by Abby Ayles
“Thank you for coming with me. And for liking the cranberry,” Delia said with a small laugh.
Thea hugged her in reply and wished her the very best happiness.
Georgette as well hugged Thea and they all parted with a pang of agony. For Thea, she wondered if the loneliness might ever grow bearable or if she was doomed to live this way for all time.
Chapter 20
The Duke of Sandon was sitting in his study, working through some papers when he heard a noise outside of a carriage pulling up. He glanced out the window and saw that it was his friend, the Duke of Arborshire. He wondered what he might be doing at this time of the evening, but was always delighted to see William.
“Duke,” the Duke of Sandon greeted his friend in surprise. “I did not expect you. To what do I owe the honor?”
“I fear that it is not on good business that I come,” William replied.
The Duke of Sandon was suddenly very nervous. He could not begin to consider what this meant. Surely it had to be a message from Mr. Cotswold. And what would he do if he had lost all of his money?
“Please, do come and be seated,” he said, ushering his friend inside with a formal politeness that was warranted given William’s demeanor.
“Thank you, Duke, I would like that,” his friend replied, following the duke to his study where they might have some privacy and the duke could access his account books easily.
“Mrs. Markley shall bring us tea. Unless you are seeking something a little stronger?” the duke offered.
“Indeed, I believe it is yourself that would prefer a stronger drink,” he replied.
The duke poured two glasses of brandy from the crystal decanter and brought one to him before being seated himself.
“Now, please tell me what this is all about,” the duke urged his friend who appeared so anxious.
“Alas, what I have to tell you is of an unpleasant nature. Being the loyal man that I know you to be, this will be difficult for you to hear and I fear that you might be driven into a rage by it,” William began ominously.
“Please do come out with it,” the duke urged him, not enjoying this prelude.
“I was in town yesterday. I had purchases to make and I had to find a gift for my wife as well. As I headed towards the dress shop, I did come upon a sight that I think you would rather disapprove of,” he prefaced.
“A sight I would rather disapprove of? What sort of sight? What was it?” the Duke of Sandon continued to prod.
“Duke,” his friend continued formally, “I saw your wife and her sisters there.”
“Yes, well, she was going into town to help her younger sister have a new dress made for her employment. Surely there is no scandal in that,” the duke replied, thinking that if this was all William was concerned about then he was a very overprotective man when it came to his friends.
“I understand, of course, that sisters often do these things, but that is not where my concern lies,” he confessed.
“Then where does it lie, Duke? Why will you not simply tell me?” the Duke of Sandon asked, growing frustrated.
“I saw your wife interacting with a young man in the shop. The women were all laughing and enjoying the conversation and I cannot say there was a problem here other than the fact that young women ought to hold themselves to a higher level of comportment in public.
“But where I saw an inappropriate behavior is that once the conversation had ended, the young man spoke to your wife’s youngest then middle sister. Finally, he came to her. He gave her such a look which I cannot describe. And she was not opposed to it. Indeed, I believe that she may have relished it,” he said, expressing the words that he knew would agonize the duke.
The Duke of Sandon was quiet for a moment.
“You have said nothing that I can imagine to be filled with misdeed, my friend. A bit of laughter between young women and being the object of another man’s gaze. I cannot fault her for these,” the duke replied.
“I fear then that I am not expressing the gravity of it,” William insisted. “She was not responding to him as a married woman ought. She did not deflect him or oppose him. She welcomed his conversation and she responded to his advances when he looked at her with such…passion,” he said, turning crimson at the use of the word.
“Passion? Do you mean that they acted inappropriately in a physical manner?” the duke questioned, now frightened by his friend’s accusation.
“Not in such a way that would be apparent. I did see the young man brush against her shoulder and, once more, she did not deflect, but watched him walk past her with the same look in her eyes. I saw in her a look that would betray any man’s sensibilities,” he continued.
The duke sighed painfully.
“I do not know, Duke, if what you say is simply a misunderstanding or truly a cause for concern. What I do know is that I cannot accuse my wife of being unfaithful even as we have only just married and you have seen something so small,” the Duke of Sandon said, writing it off.
As if under duress, William stood to make an announcement of the worst kind.
“I-I…I was not able to stay long,” he said urgently. “I cannot say that what I saw was the end of it. And perhaps my descriptions are not vivid enough for you, but the sight was vivid enough for me. What I tell you is no small thing. Your wife was very clearly coming towards unfaithfulness. I am not lying to you,” he expressed desperately.
