His eyes glazed over as though he were striving to decipher something of monumental importance.
“I’m sorry, but “I’m not familiar with that sort of affair.”
“How can you say such a thing when we talked about it endlessly?”
“Remind me.”
She rolled her eyes. “So typical of a man. My mother warned me that men rarely truly listen to what a woman says.”
“Your mother is most wise, and I apologize for my previous lack of interest. Would it be a bother to repeat what you’ve obviously told me before? A stand-up breakfast sounds rather unappealing.”
“But it is so in vogue. Everyone is doing it in that manner these days. All the food is placed on a large table in the library. Gentlemen prepare a plate for the ladies, then we all stand around while dining. The trick is to prepare foods that are easy to eat while not sitting.”
“Perhaps it is good that I ate before leaving the house.”
He appeared so deadly serious. She smiled at him. “I would beg of you to put only the sparest of helpings on my plate. My stomach is still in knots from standing in front of everyone at the church, having so much attention directed at me.”
“I would have thought a woman as beautiful as you would be accustomed to attention.”
Pleasure spiraled through her. He’d never told her that she was beautiful. Had never actually complimented her at all, now that she thought on it. “Is that the reason you married me? My beauty?”
“My reasons are numerous, impossible to explain.”
“You might try.”
“Are my compliments such a rarity that you must seek more?”
His gentle rebuff caused her to blush. “Of course not. It just seems that after a wedding, the bride and groom should shower each other with attention.”
“I’ve paid little notice to the rituals of weddings. I fear I shall cause you embarrassment throughout the day.”
“Oh, Robert, it is I who has the greater chance of embarrassing you. You were born to this life; I have only just married into it.”
“You would never be an embarrassment to anyone.”
The heartfelt delivery of his words caused the heat to rise in her cheeks.
“I’ve managed to accomplish exactly what I feared,” he said. “I’ve embarrassed you.”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you deliver flattery so sincerely.”
“I apologize if my words were inappropriate. I’ve not yet adjusted to my new role as husband. I’m not quite sure how to behave.”
“Just be yourself, Robert. It’s you that I care for so desperately.”
“How desperately?”
She squeezed his hand again. “Incredibly desperately. Today I’m the happiest woman in all of London.”
“Are you?”
“Whatever is wrong with you? You sound so doubtful, so unsure when you never have before. Has something happened, something I need to know about?”
He looked to be on the verge of announcing that the world as they knew it was about to come to some dreadful end.
“What is it, Robert?”
He shifted his gaze to where her hand was atop his. “It’s of no importance.”
“But I can see that you’re troubled.”
“I have a great deal on my mind, that’s all.”
“They say if you share your troubles it divides them in half.”
He peered over at her, the corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “I don’t think that’ll happen in this case.”
“I do wish you’d tell me.”
“Perhaps later.”
Although she dreaded hearing the answer, she had to ask, “Does it have any bearing on the reason you apologized to me right before you kissed me?”
He gave a barely perceptible nod. “I fear a day will come when you’ll regret that I married you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll never regret the day that I married a man I care for so deeply.”
He turned his head away as though looking at her had suddenly become unbearably painful.
This wasn’t at all how she’d planned for her marriage to begin. It was to be a joyous occasion.
She’d caught his attention last Season when her mother had called upon a cousin and asked her to introduce her daughter into society. Torie had been all of twenty, well past her prime, and her mother was beside herself with worry that her daughter would never find a match. But she had. At her first ball, she’d danced with the Duke of Killingsworth, and his gentlemanly manners and kindness had fairly stolen her breath away on the spot.
His courtship had been satisfying to her, caused envy among others. An occasional walk in Hyde Park. An opera. A dinner. A carriage ride. Nothing earth-shattering. Always with a proper chaperone.
Still, he’d seemed as content with her as she was with him. She thought they were well suited. But now she was no longer certain. Why was he suddenly aloof, not as easy to converse with?
She’d not grown up in the circles he frequented, and she worried that in spite of everything, she wouldn’t make a proper duchess. He was hardly expressing the enthusiasm she’d expected him to once they were married. Was she somehow to blame?
“Do you worry there will come a day when you’ll regret marrying me?” she dared to ask.
Or perhaps she hadn’t dared to voice the question aloud. Perhaps she’d only asked the question in her mind. Because he neither acknowledged it nor answered, but simply continued to give his attention to everything around him except her.
Chapter 5
R obert had an uneasy feeling he’d find himself burning in hell for the actions he’d taken today. And rightly so.
He’d been convinced the woman was marrying the Duke of Killingsworth, cared only about the title, the prestige, the political gain, but the manner in which she gazed at him, the manner in which, even now, she frequently lovingly touched his arm as they stood in the drawing room greeting the guests who arrived at her parents’ home proved his assumptions false. Without question. Without doubt.
He was a fool. She cared for him. Incredibly desperately.
