The Unclaimed Duchess (14 page)

“Anne?”

She pivoted to face the door. That was Rhys's voice. Apparently Malvina recognized that fact as well, for her servant's face darkened with even more anger and her gaze darted to Anne with expectation and question.

“Should I send him away?” Mally asked in crisp, chilly tones.

Anne shook her head. “I'll be right there, Rhys, one moment,” she called out to stall her husband. She turned to her servant and caught Mally's hands in her own. “My dearest friend, you must listen to me. I know you have some desire to protect me, to defend me, and I appreciate it, but I do not wish for it.”

Mally opened her mouth, but Anne grabbed her harder to silence her.

“Please, Mally! This is
my
problem and I must address it in my own time and my own manner.”

Malvina pursed her lips, but finally bobbed out a quick nod and extracted herself from Anne's grip. “Yes, Your Grace. I understand. In this I cannot be your friend, I must only be your servant.”

Anne nodded quickly. “Now I must let him in. Can you promise me you'll not do anything rash?”

Mally shifted slightly and then nodded a second time. “I'll bite my tongue.”

No sooner had the servant said as much than Anne hurried to the door. She opened it wide and found, just as she had expected, Rhys waiting for her.

But to her surprise, he seemed…upset, emotional. His face was pinched and his eyes dark with pain. These glimpses of his soul were so rare that her entire being welled with an empathy that subdued her anger. It was difficult to maintain any kind of rage when faced with such a depth of agony in her husband.

“Rhys?” she said softly, reaching out to touch his face. “What is it?”

He stepped into the room and looked around. When his gaze fell on Mally, standing in the corner of the room, her arms folded and glaring daggers in his direction, he stopped and turned to Anne.

“I apologize, I thought we were alone.”

Anne gave Malvina a quick glance. “Mally was just leaving to oversee the laundering, weren't you?”

Mally straightened up and made her way across the room slowly. “I suppose that is true. Good day.”

But before her servant could exit the room, Rhys turned toward her. He smiled, and to Anne's surprise it was a genuine expression of kindness and friendliness. She had never seen him look at any servant in such a manner, even Gilmour, whom he seemed to tolerate the most.

“Malvina, isn't it?” he asked. “Or Mally, as my wife calls you. You've been with Her Grace a long time, haven't you?”

Mally stopped, her eyes just as wide with surprise as Anne's. Rhys had never spoken to her before, or even acknowledged her except to scold Anne in private about how close the two women were.

“Y-yes, Your Grace,” Mally stammered.

Anne still saw a flash of anger and upset on her servant's face, but it was dulled by surprise and even
a touch of fear that she was being singled out in such a fashion.

“Then you must have been responsible for fulfilling my orders about this chamber,” Rhys continued as he looked around the large, airy room.

Again Mally nodded. “I was, sir.”

“Well, it's lovely. You've done a wonderful job and I thank you. I want Anne…” He gave Anne a quick side glance. “I would like for her to be as happy and comfortable as I can make her while she resides in our…
this
house. You've helped me do that for her, and I appreciate it more than I could ever express.”

Mally stared for a long moment, apparently stunned speechless. Finally she shook away her shock and ducked out a quick curtsy. “Thank you, Your Grace. I'm happy to do anything in the world for Lady Anne. Now I'll leave you. Good day.”

The servant scurried from the room and shut the door behind her, leaving Anne and her husband alone. Anne couldn't help but let her gaze flit through the connecting door to the bedchamber a few feet away.

If Rhys had the same thoughts, he controlled them, for he patently avoided looking in that direction as he moved farther into the room and put his back to the beckoning bed she had stared at with such longing.

“Your servant is afraid of me,” he said with a somewhat sad smile.

“
All
servants are afraid of you,” Anne retorted with a light laugh that she had to force past her suddenly dry lips.

She had no idea why Rhys was here and was almost as terrified as she was curious. He had all but dismissed her not an hour before.

He frowned, as if her playful barb had hit a tender spot. “Yes, I suppose they would be. I deserve that.”

Anne's brow wrinkled, for it seemed to be true regret that lined Rhys's face. It reminded her of the night they had danced at the village fair just before they returned to London. He had seemed just as self-reflective now as he had been after he spoke to Caleb Talbot. She'd thought that was a fleeting thing, but now it seemed more lasting.

“Rhys?” she whispered. “Can I help you in some way? Is there something I can do to ease whatever pain you're enduring?”

He flashed a gaze to her with sudden clarity. “You read me so well now.”

