“How so?”
Finally, he turned to consider his friend. “I may have given her reason to feel inadequate in a certain, intimate aspect of our marriage.”
“Did you tell her she is plain? That’s rather callous even for me.” Sebastian’s voice was dry with scorn.
Dax waved away his accusation. “No, I’m afraid it’s far worse than that.”
Sebastian only raised an eyebrow.
Dax surveyed the members of the ton that clustered about him, ensuring they were rather alone in their conversation. Just to be safe, he took a step closer to Sebastian.
“I became somewhat over eager on our wedding night, and I gave the indication that I may not have been enjoying myself.”
Sebastian’s laugh was full of humor now. “You told the poor girl to stop, didn’t you?”
“Something like that,” Dax muttered.
“And a woman already condemned as a wallflower took this at its worst possible meaning.”
Dax could only nod.
Sebastian drew a deep breath. “You’ve gone and done it now. Isn’t that what they say?”
Dax shuffled his feet. “I suppose it is.”
“I can’t say I did not warn you.” Sebastian studied him, and Dax grew uncomfortable under his friend’s stare.
“I hadn’t realized what a fatal flaw there was in my plan.”
Sebastian turned away, feigning disinterest as a few people shuffled too close as someone pressed through the crowd. When the space around them emptied the slightest bit, Sebastian turned back to him.
“And what have you done to correct this misunderstanding?”
“Nothing.”
Sebastian’s glance was sharp and fast.
Dax frowned. “I wasn’t sure how to go about it without making it worse.”
“You could start by explaining why it is you said what you did. The girl is unskilled in this matter.” He stopped short and peered at Dax directly. “The girl is unskilled, yes?”
“Did you just insinuate that my wife was not a virgin upon our marriage?”
“I don’t see why such a matter may be one of assumed conclusion. Who am I to say what kind of activities your wife engages in?”
“Please stop suggesting my wife is a woman of immoral fiber.”
Sebastian scoffed. “Your wife is hardly of immoral fiber. I’ve never seen a woman with more solid values and an intrinsic sense of good.”
Dax was left momentarily speechless by his friend’s words as he’d never heard Sebastian pay anyone such a compliment.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he finally said. “That doesn’t help the current situation I find myself in.”
“You should be honest with her. Tell her how you feel.”
“Tell her how I feel?” Dax had to struggle to keep his voice down. “The entire point of this farce was to marry a woman so ugly I would never be in danger of falling in love with her.”
He sucked in a breath to calm himself and turned his gaze on Sebastian. Only Sebastian was no longer looking at him. Instead, his attention was fixed just over Dax’s shoulder.
Cold dread seeped through him.
He turned, following the line of Sebastian’s gaze to find his wife standing just behind him, her arm slightly raised as if she had just been about to touch his arm to gain his attention.
“Eliza.” The word rushed from him like an oath on the last bit of air he could successfully pull into his lungs.
His mind melted, one thought colliding into another.
How much had she heard?
Her lips were parted, and her eyes were wide. Her chest heaved with stilted breaths.
She’d heard everything.
She’d heard him call her ugly. She’d heard him call their marriage a farce.
She’d heard him say he could never fall in love with her.
He wanted to touch her. If he could only grab hold of her, he could keep her from falling apart in the middle of a packed ballroom at the feet of a society so critical it would take pleasure in tearing her limb from limb at her weakest moment.
But he couldn’t touch her. He couldn’t make himself draw air, let alone move his body. He could speak to her. He could reassure her that she’d misheard him.
Except she hadn’t misheard. He’d said plainly exactly what his cold, heartless plan had been.
Only it wasn’t anything like that.
What had Sebastian just said? Tell her the truth.
“Eliza, please let me explain.”
She didn’t move. He didn’t know if she had even blinked in the seconds he’d stood before her. Her arm still hung suspended between them, her small hand reaching.
“Eliza—”
“No.”
