Chapter 31
Cynthia
Wednesday
“The Duke of Norhaven has come to call.”
“Please tell him I’m not at home.”
Teresa gives me a sympathetic smile as she pats Thomas’s back. “You cannot avoid him forever, you know. He’s the brother to your best friends.”
“I know that,” I moan as I drop my head into my hands. “Don’t you think I know that? It’s part of what makes it all so difficult. He’s everywhere. The man isn’t giving me room to breathe.”
“He cares for you,” she murmurs.
“Yes. And?”
“And you care for him.”
“Again, please give me a piece of information I am not aware of. I know I care for him. I know my heart pounds in the refrain of his name. Charles Barrington. There it is, emblazoned into my skin, etched onto my very bones. But what can be done? I am set to marry another. He cannot find fault with the man. This is my life now, and I might as well make the best of it.”
Teresa continues to rock Thomas as he snoozes in her arms, filling the air with soft snores. “I do so wish you were not so miserable.”
“Not everyone can find a true love match. I thought I did. I thought I had one with Norhaven. Seems as if I was incorrect.”
“But surely you had an understanding. We all thought you did.”
“As did I. But he never said the words. He never once made it official. Every moment together, every glance, every brush of our bodies as we danced… It was there for all to see, very much implied, but never officially spoken.”
The footman comes in again. “A missive for Miss Campbell.”
I glance at the elegant scrawl of Charles’s pen and wave it away. “Please send it back.”
“Cynthia,” Teresa chides. “What if he’s writing to tell you he’s found a way for you both to be together?”
“If that were true, Henhaven is honorable enough to come to me and say it directly. My father would have written me. Some other sign would be present. No. I am sure this is yet one more of his attempts to sway me into seeing him. As much as I want to give in, my heart cannot bear the thought.”
“I suppose it’s for the best,” she sighs. “Let the man stew. He’s created this mess. It’s now to him to lie in it.” Her face changes a bit as a bright smile crosses her lips. “Are you excited about the ball this evening?”
“I would like to be, but it’s hard knowing you will still be here with Thomas and unable to go.”
“Oh, pish posh. I am just thrilled that I might have a bit of gossip afterward! You will be sure to tell me everything. Yes? Who’s wearing what, who’s talking to whom, and if there is any scandal about.”
My spirits lift as Teresa’s contagious joy winds around my heart. “Of course. I will be sure to make a mental note of everything.”
“That’s my girl. Now then, about your hair.”
She lists all the different styles she’d like to see me in when the poor footman comes in once more. “The Viscount of Henhaven and the Duke of Norhaven are here to see Miss Campbell.”
I look at Teresa, my heart plummeting into my stomach. “What am I to do? I cannot be home for one and not the other.”
Her brow furrows a bit. “I suppose there’s no harm in seeing both at once. It’s not as if Norhaven can wax poetic of his affections while your betrothed is in the room.”
“No. I suppose not. Very well. Show them both in.”
Henhaven strides in, his face fixed into a firm frown.
No doubt he’s not at all pleased to have my attentions shared with another.
Charles, however, looks absolutely miserable.
His face is nearly gray and thin, as if he’s not been eating or sleeping.
I give a proper curtsy to them both and sit as Henhaven takes the chair closest to me and Charles is resigned to sit closer to Teresa.
“Forgive me, Miss Campbell,” Charles growls. “I was informed you were out. What a fortuitous boon that I’ve arrived in time with Henhaven to see you here and well.”
Henhaven shifts a bit, angling his body between Charles and me. Honestly, the posturing between the two is absolutely infantile. Henhaven won. Why can’t Charles just accept defeat gracefully?
Clearing my throat, I lower my gaze to the floor. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I was not feeling well earlier this morning. I find that I am much more recovered.”
“I see. And has this affliction been plaguing you since you left my mother’s roof?”
Henhaven laughs. “Your Grace, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were interrogating the girl. Be glad that she is well. I certainly am.”
“I am very glad to see that she is well. I was quite concerned when I dined with my family for breakfast and found my mother’s home missing an occupant. Especially when no explanation was given.”
I certainly had given them an explanation; however, I know it’s not the one he wanted to hear. He wanted to know why I fled, leaving him after such an intimate night between us. For that, I cannot answer. Not in front of Henhaven.
“Forgive me, Your Grace. I informed your household of my reasons. My apologies that it was not conveyed to you.” Check, Charles.
“And have you found your time with the Duchess of Foxford enlightening?” Henhaven cuts in. “I do so love seeing you holding Thomas. You take to maternal instincts like a fish to water.”
I resist the urge to groan. Why must everything come back to fish? “I do hope I take to motherhood swimmingly.”
‘Tis a lame joke, but Henhaven tosses his head back and laughs. The sound is not abhorrent in the slightest, but it’s not the same rusted, deeper sound that Charles has. It’s clear Henhaven laughs far more often than Charles.