She reached out to touch his arm, remaining quiet as she prayed he would finally take her into his confidence. He seemed to struggle with words, fighting to find the thing he wished to say to her.

“The note I received upon our arrival was from Simon,” he finally said, his tone choked and tight, as if he was forcing the words from his throat.

“I thought it was.” She nodded. “I recognized the hand.”

“Apparently he has spies watching our home because not half an hour after our arrival, I received a second missive from him, this one asking me to come to his home as soon as I could.”

Anne tilted her head. “So you'll go?”

He nodded, the action stiff and as forced as his tone. “I must, I fear. The time has come to face my demons. But I find that it's hard to do so. So I…It's unfair to ask this of you, especially considering how much in the dark I've kept you, but I think it might be easier for me if you accompanied me.”

Anne drew back, his words settling over her like a thick blanket. She stared at him, his face filled with pain, but also hope. And need. For the first time, possibly in all the years she'd known him, she recognized how much he
needed
her. That need was all she'd ever hoped for, but now she felt no thrill or triumph at it.

But even though she feared what he would do once he had spoken to Simon, even though her anger continued as a dull throb in her chest, she couldn't deny him this need. She couldn't withhold her sup
port. It was what she had promised him in a church not so long ago. And she kept her promises.

She nodded. “I'll go with you, Rhys, of course.”

He physically sagged with his relief, and his dark and worried expression lightened a fraction. “Thank you.”

Anne touched his arm. “But at some point, I cannot be in the dark about this any longer. I want the truth, Rhys. I think I deserve it.”

He slowly reached for her, his long fingers curling around her shoulders with exquisite gentleness.

“You deserve so much more,” he whispered. “And I promise you, the truth is coming. For better or worse, this will all be over soon.”

T
he parlor in Simon's London home was quiet, soothing, or at least it would have been if Rhys wasn't quietly driving himself mad. He clenched his fingers into and out of fists in his lap and stared, once again, at the ticking clock on the mantel. How was it possible that it had been only five minutes since Simon's butler led Anne and him to this room? It felt like an hour and he was growing more and more restless.

Anne reached out and gently placed her fingers over his clenched ones. She stroked lightly and his knuckles relaxed at her touch.

“I'm sure they'll be here momentarily,” she said softly, as if reading his mind.

He tilted his head to look at her. He never should have brought her here. It was unfair to encourage her continuing hopes that they could remain together. And he could see from her expression that she still
harbored those dreams of a happy marriage.

Beyond that, her presence was dangerous. He'd come to speak to Simon about the truth of his parentage and the blackmailer who was about to force his hand. Since he didn't yet want Anne to know about either of those things, he shouldn't have brought her anywhere near them.

But when he'd entered her chamber, bound to tell her he was going to Simon's, if only so she wouldn't panic and think he had run again, just the sight of her had calmed him. And in that moment of weakness he had wanted her with him during this difficult time.

No, he had
needed
her with him.

It was a shocking revelation, that he needed her. He didn't like it, for soon she wouldn't be there to support him, and he feared being weak without her.

“Rhys?” Anne said softly after he had been staring at her for close to two minutes without speaking a word.

He shook away his thoughts and tried to think of something benign to say, but the opening of the parlor door mercifully saved him.

He and Anne rose in unison as Simon allowed Lillian to enter before him. Lillian smiled first at Anne, but then surprised Rhys by turning that same welcoming, friendly, and even caring expression toward him. He shifted beneath it, for he didn't deserve it. In the
short time of their acquaintance, Rhys hadn't been kind to Lillian. He certainly hadn't been welcoming. And yet, without hesitation, she gave him more than he had ever gifted her.

“Rhys, Anne,” Simon said as he closed the door behind him firmly. “We're so glad to see you.”

He smiled at the couple, but Rhys recognized there was no true happiness or light to the expression. His friend remained worried and tense, and that made Rhys stiffen, too. The reason for his coming here was out lined in every concerned contour of Simon's face.

Anne seemed to recognize the tension that coursed between the two men, for she was the one who answered. “Thank you for having us, Simon. And thank you for your earlier assistance. It was greatly appreciated.”

Simon looked at Rhys when he answered her. “Anything for a friend.”

Rhys's jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth and stared at his friend…his
brother
, which was still a foreign concept to him in so many ways. His reaction was even more so.

All his life he had been taught to control his emotions. Because of the difficulty of that task, he had endeavored not to experience those strong emotions at all, avoiding situations that would create them and even mocking anyone who felt too deeply.

