When Seducing A Duke (25 page)

Chapter 21

H
ow would she fix the debacle she’d made of her marriage? That was the question Rose pondered as she walked the gravel path that meandered through the garden, Heathcliff dozing in her arms. His furry little body was warm against her chest, providing a solace and comfort she thought perhaps she didn’t deserve, but needed regardless.

She was still hurt and angry with Grey though days had passed since he’d told her about his sojourn to Hyde Park. He’d never repeated the outing—or if he had, he’d wisely kept it to himself. As much as Rose wanted him to find the courage to leave the house and rejoin the world, she wanted him to do it with her. Surely that wasn’t so wrong?

Meanwhile, her nasty response to his previous attempt undoubtedly left him loath to repeat the experiment and she cursed herself for it, even though she continued to feel the sting.

It made no sense, she allowed, rubbing her chin along Heathcliff’s silky head. She should be pleased, but she wasn’t. He had wanted her to be happy about it, when all she could think about was the one man who had seen him. The one man who was bound to mention to friends who he had seen. Some might doubt him, but others would believe and they would talk about the state of the duke’s clothing, the mask that he wore. And if Rose ever managed to find the spine to show her face in public again, they would whisper about it. Some would even ask her about her husband’s behavior—and wonder why he could trot around the park but not join her in society.

And then they’d talk about his attack, and they’d speculate some more. And someone would mention that perhaps he was coming home from shagging a mistress or a whore because his sexual desires, his “legendary” prowess was too much for his wife to endure or satisfy.

Yes, she should be happy that he’d left the house; but, damn it, he shouldn’t have become a recluse to begin with!

It was embarrassing to have their relationship discussed so. She was humiliated and ashamed.

Ashamed of the man she liked better than all others. The man she fancied herself in love with. How was that even possible?

And she loathed herself for feeling this way, for thinking so lowly of Grey, who had shown her nothing but kindness and passion. Who had done nothing but try to please her and make her happy in the years following her father’s ruin and death. Anything she’d asked for—though, she’d made few requests—had been granted. Even things she hadn’t dared voice aloud, he’d seemed to know and answered.

Yes, she had known about his past when she pursued him. She’d known the depth of the stain on his reputation, but her feelings made her look beyond it. She took full responsibility for that, and the actions that had followed.

What she hadn’t been intelligent enough to realize was that she couldn’t change it. She couldn’t bring him into the world and make it all go away. Her love was not enough to make him a better man in the eyes of society. They would never see him as she did. They would never love him or respect him, not when he behaved like a man ashamed of himself.

And feckless woman that she was, she’d allowed society’s opinion of her husband to color her own judgment and make her regret marrying him. She owed him an apology and she couldn’t bring herself to deliver it because her pride had yet to let go of the insistence that he owed her an apology as well. He owed her…something.

But even deeper than all of this was the realization that after days of avoiding him, she missed him. And she was afraid to approach him because of it. Afraid that he might reject her, as was his right.

So she hid. And as her wounds festered, she began to entertain the notion that she was beginning to understand why Grey hid as he did.

And if one managed to avoid unpleasantness long enough, avoidance soon became determination.

“Your Grace!”

Rose turned to face the direction of the call, the puppy jerking to alertness at the movement. Already fiercely loyal to his mistress, he let out a sharp bark at the footman hurrying toward her.

“Yes?” Rose shushed the dog. “What is it?” Had something happened to Grey?

The handsome young man paused to bow. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but you have a visitor waiting upon you in the rose parlor. A Lady Devane. She was told you were not at home, but she pushed her way in.” The man’s eyes were bright with anxiety. “Given the circumstances, it was thought best if I came directly to fetch you.”

Given the circumstances indeed. Good Lord, what was Lady Devane thinking in coming to Grey’s home? All of society—even Grey himself—believed her responsible for the attack on him.

If Grey found her there…

Rose thrust Heathcliff into the young man’s arms. “Take him back to the stables, please. I will attend to Lady Devane. You were right to find me.”

The footman smiled, obviously soothed by her taking charge of the situation. He bowed again and turned in the direction of the stables, Heathcliff high on his shoulder.

It was unladylike—though this was hardly the time for decorum—Rose hitched her butter yellow skirts and ran toward the house. She was gasping for breath by the time she reached the terrace doors, and she paused but a moment to catch her breath before pulling them open and rushing through the house to the rose parlor.

The housekeeper paced just outside the door, wringing her hands. She looked up at the sound of Rose’s heels clicking on the floor. Relief washed over her face. “Your Grace, I’m so sorry. The lady refused to leave.”

“It’s all right.” And it was. Rose braced a hand against the wall and took a few deep breaths to slow her heart and the frenzy of her lungs. “Have tea and biscuits brought in.”

The older woman’s eyes widened. “You intend to entertain her, then?”

Rose nodded, fixing a grim smile on her lips. “She braved coming here for a reason. The least I can do is hear her out. Advise the servants to keep discussion to a minimum, please. I’d rather the duke hear about this from me rather than his valet.”

Round cheeks flushed red, but she didn’t deny the servants’ tendency to gossip. “Of course, Your Grace. Right away.”

When the housekeeper scurried off, Rose took a moment to smooth her hair and skirts before entering the parlor. Lady Devane stood near one of the windows, and turned gracefully as the door closed.

“Good morning, Duchess.”

“Lady Devane.” Rose inclined her head. “This is unexpected.”

Then slightly—and only slightly, Rose realized—the woman chuckled. “I should imagine. I appreciate you receiving me, madam. I thought perhaps you’d set the dogs on me.”

Rose smiled at the absurd notion. “And deny my curiosity the satisfaction of discovering what could have possibly brought you here? I think not.” She gestured to one of the comfortable sofas rather than the little stiff-backed chairs. “Will you sit?”

