Page 42 of His Unruly Duchess
“Yes…” she murmured, eyes shining.
“Then perhaps you will findhimat this gathering tonight,” he said. “Of course, short of me dying, you will not be able to marry him. But I want you to have everything you desire, Caro, in whatever capacity is possible. Any children you have will be raised as mine, will inherit as if they were mine, for it was a mere chance that I inherited the dukedom in the first place. I have no emotional bond to it as I did Greenfield.”
Her gaze frosted over, and she slowly drew her hand out of his, resting both hands primly in her lap. “You are too generous, Max, but do you not think that is also somewhat insulting?”
“In what respect?” He missed the feeling of his fingers interlaced with hers, and basking in the warmth of her eyes. But perhaps that was for the best, to miss briefly what could never be his permanently.
She furrowed her brow. “That I would, even with your permission, make you a cuckold. This might not have been my dream, as you said, but I have dignity, and I have honor. I would not be a traitor to the vows I made. That is not how I was raised.”
“But you should not be held to vows that were made under duress,” he insisted, bemused by her unexpected desire to be faithful. And twice as bemused by the feeling of relief that gave him.
She sniffed, turning her gaze away to watch the London landscape roll by the window—uniform townhouses, pretty private parks, leafy streets, evening vendors on the corners selling posies and ribbons, and hardy lavender to sweeten the scent inside carriages.
“If you feel that way,” she said thickly, “then perhaps we should not be putting on a united ruse for society. Instead, perhaps we should spend the next few weeks discussing an annulment.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The short carriage ride to the evening event might have been more uncomfortable than the carriage ride from the church to Harewood Court, which felt like a lifetime ago. Max had not responded to Caroline’s remark about an annulment, but she did not trust the silence. Indeed, she thought she could hear the cogs turning in his mind, considering her suggestion.
Why should I care if he does think about it? Would that not be the ideal solution to this farce of a marriage?
Her thoughts were bitter, but her insides were in a different, more nuanced sort of turmoil, ricocheting back and forth between what the old Caroline had wanted and what the married Caroline wanted.
For one thing, she had begun to believe that their marriage wasnota farce, seeking out his companionship at any opportunity, seeing him in a new light with every new morning, discovering that his handsomeness was not the only charming thing abouthim. The past few weeks had been some of the most relaxed and happy of her entire life, and it was not merely because of the cat.
But he does not want me. He is trying to foist me off on some other man.Hecannot wait for the two months to be over.
It was her debut night all over again. She had started the evening as giddy as could be, looking forward to what was to come, excited to be stepping out into society in her new position in a gown she had been waiting to wear, and then Max had ruined it in a single conversation.
Worst of all, for just a second, she had been so certain that he was going to confess to her. Not love, necessarily, but a declaration of some affection at least. And she, in her apparent naivety, had willed it, had wanted it, would have welcomed it, in that fleeting madness of her romantic mind.
If the first gown I see tonight is… green, then he will request the annulment.She held onto that thought with some trepidation as the carriage came to a standstill outside a grand townhouse, far larger than either Daniel’s or Max’s. It was positively palatial, a snaking line of carriages moving slowly as they let out their passengers.
“Anna had to intervene onthisgentleman’s behalf?” Caroline gasped, not meaning to speak out loud.
Max mustered a hollow chuckle. “Albert is not what one would call socially adept. A pleasant fellow, but when he came within fifty paces of a lady, he would freeze, turn alarmingly red, and allof his intellect would abandon him, turning him into a babbling fool at best, a mute at worst.” He gestured up at the townhouse. “He had a lucky inheritance, too. Elevated from a reverend’s son to the title of Viscount, as he was the last male heir with any claim to it.”
“And the lady Anna found for him?” Caroline saw no reason not to keep the conversation going, for it was easy territory for the pair.
“A governess. She worked for a family in his father’s parish and was just about the only woman he had ever spoken to without tripping over his tongue,” Max replied. “He enlisted Anna’s help, he told her that he had loved the governess for many years, but she had gone elsewhere to join a different family, and Anna did the rest. As it turned out, the governess loved him too.”
Caroline smiled wryly. “Before or after she found out he was a Viscount with a London residence twice as large as a duke’s?”
“She did not know he was a Viscount. Anna and Albert constructed a ruse, arranging several meetings before Albert proposed, where he made no mention of his new fortune and title,” Max explained. “She thought she was marrying the reverend’s son she had adored for years, so it came as quite a surprise when he revealed the truthatthe wedding. That she had also been elevated, from a simple governess to the Viscountess of Mowbury.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Caroline murmured, as the carriage eked along to the porch steps of the townhouse.
“I thought you were a great champion of love emerging from all situations and circumstances,” he replied, his voice neither teasing nor serious, but somewhere in between.
Caroline leveled a stern gaze at him. “I was.”
“Well, it is the truth. They are known to be one of the most nauseatingly besotted couples in theton. Unusual, and not to everyone’s tastes because ofhowthey attained their positions, but at least they have one another to weather any gossip and their unwavering love to withstand anything that may come.” Max shrugged and sat back, humming to himself.
“And I thoughtyoudid not believe in love,” Caroline pointed out, still embarrassed that she had thought she might get a confession from him.
She should have known better than to let herself be wooed by soft eyes, a caressing touch, the flit of his gaze to her lips, and a closeness thatshehad inflicted onhim. Indeed, she should have known better than to think that he was actually hers when he mentioned at least once every few days that he was still endeavoring to find a residence for her sole use.
He looked at her then, with something akin to regret in his eyes. “When it is undeniable,Icannot deny its occasional existence. It is there between Percival and my sister. It is there between your brother and his wife. It is there between the ladies of the Spinsters’ Club and all their husbands.Thatis why I call them witches; to have so many exceptions cannot be coincidence.”
