The Duke's Divorce (The Reluctant Grooms Series Volume IV) (15 page)

Robert rubbed his forehead. He took one last
look at his wife and stalked from the ballroom. He refused to think
about her further. As a matter of course, Robert could say with
conviction, he needn’t have to think about her for several weeks.
Perhaps months if he could find somewhere else to go.

*****

Fiona watched Robert leave the ballroom. She
was quite sure that this time, he would have asked her to dance.
Lord Greenleigh insisted husbands never danced with their wives,
but Fiona was certain that Robert would at least try to maintain
the façade they were happy and in love while he remained in Town.
The whole of Society would know before long he had left her.
Perhaps that was why he was going, to add drama to their impending
annulment. It certainly wasn’t fair, but she had to admit, most
resourceful of him. Well, two could play that game.

She graciously refused Lord
Habbington-Smythe’s younger brother for a dance and wandered into
the dining room. Several people milled about waiting for lobster
patties and the dessert tray. Fiona walked to a footman bearing
lemonade on a tray. Taking a glass, she moved to the large open
windows that overlooked the darkness in the yard below.

“Darling, there you are,” Lady Joanna
said.

Fiona smiled at her mother-in-law. It brought
a lump to her throat when she realized how much she had come to
care for the older woman in such a short time. All too soon she
would lose her. It wasn’t fair of Robert to allow her the luxury of
loving people she would eventually have to leave.

“Are you well? You look positively drained.”
Lady Joanna touched her arm.

“I believe too much dancing has left me with
quite the headache,” Fiona said. “Pray may I return home? Would
Robert be put out if I left?”

“Do not worry yourself, my dear.” Lady Joanna
took up Fiona’s hand and patted it. “I will inform Robert and make
your excuses to Hemmings. Come now, I will walk with you downstairs
and get your wrap.”

Fiona gave her mother-in-law a small smile.
The quiet of her room would ease her head.

Sitting at her dressing table, brushing out
her hair, Fiona knew she had every right to ask Robert the
questions any normal wife would ask when presented with the
prospect of her husband going away on a trip. Fiona also knew that
Robert would probably not answer them. His lack of affection for
her tore at her very core. Surely, the man had needs. Fiona could
tell she affected Robert, had seen the way his eyes ran up and down
her body on several occasions, had seen the muscle near his jaw
tick ever so slightly when she danced with Greenleigh. Just once
she would like to see him lose abandon, free himself from the
cloying reins of proper etiquette.

Yes, the abandon he had used in beating
Stockton to a bloody pulp freed him, but was in anger. Fiona wanted
to see Robert lose his inhibitions while in love, or at least a
fair amount of fondness. In Scotland, he had seemed less
restrained, but she hadn’t known him then as she knew him now.
There was something about London, about the life he lived in Town
that changed him, made him even less approachable, less likable.
Perhaps it had to do with the memories of his father and the mantle
of responsibility he now wore.

Fiona took off her robe and folded it over
the back of the chair next to her bed. Merry had turned down the
covers and Fiona slipped between the sheets, relaxing for the first
time since waking this morning.

Last night had been her public debut, and her
first public scandal. Tonight she had been the talk of the ball.
Her new friends, Penny and Amanda, were shocked to see her out.
They presumed she would have stayed away from Society after such an
incident. Fiona couldn’t understand why. She had done nothing
wrong. Stockton had received his comeuppance. Why shouldn’t she be
seen? She was no simpish miss, prone to attacks of hysteria. She
was a Scot, a Highlander, daughter of the Laird Kintyre. Fiona was
only disappointed she had not gotten to plant her own facer on
Stockton’s cheek.

Fiona heard heavy footfalls on the stairs
just as she was about to blow out the candle. She sat up and drew
the covers to her chest. Surely, Robert had not come home. She
glanced at the little clock. Only half-twelve.

Robert strode into her room looking as dark
as the Devil himself.

“What do you think you are doing?” he
growled.

“I had planned on sleeping,” she said
quietly.

“You left the ball, with no notice to
me.”

“Your mother said she would tell you I had a
headache and was going home.”

