. Tia learned that she was not the only one who had suffered heartbreak in love. So had Marie. The maid’s adored Robert had abandoned her after Marc had dismissed her.
“But why?” Tia had asked.
“He... he said it was beneath a duke’s footman to be associated with a mere cit’s maid,” Marie had answered.
That had angered Tia so much that she considered asking her husband to send Robert packing, too. That would teach him not to be so high in the instep. But the gulf between her and Marc had become so wide that she could not bring herself to ask anything of him.
As soon as Doris and Sebastian departed for Pall Mall, Tia hastily dressed in the plainest, most unobtrusive pelisse she owned and a large veiled hat that hid her face. She tiptoed down the back stairs, past the kitchen, and out the back door where she found a gate that let her out on to a side street. There she hailed a passing hackney.
The man took her up. If he saw anything peculiar about a heavily veiled lady with neither maid nor footman in attendance hailing a hackney, he gave no indication of it.
Tia was not quite certain what she would do when she arrived at the address that had been in the ledger, but she was determined not to return home without seeing Jennie.
As the hackney pulled up at the house, Tia saw to her horror that Marc’s curricle was there and that his groom was exercising his greys. She had not expected this complication.
When the coachman came to open the door for her, she told him in a whisper, “My friend clearly has company and I do not want to disturb them. I prefer to wait until the caller leaves. Perhaps we could drive around the block in the meantime. I will pay you for your time.”
The man had no objection. He prided himself on being a flash cove, awake on every suit, and he recognized a lady on her way to an assignation when he saw one.
As he turned to climb back on his box, the door to the house opened, and Marc came out with the most breathtakingly gorgeous creature Tia had ever seen on his arm.
The pair stopped at the bottom of the steps, almost directly in front of the hackney, giving Tia an excellent view of her rival. Golden curls ringed a perfect little face set with enormous ocean-blue eyes, a pert nose, and an inviting cherry-red mouth. A pelisse in the first stare of fashion revealed a perfect body.
Tia saw with a sinking heart that Marc had not exaggerated Jennie’s beauty in the slightest. She felt like the veriest drab in comparison. No wonder he preferred his incognita to her.
It had not occurred to Tia that she might find her husband with Jennie, and she feared that he would notice her in the hackney. He would be livid if he thought she was spying on him.
Marc said something to his companion, and Jennie looked up at him with such adoration for him on her exquisite face that Tia’s breath caught. Even more shattering to her was the gentleness on Marc’s usually unreadable face when he looked at his convenient.
He guided Jennie to his curricle and helped her in. They looked like the world’s most devoted couple.
Angry as Tia had been at her husband for toying with her affections, she realized that until this moment she had still nurtured deep in the recesses of her heart the faint hope that she could somehow, someday win him away from his mistress. Now Tia knew that she could never hope to compete with such a vision of loveliness.
Whoever had said that hearts do not break was wrong, she decided. For hers had very definitely just broken into a thousand shards, and the pain was well nigh unbearable.
Chapter 19
Although it was not yet mid-morning, Tia was dressed for calling in a forest-green gown of jaconet with a triple tier of ruffles at its hem. Her fetching high-crowned, plumed bonnet of the same colour was tied beneath her chin with silk ribbons,
As she crossed the entry hall to the front door, Coles intercepted her with word that the duke wished to see her in his library before she went out.
She turned in that direction, more than a little Uneasy about the reason for this unexpected summons, Could it be that Marc had learned she had deliberately disobeyed him by inviting Paul’s widow to call on her? Tia had picked today to have Amelia visit because the Czar of Russia and the King of Prussia both had arrived in London the previous day and were holding levees that Marc was to attend that afternoon.
As Tia went into the library, her husband rose from the wing chair where he had been reading the morning newspapers.
“You look lovely this morning,” he told her.
Her eyes widened in surprise. She could not remember when Marc had last paid her a compliment.
“Where are you going?” he inquired. “It is rather early for calling.”
“I had a note delivered by hand from the Duchess of Oldenburg asking me to call upon her now at the Pulteney.”
“No doubt you will meet her brother, the Czar,” Marc said. “I understand she has given up her rooms at the hotel to him and is making do in lesser quarters there.”
“But I thought he was to stay at St. James’s Palace.”
“He was, but he went incognito to the Pulteney in a borrowed carriage without a single attendant. Even the postboys did not know whom they were driving. It was not until he was greeted by his sister that anyone tumbled to his identity.”
“Prinny must be outraged,” Tia said. “I heard that he installed a new state bed at St. James’s especially for the Czar.”
“Prinny is more likely outraged by the warmth of the Czar’s reception,” Marc observed dryly. “Such enthusiastic crowds gathered outside the Pulteney that Alexander had to appear a score of times on the balcony to accept their ovations.”
“I think it sad that Prinny is hissed and hooted by his own people who give foreign rulers such warm welcomes.”
Marc shrugged. “It is a situation of his own making. What are your plans after you call on the duchess?”
“Why this sudden interest in my schedule?” she parried uneasily.
“Sir Gregory Lynnock has become most particular in his attentions to you of late,” he said bluntly.
