Chapter 17
Cynthia
Wednesday
Gone again. But then, it’s what I’ve come to expect. The moment my eyes open, I know he’ll not be there. This time, there isn’t even a slight indent where he rested with me.
Groaning, I slide my hand down to caress my swollen backside. If anything, I find I can face the day with less trepidation now that I have something else to occupy my time. But first, I need to tidy myself, so the maid doesn’t see the damage.
I walk over to the mirror and pull up my shift, staring at the mottled marks on my skin. Reds, purples, blues, and yellows all crisscross in a pattern that has no real definition. Such pretty colors on such a pale canvas.
The water is cold in the basin as I cleanse my skin, waking me up a bit more. By the time I have a clean shift on, the maid comes in with my morning chocolate.
“Why, Miss Campbell. What’s this? How are you so prepared? Was I tardy in my duties?”
“Nothing of the sort. I find that I want to take a turn about in the garden. Will you help dress me so I can step outside for some air?”
“Certainly, Miss.”
I take a swig of the warmed chocolate and let it heat my insides as the maid prepares my dress. In no time at all, I traipse down the stairs and head out the back door.
Here, I can think. Here, I can breathe.
The stone bench looks enticing until I sit down and feel every pebble that went into making it dig into my backside. Despite the pain shooting through my body, I can’t help but laugh.
Tipping my head back, I let it bubble out of me, pouring forth in a near-hysterical sound as it just keeps coming out. Knowing Henhaven, he’d be able to name each little stone just by studying the indents in my skin.
“Care to share what has you laughing so, Miss Campbell?” Glancing up at the door, I spot Charles walking out as a maid follows to keep propriety.
“I fear if I tell you, it might make you most discomfited.”
“Try me. I can assure you, I’ve heard a great many things.”
“I merely sat here for a moment and felt the rocks upon my skin. My first thought was I’m sure Henhaven would be able to tell exactly which one leaves a mark on my body and where its origin lies.”
I brace for a moment, worried I’ve upset him, but soon, he too tips his head back and lets out a bark of laughter. It’s dark and husky, deep and unused. Why, I’m not sure I even need a second hand for the number of times I’ve heard him laugh.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” another voice interjects.
A gasp flies from my lips as I look up to see his brother, Lewis Barrington, Duke of Whiteport, joins us with Anne, his wife, in tow. “It must have been a great lark indeed to have my brother take leave of his senses and allow such a braying to issue forth from his lips.”
“More to the point,” Charles replies, his tone dry, “what has you here at Mother’s so early?”
Whiteport smirks. “Same could be posited to you. I am here to break my fast with her and my sisters. I assume you are here for the same?”
“But of course,” Charles replies. “Why else would I be here?”
Whiteport glances over at me and says nothing, merely stares until I am forced to look away. “No reason. I thought you might have had a previous engagement elsewhere.”
“Flowers, Miss.” A footman steps out into the crowded garden to hand me another set of flowers. This time, they’re just starting to bloom. Almost like the ones currently 0n my windowsill.
“Such pretty flowers,” Whiteport remarks. “No doubt from your besotted intended?”
I glance at Charles and then to his brother. The look between the two is nearly murderous.
“Yes, the flowers are from him. Whether or not he’s besotted, that I cannot speak to. Forgive me. I must put these in water.” I give them all a brief curtsy and flee the tension gathering in the garden.
“Might I join you?”
I look over at the Duchess of Whiteport and loathe her desire to be in my company, but find I cannot turn her away without even more questions being asked of me. “Of course, Your Grace. I would be most pleased.” Thankfully, as she follows me up the stairs, she doesn’t say a word.
As I put the new flowers in water, she examines the others and smiles. “Besotted may be an overestimation, but I do feel as if he cares for you. Such pretty blooms. I do think care was taken when choosing these.”
I force a laugh past my tight lips as I tuck the note away to read later. “He is a male. I think most of the thought included how much coin to part with to show affection, but not so much as to drain him too much.”
She laughs and nods. “Shrewd thinking. I find no fault in your logic.” After a moment, she sobers. “I did want to have a private moment with you to see how you fare. I too was a product of an arranged marriage. I have concern for you.”
“Has your husband uncovered some nefarious plot I need to be worried about?” I ask, taking care to keep the hope out of my voice.
“No. But neither did my late husband. He showed a lovely face to the world but was cruel underneath. I only wish for you to be safe in your matrimony.”
Fear winds its way around my heart as I sit down on the bed, forgetting the grievances my bottom has already lodged against me until it’s too late. With a soft yelp, I stand back up and rub it absently, completely forgetting the duchess in my room.
“Are you well?” she cries out.
“Very,” I reply, thinking as quickly as I can. “I slipped in the middle of the night and smacked my backside against the floor far harder than I would like. It’s yelling at me now for such mistreatment.”
“Should we fetch someone to attend you?” she asks as she studies my face.
Bollocks. I’ve heard tell of her proclivities from the others. Does she suspect the same of me?
“Please, no,” I choke out. “I’ve already injured my pride once. To fetch someone would be to destroy it completely. I promise. I’m fine. Nothing a good breakfast and walk around the garden won’t fix.”
She continues to look at me but says nothing. Soon, she nods. “Very well. But please keep in mind that I am an ally if you ever find that you have need.”
“I will do well to remember. Shall we join the others before they worry as to our whereabouts?”
With a soft smile, she moves her fichu to the side to reveal a mangled scar. “Lewis will never allow me to become lost or in danger. He knows where I am every moment. I do hope you find such a strength and companion in your Henhaven.”
She turns to leave, and I can’t help but sneer in disgust. Henhaven is not my anything. Not that it matters at the moment. For now, I need to put on a brave face and join the others for what will be a most uncomfortable breakfast.