“Well, she did not.” Robert began to pace. “I
have been searching for you for an hour. I thought you would want
to waltz before supper.”

“Forgive me. I had no idea you wished to
waltz. You left me in Davingdale’s capable hands. How could I know
you would care to look for me?” she asked tersely.

“After what happened last night, Fiona, I had
no idea what anyone was capable of, least of all you. When I could
not find you I thought someone else had gotten the idea he could
steal a kiss on the terrace, or worse.”

“Forgive me, my lord, for worrying you. I
presumed your mother had informed you of my departure. I should
also like to point out that I only need to be taught a thing once.
I never forget a lesson learned.”

“Stop addressing me as my lord, damn it! My
name is Robert and you will remember it!”

Fiona recoiled at the vehemence in his tone.
Something was not right. Robert was too upset, too emotional over a
little thing like her leaving a ball. Wound tighter than a string
on a warped Stradivarius, she watched as any moment he might
snap.

“Forgive me. Robert.” She watched him still
pace, his breathing heavy as if he were carrying a great weight.
“What is wrong?”

He stopped and stared at her. “I told you. I
am upset by your leaving. I am upset because I thought something
may have happened to you.”

“No, there is something more. My leaving may
have been the impetus for this upheaval, but not the reason. I am
your wife, if you would recall. It is my duty to carry your secrets
if you should wish to tell them.”

Fiona was quite prepared for anything he
might say. She was not, however, prepared for what he might do.

Robert walked to the bed and sat down on the
edge. Pulling her up from the coverings, he wound one arm around
her back and his other hand cupped her cheek. His mouth then
descended on hers with a passion she had never known, a possession
she had never felt. She had no recourse other than to kiss him
back.

He pulled her closer, the arm behind her back
tightening, as if somehow he was afraid she would run away. His
lips tasted like brandy and cigar. He wound his hand through her
hair, his tongue sliding down her neck, his voice whispering in her
ear, “You are mine.” He brought his lips to hers again, his tongue
finding hers in a dizzying dance. His hold on her changed, his hand
cupped her breast, sending molten lava to her core.

She pushed against his chest trying to
unfasten the buttons on his coat. She needed to touch his skin, to
feel his body against hers. “Robert, please.” He didn’t seem to
hear her. His mouth found her breast through her nightgown and the
sensation made her fall back on the pillows. The fire she had felt
last night in his arms returned.

“You are mine,” he murmured. “Never forget
that.”

His mouth sought hers again, plundering for
something she didn’t know how to give. “Take off your coat,” she
whispered.

As he thrashed to take off the offending
garment, Fiona sat up to help, and his elbow caught her squarely on
the cheek right below her eye. “Ah!” she yelled and brought her
hands up to her face. Bright stars danced before her eyes, and
tears flowed unbidden.

“Oh my God, Fiona, are you all right?” Robert
threw his jacket to the floor. “Forgive me, Fiona. Please.” He
slowly took her hands away from her face and his eyes widened.
“Fiona, I’m so sorry.” He gently pushed her down on the pillows.
“Lay there, I shall return in a moment. We must get ice on that
right away.”

Fiona blinked. The stars faded, although she
could barely keep the eye open. She worried for a moment if she
would be blind. Could a misplaced elbow cause such damage?

Robert brought ice chips wrapped in
flannelling and bade her keep them on her cheek. He brushed her
hair back from her forehead and apologized once again.

“’Twas an accident,” Fiona tried to reassure
him.

“I’m usually not so clumsy when making love,”
he said.

“There is a first time for everything, my
lord.” She smiled weakly.

A frown appeared on his face. She brought her
hand up and caressed his cheek. “Forgive me,
Robert
. ‘Twas
just an accident.”

Robert stood up from the bed. “I should let
you get your rest now. Do you have a headache? Would you like me to
bring you a remedy from Cook’s cupboard?” He turned to go.

“No, the ice is fine for now. Thank you.”

Halfway to the door that separated their
rooms he turned around and came back to the bed. He brought her
fingers to his lips. “Are you sure there is nothing I may bring
you?”

“No, thank you. The ice is all I need for
now.”

