Page 41 of The Duke's Rebellious Love
“Not that I am aware of,” the earl replied.
“Then Mr. Goudge has some inkling of what has happened?”
“No, and I have spoken to the young man,” he replied. “I took the liberty of breaking the engagement on your behalf, with no dishonour on anyone’s part. We agreed that settlements and the like could not be matched to everyone’s satisfaction. It will be so dry and uninteresting that no one will think any more of it. At least, that is my hope.”
Clara was not certain what Hurstbourne said was entirely true. After all, there was nothing thebeau mondeliked more than gossip, although there was the slight comfort that as a wallflower, Clara supposed she would not hold the interest of the scandal rags for long.
Hurstbourne moved closer to his wife, his hand soothing down her back in a soft rhythmic touch, which brought a smile to Isabel’s face.
“I hope it was not too costly, my dear,” Isabel said quietly, and Hurstbourne shook his head hastily.
Guilt rumbled through Clara. She suspected her brother-in-law had paid handsomely to free her, and how she might repay him was beyond her abilities. Little emotion stirred in her for Mr. Goudge. He clearly could not have been too perturbed about her—yet another man who did not love her, despite his supposed desire to wed her. What was it about her that rendered her unlovable? She was pretty and well-read. Yes, on occasion she could be argumentative, but surely no more so than Lady Verne or Mrs. Trawler.
“I refer…” Hurstbourne paused and then looked between the two of them, so uncomfortable Clara wondered if he were ill. “Woolwich implied an interlude that well, might… oh hell.” Hurstbourne reached up and adjusted his collar, clearly wishing he was anywhere but here. “Woolwich said you might discover yourself to be with child. His child.”
In the pained silence, Isabel raised one arched eyebrow, a fuller understanding now dawning on her. Hastily, she reached across and patted her husband’s hand, hoping to dispel his discomfort. “It is best if I talk to my sister alone.”
“It was not done from maliciousness,” Hurstbourne said. “I was thinking within the next few days of returning to Sussex and the estate. It is time to get some fresh country air, and I, for one, am keen to leave the oppressiveness of Town.” With that, Hurstbourne slipped from the room, leaving them alone once more.
Embarrassment tumbled through her. It did not matter that she knew for a fact Isabel and Hurstbourne had been intimate before they wed, and Prudence and her marquess had been too. It was the fact she was unwed that counted against her. On top of that, it was she who refused the duke. If she had more sense, she would be desperately accepting Woolwich’s offer and would be forever grateful for his attention.
“He is very tall,” Isabel remarked into the frosty quiet of the room.
Clara, who had been close to tears, looked up at her prim sister’s comment and giggled. Pleased that it cut the tension neatly.
“I would have that, well… I am sure Mother would have discussed your marriage night or would have wished to prepare you,” Isabel said. “Then again, I did not find her instructions especially useful. Or accurate.”
“Given my best friend is married to a former rake, and all my friends are matrons—”
“Not to mention all those books you read,” Isabel added.
“I was not so unprepared as I might have been.”
“Then you were luckier than me,” Isabel said. “I hope His Grace was kind to you.”
Kindness was not the word that Clara would have used to describe what had happened between Woolwich and her. She was not entirely sure she wanted to share any details of precisely what had happened with her older sister. That night was passionate, wild, gripping, all-consuming. It had been a secret, too, until Jasper had decided to tell. Yet another reason for her to feel hurt and betrayed by him. Here he was, demanding and insisting that his way was the only way, and it infuriated Clara immensely. Presumably, if she had agreed, much of their marriage would be the same—with Jasper convinced of his own wisdom and never listening to her opinion. Lord above, the man vexed her past endurance, and yet she wanted to see Jasper just to tell him so. And when she did, she would also add that she never wished to see him again.
“You look rather distracted,” Isabel remarked. Clara rushed forward to embrace her older sister, feeling as if she were close to being a child again.
“I love him,” she admitted into Isabel’s arms. The confession was painful, ripped from her unwillingly. Everything would be easier if she did not love Woolwich. She could have left him and married another were it not for her treacherous heart that longed for Jasper despite everything. Pulling back from Isabel, she stared at her sister, hoping to somehow find an explanation or a way of stopping these feelings. “I love him, even when I know it is hopeless and he cannot ever care for me.”
“Hopeless?” Isabel frowned. “I do not understand. The duke wishes to marry you, and you love him. What could be better?” She was smiling now, warmth lighting up her face. “I thought perhaps there was only attraction or a moment of madness.” Isabel cupped Clara’s cheek. “You say you love him, and yet you do not wish to be his wife?”
“You love Hurstbourne?” Clara asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes,” Isabel said. “I love my husband dearly, but I do not see what—”
“Can you think of anything worse than being married to him, knowing he did not, nor was there any possibility that he could ever love you back?”
Isabel’s expression fell, and understanding dawned on her.
“There are worse things,” Isabel said finally. “Marriage to a brute is worse, and I do not think Woolwich capable of such cruelty. He was able to forgive his late wife as they had Beau together, an act many men would never do.”
To this, Clara nodded. No, Woolwich would not be guilty of deliberate brutality. It was more her own sanity she feared were she to marry him, forever dependent on a man who could never feel as she felt for him.
“Yet,” Isabel continued, a tiny amount of fear entering her voice, “being an unwed mother would not be a fate I would wish for you.”
“If I find I am with child, I will wed him,” Clara said. She did not think she had the strength to consider bucking convention so much to be a single mother. A dismal fate to be played out if that were the case, and how women were treated in such cases. “That particular hardship I might be able to tolerate myself, but I would not disgrace you or the earl or mother and father with my shame.”
