Robert took off again, his mother’s face pale as she sat by the front windows in the green salon. How she’d come to be so attached to the girl in such a short time, Robert could not fathom, but he knew if he didn’t bring Fiona home his mother would worry herself to death. And that was one thing Robert could not bear.
As he rode toward Whitehall, Robert tried to think like Fiona. Where would she go with her maid? She was angry with him, and certainly had every right to be, but that was no cause to run off without word. Fiona was a steady girl and knew her limitations. Even those imposed by him. She promised always to take her maid with her when she walked, so there was some consolation there. If the two of them were together perhaps this was not so dire a situation as he feared. Then again, this was London. Any danger could have befallen them, and Robert pushed that thought from his mind. He would find her.
Robert rode through the streets to Lambeth Bridge. Certain she wouldn’t have gone over, her maid surely would have kept her from crossing but then again, this was Fiona in a pique. She could have bloody well walked home to Scotland for all he knew.
A slight rain had begun, the cobblestones slick beneath Zeus’ hooves, and the temperature had dropped substantially. Robert grew cold beneath his damp jacket and waistcoat. He could imagine how Fiona must feel dressed only in her gown and pelisse. After he’d found her and brought her home, gotten her into a warm bath and bed, then he would kill her.
He brought Zeus to rein in the middle of High Street, Lambeth, and decided to head back. He couldn’t find her this way. Of the hundreds of people he’d asked, no one had seen her. He was certain this latest folly would make it into the scandal sheets on the morrow. The headline –
Duke of Cantin’s Wife Runs Away Over Dinner Party.
Robert pressed Zeus home.
Upon arriving, Robert felt sure she would be there, begging forgiveness for upsetting the household, but one look at Edwards’s face and he knew Fiona was not within. She should have been home by now, angry with him or not.
“Send someone to Bow Street immediately,” he growled at Edwards. “Bring them to me as soon as they arrive.”
Storming down the hall, Robert took off his jacket and threw it over the sofa. He walked to the tantalus and poured himself a large brandy. Taking two deep gulps, he let the amber burn its way into his bones.
The door-knocker banged and Robert’s nervous stomach flopped to his feet. He met his mother in the hall. She said nothing, but took his arm as they walked to the foyer.
Edwards opened the door and found William on the stoop.
“Will, I’m glad you are come,” Robert said. “Let us go into the library.” He turned to his mother. “Perhaps you would like to wait upstairs where you can rest, Mother.”
“I am not resting until that poor girl comes home. I shall join you in the library. I feel the need for a serious libation.”
In the library, Robert poured a balloon of brandy for William, and another shorter tot for his mother.
“I asked Penny for a list of places where she thought Fiona could have gone off to, and checked every one of them personally,” William said without preamble. “The zoological gardens, the theatre district, even to the orphanage in Cheapside. Pen made mention on their last visit, Fiona spent most of the afternoon with the children.”
“Yes, Fiona said she found them lovely,” his mother whispered. She brought a handkerchief to the corner of her eye.
Robert walked over to his mother and squeezed her shoulder. “We shall find her.”
She looked down into her glass. “I only hope it is not too late.”
Robert heard the front door-knocker. Moments later, Edwards ushered a large man into the library wearing a red waistcoat, incongruous against his black overcoat and impressive mustache. Before introductions could be made, the doorknocker pounded again.
Edwards bowed out.
“I’m Kennedy from Bow Street,” the man said. “I understand your wife is missing.”
Before Robert could respond, Edwards yelled from the hall.
Robert ran from the library where he found Edwards holding his wife in his arms. Her little maid lay slumped against the inside of the door, her face cut and bleeding, her clothes torn.
“Fiona.” His heart nearly stopped at the sight of her. He took her gently from Edwards.
She lay pale and shivering in his arms. “I’m so sorry, Robert. I did not mean to wander so far from home, and then the men came. Forgive me.” And she fainted.
Chapter Twenty
Fiona sat in the conservatory three days later, still sore from the bruises inflected upon her from the men who had accosted her and Merry. Robert had remained silent the next morning as she explained how they had gotten lost near the docks and picked the wrong men from whom to ask directions. She thought they could outrun them, but Merry tripped and fell and when Fiona stopped to help her, the cads overtook them. Manhandled and certain they were about to be raped, Fiona fought them off, kicking and punching like a wild animal, screaming until her lungs were bursting. She didn’t think she could ever be more grateful for the sight of two less than lady-like ladies, but those two women, she was sure, saved their lives. They joined in the fracas, and kept the men at bay while Fiona and a limping Merry made their escape.
The journey home was frightening, the both of them wet, cold, beaten, and too scared to ask again for directions. Finally, a sign led them to Regent’s Park and Merry, thankfully, found their way.
When finished with her story, the only words Robert spoke were that she would need to give a description of the men to the Bow Street runner, then he was gone. And she hadn’t seen him since.