“Thank you.” The elegant blonde sank down onto the edge of the cushion and removed her gloves. She wore a dark blue morning gown and matching hat that brought out the brightness of her eyes and the creaminess of her complexion. She looked cool, composed, and flawless. Not at all like Rose felt.

“I’ve sent for tea,” Rose commented, unable to think of anything else to say as she also sat—across from the countess.

Lady Devane arched a fine, golden brow. “I must confess I did not expect such hospitality.”

“I might not be certain of what to think of you, madam, but I should like to think I’d never be so rude as to forget my manners.”

Green eyes sought hers and held for what felt like an eternity. Did she suspect Rose of lying?

“Forgive my bluntness, but I would think that your husband’s wishes would trump manners any day.”

“My husband has never told me who I can and cannot receive in my own home. Of course, that might change once he learns of your visit.”

Lady Devane smiled slightly. “Indeed. I will be brief, then, and spare you as much discomfort as I can.”

“His reaction will be what it will be despite how long you stay, Lady Devane. You may as well take your time. It’s been some time since I’ve had a caller.” She hadn’t meant to admit that, but there it was, hanging in the air between them.

The countess nodded. “Then I am truly glad I chose today to make my call, and will do my best to make it worthy of your reception.”

The tea arrived before they could take their conversation further, which was just as well. Rose had the feeling that once Lady Devane began talking, an interruption would not be so welcome.

The housekeeper set the tray on the table between them, her anxious gaze flittered back and forth between Rose and her visitor. Rose thanked her and dismissed her, though it was painfully obvious the woman was loath to leave.

“Your staff is very protective,” Lady Devane remarked once they were alone once more. “How very fortunate you are.”

Rose inclined her head as she poured a cup of tea for each of them. “That depends on the situation, I suspect.” She smiled a little as she added the cream and sugar, pausing to inquire as to how Lady Devane preferred her refreshment. “Now that you have set my household aflutter, perhaps you’d care to enlighten me as to the nature of your call?”

Taking a sip from the delicate china, Lady Devane made a slight “Mmm” of acquiescence. “Pardon my impertinence, but I notice you’ve been out of society as of late.”

“That’s hardly an impertinence, Lady Devane. It is truth.”

“Still, it occurs to me that the reason for your absence may be a subject you do not wish to discuss.”

Rose met her curious gaze with a direct one of her own. Why should she not be direct and answer honestly when this woman played such a huge part in her current situation?

“I’ve been absent because I find I have no wish nor the patience to be talked about so blatantly. Neither do I have the desire to be questioned about my husband or listen to the wild speculation circulating about him, our marriage, or myself for that matter.” Her tone had grown louder and the fire in her cheeks hotter with every word. “Surely, you can understand why I feel that way, Lady Devane?” And now that she said it, she suddenly felt as though she had a better understanding of Grey, but would that understanding benefit either of them?

The older woman’s smile was sympathetic, even rueful, but not the gloating triumph Rose somewhat expected. “I am sorry for that. But do you not think that hiding here like some kind of guilty criminal only serves to worsen matters?”

That struck a nerve. In fact, it struck several. “A guilty criminal, madam? I’m sure you know nothing about guilt or criminal behavior, do you?”

This time her companion did not smile. She flushed—and rightfully so. “I know what it is to be treated as such. That is why I feel I have some justification in speaking plainly to you.”

And she hadn’t been speaking plainly prior to this? “By all means, then, speak as plainly as you wish.”

Lady Devane set her cup on her saucer and leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees. Her expression was resolute, her gaze unwavering. “I know avoiding society seems the best—and most comfortable—course right now, but I strongly advise you not to hide here for long, Your Grace. We both know what that has done for your husband.”

Hiding. Yes, she was hiding. Just like Grey. Yet Rose wanted to defend him, if not herself. “And we both know who is responsible for that, Lady Devane.”

Smooth ivory cheeks reddened, but the lady did not look away. “I will assume as much responsibility as I should own, madam. The rest must fall on the duke, where it belongs.”

“He never would have become a recluse were it not for the vicious attack you launched upon him.” Why not just get it all out into the open and have done with it?

“He was the worst sort of man and I found that foolishly attractive, I admit. I will also admit to wishing that someone would ruin that pretty face of his and show him what it was like to be treated so poorly. But I would never dream of doing such damage myself, and I would certainly never dream of asking another to carry out revenge that is rightfully mine.”

“Rightfully?” Temper spiked her pitch. “Is maiming a man for life the kind of revenge you think rightfully yours, madam? Because I find that disgusting.”

The other woman leaned away from the vehemence in Rose’s words. “Your husband ruined me, Your Grace. I will be plain—he took my virginity, and refused to marry me when the situation came to light.”

Rose might have made some sound were her throat not so tight. She had no idea what to say and seemingly no ability to speak at all. She had known that Grey was different then, but to think that he had been so totally without honor was shocking.

Lady Devane continued, her tone considerably cooler than it had been. “Were it not for Lord Devane’s kindness I do not know what might have become of me. So you see, I meant it when I said you must be an extraordinary woman to inspire His Grace to marry.” Then, as though remembering herself, she shook her head. “Forgive me. He is obviously a changed man, and I am not here to relive the petty tragedies of my past.”

“He ruined you, so you ruined him.” It made sense in a macabre sort of way. Still, Rose found it difficult to justify Lady Devane’s actions. She couldn’t justify Grey’s either.

“I did nothing,” her companion replied with a bitter twist of her lips. “I married the first man who would have me and I was happy for it. But one night, in the company of someone I hold very dear, and who thinks the world of me, I remarked on how I would like to see Ryeton pay for what he had done to me. My friend took my wish to heart.” She paused to allow Rose to fill in the rest of the tale herself.