The Duke's Divorce (The Reluctant Grooms Series Volume IV) (14 page)

“A little early in the day, is it not?”
Davingdale leaned back in his chair.

“The woman is driving me to Bedlam.”

“Robert, you are driving yourself to
Bedlam.”

“Surely, you would not let your own wife get
into such a predicament.”

“Robert, I do not have said wife, so I could
not know what I would or would not do if such an occasion arose.
However, as you mentioned to me upon your return from Scotland, you
will annul your marriage within six months. Why do you care what
happens to her, or how many scrapes she falls into?”

Robert took a gulp of the amber and let it
burn down his throat.

“I do not know.” Why
did
he care?

“I think you may be falling in love with
her,” Davingdale said quietly.

“Do not be daft. Falling in love with Fiona?
What utter nonsense.”

“Robert, I saw how you watched her from
across the ballroom last night. You could not keep your eyes from
her. I also saw what you did to Stockton. A man who did not care,
would not have beaten another senseless. They had to carry him
home. And the way you took her out of the Berringbourne’s, well,
that was tenderness in itself.”

“She is my wife. I am the Duke of Cantin. To
do any less would ruin my reputation.”

“Ballocks! Your reputation is unbreakable. No
amount of scandal could mar it, and you know it. You could whip
Fiona naked in the streets and naught would be said. You care for
her. You are just too damn proud to admit it.”

A fleeting glimpse of a near-naked Fiona
stretched out on her bed flashed before his eyes. No, he could not
care for her. She was a shrew. Why look at what she said to him
about her suitors. Ungrateful wench.

“I may, as you say, care for her, but not in
the way that you think. She is like my little sister. I have to
protect her from foolishness.”

“Ballocks again, I say! Tell me, did you not
forbid her to wear that gown last night?”

Robert sat upright in his chair. “She told
you that?”

“Of course not. I overheard her ask Lady Pen
if the gown was too revealing, and when she asked why, Fiona said
you had wanted her to change it to something that did not flaunt
her assets, as it were.”

“Did you not find it indecorous?” Robert
demanded.

“As a matter of fact, I did not. I thought
she looked quite stunning actually.”

“Well, you would,” Robert said morosely.

“If I had a wife and she chose to wear
something thus, I would not stop her. I like to see a little more
of a woman’s décolletage, yes. Taking it off her after the night
ended, I think, would bring great delight to both of us.”

Robert blushed crimson, and he knew it, for
Davingdale raised an eyebrow.

“Have you broken your own vow of chastity,
Robert?”

“I helped her off with her gown. But I did
not consummate the marriage.”

“Much to your great dismay, I take it.”
Davingdale smiled.

“Thomas, that is not what is at issue here.
Fiona has taken the
ton
by storm and it is only a matter of
time before something else happens. What if I must meet some fool
at dawn? What would happen to my reputation then?”

“You are friends with His Highness. Nothing
would happen to you.”

“So you say. However, the Regent has limited
power. He may not be able to save me from death for killing a
Peer.”

“Robert, you are getting carried away by your
own imagination. Fiona is a delightful creature. Perhaps if you got
to know her better, you would care to make her your wife in the
truest sense of the word.”

“Now you sound like my mother.”

“Mothers generally know what is best for
their children.”

Robert gulped the rest of his brandy and
stood. He needed to escape this conversation. He needed to escape
the confines of this wretched marriage, sooner, rather than later.
Before he could not escape at all.

“I take my leave of you, Thomas. I presume I
shall see you tonight.”

“Whether you wish to or not,” Davingdale
said. “I cannot help the feeling your wife will lend an air of
fascination to the festivities.” He laughed as Robert walked
away.

Robert left the club and walked back to his
house. Upon his arrival, Edwards informed him his mother requested
his presence.

“You wished to see me, Mother,” Robert said
strolling into the breakfast room.

His mother looked up from her plate, tight
lines drawn across her normally placid forehead.

“How could you be so insensitive?” Lady
Joanna took up her teacup.

