Chapter 3
“Perhaps it will not be so bad,” said Miss Bridgette Cameron, Tabitha’s best friend since girlhood. “At least he is a duke and can ensure that you have plenty of money in the coffers.”
Bridgette was a merchant’s daughter; she would think of the money first. Tabitha sighed and looked at her friend. They made a rather odd pair. While Tabitha was fair-haired and had pale eyes, Bridgette’s hair was dark, and her eyes gleamed like the finest piece of jet.
“At least, you are not marrying a man with a title and nothing else of substance, as I have heard is wont to happen on occasion.”
Tabitha leaned her head back against the seat cushion as the coach moved roughly over London’s uneven streets. It had been three days since that awkward meeting in His Grace’s townhouse. Now, she and Bridgette were riding towards Tabitha’s engagement ball. Lord and Lady Mayhew had decided to travel together, allowing Tabitha a few blissful miles of privacy with her dearest friend.
“I suppose you must be tired of hearing my complaints,” Tabitha said. “This is a disaster of my own making, after all.”
“No,” Bridgette said, shaking her head.
“It very much is.”
Tabitha had told her mother and father that she and Cassius were merely speaking to one another. They had unwisely decided that they wished to converse without a chaperone, but Tabitha had assured her parents that nothing else had transpired between them.
She had told only Bridgette the entire truth, knowing that her friend would forgive her and not be terribly disappointed by a brief lapse in judgement. Tabitha was not certain that she could bear having her parents think she was a disgrace.
“You made an unwise decision,” Bridgette said, “but I do not fault you for that. The world expects too much of women. We are supposed to deny our impulses and desires, to be perfect and virginal, and the world is not nearly so unkind to men as it is to us. I imagine it is worse being a lady of your standing.”
Tabitha nodded. “But also, I feel as though I should have realized Cassius was a villain. I have wanted to speak to Lady Victoria to learn if he said the same honeyed words to her, but I do not dare. I am not sure that I would be able to refrain from saying something unkind, and I am unsure if knowing what occurred between them would make me feel any better at all.”
“Likely not.” Bridgette paused. “Are you certain this is what you wish to do?”
The coach halted, and Tabitha looked fleetingly out the window. “Yes. I am certain. It is not the marriage I wanted, but it is better than being disgraced or a spinster. Or worse, wed to a man who betrayed me.”
She exited the carriage and waited for Bridgette. Then, the two ladies linked arms and followed the short path to the entryway. Many women married men that they did not love; that was the way of their world. Love matches were relatively rare, however much Tabitha had wanted to find one in Cassius.
As they entered, the Dowager Duchess of Hillsburgh greeted them. Beside her stood Lady Miriam, His Grace’s younger sister. Tabitha had met Lady Miriam previously, and having met her brother, the Duke of Hillsburgh, Tabitha now recognized the familial resemblance between the pair.
Like her brother, Lady Miriam was dark-haired and had piercing green eyes. She was taller than was fashionable, and there was something too hard about her features. Lady Miriam was not a conventionally pretty woman, and at four-and-twenty years, spinsterdom seemed something of an inevitability.
“Lady Tabitha!” Her Grace greeted. “Oh, where is my son?”
Tabitha tried not to let her face fall. Her own fiancé had not even endeavoured to greet her on the night when they were to announce their engagement. Even though the marriage was one of mutual convenience, she still felt as though His Grace could have made a little effort to appear as though he were eager to see her.
“Over there,” Lady Miriam said, raising a hand and beckoning into the crowd behind her. “Ah, he is coming now.”
“Splendid,” Her Grace said.
That was a strange word to refer to one’s betrothed-to-be having to be signalled to approach his future bride. Bridgette gave Tabitha’s arm a comforting squeeze, seemingly sensing her dismay.
The Duke of Hillsburgh smiled. “Lady Tabitha, how wonderful to see you.”
“Likewise, Your Grace.”
For a heartbeat, they simply stared at one another. Tabitha once again had that strange sensation of being studied very carefully. She felt like a country mouse being observed by an especially fierce and mischievous cat, and the realization sparked something inside her and created a roaring inferno.
When he looked at her like that, she felt an inkling of some previously unknown emotion. Even if she did not have a name for it, she knew it was strong and desirous. She could almost believe that he cared and did not merely perceive her as a means to obtaining an heir.
He glanced askance at his mother, and the spell was broken. Tabitha’s breath shuddered. “Would you care to dance?” he asked.
His eyes were on his mother, as if it were really her approval that he cared about rather than Tabitha’s own. That stung more than she wanted to admit.
“I would love to,” she replied blandly.
Tabitha took his offered arm as they went to the ballroom, where a lively song rose in the air. The lords and ladies of the ton all danced, the bright colours of gowns and waistcoats like flower petals dancing in the wind. His Grace did not say a word to her as he took her hand, and they began. He was a large man, and beside him, Tabitha felt very small and slight.