Lady Joanna had been kindness itself, sitting by her bedside, bringing bowls of soup for her and Merry. Fiona had insisted the girl be ensconced in her room with her. Poor Merry hadn’t gotten over the trauma, remained pale and jumped at every little sound. Fiona caught her weeping on more than one occasion and her heart bled for the young girl.
Merry wasn’t accustomed to the seedier side of life, having grown up in a small farming community, protected by her brothers, cousins, and uncles. Coming to the city as a scullery maid had been her mother’s idea to help with the family finances, and during the eight months she had been at Cantin House, her hard work and dedication had paid off with advances in the household as well as in pay. However, with barely a day off every fortnight, Merry had known little about the city when Fiona and she had left the house, and Fiona took the blame for their misfortune entirely across her own shoulders.
Eammon had gone mad when told about the incident and wanted to set off to find the villains. Fiona heard through her mother-in-law that it had taken Robert nearly a full hour to convince Eammon to allow Bow Street to apprehend the criminals. Fiona was heartened Merry had a champion in the young groom. The girl deserved every bit of happiness she could find in London.
Fiona did not believe she could ever find such in her own situation. She had presumed Robert would berate her yet again for her foolishness, whereupon she would be able to make him see he could share the blame, but his ominous silence only brought the truth with her misery. Seeing the folly in her anger, endangering not only herself but another person as well, made her finally realize she could never be the duchess he desired.
Her ways were too wild, too unstable for the restrictions Robert placed on her. Fleeting and rare, whenever they did manage to capture an amiable accord, it took only moments for it to disappear again.
Fiona wiped a tear. Oh, why could she have not stayed away from him in Peebles? Why could she not have just let him go back to London where he belonged? Perhaps his insinuation she had intentionally remained with him in his room that last night was not far from the truth. However, Fiona did not do so with the purpose of trapping him.
Her father had planted the seed in her mind, but whatever slight supposition may have sprouted from her father’s imaginings, Fiona dismissed. Her reasons for remaining with Robert that night
were selfish and quite her own. Foremost, that she cared for him as a singular human being, and did not want him to choke to death. Although more to the point, she also understood she would never see Robert again, and a small piece of her wanted the memory of him to keep her warm during the rest of her cold and miserable life. The same as she cherished the memories of the little blonde girl when she was nine.
During the course of their very short marriage, she only wanted to be the best she could be for him, to show him she wasn’t ignorant, or without character. To show him he did not have to regret his choice in marrying her and to quite possibly, dare she say, even come to love her.
However, the tragedy at the docks had shown her exactly how foolish she had been for thinking in such a ridiculous way. During the entire episode, her only thoughts had been of Robert. How good it would feel to be held by him, that he would soothe and comfort her, he would reassure her everything would be all right. Since that night, Robert avoided her, as if she were damaged goods. As if she had been raped and was no longer respectable. As if she had deliberately chosen to walk the docks and put herself in such a position. He would never look at her with a favorable eye again, especially after reading about it in the newspaper yesterday morning.
Duchess of Cantin Accosted at the Docks.
Reports account His Grace and Her Ladyship had a tremendous row at Cantin House and Her Ladyship, accompanied only by her maid, fled on foot in a blaze of anger. Losing her way by the docks, Her Ladyship (and maid) were accosted by several ruffians and barely escaped with their lives. This reporter has often wondered what the very proper Duke of Cantin was thinking marrying a woman without any common sense. How soon will it be before Her Ladyship owns to another disgraceful foray in Society?
A single tear escaped down her cheek. She brushed it away forcefully and stood. Under a cold and brutal reality, Fiona finally admitted she and Robert would never find the happiness she craved, and any hope she had, died that night on the docks. She had shown she was irresponsible and troublesome, and could never be anything more than a scandalous foolish ninny hammer. Robert would never love her. As the newspaper reporter asked, how soon would it be before she landed in another scandal? She couldn’t live with herself knowing her selfishness kept him from finding a woman he could be proud of, with whom he could be happy, whom he could love with his whole heart. There was only one thing to do.
*****
Sitting at his club, Robert nursed his second brandy of the day. It seemed to be the only way to shake the cloud of guilt he felt over Fiona’s misadventure, for he knew he was partially to blame. If he hadn’t taken away her planning of the dinner party, Fiona never would have left the house, and she and Merry would not have been hurt. Robert still could not believe they had come out of it relatively unscathed, and remained undeniably grateful Fiona proved her mettle not to back down from a fight. He hated to think what could have happened to them.
“Are you all right, Robby?” William sat down in the chair opposite and placed his coffee on the small side table.
“As well as a man may be with scandal surrounding him at every turn.” Robert couldn’t keep his sarcasm in check. “Have you read the news rags these last days together?”
“Yes, I have seen them. More importantly, why do you bother? As with everything, your wife’s latest on dit will be forgotten as soon as something more notorious comes along.”
“Yes, well.” Robert raised a brow. “That is what I’m afraid of. ‘Twill be my wife. Again.”
“Robby, I really must say, this is so particularly unlike your character. I remember well, when you would allow the gossip to roll off your backside, as if nothing anyone could ever say would bother you. Now it is as if you take all this nonsense to heart.”