The Duke of Sandon sat in a calm state, unwilling to allow the conversation to speak against her any further.
“Duke, I thank you for your concern. But you have no evidence of impropriety. You saw a bit of laughter and perhaps the appreciation a young man felt towards her. But there is nothing in your words that pushes me to a belief that my wife is unfaithful.
"Please understand that I cannot see what it is that you saw. Therefore, I cannot accuse her as you do,” the Duke of Sandon said with unwavering determination.
“Then I cannot understand your reasoning,” William replied in anger.
The Duke of Sandon brushed off the comment, knowing that his friend was just frustrated at not being heard. He knew well that the woman being painted by his friend was not at all the same woman as he had married.
And yet, no matter how he tried to refute it, the Duke of Sandon could not push it aside as he pretended to.
The Duke of Arborshire was an intelligent man. He was a man who saw things that others often did not. And if he saw actions that were in warning of disloyalty to come, it was very possible that he was telling the truth.
As William stormed out in frustration of not being listened to, the duke remained at his desk to consider the words of his friend.
Surely he could not accuse his wife of unfaithfulness for a mere interaction with a shopkeeper and her sisters. This was not right. He could not be as harsh as that.
But he also did not wish to continue to ignore William’s warning. If his wife had behaved in a way that would embarrass him or was unfaithful to him, he had to know.
Whatever the truth, the duke found himself utterly unable to get up from his chair. The thoughts that had been planted by his friend were now firmly imbedding themselves in his mind.
He thought that he ought to have allowed him to speak more freely and tell him exactly what it was that he had seen. Was it more than simple laughter? Had it truly crossed the border into flirtation? Was his wife engaging the young man with humor or was it something deeper?
He couldn’t imagine what she had been thinking or how her mind had been addled in order to cause this sort of behavior. Had she forgotten entirely that she was his wife?
A soft knock came to the door and the duke called for Mrs. Markley to enter.
“Your Graces- -oh. His Grace is gone, Your Grace?” she asked in surprise, having come to offer tea or cakes or anything that they might fancy.
“Indeed, Mrs. Markley, it is just I,” the duke said with a sigh.
“Well then, Your Grace, is there anything I might hav
e brought for you?” she offered sweetly.
“There is nothing I can think of at present,” he replied with a smile for a false veneer.
“Right, Your Grace. As you wish,” she said in reply before taking her leave.
The duke tried to settle his worries, but continuously came back to the fear that he had been betrayed. He felt like such a fool for not allowing William to tell him more detail about what had occurred and exactly why his friend had been so terribly concerned about what he had seen.
Was it possible, even, that the Duke of Arborshire did see more, but wished to spare the duke by not informing him of the details? Was he hoping the duke would find out for himself, that he would not have to be the bearer of the news?
He knew that his marriage was not based on love. His bride had made it clear that she had no thoughts towards him at all. But he still anticipated her faithfulness. That had been the least of his expectations.
And yet he had never really known her. Perhaps she was the sort of young woman who enjoyed dalliances with other men. And perhaps that had not even been a new occurrence. What if she had known that shopkeeper from before their marriage? What if she had entertained a relationship with the man?
In the duke’s mind, he pictured a tall, handsome young man surrounded by the luxuries of gowns that he could give young women in exchange for their affections.
He knew his worries to be imaginings, and yet they grasped him as fact despite himself. His friend’s warnings had taken on a power of their own and the duke could no longer resist them.
Pouring a third glass of brandy, the duke swallowed this one in a swift and angry gulp. He did not like being made a fool. He had given his wife too much leniency.
The duke finally stood and realized the brandy had begun to work in his veins, but he wanted to get some rest.
In the hall, he saw his wife moving to the parlor from the second floor. He assumed she had been in her room, but now was going to enjoy some time with the things he had provided for her.
“Your Grace,” she curtseyed.
The duke felt the wisp of fog creeping into his mind from the brandy but held himself in a stately manner.
“Miss Caulfield,” he replied, forgetting to use her now married name just as she had forgotten—or deliberately chosen not to use—his more familiar term.
He saw a look of confusion pass over her face, but she turned slowly and made her way towards the parlor as he went slowly up the stairs.
The duke was frustrated at having not conversed with her more, or even confronted his wife. And yet he knew that it would not be wise to do so. He had no evidence against her and nothing with which to accuse her. He could not very well make a point to wound her feelings as she had wounded his.
The duke sat at the desk in his room and opened a volume he had begun reading the previous day. While his mind was entirely distracted elsewhere, he tried desperately to focus on the text, but his thoughts brewed with the possibilities of infidelity.
