Page 54 of Rules for Heiresses
Perhaps sheshouldhave informed her husband of her whereabouts or that she was leaving London. Her jaw clenched. No, that cold-blooded rotter didn’t deserve to be told anything. It was too late to do anything about it now, and she was already there. Might as well push forward with living the wonderful life of Ravenna Chase, impetuous heiress and notorious hothead, estranged duchess and resounding dimwit.
Her fingers twisted in her skirts, her chin rising high. She would not think ofhimor the equal parts blissful and dreadful night they’d shared almost two weeks ago in the conservatory. Two weeks of complete and total avoidance. The first handful of days, she’d pleaded illness due to the arrival of her menses—which had saddened her for no particular reason though she bitterly imagined that her husband would be pleased after his thoroughly sensible and prudent midcoitus precautions. She had barricaded herself in her rooms, reading any salaciously gothic novel she could find. Besides sending a fretful Rawley to check on her once or twice, the duke had not seemed troubled by her absence or her silence.
After that, she’d enlisted her lady’s maid, Colleen, who seemed to have taken a shine to the duke’s dour and unwilling valet Peabody, to inform her when her husband had departed for his daytime activities so she could get some fresh air. She took breakfast in her chambers and filled her days by entertaining callers, practicing her pianoforte, and perfecting her needlepoint—Lady Holding would besoproud—all the tediously necessary accomplishments of a lady of her station. At night, she’d attempted to keep herself busy, though the endless whirl of musicales, theater outings, and soirees had left her miserable.
And unquestionably lonely.
The sad, pathetic truth was she missed Courtland, though he didn’t seem to miss her in the same way. Her husband had fallen back to his hard, heartless ways with little care for anyone around him.
Not even her.
That had been made clear at the Hartford ball only last night. Peabody had delivered a curt message that the duke had been held up by business at the last minute and would not be able to escort her. In a rash display of temper, Ravenna had gone alone. Courtland had arrived sometime later, his blank-faced mien giving away nothing, though his eyes when they’d landed on her had burned with an internal fire. He hadn’t danced with her or sought her out, and his aloof treatment had stung. Others had noticed, too.
In the retiring room, the whispers had reached her.
“Estranged already?” someone had tittered.
“It was bound to happen.”
“I don’t care what anyone says, he’s not one of us.” The last had been said with such scorn and disgust that Ravenna had almost leaped from the water closet to defend her husband. “I heard he’s not even the real duke and that his brother is the true heir. So scandalous.”
“Speaking of scandal, what of his lady wife?” a vaguely familiar voice had said. “I’m certain that little tart disgraced herself abominably and that’s the only reason they married. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was with child.”
They’d broken into ugly chortles before someone else had snickered. “They’re quite the pair, aren’t they? The heathen and the hussy. They deserve each other.”
“Oh, that’s clever, Jane!”
Ravenna had been shaking with anger as the spiteful ladies departed. She’d known her past exploits and her reputation for being cold were food for gossip in theton, but she’d never before been the target of such obvious scorn. Then again, she’d lost touch with most of her old set. She hadn’t seen any of their faces, but had identified one of the voices as belonging to Lady Penelope, now the Countess of Halthorpe.
Penelope hated her, mostly because Ravenna had thwarted the girl’s designs on Rhystan years ago. It didn’t help that her husband, the Earl of Halthorpe was a score her senior, had the face of a toad, and was rumored to be a debauched profligate.
After the awful incident in the retiring room, Ravenna had attempted to find Courtland to put on a show of marital solidarity, but was informed by a gloating Penelope that the duke had departed. Without her. The sneer the countess had sent her, along with the pitiful glances from her former acquaintances, had been hard to ignore.
Ravenna couldn’t fathom if they pitied her for the duke’s obvious lack of devotion where she was concerned or the fact that she’d married such an unfeeling ogre in the first place. Her own husband couldn’t find it in his heart to be around her or see her home safely despite his late arrival at the ball. He simply did not care.
Which accounted for Ravenna’s sudden need to quit town.
She’d had torunsomewhere.
And so she decided that morning to take a trip to Hastings to see Sarani and baby Anu, whereupon she’d been stalled by Rawley at the station and escorted to Courtland’s waiting rail carriage. Now, as the hackney pulled up to her brother’s beautiful seaside estate, aptly named Joor Royal Green after the duchess’s childhood home in India, Ravenna felt instantly eased.
The scent of the sea filled her nostrils and she breathed in deeply. It wasn’t quite the balmy tropical air of the islands, but it would do. Extensive manicured gardens with statues and fountains dotted the landscape and led up to the sprawling residence. Ravenna descended from the conveyance and, instead of the butler, was greeted at the doorway by her smiling sister-in-law, a swaddled bundle in her arms.
Surprise glinted in Sarani’s hazel eyes. “Ravenna, darling, what brings you here?”
“I had to see you and my niece,” she said. “And since Rhystan said you weren’t planning on coming to London until later, I decided to come see you. I’m sorry for arriving unannounced. I suppose I should have sent a telegram or something.”
“Please,” Sarani said. “As though we stand on ceremony here. Family is always welcome at any time. And besides, I’m rather desperate for some female company. Rhystan has been gone for days, busy in the House of Lords with some American issue regarding supply of goods and shipping fees.”
“American?”
“Liverpool trading issues from private merchants supporting the conflict in the Southern states.” She sighed. “It’s intolerable that such atrocities still exist.”
“Truly,” Ravenna replied, reminded momentarily of Sommers and his nefarious shipping, but she shoved him from her mind. “I’m glad Rhystan is doing something about it.”
“That’s your brother for you,” Sarani said.
It made her think of Courtland and his own work in Antigua, and how much the locals respected him and vice versa. But the thought of him made her ache, so she banished him from her head, too.