If only I could find it in me to want him. I like him well enough, but that’s not what I wanted in a marriage. I wanted passion. I wanted late nights with murmurs of admiration. Once I discovered the darker side to romance, I wanted my evenings filled with whips, chains, ropes, and pain.
None of those seem like things Henhaven can give me, and Charles knows it. Even as the man regales Teresa with some rock or stone he adores, Charles stares at me, keeping his gaze locked with mine.
There’s heat there, desire, longing, and lust. When has Henhaven ever looked at me like that before? Just one glance from Charles and arousal pools low in my belly. With Henhaven, I find I could make of him a friend.
I fear marriages have thrived on less.
Thankfully, the time grows short, and both men rise. Teresa and I rise as well and bid them a good day. My heart pounds in my chest as I watch Charles leave, staring at the broad expanse of his back.
I just have to keep my resolve. Soon, I’ll be married, and it will be easier. Time will have to heal these wounds.
With a soft smile, I beg leave to go to my room so I can be alone. There, on the windowsill, are the flowers Henhaven has given me. The first ones bloom, showing off their beautiful colors. Perhaps he and I will be like that. Slow to bloom, but more beautiful because of the effort.
Or not. Herring exports. Jet. Coastline gems. Six sisters. Six. Blasted. Sisters.
As I stare into Henhaven’s gray-blue eyes, it’s all I can think about. All around us, others gather and retreat, giving us well-wishes as if this is a trial run for our wedding breakfast, but all I can think about is the conversation he’s peppered me with since we first arrived.
Droll subjects I care nothing for. The problem is, the more I try my hardest to show him interest, the happier he becomes. In truth, he seems absolutely thrilled to tell me, in detail, just how far the fish swim to spawn.
Granted, if I knew there was a hardened man underneath this, an Alpha who enjoyed the darker side of pleasures, I would, no doubt, hang on his every word. But how can I be swayed by fish when that’s all there will be in my life?
As the music starts, Henhaven leads me to the floor, taking the first dance with me as propriety dictates. All around us, people whisper and point, smiling as we do the steps to perfection.
Everyone else is happy. Why not me? I do my best to put on a happy face and join him in conversation between the steps, but inside, I feel as if I’m dying.
Soon enough, it’s over, leaving me to go back to the side as he mills about, speaking to other men about who knows what. The instant I’m alone, Charles is there by my side, asking me for a dance.
If only my dance card were full and I had a good reason to reject him. As a duke, such a rejection would look horrible on me and my family while leaving him unscathed. Just as I agree, the music changes to that of a waltz.
He brings me to the floor, holding me as close as he dares without sparking scandal. His eyes bore into mine as we dance together, our bodies moving as one. Heat climbs my face as the warmth of his hand seeps into me through my gloves.
Close. Too close. I can smell him. I can feel his breath wash across my face. Bollocks, I can almost hear his heartbeat as he draws me in even closer.
From around the room, the conversations strike up once more. This time, they look at us and talk in a far different tone. Even Henhaven watches from the sidelines, his gaze never leaving me.
I feel it bore into my back every time it’s turned. It sears me as I face him again. There is no anger, no condemnation. He doesn’t force me away. He simply watches with curiosity.
If only he’d chastise me, show any sort of jealousy or possession. Something. Anything.
But no. He’s passive, cool, level-headed. Everything he’s supposed to be to avoid any whiff of scandal. He’s everything I’m supposed to want.
Instead, I crave the darkness I feel humming under the surface of Charles’s stern veneer. I crave the way his fingers dig into me with each turn about the room.
Tears blur my vision, but I don’t let them fall. I can’t let the Ton see me as weak. I simply must stay strong until I can pull away and lick my wounds in private.
Soon enough, the number is over, and Charles releases me before going back into the crowd. Did I just imagine his possessive stare? Did I conjure a need and longing where there was not one?
My friends come over to me, all a titter as they hand me some punch. The distraction is most welcome, and I’m sure the rest in attendance breathe a sigh of relief as well, seeing as no outward scandal took place.
“My dear, you’re positively flushed!” Augusta cries. “Is it too warm in here?”
Alessandra smirks. “I believe it is from the heat emanating off of Norhaven that has her in such a state.”
“You cannot say such things,” Emma hisses as she looks over her shoulder to see if anyone is listening in. “She is engaged to another. Such speculation is wrong.”
The voices meld as they talk over one another, arguing in the way that only best friends can. For me, it’s too much. I cannot bear it any longer.
Begging their leave to go to the privy, I make my way through the house until I find the library. There, I’ll be able to hole up and simply be until the ball is over. After that, I’ll have the strength to be around the others again.
I can only hope the solitude will help. It can’t hurt. Right?