Yes, he had, much to Tia’s distress,, for his calculating smile and fawning manner made her uneasy. Even if she had not disliked him, she was humiliated by what Marc had said to him about her, To Sir Gregory’s credit, however, he had made no mention of that conversation to her.
Her husband said sternly, “Sir Gregory is an enemy of mine and an unscrupulous man who, I fear, would not hesitate to use a naive wife for his own ends—if you gather my meaning.”
Tia did gather it—that Sir Gregory was interested in her only because she was Marc’s wife—-and it made her furious. Clearly her husband thought that since he could not love her, no other man could either.
She glared at him. “Perhaps Sir Gregory is only accepting your invitation.”
Marc looked mystified. “What are you talking about?”
“You told him that he was welcome to me.”
Tia had the pleasure of seeing her husband rendered absolutely speechless. His face darkened, and when at last he recovered his voice, he thundered, “If that evil cur told you that, I swear I will kill him.”
She said contemptuously, “You may spare him. He did not, being more of a gentleman than you are.”
“Who then…?“ Marc asked hoarsely.
“You, my most noble duke. I overheard you tell him at the Castlereaghs’ ball.”
The look on Marc’s face defied analysis, but Tia did not even try to fathom it. She turned on her heel and, with her head held at a proud angle, marched out of his library and the house.
When she reached the Pulteney Hotel, she found that Marc had been right in his supposition that she would meet Czar Alexander. When she was ushered into his sister’s private parlour, he was there with her.
Although he was thirty-six, Alexander had the round face, big, bright eyes, and fresh complexion of a boy. His pale silken hair was artfully swirled to conceal a receding hairline and his wispy, curly sideburns extended almost to his chin. His closely fitted milit
ary tunic boasted epaulets on the shoulders and a high; stiff collar heavy with gold embroidery.
Tia was somewhat disconcerted when he raised his lorgnette to study her more closely, but she forgave him when he explained that he was nearsighted. Indeed, he was so gracious and complimentary to her that she quickly relaxed, and they were soon enjoying a lively exchange of views.
He and his sister prevailed upon Tia to accompany them on a walk in Kensington Gardens and visits to Westminster Hall and Abbey and the British Museum.
When at last she left them, the Czar gave her a melting smile. “My little sister told me that I should like you, and as always, she was right. We will see more of each other, my charming duchess.”
Tia had stayed much longer with the emperor and his sister than she had intended, and she was further delayed by the crowds the had gathered in the streets in the hope of catching a glimpse of the Czar.
When she finally reached home only three minutes before the time set for Amelia’s visit, she was horrified to see her husband’s carriage parked in front. Surely he could not still be here. She had counted on his being gone by now.
Tia dashed into the house. Marc was impatiently pacing the floor of the entry hall.
“Why are you here?” she asked in consternation. “You are late for the levee.”
“I was waiting for you. I must talk to you.” He grabbed her arm and propelled her into the small anteroom off the hall, closing the door behind them.
“You are very late, and the traffic is dreadful,” Tia said, desperate to get him out of the door as quickly as possible. “You must leave at once.”
“Not until I have said what I want to say.” He put his hands lightly on her arms. “Tia, my dearest, do not believe everything you hear.”
Tia, frantic to be rid of him before Amelia arrived, only half-attended to what he was saying. She prayed that her guest would be very late.
His fingers tightened around her arms. “Sometimes, Tia, for reasons we cannot explain, we are forced to say things that we do not mean.”
He had her attention now. “I collect you are talking about what you said to Sir Gregory,” she cried hotly. “Pray do not add insult to injury by offering me such a feeble excuse as that. You cannot explain it because it was the truth!” She jerked away from him. “Now go!”
At that moment the knocker sounded, and Tia knew that her prayer for Amelia’s late arrival had not been answered. A moment later she heard Coles, in his most top-lofty voice, say, “The duchess is not at home to you.”
Tia could not allow a visitor that she had invited be turned away, and she hurried into the hall,
“I am at home to her, Coles. Do come in, Amelia.” She did so just as Marc emerged from the anteroom.
“What the devil are you doing here?” he exclaimed, his face as dark as a winter storm.
A look of terror upon her face, Lady Amelia shrank back from him.
“Get out of my house!” he told her.
Tia, outraged by his rudeness, cried, “No, she will not. I invited her here, and I will not have you treat her so boorishly.”
But timid Amelia had no stomach for a confrontation with her frightening brother-in-law, and she ran from the house.
Tia started to follow her. Her husband grabbed her arm and pulled her into the anteroom off the entry, slamming its door behind them. The heat of his anger was now deflected to her. “How dare you invite that faithless jade into my house? You know I cannot tolerate the sight of her.”
“I did not think you would have to,” Tia retorted. “I expected you would be at the levee.”
“That woman killed my brother!”
“She did nothing of the sort! Amelia loved him as much as you did. You have only to look at the poor creature to see how grief-stricken she is.”
“Yes, for Major Hetton!”
“No, for your brother,” Tia cried, determined to make her husband see the injustice he was doing Amelia. “For Paul, not Hetton, if that was even his name. She—”
Marc, his grip tightening painfully on her arm, interrupted, “What do you mean, ‘if that was even his name’? What else would it have been?”