But now, as he stood a few feet from Simon, Rhys's emotions bubbled free from their normally restrained state.

He was
angry
at his friend. Angry that Simon had been the messenger of his destruction. Angry that Simon had sent Anne after him even though Simon must have known it wasn't what Rhys wanted for himself or for her.

But quite shockingly, alongside the anger there existed another feeling. One he had stifled throughout his life just as handily as he had crushed fear or regret or empathy or anger.

There was joy.

Simon Crathorne had been one of Rhys's only true friends, chosen not just for his position in the world, but for his loyalty and decency. And now they were true brothers, in blood not just spirit. Simon was an ally in a different way than he had been before. No matter what came between them, no matter how passionately they argued, Rhys had no doubt that his friend…his
brother
, would always be there for him. Even if the world turned against him, Simon would remain true.

“How was your visit to the countryside?” Lillian asked, clearly hoping to cut some of the thick tension that had hung in the quiet room since their entry.

Rhys forced his attention to the woman he had
shunned upon first inspection. She was beautiful, though he had never denied that, with honey-colored locks and remarkable golden hazel eyes that changed color with her moods.

No, her looks hadn't been what put him off. It had been her lack of standing, her deficit of funds, and the whispers that surrounded her family that had made him fight to keep her from Simon's life, even while he watched his friend fall deeply in love with her.

Now those objections seemed laughable when compared to his own hidden past. When he thought of how he had treated Lillian, he was flooded with regret, but also with anxiety. After his encounter with Caleb Talbot, Rhys was beginning to realize that all the ways he'd mistreated others were soon going to be visited on his own head. If and when this secret came out, he would feel the sting of disdain as much as he had doled it out to people like Lillian.

But through it all, Lillian had been so strong, holding her chin up with every whisper and hiss. He admired her for that, for he didn't know if he had the wherewithal to do the same. At some moments, it seemed easier to hide, to run as he had done when his parentage had first been revealed.

He smiled at Lillian, perhaps the first time he had ever done so with genuine warmth.

“That part of the country is very beautiful, Your Grace,” he said. “Have you ever been?”

Lillian shifted ever so slightly, and a touch of embarrassed color filled her cheeks. “I'm afraid not. I wasn't widely traveled as a girl and Simon and I have been kept in London since our wedding.”

Rhys inwardly cringed. It was odd, he had spent the weeks leading up to Simon's sudden wedding reminding his friend that Lillian was utterly unsuitable, and yet in this moment he had forgotten her once-lowered status. And still managed to hurt her with his blunder.

“I know you and my…
friend
have been forced to stay here because of circumstances that involve me. But once this is resolved, I think you'll love seeing more of the world. In fact, if you two would like to go to the countryside, I would happily offer the use of the cottage to you, though I warn you, it is rustic.”

From the corner of his eye, Rhys saw Anne flinch. To cover the pained reaction, she paced away to look out the window to the rainy gardens below.

Lillian didn't seem to notice Anne's reaction, but instead looked at him in surprise. “Why, th-thank you. I very much appreciate your offer, Your Grace.”

He reached out to touch her hand briefly. “Rhys,
my lady. I would greatly like it if you might call me Rhys from now on.”

Lillian's expression softened and she covered his hand with her own. “Rhys.”

Behind them, Simon cleared his throat. “Rhys, perhaps you and I should go to my office. I have a few things to discuss with you.”

Rhys shook away his thoughts and released Lillian's hand. “Yes, we do have much to talk about.”

He turned to Anne and found she had looked away from the window and was staring at him. Her face, which was usually so vibrant and reflective of her emotions, was curiously blank. She didn't move or say anything as they stared at each other across the room.

“Do you mind, Anne?” he asked.

She shook her head briefly. “Of course not. This is why you came, after all. And I'm sure Lillian and I can find something to discuss in your absence.”

Her words were friendly enough, but her tone troubled Rhys. Her voice was taut with tension, like she was swallowing back more than she said. But he nodded nonetheless. “Very good. I'll be back.”

She took a sharp breath. “I should hope so.”

Rhys felt the pain and the anger she had so long withheld while tending to him. It was in the air
around them, suddenly palpable and dangerous, but he was helpless to do anything in that moment. So he nodded slightly and instead followed Simon from the room.

As they walked down the hallway toward Simon's office, Rhys found himself pondering not what his friend would say, but his wife. He had hurt her today, though he didn't know exactly how. He had hurt her so many times, perhaps not meaning to, but what consolation was that?