The word was so soft he almost missed it. One single word that weakened his knees, that dropped his stomach to his toes, that rendered his heart useless.
She dropped her hand, and it was like a guillotine coming down on his neck. One final blow to end him.
She shook her head, the movement gentle and with a painful grace.
“No,” she repeated, louder this time and with an edge of defiance.
Then she gathered her skirts. He watched her do it, each pulse of her arms, each curl of fists, registering with painful exactness.
“No.” This final word was direct, and it hit its mark solidly in his chest.
She met his gaze directly. Her lips had firmed, her jaw tightened. Her eyes—God, her eyes were like daggers, piercing right through his useless heart.
She didn’t say another word. She turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Chapter 6
Ugly.
Farce.
Never be in danger of falling in love.
The words played over and over in a sick loop in her head as she wedged herself between bodies, pushing ever farther into the crowd. Each person she put between herself and her husband was a weight lifted from her lungs. She sucked in air as if there were no more to be had, and she was some kind of guilty thief.
She tumbled from the throng when she reached the periphery. She’d ended up along the refreshment tables, and a few matrons loitered about, sipping at lemonade and commenting on how their slippers pinched their feet. The chaperones should be along here somewhere.
Jo and Louisa had pulled her aside as soon as she’d entered the ballroom, and she couldn’t have been more grateful for them. They’d distracted her from her unending torment and pulled the tension from her shoulders when she had thought it would live there permanently.
But now she needed more than Jo and Louisa. She needed a savior. Someone who could get her out of here, away from this man who had so soundly shredded what little confidence she had.
Her eyes were dry, but her hands shook, her skirts rustling as she pressed once more into the crowd, thrusting herself in the direction where the chaperones must be. Once more she broke free into a lighter space where matrons milled about a line of chairs, exchanging bits of gossip.
There was Viv, resplendent in a gown of sapphire silk that set her hair alight with shots of fire. Eliza rushed forward, heedless of the stares and gawks. She grasped her sister’s arm, and when she turned, Eliza needed to say only one thing.
“Viv.”
She poured all of her earnestness into saying her sister’s name. All of the hurt. All of her anger. All of her despair.
Viv didn’t ask any questions. She didn’t even return her sister’s greeting. She took Eliza’s arm and stormed into the crowd. The crowd always parted for the Duchess of Margate. People fell away to the side either because of the woman’s status or because of the expression of utter domination on her face.
Hell hath no fury after all.
Viv understood what Eliza had poured into her name without having to ask. Viv had felt it, Eliza knew, because Viv had lived it. And Viv would seek revenge for any woman who had endured the humiliation only a husband could wrought.
Unerringly, she found Andrew ensconced in a g
roup of men earnestly discussing the mining situation in Wales and again, she needn’t say anything. Andrew saw the look on her face, and his gaze pivoted, capturing Eliza’s.
Andrew had always been kind to her, a fierce and loyal brother, but she had never seen the hard look that overcame him then. It stilled Eliza’s hands and a full breath of air cascaded into her lungs.
Andrew excused himself and stepped in front of Viv, parting the crowd even more effectively than the Duchess of Margate had. It was only seconds until they spilled into the cool air outside, trickling along the line of carriages still emptying people onto the front steps of the Devonshire estate.
A footman scurried down the pavement to fetch the Ravenwood carriage, and Eliza watched him go, mesmerized by his hurried movements as air, precious air seeped back into her lungs, revived her senses, and started to clear away the jumble of her mind.
“What’s happened?” Andrew’s tone was icy and unyielding.
“Andrew, not here.” Viv kept her hand on Eliza’s arm.
It needn’t matter what they said. She still couldn’t speak. Ashbourne’s words played out over and over again in her head.
Ugly.
Farce.
Never be in danger of falling in love.
