Chapter 16
“Ihave made a grievous error,” Evelina announced, as she cast a critical eye over the gift which had been delivered only moments before.
Calling it a gift seemed scandalous. She tentatively smoothed the lace over the gown.
That was the least objectionable part of His Grace’s gift, a pristine white gown with white-on-white embroidery and froths of elegant lace lining the sleeves and the waistline.
It was to be her wedding gown. She wondered where he had gotten it from, for the fashion was the latest style; Evelina did not imagine it had come from a relative.
The other items were slightly more alarming. His Grace had seen fit to provide her with a pair of white drawers, edged with delicate floral lace. Evelina stared at them, choosing to bury her curiosity at having never worn such a garment and instead focused on being angry at this man’s audacity.
Well, she was angry and bewildered. If His Grace had requested that these garments be made for her, how had he determined her sizes, and what magic had he used for a seamstress to produce them so quickly? Perhaps, they would not even fit.
“What is the error?” asked Theodora, as she entered the drawing room.
Face burning, Evelina quickly gathered the items and forced them into Emma’s arms. The maid was so startled by the sudden movement that she stumbled backwards.
“The duke,” Evelina said.
Theodora’s curious eyes snapped to the clothing in Emma’s arms. “What is that?”
“His Grace has seen fit to send me a gown for the wedding.” Evelina leveled a glare at Emma, making it apparent that the young woman was to leave with the clothing quickly.
Emma curtsied and hurried from the room, as a mouse might have upon seeing a particularly vicious cat.
“And you will not even let us see it?” asked Anna, seating herself in the settee.
“No,” Evelina said. “I do not even know if I will wear it. I only gave him my answer four days ago. How has he already produced a gown for me?”
A gown and drawers! She had heard rumors of ladies wearing drawers, but Evelina had assumed those were merely scandalous stories meant to entertain a bawdy, raucous audience. She had not imagined for a moment that they might be true.
“I suppose he has a reliable seamstress,” said Anne. “Or maybe the fortune to coax one into working very hard.”
“I suppose,” Evelina muttered, crossing her arms.
“Everyone,” greeted Maria as she entered the room.
“Now, we are all here,” Theodora said. “Regrettably, Rosalind has another obligation this evening.”
Evelina nodded and dropped into the nearest chair. “Shall we have brandy?”
“Of course!” Maria exclaimed with a laugh. “We should be celebrating your good fortune at marrying the duke.”
Evelina smiled awkwardly, thinking about the lace-trimmed drawers that Emma had hopefully thrown directly into a fire but more likely had simply left in Evelina’s room.
“You must tell them about your time in the British Museum,” Theodora said, her eyes shining with mischief.
Evelina had given Theodora only an ill-defined sketch of what had transpired between herself and the Duke of Rothbury, one which omitted everything involving His Grace taking her to that study and what they both had done once they were there.
“It was nothing,” Evelina said, knowing that it was pointless to resist.
Theodora would not surrender until Evelina had told the rest of the Corset Chronicles Club everything that she had already confessed to her sister.
“No, do tell,” said Maria. “What happened?”
Evelina sighed, secretly grateful that there was not more to say. “Truly, it was nothing.”
She told them of her encounter with the Duke of Rothbury in the Greek aisle and how they had conversed in front of a statue of Odysseus.
Then, Evelina mentioned seeing Psyche and Eros; she did not quite share the entire truth, which was that His Grace had behaved in a deliberately rakish manner.
Instead, she simply told her friends that he had offered to recount the story of Psyche, which she had already known.
“That was all,” Evelina said, adding a one-shouldered shrug really to assure them that there was nothing more to say. “I regret that it was not as exciting as Theodora made it sound.”
“You seem to enjoy speaking to him,” Anna said after a moment.
Evelina glanced at her friend’s stomach, its roundness softened only a little by Anne’s pink gown. “I do,” Evelina conceded. “But that hardly matters. I agreed to marry him because it is a mutually advantageous choice. Nothing more.”
“And I have told you that, regardless of your reasons, marriage will be more enjoyable if you develop some affection for the man,” Theodora said, smiling wryly.
“It seems that she has,” Maria said. “Shall we call him the Odyssean Duke?”
“Oh! I like that,” Theodora agreed.
“It suits him well,” added Anna.
“Hardly,” Evelina said dryly. “I do not think we should name him at all. This duke is quite unlike your husbands.”
“How so?” asked Theodora, sounding genuinely curious.
Evelina sighed. “Your dukes love you. And they wanted far more from a marriage than mine does. He wants an heir and power, and that is not like any of the men you all have married. Perhaps, let’s not afford him a pet name yet.”
Theodora laughed. “You make our stories sound so romantic! My dear sister, I know that you simply adore Alexander, but he did not fall in love with me without hesitation either. Nor is he a perfect man.”
“That is true,” Maria offered. “Our dukes all had their own challenges to overcome before being worthy of us.”
“Yes,” Anna agreed. “If you are going to learn any lesson from us, Evelina, it ought to be the importance of persistence and the willingness to grow.”