Despite his coldness and the distant way he seemed to look over her head, warmth surged inside her. She had the wildest thought of pushing herself against him, of bringing them indecently close together.
That was terrible, but she remembered with such startling clarity that night on the settee with Cassius. She had been uncertain about what he wanted, torn between hesitancy and raging desire. Now, there was—
There was a different manner of hesitation. She did not know this man, and he did not even particularly seem to like her. But she could not deny the passion that blazed inside her, the warmth that curled between her legs, and the tightness in her belly. She wanted something that she had no words for, and against all reason, that want seemed to grow with every touch of his warm palm against her gloves and every sharp glance. He moved like a powerful, exotic animal, but his touches were so gentle and tentative. Nearly reverent.
“You look lovely tonight,” he said. “Enchanting.”
The words were clipped and short. They sounded as if they were spoken from obligation, more than any belief that she looked especially nice.
“Thank you, Your Grace. You also look lovely.”
“Lovely is a descriptor better applied to women,” he said.
“Apologies, Your Grace. It was the first that came to mind. You look handsome. Sir Lancelot himself could not cut a more dashing figure.”
“Now, I feel as though you are mocking me.”
Tabitha did not know him well enough to know if his response was meant in jest or not, so she said nothing.
“Do you like Sir Lancelot?” he asked.
They spun together, Tabitha quite conscious of how near to her he really was. This dance was the first time she had touched a man since Cassius betrayed her. Maybe all her strange reactions were to be expected. Perhaps she missed him, and her body reacted to His Grace in this powerful way simply because she was remembering what she had lost.
“I do not know,” she said. “I suppose I like Lancelot well enough, but I am not terribly fond of adultery. Besides, Lancelot’s love for Queen Guinevere destroys the kingdom, does it not?”
Tabitha tried not to think about how her own love for Cassius had nearly undone her. She resisted the impulse to search for him in the crowd and see if he had arrived and taken notice of her. He could tell everyone about their dalliance, and Tabitha knew who would bear the brunt of the blame for it—not the charming lord.
“That is a rather dour view of the situation.”
“Am I wrong?”
“No,” His Grace replied, “but I suppose I am surprised. Usually, young ladies find Sir Lancelot to be terribly romantic. After all, he commits treason to be with Queen Guinevere. He wages war against King Arthur himself.”
“He betrays his friend,” Tabitha said.
Looking at the Duke of Hillsburgh, though, Tabitha could not help thinking of all the strange, heated emotions surging within her. He was an attractive man, and after they were wed, he would take her to bed with him. Tabitha trembled at the thought of his hands touching her bare skin and not impeded by the silk of her gloves and gown.
“Is loyalty important to you?”
“It should be important to everyone. Is it to you?”
It suddenly occurred to her that maybe the duke was just as faithless and rakish as Cassius was. Did it matter, though, if she did not intend to love him? If he was cold and unlikeable, did she care if he betrayed her?
Tabitha had a sinking suspicion that she did care.
“What is your unique situation?” he asked abruptly.
Tabitha nearly tripped, and he caught her. His powerful hands wrapped around her forearms, steadying her. The song ended, and they remained standing and staring at one another. “You do not know?” she asked.
“No.”
Tabitha considered lying. She had much to lose with her honesty and very little to feasibly gain from it. Bridgette’s words about the world judging women too harshly burned within her, though. Tabitha raised her chin in something like defiance.
“If we are to be married, I suppose you might as well know. I was caught unchaperoned with a man in a parlour. Nothing happened, but I fear that he will tell everyone that we were alone together and ruin my reputation. I seek to be wed before that happens and to a man who I do not love, so I will never again place myself into unnecessary harm by trusting the wrong man.”
She braced herself, expecting his scorn. Instead, he only smiled. “I see.”
“You see?”
“Indeed. I see you very clearly now.”
He offered his arm, and Tabitha curled her fingers around the crook of his elbow. “You do not seem particularly alarmed by it.”
“Because I am not. Shall I return you to your family now?”
Before she could protest, he stepped forward. His stride was strong and confident, and he took her with him. Tabitha hastened, feeling awkward as she tried to match his quick pace. She had too much pride to ask him to slow for her. As promised, he brought her to her parents.
“It was a wonderful and enlightening dance,” the Duke of Hillsburgh said. “Thank you for sharing it with me, Lady Tabitha.”
She stared at him, certain that the shock must be entirely obvious to him. He did nothing to answer her questions, casting her only a sly smirk and retreating to his waiting sister.
“How was the dance?” Lady Mayhew asked quickly. “Was it as lovely as he suggested?”
“I believe so,” Tabitha replied.
In truth, however, she had not the faintest idea what meaning she ought to take from such a strange encounter. She had expected his anger, perhaps even for him to call off the engagement, but all His Grace had done was smile.