Tia told him what Amelia had said about Hetton actually being a Philip Erickson from some village called Bingham.
He turned pale, clearly thunderstruck. “Bingham,” he echoed hoarsely. “Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
His hand dropped from her arm.
She asked, “What is the significance of Bingham?”
“It is the village adjacent to Sir Francis Pitson’s estate.”
The name meant nothing to her. “Who is he?” But her husband was already striding toward the door.
“Marc, who is this Sir Francis?” she called after him.
He paused for an instant in the doorway. “The most evil man I have ever known.”
Chapter 20
London was awash with talk about the activities of its royal visitors, the Emperor of Russia and the King of Prussia. No bit of gossip was more tantalizing than that surrounding the marked attention the Czar was paying the Duchess of Castleton. This heightened the speculation already circulating before the emperor’s arrival about a growing estrangement between the duchess and her husband who were rarely seen together anymore.
Indeed, after Amelia’s disastrous call, they scarcely spoke to each other.
Tia was flattered by Alexander’s interest in her, particularly since it seemed to disturb her husband. Several times when she and the emperor were laughing together, she looked up to catch Marc’s brooding gaze upon her. Had she not heard from his own lips that he infinitely preferred his breathtaking convenient to her, she would have thought him jealous.
A few days after Amelia’s visit, Marc insisted that Freddie accept an invitation to accompany Simon, the youngest of Lady Mobry’s grown sons, to a country retreat the family kept near London. Tia was certain that Marc had gotten the Mobrys to issue the invitation to rid himself of her brother.
When she told Marc that she wanted to keep Freddie with her, he replied, “The child has not seemed himself lately. I am persuaded he requires a few days in the fresh air of the country to perk him up,,,
“What he needs is your attention,” she said angrily. “He is deeply wounded by the way you ignore him. Furthermore, I don’t want to be separated from him.”
“You hardly have time for him, you are so busy with the Czar,” Marc snapped.
Although all of London was talking about Alexander’s partiality for her, this was the first time that her husband had mentioned it to her.
“I have not been neglecting my brother,” she protested, and that was the truth.
“Either Freddie goes with Simon today or I will send you both to Ashmore on the morrow,” Marc told her coldly.
That would remove her from the Czar’s company, and Tia wondered whether that might have been Marc’s real aim all along. If it was, she was determined to disappoint him, not out of passion for the Czar, but because she feared that Marc meant to keep her isolated at an estate he never visited. “Very well,” she replied in a tone as frigid as his own, “Freddie may go.”
The look on her husband’s face left no doubt that he had hoped she would choose Ashmore.
One rainy afternoon two days after her little brother’s departure, as Tia was leaving Stratford House after calling on the duchess, the wheels of a landau racing past hit a large puddle, sending a fanlike spray of muddy water across the skirt of her white muslin gown. She had planned to make another call, but now there was nothing to be done except to go home immediately to change out of her ruined clothes.
Hurrying up to her apartment, she was about to summon her dresser when Marc came in.
It was the first time in weeks that he had been in her bedroom. Not so long ago, she would have been delighted to see him there, but now she no longer knew what she felt. Anger and humiliation certainly at the way he had treated her. But most of all, she felt an aching sense of loss.
For a little while, she could not have asked for a more charming companion or thrilling lover than Marc. Those enchanted weeks with him before the Stratford’s ball had been the happiest of her life. Although she knew those days were gone forever, she thought longingly of what might have been had she been clever enough to capture his heart.
“Home so early, madam?” Marc inquired.
It struck her that her husband looked more tired and drawn than she had ever seen him before.
“Won’t the Czar be lonely?” he asked. “Or did you and your royal admirer have a tiff?”
“I was not with the Czar,” she told him, refusing to succumb to an ignoble impulse to make Marc think differently.
For an instant, she thought she saw relief on her husband’s inscrutable face, but surely she was as mistaken as she had been when she had thought that she could win his love. She held out her mud-stained skirt for him to view. “I was at Stratford House, and as I left, my gown met with a mishap.”
He glanced at her dirtied skirt, then said abruptly, “George says you are attending the masquerade at Vauxhall tonight. Who do you go as?”
“Cleopatra.” The gala would be one of the high lights of the season, and everyone had been talking for weeks about it and the costumes they would wear.
“Does the Czar go as Marc Antony?”
“No.” Tia said. She did not add, however, that both she and the emperor would be part of the Duchess of Oldenburg’s party. “Please leave me. I wish to change my dress.”
The soiled garment was fastened down the back by a long row of tiny pearl buttons that she could not undo herself, and she reached for the bell pull to summon Beryl to help her with them.
Marc’s hand stayed hers before she could ring. “No, I’ll deal with the buttons. I want to talk to you.,,
“As you wish,” she replied, careful to keep her voice as indifferent as her expression.
She was wearing her hair piled high on her head except for one long fall that trailed down her back. Marc gently gathered this up from her neck and slipped it over her shoulder to give him access to the buttons, He undid the long row with a speed and deftness that bespoke much practice.
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