Evelina nodded. Theodora had already said as much, and Evelina did not disagree exactly. It was only that she did not have the same needs that her friends did. A happy marriage required love and mutual understanding, but the act of consummating a marriage did not.
Admittedly, it would be more pleasant if His Grace behaved as he had in that tiny study in the British Museum, but that was a nice, unexpected treat.
It was not a necessity. Evelina clasped her hands tightly together, her heart beating very quickly as she dared imagine the wedding night.
Would he show her that same pleasure again?
She still did not quite understand how it related to what was needed to produce a child, but Evelina was uncertain that she could survive such pleasure every single day until she successfully had a baby.
“He is a fine duke,” Maria offered. “Very well-respected and handsome.”
“I imagine that compensates a little for his grandmother,” Anna said, furrowing her brow. “I have tried to learn more about this feud between them, but I fear that my efforts have been for naught.”
“That is fine,” Evelina said. “I have learned the truth of the matter, and it is but a little thing. There is a stipulation in the will that His Grace must produce an heir within a year of taking the title, or else his grandmother will take everything save for the title of the Duke of Rothbury.”
Theodora frowned. “A year? But when did he take the title?”
Evelina winced. “Two months ago.”
Theodora gasped. “But that would mean he only has ten months!”
“What a dreadful stipulation!” Anna exclaimed. “My dear, are you—if he does not fulfill this obligation—”
“He will,” Evelina said. “We will. The two of us have an understanding that we will both need to work very hard to produce an heir.”
The three women exchanged concerned looks, and Evelina could guess why. If His Grace did not have an heir before the two months concluded, what would become of him? A man in such a difficult position would marry any lady with a fortune in the hopes of preserving himself should the worst happen.
“He will have no access to my fortune,” Evelina said confidently. “I will keep my wealth separate from his. It is an unconventional arrangement, but it is one to which he has agreed.”
“If you are certain…” Anna trailed off.
“Quite certain,” said Evelina. “I have thought of everything, and my solicitors have been generous both with their time and their insight. I promise that everything will be fine.”
“I do not doubt you,” Maria said, her face softening. “None of us do. Our caution comes from a deep love of you, not a doubt in your competence.”
“I know,” Evelina said. “And I would be upset if you did not show such care for me. But I promise that all will be well.”
An awkward silence settled between them, and Evelina rose and poured glasses of brandy for them. Anna waved hers away and smiled wryly. “Since becoming with child, I have found that even the smell of brandy turns my stomach.”
“More for me,” Theodora teased, raising her glass in a toast. “To you, Evelina, and your Odyssean duke.”
Evelina chuckled and let her glass clink against the one that Theodora held. “He is no Odysseus.”
“You disagreed at the British Museum,” Theodora pointed out. “Then, you did believe that he was like Odysseus.”
“Yes,” Evelina said. “But that was before you resolved to call him that!”
“You will simply have to accept it,” Maria said, grinning. “It is too late for you to dissuade us now, Evelina.”
She shook her head and took a sip of her drink. Evelina supposed that there were worse comparisons to make about one’s husband than Odysseus.
“I think you will be good for him,” Anna added.
Evelina frowned. “Do you?”
Anna nodded. “The Duke of Rothbury has struck me as a lonely man, and given all that we have heard about his life, I imagine that he could do with some brightness. You are perfect for that. You are warm, cheerful, and kind.”
Evelina blinked, uncomfortable and fond all at once.
Anna spoke about her as though Evelina was a paragon of perfection, as if any man would be foolish to discard her, but that was entirely untrue.
Evelina’s husband was proof of how guiltlessly one might abandon her, and if Evelina was honest with herself, she would admit that was the true reason why she hesitated to become too familiar with her new husband.
Her friends’ marriages were different from what her own would be, and it was not because their dukes were different.
It was because Evelina was different. She was not a likable woman.
Evelina was too much of everything—too much fire, too much wit, too much impatience.
She was outlandish and ridiculous sometimes, brazen in a way that men disliked.
If she did develop some genuine fondness for His Grace, it would only spell her doom; he was certain never to return her affections, and she would be melancholy once again.
“To your long and happy marriage,” Theodora said. “Even if that is not your aim, I have no doubt that you will find love with your new happiness. You deserve nothing less, Evelina.”
“Yes,” Maria agreed. “We all know that the course of true love does not run smooth, especially for a man who takes his name after Odysseus.”
Theodora laughed, and Anna grinned.
“But eventually, he returns home to Penelope,” Evelina said. “And they are happy together.”
“You will be, too,” Maria said.
They all clinked their glasses together, and Evelina took a generous swallow of brandy. The spirit burned the back of her throat and filled her with a sort of sparkling energy.
Her friends really believed that this marriage was a blessing in disguise, instead of the means to an end.
Evelina’s chest ached as she thought of how she would inevitably disappoint them all.
It did not matter how hard she tried; even if she had that inclination, the Duke of Rothbury would never love someone like her.