Page 58 of The Lady Who Said No to the Duke
Hal and Marcus had removed themselves, presumably to inns in St Albans.Marcus had been gallant and gracious, expressed his regret that his suit had not prospered, waved aside her thanks with the comment that he had been honoured to be of some small help.
Hal had said little, merely kissed her hand, shaken her father’s and promised to call when they were all back in London.
There had not even been anything unspoken—no pressure of her hand, no understanding look.Her friend Hal Forrest seemed to have vanished and in his place was an unbending and utterly correct duke.
What have I done?But what else could I have done?
Then it stuck her.What else couldhehave done?Left her to marry the Earl of Porchester, of course.That would have been a perfectly acceptable solution—marriage to a man of rank and fortune whom Hal clearly trusted, or he would not have allowed him to join the rescue.
That treacherous flicker that kept giving her hope stirred to life again and she nipped it as firmly as she would acandle flame.Hal was deeply honourable, was her friend and had always been prepared to marry her.Without false modesty he had offered her the choice that would give her the greatest material benefit and the prospect of life with a man whom she already knew very well indeed.
Hal would not suffer for this, she thought.He had been prepared from the beginning to marry her as a matter of convenience.He had been in London long enough to have passed all the eligible young ladies under review and did not appear to have fallen for any of them and she would make a perfectly adequate duchess.
A very good duchess, she corrected herself.Marriage to a high-ranking nobleman was what she had been trained for all her life, although she had not realised just which one.None of what that involved concerned her.Even motherhood, although that gave her a slight qualm, was really daunting.She was fit and healthy and Mama appeared to have managed five pregnancies resulting in healthy children and without her own well-being suffering.
No, it was what was involved in making those children that made her tense, the intimacy of the marriage bed and the day-to-day closeness of domestic life.How did she navigate those without revealing how she felt about Hal?Without him realising and pitying her.
He would be kind, she knew.Perhaps he might try to pretend that he returned her love, and that would be awful, because she was certain she would be able to tell and then she would have to pretend to believe him and they would be caught in a horrible game of emotional playacting.
Thea slid down under the covers and closed her eyes.Hal had come for her.‘I will always—’he had begun to say when Papa had interrupted her.Had he meant to say that hewould always come for her, care for her?Or had he meant that he would always come to the aid of any lady in distress?
The only possible way to survive this uncertainty was to pretend that she did not love Hal, that she only wanted a return to the friendship that had grown between them at Godmama’s house.She could forgive him for all those years of neglect, she knew that.It was the deception that she had found impossible to accept, and now she was setting out to deceive him.
Not that Hal would be pleased if she told him the truth, she was certain of it.A one-sided love was an embarrassment that a man would go a long way to avoid, she was sure.She should accept that he and Godmama thought they had acted for the best and put that behind her.She and Hal would begin again, on a fresh, clean, page.She would manage, she told herself.A marriage of convenience would be all right.
Except for the nights, murmured that little voice in her head, the one that purred when she let herself look at Hal and think of them both not as duke and lady, but man and woman.Except for the bed where everything is stripped away…
* * *
The journey back to London with Papa was not very soothing to Thea’s sleep-deprived nerves.
‘It all depends on how your mother manages it,’ he fretted.‘If she has appeared calm, if the Dowager has dealt with Lady Severns and that cicisbeo of hers, then all will be well.Nobody would believe that you could have been running off with Linton one moment and announcing your betrothal to a duke the next.’
Thea was more worried about Lady Helena and what her desire for revenge might inspire.On the other hand, Halcould very easily blight Helena’s reputation and surely she knew that, she reassured herself.
‘Absolutely, Papa,’ she said.‘No one would believe that the Duke would offer for me if there was any hint of scandal.’
‘Yes, there is that.We must make certain the news is spread far and wide as soon as possible.’
Aristocratic betrothals were not announced on the Court pages of the newspapers, although marriages, births and deaths were.The presumption was that those who needed to know about an engagement would have the information without reading about it in the newssheets.But Mama would inform all her closest friends—in strictest confidence, of course—and they would tell theirs, and within a day the whole of London society would know.And all the fashionable dressmakers, milliners, cordwainers, jewellers and the hairdressers who attended fashionable ladies in the privacy of their own homes would be in a flurry of excitement.
A duke marrying meant, in all probability, an expansion of his household, a refurbishment of his establishments.The owners of elegant furniture and china showrooms would be on alert and those who employed servants of the finest quality would be keeping a nervous eye on their lady’s maids, butlers and chefs in case they were lured away.A shower of elegant trade cards would flutter down on both households before the wedding.
Thea told herself that she would enjoy the shopping.There was a trousseau to order and all the arrangements for the wedding to be made.Mama would be in her element.
‘Will I be married at Wiverbrook Hall?’she asked.‘Or in London?’
‘I imagine that Leamington will want to use LeamingCastle,’ her father replied, looking up from his tablets, where he was jotting notes with some difficulty as they jolted over a bad stretch of road.‘Their chapel is famous and the house will accommodate the very large number of guests easily enough.’
Thea had never visited Leaming, but she had seen prints.Once a Norman stronghold, the only trace of the first castle that remained was the grassy mound some distance from the present mansion.It had once been crowned by a stone tower, but now just a few jagged remnants were left.
She recalled that a Tudor Vernier, on being raised to the dukedom, had abandoned the old castle and built a fine moated house some distance away.Subsequent generations had expanded, altered, filled in the moat, added more storeys and built towers, until now Leaming Castle looked more like a palace than a home that anyone actually lived in.And it would be her home now.
Thea told herself that it would be a fascinating place, that she would enjoy exploring it and discovering its history.If, that was, she ever had a moment free, although there would be a very superior steward, a butler and a housekeeper to deal with the small army of staff.
Did she mind not marrying from her home?No, she decided, the place did not matter, only who she was marrying, and a ducal wedding was never going to be an opportunity for a cosy family celebration.
It would all be very interesting, she told herself.Exciting.Challenging.If only that image of a great bed did not keep intruding whenever she tried to imagine what her future held.
