The Duke's Divorce (The Reluctant Grooms Series Volume IV) (16 page)

Fiona descended the stairs. Robert waited at
the bottom.

“Are you ready?” Robert asked. “I do not like
to hold the horses once they have been hitched.”

“Yes, of course.” Fiona slid on her gloves
and took a last look in the mirror over the hall table. She
rearranged the shawl she wore around her face so that it hid most
of her injury.

Robert turned and saw James the Younger
carrying her trunk down the stairs behind Edwards. “How long do you
think we are staying? I only expected to be there a fortnight.
You’ve packed enough for a Continental tour.” He took her by the
elbow and steered her out the door.

“As I explained to Mr. Edwards, I do not know
the clime in Swansea and as you only gave me an hour to pack, I
chose several different kinds of gowns. I like to be prepared for
any occasion.” Eammon handed her up into the carriage, then Merry.
Robert had disappeared, although the carriage door remained
open.

Fiona felt the dip of the barouche as her
trunk was placed on board. Eammon returned and made to close the
door.

“Eammon, where is my husband? Is he not
riding with us?” Fiona looked out the window.

“His Grace decided Zeus needed the exercise,
m’lady,” Eammon informed her and closed the door.

Another dip as Eammon boarded and then the
coach lurched forward with a jerk.

“Well,” Fiona said to Merry. “Let us hope the
roads are good and the weather fair and we shall have a pleasant
trip.”

The trip proved uneventful, though cold even
with rugs and hot bricks. Fiona remarked upon alighting from the
carriage she was glad Robert had such a well-sprung equipage. A
damp wind whipped her cape and she clung to her hat as the
housekeeper, Mrs. Hastings, welcomed her to “The Cottage.” Fiona
wondered how anyone could mistake the monstrosity of the building
as a ‘cottage’. Built entirely of stone, it looked more like a
small castle. The only things missing were turrets and a moat.

“Let us get you inside, my lady,” the
housekeeper said, eyeing the dark shawl wrapped around Fiona’s
throat and half of her face. “We would not want you taking a
chill.”

Bustled into the front room without waiting
for a reply or a word from Robert, Fiona found it dark and drafty.
A fire had been lit, but the warmth did not permeate to more than
five feet around the massive mantle. She rubbed her gloved hands
together, but that did not help the pervading nip in the air, even
in the house.

“Perhaps there is another room, Mrs.
Hastings, a smaller room where I would be more comfortable,” Fiona
said.

“Of course, my lady, forgive me. I thought as
your first trip here, you might like to see the best rooms
first.”

“After such a long journey, I should like
nothing better than a cup and biscuit, and a warm fire to thaw my
frozen toes.” Fiona stamped her boot clad feet. “’Tis so large in
here, I’m afraid the fire would be wasted.”

“Yes, of course my lady. This way if you
please.”

Fiona noted Mrs. Hastings pursed lips, as if
she’d done something wrong by asking for a smaller accommodation.
She followed the woman through the maze of halls, and shown to a
parlour that had a magnificent view of the ocean. Turbulent now,
but Fiona could imagine the view to be breathtaking on a nicer
day.

“This is lovely, Mrs. Hastings, thank you,”
Fiona said, taking off her gloves.

The room was very small and sparsely
furnished. A divan and low table occupied the hearth, and a
comfortable looking chair sat next to the window. Rough-hewn wood
paneling covered the walls and a lovely Aubusson in rich colors
carpeted the floor.

“Tell me, what is this room?” Fiona asked.
“’Tis too masculine to belong to a woman, too sparse for company.”
She undid the buttons of her cape and settled it over the back of
the divan.

“’Twas the late Lord Cantin’s sitting room,”
Mrs. Hastings said. “‘E called it his thinking room. He liked to
look out at the ocean, said it calmed his soul.”

Fiona could certainly see why. Perhaps this
room would be a comfort to her as well. She certainly had enough to
think about.

“Tea and biscuits then, your ladyship?
Perhaps a bowl of soup instead?” Mrs. Hastings stood at the
doorway.