If his wife had truly acted in such a horrible way, could he ever forget it?
Chapter 21
Two weeks had passed and Thea noticed that there was something very different in two areas of her life.
The first was in the home she shared with her husband. He had changed somehow and was growing colder and angrier by the day. Oftentimes, two or three days would pass in which Thea did not see the Duke of Sandon at all. He would not come to mealtimes but eat in his study or be out at his gentlemen’s club for long hours.
In many ways, Thea did not mind this. She cared very little to spend time with the greedy, aloof man. He cared a great deal more for his finances than he did for his home and the people therein.
The second thing which had taken a change was in her own family.
Delia had gone to London to be a governess and Thea had been deeply saddened to say farewell. It was a difficult goodbye as London was farther than her home from where she now lived. And Delia would be subject to her employer’s schedule which would make it difficult for her to get away and come for visits.
Thea knew that she and her husband would likely have to attend a trip now and then to London for this ball or that party among his wealthy friends. But even there, there would be no guarantee of seeing Delia.
And yet, that had not been the greatest change that had taken place within her family.
Thea learned that her husband had arranged a meeting for Mr. Caulfield with a business associate. Her father had contributed to starting a new trade business. She was amazed when she heard this, having no idea that her father had an interest in trade, nor any knowledge of where he may have gotten the money which he used.
In just the briefest amount of time, her father was seeing grand returns from the business.
Thea could not quite wrap her mind around it. How had her father gone from his previous lack of wealth to suddenly having enough to spare here and there?
He had already made plans to move his family into a grander house, but was waiting until he found just the right spot. Georgette had told her that she did not wish to leave their village, even if it was rather unfashionable.
Thea could not imagine what they might be thinking. She hoped to see her father, but it was her mother who came to speak with her in person at her home that day.
“When did father begin this business? I knew nothing of it,” Thea questioned.
“Nor did I. But he tells me that he is just three weeks in and has already seen such financial return from it that he hopes to partner in another trade entirely.
“He says that it will bring an entirely new wealth and that he has been advised to partner in more than one company to avoid…something. I don’t know. He spoke a great deal of risks, but I know nothing of these matters,” her mother confessed.
“Nor I…” Thea replied in concern. She found herself thinking about what sort of greed her father might fall into from having all of these opportunities that had been presented by her husband.
“We are doing very well now, Thea,” her mother commented. “I am utterly thankful to your husband for enabling your father to have this opportunity. Do you know that he is the most joyful I have ever seen him? He has such pride in his ability to care for our family now.”
For this, Thea was thankful. She began to think of how she wished that her father had found this opportunity earlier, before she had to go and marry the duke. She thought about how grand their life would have been if they were all still together in her family home.
Delia would be with them. She would be able to avoid marriage until she had found someone worth marrying. And Georgette could have had the guardianship of her sisters for just a little bit longer rather than the indulgence of her parents.
Thea wished she could return home. She wished she could come back to the house long enough to see what life would have been like.
But for all her dreaming, she could not. She would be forced to remain in the home of the duke. She would stay with him and watch as he allowed greed to seep into the walls of every room that she decorated.
The house was nearly finished now and she gave her mother a tour.
“Yes, your father was pleased you chose this fabric. He said that it was a very high quality and that he also made a good profit on it,” her mother commented, feeling along one curtain.
Once more, Thea thought about how greed was crowding into her family’s home as well and that her father had been so overwhelmed by his greed now that he was even seeking to indulge in the new wealth of his daughter.
She tried to push her thoughts aside, but they would not budge. The duke had infiltrated too much of her life and even as he was consistently away from her, she felt suffocated by him.
Had he truly overwhelmed her own family so? Had he a need to ruin even her father? Had he a need to be in every place she sought to avoid him?
Thea continued to show her mother room after room before they made their way to the dining hall for a bit of lunch. Her mother appear
ed disappointed that it was not so grand as the feast they had previously held when the family came. Mrs. Caulfield was evidently growing accustomed to certain tastes and Thea could not reconcile it at all with what she knew of her family.
In all, she found herself unfortunately prepared to say farewell to her mother. When Mrs. Caulfield departed, Thea gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, but sent her on her way with little thought to it.
It was not that she was unhappy about her family’s good fortune. She was simply confused as to the suddenness of it and how it had occurred when Delia was now gone and she was now married. If all had come to pass sooner, and these things had been avoided, she would have been very joyous about the change.