Without warning, the tears came, hot and relentless, pouring down her face in ugly streams. The sobs came next, wracking her body until she was bent over, only Viv’s arms holding her up. Andrew entered her line of vision as she hurtled toward the pavement on a vicious sob. Viv said something, but she couldn’t understand. Her body was overcome with so much emotion, it ripped her physically apart.
Only one sound had the power to stop it, and it cut through the night like a whip.
Ashbourne’s voice as he yelled her name. “Eliza!”
Viv turned behind her. Eliza could feel her sister’s body turn against her back, likely to peer up at the steps where’d they just come, where Ashbourne likely stood. Andrew moved out of her line of sight, a sharp march to the left. But Eliza couldn’t turn and look. She didn’t want to see him. She couldn’t see him. It might just kill her.
Carriage wheels rolled to a stop in front of her. She recognized the colors, the crest, and she yearned toward their familiarity. Viv’s arms tightened, and Eliza gave a strangled sound. It must have drawn Viv’s attention because her arms loosened, allowing Eliza to spill toward the now open door of the Ravenwood carriage.
But before she made it, the sound of footsteps ringing on pavement met her ears, but it was cut off by the sound of her brother’s voice.
It sent an icy cold finger scraping down her spine. She’d never heard her brother sound so menacing.
“Stay away from her, Ashbourne, or I’ll be forced to call you out.”
Viv hustled her into the carriage, but Eliza was suddenly hit with the need to turn, to find Ashbourne.
He stood on the steps of the Devonshire estate, his hand raised in her direction as if he were reaching out for her, his face a mask of contorted pain. The man he had been speaking to in the ballroom rushed down the stairs behind him, his hands reaching for Ashbourne as if to hold him back. Her gaze skittered, searching.
Ah, Andrew. Ashbourne wasn’t paying attention to her brother and at any moment the two men would collide if Ashbourne wasn’t stopped.
But Ashbourne was only looking at her.
The anguish on his face sliced through her despair, and she faltered on the step of the carriage. Only Viv was there to press her forward, to push her to the bench where she could finally collapse. Andrew sprang into the carriage, and they were underway before Eliza could speak.
“Tosser,” Andrew muttered as soon as the door snapped shut.
“Andrew.” Viv’s tone was scolding.
“Well, he obviously is one.” He must have gestured at Eliza, but she wasn’t paying attention.
She had her face pressed to the cool glass of the window as she tried to calm her nerves, steady her breathing.
Viv’s hand on her shoulder had her starting.
“Eliza, darling, whatever happened?” Her voice was so soothing, more tears came to Eliza’s eyes.
She shook her head, not yet ready to speak.
The ride to Ravenwood House was tense and awkward, but she didn’t care. She didn’t know whether she wanted to upset her stomach or crawl into bed and never come out.
She couldn’t do either of those things, she knew. As soon as she had recovered herself, she must return to Ashbourne House for Henry. She couldn’t leave him there, but right now, she couldn’t have set foot outside of the carriage if her very life depended on it.
When they arrived at Ravenwood, Viv alighted first and pulled Eliza down with her. It wasn’t until they were safely in the house that Eliza realized Andrew wasn’t behind them.
She gave Viv a questioning look.
“He’s gone back for Louisa and Jo. God knows what they’ll do if they hear of what happened before Andrew can collect them.”
Eliza didn’t respond. She just allowed herself to be trundled into the drawing room where only a week before she’d experienced her first kiss.
A kiss shared with a man who thought her so ugly he would be incapable of falling in love with her.
She winced as the words traveled through her head yet again. She should have known. It was too much to believe a duke would actually wish to marry her. She’d thought their union had promise if Ashbourne hadn’t sought her hand for her money. That was at least something.
But this…
He had called it a farce.
Viv pressed a glass into her hands and forced her to sip. The brandy was hot and vile, but she choked it down until warmth spread through her stomach. Viv took the glass back.
“What happened?” she asked again.
“Did you see the man standing behind Ashbourne on the Devonshire steps?”
