Chapter Nine #2
Not only could she not be with Caleb for a lifetime, but the likelihood of seeing him again after today was quite slim.
Why had neither of us acted upon our impulses sooner?
Eventually, after a roundabout route in the event someone followed, she reached the store house indicated on the slip of paper. Her hand had barely touched the latch when the stout wooden door opened, and she was pulled into the gloom of the space.
As panic crowded her throat, the door was closed. “Angelica, it’s me.”
Immediate relief rolled down her spine. Then the flare of a match made her breath catch, and she shielded her eyes against the sudden brightness.
“Caleb.” As he closed the glass door on the lantern and the building’s interior was illuminated, she frowned, for it was where the duke’s private reserve of spirits was stored.
On the other side of the eight-foot by eight-foot space, crates of extra crystal and dishes were stacked and waiting.
“I apologize that I wasn’t in the manor when the duke returned; I’d gone out to the village. I was after a gift for you, wanted to give it to you during tea this afternoon.”
A few tears fell to her cheeks. “That’s so lovely.
” When he tenderly held her head between his hands, turned her face this way and that as his gaze roved over her skin, a whimper escaped, for his touch was so different than her husband’s.
“I hadn’t expected Tittleford home. He burst into my morning room while I was writing letters.
Then he accused me of having an affair with you.
Apparently, the butler suspected and told the duke. ”
“Dear God.” The second he drew the pad of his thumb along her lower lip, she couldn’t hold back her tears. “He beat you.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” As succinctly as she could, Angelica told him what had occurred.
“Ah, sweeting, I’m so sorry.” Then he took her into his arms and simply held her close. “This must stop.”
“I don’t know if that will ever happen.” Because she was nearly hysterical and sobbing, she clung to him, even if the touch aggravated her recent bruises. “I am trapped with a monster, and there is naught that I can do about it.”
“You can’t keep being beat by him.”
The warmth and safety he imparted was only a temporary fix, for she would have to return to the manor house.
Even if she refused to share dinner with the duke, he would be under the same roof, one too many bottles of brandy away from seeking her out for whatever whim he had.
Fear of that kept her burrowing into Caleb’s body.
She hid her face in the crook of his shoulder.
“What should I do, then? Outside of hitting him with a candlestick or shoving him down the stairs.” The potential scandal therein if the duke should die was almost laughable. Would Bow Street come and take her away? Would they truly hang a duchess for murder?
“I don’t know, but I can’t allow him to hurt you any longer.” As he spoke, Caleb led her over to one of the crates then encouraged her to sit upon the top. “You were never meant for such a horrible life. I’ll think of something.”
“No.” Throwing out a hand, she caught his and squeezed his fingers. “Please don’t do anything rash. Going to prison isn’t worth it. I have already defended you against Tittleford by telling him our coming together was my idea and that I forced you into it.”
“I rather think that’s not true, but I appreciate what you did for me.” After he pulled out of her grasp, he rummaged in one of the boxes. “Do you prefer gin or Madeira? Perhaps something stronger like whiskey?”
“Why?”
“You need something to soothe your nerves and dull the pain until we can slip away to the dower house for tea.” He continued to rummage through the boxes.
“I suppose gin would work. Over the years I’ve been known to get occasionally tipsy on it simply for the escape.”
In the macabre shadows thrown over the walls from the lantern, he frowned as he glanced at her. “Your life must truly feel terrible if you, a duchess, are hiding in your suite drinking blue ruin.”
“Well, we all cannot be queens, can we?” An awkward laugh mixed with a sob escaped her. “I don’t enjoy the megrims the following morning, but at least for a little while, the gin helps me to forget… or to believe in dreams and the hope that things might grow better.”
“Perhaps while you’re in Surrey for the duration, you can start a cause or charity that helps women who suffer domestic abuse from various members of their family.” When he came near, he sat next to her on the crate and then pried the cork from the bottle.
“Why?” However, the idea held merit. It would help serve as a distraction from her own troubles, and if she could help other women like her escape from their abusers, all to the good.
Caleb put the bottle into her hand. “I’ve always had the feeling that you are the type of woman who can change the world one person at a time.”
She raised the bottle to her lips and took a deep swig.
Coughing followed as did watering eyes, but the burn of the alcohol was familiar, and oddly enough, it helped.
“Perhaps that is what I can use one of the rooms in the dower house for. A salon for such meetings. If any women would even come. It is dangerous to speak about such things.”
“It is, but it will become easier with time, and if women find a safe place to do so without judgment or fear of punishment? If they can come to you for help and advice? Where is the harm?” His gaze followed her as she took another drink.
“Perhaps you should call to order the ladies of the Blue Ruin Society.”
A giggle rose in her throat despite the subject matter. “Because the drink is referred to as blue ruin?”
“That and because the women who you help will all have been ruined in some way. They’ll be society rejects or hold secrets the upper class can never know.
” After a while, he took the bottle from her and set it at his other side.
Then he wrapped his arms around her once again. “Or we can run away to the Continent.”
“While that sounds lovely, I won’t be free, and I refuse to have you only in half capacity.” Angelica pressed her lips to the side of his neck above his cravat. “I want to love you out in the open, and I want to be free to have you in all the ways that matter.”
A soft inhalation of breath preceded his response. “I want that as well, but until it’s possible—”
She put a finger over his lips. “Stop. We can’t torture ourselves like this.” As much as she wanted to fall into the blue pools of his eyes, she couldn’t wallow. This was her life; it always had been. “Kiss me, Caleb. Just kiss me.”
At least then she could pretend and fool herself for a moment that she’d married a bounder and was enduring a loveless marriage at the hands of an abuser.
Yet for a glorious week, she’d had a glimpse of what life could have been. It had to be enough.