“No soup, thank you.” Fiona managed to take
off the large hat without ruining her hair, and as she unwound the
shawl from her neck, she heard the older woman gasp. Fiona said
nothing, and neither did Mrs. Hastings. How could she possibly
explain her husband’s rather poor timing in the bedroom?

“I recently had a rather unfortunate mishap
with a set of stairs, Mrs. Hastings. The doctor said it was merely
superficial. Unfortunately because of my fair skin coloring, it
looks worse than it really is.”

Mrs. Hastings nodded once and averted her
eyes. Fiona could tell the woman knew she lied.

“Of course, my lady. I shall have your tea
brought in a moment.” She half-curtsied and bolted from the
room.

Fiona walked to the fire and rubbed her hands
together. Yes, this was much nicer than the front parlour, not as
austere or imposing, quite comfortable, and very warm. Fiona liked
this room very much. She took in the small bookshelf set into the
wall, mostly Shakespeare, and ran her finger along the frame of the
portrait of a much younger Lady Joanna. There wasn’t a lot in the
room, but it had lovely character.

Waiting for her tea, Fiona sat in the dark
leather chair and stared out the large window watching the waves
crash on the beach, the spray pluming like a specter. One second
there, the next gone. She could understand why the late Lord Cantin
liked the view. Safe from the wildness of the sea, yet still one
could feel themselves immersed in it.

Fiona heard footsteps in the hall, and
thinking Mrs. Hastings returned with her tea, looked toward the
door with a smile.

Robert entered the room, and upon seeing her,
his face lit with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Fiona rose from the chair. “Forgive me, my
lord. Mrs. Hastings showed me to the front parlour, but as it is so
large, the fire was not keeping me warm. I asked her to show me to
a smaller room where I might enjoy the fire and a cup of tea.”

“This room belonged to my father,” he said in
a protective tone.

“Forgive me, my lord, I shall take my leave,”
Fiona said. She moved to the small table and bent to pick up her
gloves and hat.

“No. Forgive me,” Robert said, and took a
step back. “You are right. This room is perfect for a cup of tea.
Do sit down.”

Fiona looked at him and found his entire
countenance weary.

“Please, join me,” Fiona said. “You must be
exhausted from the journey.”

He skirted the table and sank into his
father’s chair. “Yes, I am rather tired. I did not realize how
arduous the trip would be on horseback.”

Fiona wanted to say he could have certainly
ridden in the carriage with her, but did not. She did not wish to
start an argument so soon.

A footman arrived with a tea tray and Fiona
asked for another cup. She poured for Robert and waited until the
footman brought hers and departed before she spoke.

As she poured, Fiona said, “I have told Mrs.
Hastings I fell down a flight of stairs.”

Robert stared blankly at her.

“My facial disfigurement,” Fiona stated.

“I know to what you referred,” Robert said
softly. He placed his cup on the edge of the windowsill, leaned
forward in his chair, and sat with his hands clasped, elbows
resting across his knees. “Fiona, I do heartily apologize for that.
Please forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive, my lord. It was
an accident, and I daresay we have all had those upon occasion.”
Fiona smiled. “We do not need to speak of it again.”

An electric silence befell them.

“Nonetheless,” Robert began, “your injury
will preclude you from leaving the grounds. I do not wish the
villagers to speculate on what happened to you. Mrs. Hastings is an
excellent housekeeper, but I’m afraid she is addicted to gossip.
I’m sure her prattle has already reached the vicar’s ears.”

“Well, that is a shame. I should like to see
the village, and the shore.”

“Perhaps another time,” Robert leaned back in
his chair and closed his eyes.

“My lord, I think you need to have a
lie-down. You are not looking well. ‘Twould do no good for you to
be seized with an illness. Riding in the cold for so long has
pervaded your bones and you must take care not to be hindered
during your time here as it is of such a short duration.”

Robert opened his eyes and stared at her.
“Damme, if you do not sound just like my mother.”

Fiona smiled. “I shall take that as a
compliment, sir.”

Robert picked up his cup and stood. “Perhaps
you are right. I will lay down for a spell. Mrs. Hastings will
attend to your every whim.”

“I’m afraid Mrs. Hastings thinks I am
contagious,” Fiona said. “The look she gave me upon seeing the
bruise and the subsequent attention of the footman make me think
she will stay as far away from me as possible.”