“Well, I shall let you take your rest. Good
night, Fiona. I shall see you in the morning.”

Fiona lay there with the ice on her face and
watched him go. “One day,” she said to the closed door. “One day we
shall finish this.”

*****

Robert closed his bedroom door. Of all the
cock-ups to be made! But perhaps it was just as well. Bedding Fiona
this night had not been his plan, but the urge to claim her as his
overwhelmed him. Watching her dance with a smile in everyone else’s
arms but his had apparently driven him over the edge.

Thankfully, he would be leaving in two days
and the respite from her would allow him to regain his
perspective.

Fiona awoke the next morning to a strangled
cry from Merry.

“Oh, your ladyship, what happened to you?”
The girl dropped the tray with her hot chocolate on the bed table
with a bang, and hovered over Fiona staring at her face.

“What is it?” Fiona asked still half
asleep.

“Your eye,” Merry said pointing.

Fiona pushed the covers aside and walked to
her dressing table. Picking up the hand mirror, she turned toward
the light from the open-curtained window. The left side of her face
was a massive swollen bruise. Red, purple and grotesque, Fiona
crumpled to the chair. Her eye was nearly closed with a dark ring
underneath. Oh God, what had Robert done? How was she going to
explain this?

“What happened, your ladyship?” Merry’s eyes
were wide.

“I had an accident after the Duke of Hemmings
ball. I fell and hit my cheek. ‘Tis nothing to worry about. Now
help me dress if you please, I need to see my husband before he
disappears for the day.”

Fiona dressed quickly and walked to the door
that separated their rooms. She strode through the sitting room to
her husband’s chamber and knocked. There was no answer. She
returned to her room and wrote a note to Robert. She gave it to
Merry and told her to find Robert as fast as she could, and then
Edwards, if Robert was not about.

Fiona paced while she waited. Less than five
minutes later, Robert knocked and entered her room.

“Oh, bloody hell, just as I thought,” he said
when he saw her face. He turned her toward the sunlight and brushed
the hair back from her face. “Fiona, I cannot tell you how sorry I
am.”

“What am I to do?” Fiona wailed. She grabbed
the hand mirror and held it up to take another look. “I certainly
cannot go about Town. What will people say? I told Merry I fell and
hit my cheek after the ball last night, but this is most
unpleasant. It shall take weeks for it to heal and I do not wish to
know what kind of gossip would be whispered.” She looked at
Robert.

He stroked her reddened, bruised cheek with
gentle fingers.

It took every ounce of willpower Fiona had
not to lean into them.

“There is nothing for it now then. You shall
have to accompany me on my trip to Swansea.”

“But you said….” Fiona interjected.

“Yes, I know what I said, but you cannot
remain in Town. We have already given enough fodder for the
gossipmongers and I shall not have them say I beat you. Prepare
your bags, your maid, whatever else you wish to take with you. We
shall leave within the hour.”

Robert brought her fingers to his lips. “It
will be fine. Do not worry.”

At eight o’clock sharp, Edwards knocked on
Fiona’s bedroom door. The room was in a shambles, dresses,
petticoats, hats, and shoes strewn about. Merry was having no
success with the latch on the large portmanteau on the bed.

“Oh, Mr. Edwards, what luck,” Fiona said.
“Would you mind helping us close the trunk? I have no idea of the
weather in Swansea and I thought it best if I take a few of
everything.”

“Of course, your ladyship.” Edwards eyed the
bruise on her cheek and winced. He snapped the lid, latched the
trunk, and hefted it to the floor.

“Ah, see Merry,” Fiona said. “This is why God
chose to make men, to help with the closing of trunks.” She
couldn’t help her happiness. Free of London, for a few weeks
anyway, she would have the leisure to spend her time as she may. No
more rounds, or balls, or teas. No more catering to the social
demands of Society. She hoped she and Robert would also be able to
find a more amiable accord, perhaps even pick up the threads of
their ill-fated courtship.

“If you are ready, your ladyship, His Grace
would like to depart.”

“Of course, Mr. Edwards. Come along, Merry.
Let us not keep His Grace.”