“We were children then, Will. We had no reason to think that anyone could harm us, that anything anyone said would hold weight.” Robert brought the glass to his lips and took a short pull. “Unfortunately, it is different now. I have a reputation to uphold, a family name that is synonymous with all that is noble and right in these trying times. I do not wish to be made a laughingstock in front of my peers.”
William snorted. “You should be more concerned with your wife’s welfare instead of the gossip or your heritage. Penny has related to me that Fiona suffers cruelly.”
“What?” Robert waved his hand. “Fiona is fine. My mother informs me she is doing well under the circumstances.”
“And when was the last time you spoke to her?”
Robert sat straighter in his chair. “I spoke to her the day after the incident. She seemed well.”
“Good God, Robert! Have you no care of her at all? Pen said Fiona wept violently over her misfortune and that Fiona said she could not help but think you are disgusted by the sight of her.”
“That is ridiculous!”
“Well, that is what my wife tells me.” William took a sip of his coffee. “Robert, I swear if this had happened to anyone but Fiona, you would be tearing into Parliament with new legislation for the docks to be swept of the riff-raff. I could even imagine you would implore Prinny to hie the Horse Guard to patrol the streets near the Thames. Now, because it is Fiona, you do nothing except sit at White’s and drink all day.”
“How do you know what I do all day? What business is it of yours how I spend my time or treat my wife, or not?”
“Robert,” William said in a tone that Robert had never heard before. “I do not know what has become of you. Since you married Fiona you are more concerned with the state of your name and reputation than you are with your wife and marriage. Fiona was badly shaken. She needs your support in this matter, not your indifference.”
“Why do you care so much about my relations with my wife? Do you wish her for your own?” The drink made his mind thick-headed. Had he really just insulted his cousin with such a question?
“Do not attempt to malign my character,” William threatened. “I am concerned about your relations with your wife, because you are not being at all fair to her, you, or the marriage itself. You are throwing away, possibly the best woman you ever could have found, and I do not wish you to end up regretting choices in the future that you make today.” William stood. “Go home, Robby. Take care of your wife.”
William stormed off.
Robert sat and sloshed the amber around in his glass. Damn if Will didn’t sound exactly like his father. That is precisely what he would have said, regardless of the circumstances in which Robert had married Fiona.
Robert thought about his wife. Fiona may be common at times, but she was also gentle, kind, and one of the smartest women he knew. There was more to her though, like a trickle of a stream that met a creek, which in turn forged with a river. Underneath her rough exterior lay a quiet strength. He saw it in her devotion to his household, her unfailing concern for the welfare of others, and in the way she related to people, with grace and elegance that belied her difficult upbringing.
The emotions he felt that night upon seeing her bleeding and broken overpowered him, strangled and suffocated all rational thought. He wanted to go to the docks, find the men who had harmed her, and kill them with his bare hands. He’d never felt a rage like that in his entire life. And it was not because they had done it to his wife, they had done it to Fiona. His Fiona.
His vow more than a decade ago never to let another woman into his life the way he’d let Mary-Elizabeth, never to place his heart in that kind of danger again, had been broken. Fiona had gotten under his skin, and had somehow managed to crawl into his soul.
There was only one thing to do.
Upon entering his home, Robert told Edwards to ask his wife to meet him in the library. Her knock came a few minutes later.
“Fiona,” Robert said, and stood from his chair. “How do you feel?” She looked weary.
“I am well, my lord,” she said. Her eyes were bloodshot as if she had been crying for days. “You wish to speak to me?”
“Yes.” He led her to the chairs in
front of the windows.
“Good. I need to speak to you as well.” She took a deep breath and settled her skirts. “I wish to know if you have had the annulment papers drawn.”
Surprised at her question, he answered truthfully. “Yes, if you must know, Berkeley and Goss had them drawn since our return from Scotland. Why?”
“I see,” she said. “And do you keep them here?”
“Fiona, why do wish to know about the papers?”
“Please, my lord, pray answer the question. Are they here?” Desperation marked her tone.
“Yes, they are in my desk.”
“May I see them?”
“Fiona, what do want with the annulment papers? We have several months….”
She interrupted him. “My lord, if you would be so kind as to show me the papers.” Her voice now held steely determination.
Robert rose from the chair and Fiona followed him to his desk. She watched intently as he removed the ring of keys from his inner coat pocket and opened the locked drawer near the bottom of the desk. He pulled out the sheaf of papers and handed them to her. “I ask again, what is this all about?”
Fiona studied the paperwork and then looked at him. “I wish you to submit these to your solicitor. If my signature is required, I will sign where you indicate.”
“What?” She could not be serious.
“I wish you to seek the annulment now, my lord. I should not like to wait. And if that cannot be done, then I wish you to seek a divorce.”
Robert sank into the chair behind his desk. “Absolutely not.”
“I beg your pardon?” The bravado she had shown earlier dissipated a fraction.
The Duke's Divorce (The Reluctant Grooms Series Volume IV) Page 15