“Pray, what have I done now?” Robert asked.
He stood with his hands in his pockets waiting for the
set-down.

“Telling poor Fiona she needed to find
another husband.” His mother slammed her teacup back in its saucer,
rattling the other china on the table.

“Well, it is true, Mother. I do not see the
harm in her choosing from one of the suitors now clamoring for her
attention. She could cultivate some very eligible bachelors.
Greenleigh seems to be quite enamored of her already and as her
time as my wife is short, I believe it would behoove her to make
the best of the current situation. Do you not think?”

His mother snorted. “Robert, I do not know
you any longer and are turning out to be someone I do not think I
like very much.”

“Mother, please. I told you right from the
very beginning, this marriage was a sham and Fiona and I would
never remain married. I was honest with you so there would be no
misunderstanding, as there seems to be now. Fiona does not suit me
and I will not be trapped in a loveless marriage. I am resolved on
this point and you will not change my mind. Whatever ideas you may
have about my remaining married to Fiona, disregard them.” Robert
left his mother sitting with her mouth pressed to a fine line.

Entering his study, Robert noticed the heavy
envelope sitting atop the stack of correspondence on his desk.
Breaking open the seal, he found a report from his overseer at the
estate in Swansea. A lesser property, it had never held any great
promise and his father had often talked of selling it, but had
never gotten around to it. As Robert read the report, an idea
formed and he couldn’t shake it. Perhaps it was the cowards’ way
out, however, it seemed like the perfect solution to his
problems.

*****

Fiona dressed carefully for the ball that
night in a simple dark blue silk gown with an extremely modest
neckline. The modiste had been surprised at the request to have all
her gowns altered.

“But
Madame
, ‘zees is all the
fashion,” the seamstress sputtered. “You are no longer a school
miss, but a Duchess. You must look like ze Duchess.”

“It is not my request, but my husband’s,”
Fiona explained.

The dressmaker clucked and nodded, and Fiona
indeed felt like a child. Instead of being at her father’s knee,
she was now at her husband’s and Fiona didn’t know which was
worse.

Her father had never truly cared for her,
even when her mother was alive. Fiona could not remember a moment’s
affection from him. All the love and care had come from her mother.
And now it seemed as if Robert was taking after her father. She had
thought they were getting on well together, that perhaps in time he
would forget about the annulment, but now, after the debacle at the
ball last night and his demand in the salon this morning to find a
prospective husband, Fiona knew her time with Robert was coming to
an end. She couldn’t fight it. She may not know her husband very
well, but on this point, he was implacable. He would not remain
married to her.

Fiona descended the stairs to wait for her
mother-in-law in the green salon. Fiona had instructed Edwards
earlier in the day to remove most of the flowers to other parts of
the house. She didn’t want the constant reminder of her debut. She
also didn’t wish to be reminded she needed to find a new husband.
Although, she was sure, Robert had probably put together a list for
her to peruse. His mind was always working, always thinking three
steps ahead of everyone else.

Fiona turned away from the mantle and walked
to the windows. The gaslights had been turned on in the streets and
the glow from the small fires dispelled the inky blackness. She saw
their carriage turning up from the mews. Fiona didn’t want another
humiliation this night. She didn’t want to be treated like the
child Robert thought she was. She should plead the headache and
return to her rooms.

With that thought, she turned to leave the
salon and found Robert standing in the doorway. How long he had
been there, she didn’t know.

“My lord,” she said.

“Fiona.” Robert walked slowly into the salon,
his eyes raking her frame in the blue silk. “I see you modified
your gown this evening.”

“As per your request.” A small shudder ran
through her body. He was so devastatingly handsome, it was all she
could do to stand there and not throw her arms around him. The
memory of his lips on hers last night in her bedchamber brought
another shudder.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No, my lord.”

“I thought I asked you to call me Robert.”
Annoyance marked his tone.

“You have,” she replied. “I find I need more
time to become used to it.”