No, she cared nothing for him, he chastised himself harshly. She cared for John, John who had called himself Robert all these years. His brother who’d told the world that John had gone off to America to seek his fortune. A plantation in Virginia, of all places. And he was writing himself letters to tell of his imagined exploits. Diabolical.
At least now Robert had an inkling regarding the manner in which his absence had been explained, although he still wasn’t quite certain how John had managed initially to meet with such success. His parents must have questioned why one of their sons hadn’t returned from a night of merriment. The servants must have wondered. Friends, acquaintances…any number of people must have suspected something was amiss.
Surely Weddington, of all people, would have harbored suspicions—
“Don’t you think so, darling?”
He glanced down into the eyes of the woman looking up at him so painfully adoringly. “I’m sorry. I was distracted for a moment.”
Worry flashed in her eyes, before she smiled more brightly and lifted her chin ever so slightly. “Lady Catherine was just saying how much her parents regret not being able to attend today’s ceremony. I was assuring her that we would plan to visit them as soon as possible. I was simply asking if you concurred with my suggestion.”
Who the deuce were Lady Catherine’s parents? She looked vaguely familiar, but the only Catherine he remembered was a distant cousin his father had once talked of Robert possibly marrying. But then the girl had bloodied John’s nose and the discussions had, thank goodness, come to a halt. The girl preferred trees and frogs to tea and frills. Of course, she was also all of twelve…
“Lady Catherine,” he murmured.
She smiled becomingly. She was certainly no longer twelve.
“You must tell your brother that he need not stay away on my account. I hold him no ill will. And I woul
d so love to see him again. Perhaps now I’d give him the kiss he fancied rather than a bloody nose.”
“I shall tell him. And we shall see to visiting your parents, although it might be a while. My wife and I shall be rather busy for a time.”
Her smile increased. “Of course you will, and well you should be.”
While she walked off, his wife squeezed his arm and whispered, “You’ll have to share that story sometime. I regret never having met your brother.”
Before he could comment or reflect on not only the irony but the inaccuracy of her statement, a gentleman was standing before him, demanding his attention, and Robert once again found himself drifting back to thoughts of Weddington.
The memories bombarded him. Why hadn’t he thought of Weddington sooner, questioned his absence on such an auspicious occasion?
Weddington had been his closest friend. How could Robert have forgotten? Perhaps because it had been so terribly long since he’d thought of anything other than escape and retribution.
But now that he had a moment to reflect, he realized that Weddington should have been there. Yet he hadn’t stood with Robert at the Church. Of course, he wouldn’t have if he were married. Only an unmarried man could serve as best man. But still, regardless of his marital state, he would have been in attendance to witness the ceremony; he would have been at this inconvenient breakfast to wish Robert and his new wife well. Why wasn’t he? Was he indeed married? Or was he dead? Ill? Abroad?
Who could Robert ask regarding the status of his friend? No one, for surely it was a question to which he should know the answer. But he didn’t. He didn’t know the details of his best friend’s life. Didn’t know the details of his wife’s life, for that matter.
Or the details of the lives of the people surrounding him. Or the details of the nation. What had transpired since he’d been in Pentonville? What wars had been fought? Did England continue to reign supreme? He assumed Victoria was still queen, but then he was coming to realize that he couldn’t rely on his assumptions to get him through this nightmare.
He’d thought he would have time to adjust to being back in society, and instead he found himself in the unconscionable position of trying to appear normal when he no longer had any idea what normal might entail.
He felt as though he were suffocating: his throat was closing off, his chest was tightening. For years he’d been isolated, alone. He’d fantasized about his freedom, about having others near, about being touched, talked to…but now he found that close proximity to anyone caused his heart to race, his palms to sweat, his skin to itch. He could think of nothing to mutter other than thank you, good to see you, appreciate your coming. How did one carry on a casual conversation when all he wanted to murmur was “Talk to me, about anything, everything. Just let me enjoy the sound of your voice.”
Especially his wife’s voice. He enjoyed its musical lilt, wished people would speak to her only so that he could concentrate on the soft sounds. Her voice reflected such caring, such devotion, as though for that moment in time when someone stood before her, only that person mattered and nothing else. What a gift she possessed. So gracious, so charming. He could clearly see why John had chosen her.
Robert would be content to look at her, to inhale her sweet fragrance, to hear her voice, to touch her hair—a rich mahogany sheen—and know its silkiness, to gaze into her dark eyes and have her gaze into his. Instead he would have to distance himself from her, because he yearned for all the things a woman could give a man…and he had no right to take them from her. She was bound to him by vows and documents—but not her heart.
He’d expected her heart to be unfettered, unbound—something he might come to possess in time, but she’d already given it away, at least in part, if not in whole. And she’d given it to a man he’d come to despise.
She complicated matters. He would have to do what he could, as quickly as he could, to ensure that the title remained with him. How to prove his claims, though, remained the crux of the problem. There were no physical characteristics to distinguish him from his brother. It would be one’s word against the other’s.