“I will speak to her,” Robert said, and
placed his cup on the tray.

“Thank you, my lord. I do not wish to come
between you and your servants. However, I also do not wish to be
shunned for something that was not my fault.”

Robert opened his mouth to speak, but closed
it again. Upon gaining the door, he said, “I shall see you at
dinner then. Good day, Fiona.”

“Pleasant dreams, my lord.”

*****

Robert tossed and turned on the big feather
mattress. He dozed and woke half a dozen times, his sleep-addled
brain returning to Fiona’s face immediately upon waking. How could
he have been so stupid? How could he have caused her such distress?
What must she think of him?

Robert was glad they had escaped London
before his mother had seen Fiona. She would have jumped to the same
conclusion he had upon seeing her. Someone had punched her in the
eye. And with their tumultuous relationship, how would he be able
to explain it had been a dreadful accident born of passion? He
couldn’t. Not even to himself.

William’s words came back to haunt him. “You
will not be able to help yourself when a beautiful woman is
involved.”

Robert snorted. He had always been able to
help himself before. Beautiful women abounded in Society and Robert
had his fair share of them. But he had never managed to do such
harm, had never been moved to such a bout of…hysteria. That was all
Robert could think of his situation. He had succumbed to madness
where Fiona was concerned. He couldn’t get the damn jacket off fast
enough.

But why? That was the question. What was it
about Fiona that made him fall into such a state of idiocy? His
brilliant mind failed to find the answer. Yes, she was his, yet he
maintained he didn’t want her. At least in his heart. Although
after last night, it seemed he did want her in his bed.

This lust he felt for her was fleeting, he
was sure. Not built on the foundations of love, nor even
friendship, how could it last? Did treating Fiona like a common
doxy somehow appeal to his ego? Or was it simply because their
marriage was impermanent, and subconsciously he felt that if he
crushed her spirit, that would quell his surprising desire. Or was
he just simply mad?

Robert threw off the covers and stood in
front of the fire. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was almost time
for dinner. He may as well dress and go down. No sense in ruining
their first night there.

*****

Merry had unpacked her trunk and pressed the
wrinkles out of the plain green satin gown Fiona was to wear to
dinner that night. How many more dinners would she and Robert
share? The episode in her bedroom last night had given her hope
they might come to an understanding and that with time, Robert
would no longer feel the need for an annulment. But Fiona could
hardly be sure what Robert would do or say next. His disregard for
her feelings one minute, and then his heartfelt apologies the next
were sheer lunacy.

Perhaps if he didn’t appear to like her, she
might find it easier to feign the indifference to their situation
he seemed to want from her. But his waffling kindnesses and then
taciturn manner left her completely confused.

In one of their arguments, she had accused
Robert of being exactly like her father, which was the furthest
thing from the truth. Robert was nothing like the Laird Stewart, a
conniving miser who wouldn’t give his own daughter tuppence for a
new pair of boots.

Robert’s generosity at the modiste had left
her breathless, giddy even, when she realized she could buy
anything she wanted and not have to pay one single farthing for any
of it. She’d been thrifty, until her mother-in-law took her
shopping. At her modiste, Lady Joanna had ordered gown upon gown
without a second thought to the expense. Fiona was horrified to
learn that trip had cost Robert nearly two thousand pounds. A
casual remark to his mother, Fiona was sure he’d said it for her
benefit. Perhaps he would take that into consideration when he
settled the annuity on her after their annulment.

Nevertheless, for all his strange ways, she
liked Robert. She’d like to remain married to him, and if she were
truthful to herself, it had nothing to do with his money. Viewed
from Society, he was a kind and generous man, willing to do
anything for anyone, especially his family. His charity work was
legendary. His servants could not extol his virtues high enough.
His friends loved him and the women adored him, even those he had
cast aside.

Fiona’s life before Robert had been endless
days of sheer drudgery at her father’s beck and call. With her
marriage, she was now learning the possibilities that life had to
offer. She needn’t be chattel, merely kept. She could help people,
children especially. She could be a helpmate to Robert to further
the duchy. And if he did go through with the annulment, well, she
could be anything she wanted.