Robert stepped further into the room, yet not
closer to her. He placed his hands behind his back. “I have
received a report from my steward in Swansea. It seems I am needed
there at the earliest convenience. I have decided I will be
traveling in two days time. I have also decided I shall engage
Davingdale as your chaperone.”

“I beg your pardon.” Fiona choked on her
disbelief.

“I am sure you heard me correctly the first
time. Nevertheless, I shall be leaving London in two days time and
I shall engage Davingdale as your chaperone.”

“You do not wish me to accompany you,” Fiona
stated instead of asked.

“No, this trip is not for pleasure and you
will only be bored. The Earl is an admirable chap and will stand
you in good stead in the ballrooms. He is a particular friend of
mine. However, he does not dance. Rest assured he will only give
permission for the best of men to entertain you thus. My mother
shall also accompany you as not to give the gossips too much to
preen about.”

Fiona stared hard at his face, trying to
detect some glimmer of why he was doing this. She found nothing.
His calculating mind was too much for her. Obviously, there was a
reason for him leaving her as soon as they entered Society, but she
was sure he would not share it with her.

“I see,” she said.

Robert arched an eyebrow. “What? No tantrum?
No hysteria? Surely, you have some objection. I can see it in your
eyes.”

“Yes, my lord, and I can see your decision is
resolute. ‘Twould do no good to have hysteria.” She turned away
from him and stared out the window.

Lady Joanna took that moment to enter the
salon. “Here you are. Are we ready to depart?”

Fiona met her mother-in-law’s eyes with a
small smile. “Yes, shall we?” She brushed by Robert without looking
at him and preceded Lady Joanna to the front door where Edwards
held their wraps.

Fiona descended the front steps to the
waiting carriage. Eammon helped her in. She sat in dejected silence
as she waited for Lady Joanna and Robert. Devil take it, she would
not let him see how his declaration upset her. If he wanted to
leave her alone, then so be it. She could do no worse. The Earl of
Davingdale was indeed a decent chap.

The lights from the party shone onto the
walkway in front of the house. Grandiose as it was, Fiona had seen
enough gilt-edged furniture and pretentious artwork to last a
lifetime. Even Robert’s house, modest as it was, reminded her of
the Museum. What she would give to go home, be in her fields with
only the sheep for company.

As they made their way through the long foyer
up to the receiving line, Fiona wondered if Robert’s escape to
Swansea was truly a sudden circumstance, or had he planned it all
along. She would think about it later. Lady Joanna was introducing
her to the Duke of Hemmings.

Robert watched his wife dance with another
toady. Damnable fops lined up for her hand as soon as she left the
dance floor. Davingdale took it in stride though. His brooding and
sullen manner would keep the dandies in check. In a few short
months, the annulment would be all over Town and they could take
their delight then.

Fiona seemed to be having a good time. With
all the attention, why shouldn’t she be? Last evening’s debacle had
proved both of them to be the hit of the Season. This week anyway.
Robert wondered how long it would take the fodder to die down. How
long it would be before every cuckolded man in London didn’t clap
him on the back.

Yes, Swansea would be a welcome respite from
the tediousness of being married to Fiona. It wasn’t that he didn’t
like her, he liked her exceedingly well apart from the fact she was
his wife. She’d charmed every single one of the servants, including
Edwards. She doted on his mother. She engaged his friends, and
appeared to be the perfect wife in public. In only two days, she
had taken the role quite to heart and perfected it.

It was when they were alone that she crept
under his skin. Had him looking for the itch he couldn’t scratch.
She intoxicated him, like a drug or a drink, an obsession he
couldn’t fight. She merely had to look at him with those eyes, eyes
that mocked him and his sensible behaviour, his pre-ordained
destiny as the Duke of Cantin. It turned him inside out. His
normally calm and good-natured manner raged against her intolerance
of his presumed snobbery. He wanted to slap the impertinence off
her face. How many times had he lost his temper? Lost control of
his own complacency? No, he needed to get away from her. Before he
did or said something he would most assuredly regret.