He could only hope she'd understand everything he had done once the truth came out.

They entered the large, tidy room Simon called office, and his friend closed the door behind them. Rhys shifted as he looked around. How many times had he been here? A hundred? But now it seemed ominous and different, though not so much as a stick of furniture had been changed.

But then that wasn't what had been altered, was it? No.
He
was different.

“Would you like a drink?” Simon asked as he opened a box of cigars and offered one to Rhys.

He shook his head to both. “As much as I'd like to numb this unsavory situation, I think it would be better if my mind were clear for what we are about to discuss.”

Simon nodded and closed the box without taking
a cigar for himself, either. He sat at his desk, Rhys across from him, and smiled slightly.

“Thank you for what you said to Lillian. She isn't yet comfortable with the role of duchess. I know your acceptance means something to her.”

Rhys frowned. “Considering my position now, I think it's foolish that I ever withheld it. I was needlessly cruel to her and I hate myself for it.”

Simon met his gaze evenly, not denying Rhys's prior cruelty, but not censuring him for it, either. “Luckily we can always change.”

“Can we?” Rhys asked with a hollow laugh.

“Yes, and I sense you
have
in the time since I last saw you.”

Rhys looked at his lap, fiddling with a loose thread at his wrist. “Of course I have changed. I'm no longer the man I thought I was.”

“That isn't what I meant,” Simon said, softer than before. “I found your disappearance troubling. I was worried about you, my friend.”

Rhys's gaze snapped up. “And
that
is why you sent my wife after me so recklessly?”

Simon shrugged. “Anne would not be stopped.”

Rhys shook his head at that statement. He could well imagine it was true. Certainly she had been a bulldog when it came to her interactions with him in the countryside. Her stubborn devotion was one
of the first fascinating things he had never before recognized existed in her. That and the feelings he hadn't known she held inside.

“Because she loves me,” Rhys said, his tone dull.

Simon leaned back in his chair as his eyebrow arched. “Yes. That fact became eminently clear to me in the weeks before you married and even more so once you ran away. Anne's feelings run very deep. I must admit, I'm surprised you recognize that fact. You've never been very good at sensing the emotions of others.”

“I'm not any clearer of vision than I was before, I'm afraid. She told me her feelings,” Rhys all but whispered as he thought of that charged day when she had confessed her love for him.

Simon chuckled low, though there was little humor in his tone when he said, “Yes,
that
I can see. She is direct when she sees the need for it.” There was a moment's silence and then Simon asked, “So what do you feel for her?”

There it was in unavoidable terms. Simon had just asked Rhys the one question he'd been trying to avoid at all costs since the first moment he saw Anne racing down the hill to “save” him from himself.

He didn't
want
to analyze his emotions for his wife. He didn't want to feel any particular emotions toward her at all. In the end it didn't matter how he
felt or what he wanted, because he couldn't have those things. He couldn't
have
Anne. The situation that had driven her into his arms and his life in a way he had never expected was also the situation that would keep them apart forever.

Rhys shrugged, refusing to torment himself with the answer Simon sought. “There is really no choice in the matter. I must leave her.”

Simon pushed to his feet with a sharp intake of air that seemed to echo in the otherwise quiet room. He stared down at Rhys with such a look of shock and dismay that shame filled him.

“You cannot be serious,” Simon said as he paced to the sidebar and poured himself a drink, which he downed in one swig without taking his eyes off Rhys.

“I'm afraid I'm as serious as the grave,” Rhys said, his voice cracking slightly before he reined in the reaction that so revealed his true feelings on the matter.

“How will that even be possible?” Simon asked. “This union was legal, consummated, and utterly public. You couldn't have it annulled, and divorce is almost an impossibility. Do you think you can just walk away from her? I think she's more than proven she'll make chase.”

Rhys nodded. “Yes, perhaps once, but I think now
she might no longer do so. I've made it clear that separation is the only option for us.”

“Does that mean you've told her the truth about why you ran, then?” Simon asked.

Rhys shook his head. “To protect her, I have kept her in the dark as to my parentage. That way she can honestly say she had no idea of my birth when she married me.”

“But you could still reveal what you know to her now and that fact would remain true,” Simon reasoned.

“With a blackmailer lurking in the shadows? This person could reveal the truth before I'm able to handle the situation. If that occurs, it will be best if Anne is as surprised by the revelation of my parentage as everyone else. I can only hope that will offer her some protection.”