Viv nodded. “Sebastian Fielding, the Duke of Waverly.” A line appeared between her eyes. “Did he do something to you?”
Eliza shook her head so quickly the room swam.
“No, no, it’s not that. Ashbourne was speaking to him when I went to find him.” She swallowed, pain capturing her voice as she tried to relay what she had overheard. “Ashbourne told this man he’d had a plan for his—” Her voice trembled and stopped at the word farce.
Her marriage was a farce?
It was one thing for Ashbourne to not desire her. It was another to think her entire marriage, the one thing she dreamed of and expected never to happen, was a lark to her husband.
She swallowed and closed her eyes, forcing the words out. “Ashbourne said the entire point of his farce of a marriage was to marry someone so ugly he wouldn’t be in danger of falling in love with her.”
She winced at Viv’s sharp intake of breath, and the tears came again. She tried to suck them back in with a hiccupy sob, but once begun, she couldn’t stop. Viv’s arms were around her in a moment, her hand pressed to the back of Eliza’s neck until she was fully cocooned in her sister’s embrace.
Viv made shushing noises and said something about men being arseholes, but Eliza couldn’t really make it out over her own cries. Finally, the tears seemed to drain out of her, and there was nothing left but a hiccup or two. Viv eased her back onto the sofa, and Eliza carefully met her gaze.
She’d expected Viv to show concern, but instead her features were riddled with confusion.
“What is it?” Eliza asked, her voice soupy with shed tears.
Viv shook her head. “It just doesn’t make sense.”
Eliza frowned and gestured to herself. “Of course, it makes sense. I am not so naive as to believe any man would find me appealing.”
Viv’s own frown was quick. “I wasn’t speaking of your looks, Eliza. Ashbourne’s actions do not match his words.”
“What do you mean?”
Viv pushed to her feet, pacing away down the length of the drawing room.
“Ashbourne called your marriage a farce. He said he planned
to marry someone so ugly he would not find her appealing enough to fall in love with her.” She paused to eye Eliza. “Those were his exact words?”
Eliza nodded. “Yes, that’s what he told that man, Waverly.”
Viv put her hands to her hips. “Eliza, why would a man who felt incapable of falling in love with you chase after you through a crowded society ball when he thought he’d hurt your feelings?” She came back to Eliza and perched on the sofa beside her. “A man doesn’t chase after a woman he doesn’t care about.”
There was something deep in Viv’s eyes, and Eliza realized her sister spoke of herself. When Viv had left, Margate had not come after her. A new kind of sadness clutched Eliza, and she took her sister’s hand into her own.
“But what about what he said?”
“Did he specifically say you were ugly?”
“No.” Eliza spoke the word carefully, trying hard to push the memory of her wedding night from her mind. “But wouldn’t he have selected me because I fit whatever criteria he had in mind?”
Viv seemed to dismiss this. “Has Ashbourne done anything else to demonstrate how he might feel about you?”
Her wedding night sprang to the fore almost immediately, but she paused, her mind tripping over another memory.
“He purchased a sofa to be placed in my rooms at Ashbourne House for Henry.”
Viv sat back. “He bought a sofa for your dog?”
Eliza nodded.
Viv pursed her lips before speaking. “Eliza, you once told me there should be an understanding between a husband and wife. For better or worse, you are wed to this man. Have you told Ashbourne what you want from your marriage?”
She opened her mouth to say she didn’t want anything, but that wasn’t true. She wanted a baby. She wanted a family. She wanted children to love and cherish and nurture. She wanted to share her life with someone.
“No.” A calm she had not felt in days washed through her at the single word.
“Then I think you need to tell him.” Viv squeezed her hand, and Eliza felt a surge of strength.
She would tell Ashbourne. She would tell Ashbourne exactly what she wanted. He could have his farce of a marriage, but she was going to get something in return.
The Duke and the Wallflower Page 8