this. Margaret slurped her tea. Graham stared down at his plate of kippers and found that his appetite had entirely deserted him.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she added, in a careless, off-hand tone which immediately made Graham suspicious. “Lord and Lady Thornfield are coming for supper tonight. Their daughter Annabella will of course be joining them.”
Graham dropped his fork. It clattered to the ground beside him. A footman moved forward, silent as a ghost, and retrieved the fallen utensil, neatly replacing it with a fresh one.
“I beg your pardon?” Graham spluttered.
Margaret made a face. “Don’t snap, Graham. Lord and Lady Thornfield are coming for supper tonight. And don’t try to tell me it’s the day after your matrimonial ceremony, as I am quite aware. The engagement was made weeks ago, and I simply cannot cancel it now. I’m sure Ursula does not mind.”
Speechless, Graham glanced over at Ursula. Her face was cool and composed, giving away nothing. She gave a brief, tight smile.
“I do not mind, Margaret. I shall be happy to entertain your guests.”
Margaret gave a triumphant smile. “There you are, you see, Graham. If your wife has no objections to make, then nor can you.”
Graham wanted to shout and perhaps throw something breakable across the room. But that would only make a mess for poor Richards and his footmen to clean up, so he contented himself with digging his nails into his palms.
“Very well, Mother,” he said at last. “But you are not to invite your guests here again without informing us first hand, is that clear?”
Margaret gave a sickly smile and sipped her tea. “Crystal clear, my dear.”
Graham glanced over at Ursula. She was staring at nothing in particular and stayed silent. When she replaced her teacup, the cup rattled loudly against the saucer. Still, she stayed silent.