And he had little doubt that John in the outside world all these years was more capable of mounting a defense than Robert, who had eight years of talking to no one. Deprived of company, men had gone insane within those prison walls. Perhaps he had as well, to entertain the notion that he could so easily recapture what was his by birth.
As people filed past, offering congratulations, he thought he recognized a few of them, but he couldn’t put a name to a face. Men he’d gone to school with, men with whom he’d been friends, were noticeably absent, and he was left to wonder if John had purposely alienated them.
It would make sense that he wouldn’t want Robert’s intimates to be too close. After all, there might be the danger that John would reveal his true self. And Robert was now faced with the same dilemma. How would he give the appearance that he knew these men, that he knew the status of their lives, that he had visited with them at the club during the last week—and that they knew him—without revealing who he really was?
He was grateful that men were acknowledging his distraction with a knowing smile, a conspiratorial wink as though they knew the cause, the cause being his charming and lovely wife.
And she was a distraction. He could hardly take his eyes off her, while she was giving her undivided attention to each guest. What an exquisite hostess she was, what a gracious duchess she would make. Yet how would she feel when she learned a duchess she was not to be? Not if her heart belonged to John. Not if this mockery of a marriage was to be undone.
He wondered if there was someone here in whom he could confide, someone whose opinion he could seek out. And once anyone learned how he’d disposed of John, then what? He would be brought to task for his actions, as he should be. He knew his solution had not been the best, but eight years of isolation could make it difficult for a man to think clearly.
But then so could a lovely wife. She had a most delicate profile, and when she smiled, even slightly, a small dimple appeared in her cheek. It fascinated him, as much as anything else about her. He could well understand why John had taken to her. He wondered what their courtship had entailed, and if there were promises John had made that she’d expect Robert to carry out tonight.
He could well imagine the promises he himself would have made. To love, honor, and cherish seemed paltry by comparison. To love deeply, passionately, unendingly. To honor and cherish in the same manner. She would have his devotion. He knew he was assessing her on nothing of any consequence or significance, and after so long without the company of others, he no doubt lacked the ability to judge accurately or with any precision. Yet something about her went beyond the most fundamental of appearances. He could hardly explain it. But he sensed in her an incredible strength, determination, and gracefulness.
Perhaps it was the lack of hesitation in her voice when she spoke. The manner in which she sounded truly glad to greet guests, grateful for their time and attention. Perhaps it was the way she put them at ease.
Perhaps it was the direct contrast between her and her mother, who was standing on the other side of them with her father, speaking loudly, excitedly, as though their company’s presence somehow reflected on her, while Victoria Alexandria Hawthorne gave the impression that she was humbled by their attendance.
She wasn’t arrogant, showy, boastful, or proud. She quite simply fascinated him.
“Robert?”
He’d been staring at her, and although she’d been speaking, not a single word had registered in his mind, so lost in his thoughts had he become. Her cheeks reddening with embarrassment, she tilted her head slightly toward the man standing in front of him.
“Lord Ravenleigh wished to know if you’d heard from John.”
Lord Ravenleigh. He recognized him now. Of course, the Earl of Ravenleigh. And beside him were his two sons. Twins. What were their names? He couldn’t remember. They were a dozen years younger than h
e was. He wondered if he should warn them of the treachery one might someday inflict on the other.
“My brother sent his regards,” Robert forced out.
“I daresay I find his adventures interesting reading. Do hope you’ll bring his next letter by the club and enthrall us all.”
Robert cleared his throat. “Of course. I shall be delighted to share his letters should I receive any more.” But since John wasn’t free to write them, Robert doubted he would receive any.
His wife touched his arm, a little differently than she had before, as though she were trying to impart some knowledge to him.
“I hope you’ll forgive my husband if he’s not at the club for a while. We’re leaving immediately after the breakfast to go to Hawthorne House.”
He supposed he would have discovered that bit of information eventually, but he was grateful to know it now. It removed a good deal of his tension. The breakfast was merely an inconvenience, to be endured a short while. Once finished, they would be on their way. Thank goodness they had no plans to stay in London. He needed to get away and contemplate his options.
“Of course, of course,” Ravenleigh said. He winked at Robert. “When you’re back in London then.”
The earl leaned toward Victoria, whispered something Robert couldn’t hear, but the flush in her cheeks deepened.
Ravenleigh walked away, then his sons were offering their congratulations. Robert noted the burn scar beneath one of the young men’s chins. He remembered hearing that their father had marked the younger son when he was born so he’d forever be able to tell his twin sons apart. Robert found himself wishing his father had done the same thing. He wouldn’t have minded if his father had marked him as the elder—to have a few moments of pain he couldn’t remember in order to have been spared years of agony he’d never forget.
The twins were the last to arrive, the last to walk away.
Victoria’s mother approached, her face glowing as though she’d just been told she’d ascend to the throne. “You and Victoria shall lead our assemblage into the library where we’re serving breakfast.”
A Matter of temptation- The Lost Lords Trilogy 02 Page 5