Page 14 of Lusting for the Duke's Kiss
He nodded. “It does. My family were Catholics, for a long time, and tried to stay true to their faith. But when Henry the Eighth went on his path of destruction, destroying churches, monasteries, and the like, one of my ancestors built a wall, which hid a room, so mass could be said in secret.” He paused. “Perhaps you might like to see it if you come to the manor. I would very much like to give you a tour …”
She was saved a reply by the arrival of the first course. While Clarrie served it, she looked down at the table, overcome by confusion.
Louis Montague, the Duke of Warwick, was a surprise. She could not deny that he seemed a clever and knowledgeable man. An interesting man.
She pulled herself up. He was just a man. And men lied. She would do well to keep remembering that and stop herself from being drawn into his web of charm.
***
That night, in bed, she turned over the extraordinary events of the day in her mind, trying desperately to make sense of them.
The Duke of Warwick was in the house, now. He was sleeping in one of the guest chambers down the hallway. He had kissed her hand briefly when they had all retired for the evening, not lingering over it. But she had seen the ardent look in his eyes, nonetheless. It still made her shiver, just thinking about it.
She had tried to stay immune to him, as they had chatted after dinner in the drawing room. He had tried to draw her into conversation again about history. But she had made sure to temper her replies so that he could not see how interested she was in what he was discussing. Her father had tried to keep up with the conversation, but history had never been his forte. Mama, who didn’t know Richard Plantagenet from Oliver Cromwell, retreated into her embroidery, not offering a word.
He is charming, she thought suddenly.Very charming. And clever. As well as being handsome.
She turned over in the bed, thumping the pillow, restlessly. He had turned everything upside down. Only this morning, she had received the replies to her letters from the convents. Her course had been set. And now, the Duke of Warwick was staying in the house, determined to marry her and upset the applecart entirely.
It wasn’t that she believed she couldn’t resist him. It was the fact that her parents, having been thrown this lifeline, were now committed to it. Before he had arrived, they had been willing to let her enquire about becoming a nun, even though they hadn’t liked the idea. She felt sure that if the Duke had not arrived, they would eventually have let her go.
But now … now, everything was different. What parents could resist a duke, with a grand ancestral estate, and wealth, for their only daughter? It would give them high status by association. They would try to move heaven and earth to make it happen.
She sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling. She had one thing going in her favour. Papa and Mama wanted her to marry the Duke. The Duke wanted to marry her.
But, she was not free to marry.
They could all go on about getting a divorce for her, but she knew the laws of this land. Divorce was a rare thing and rarely granted. It certainly was not a given that it would happen. In fact, it was the opposite. She would probably be Mrs Frank Blackmore for the rest of her life.
A cold shiver ran through her. She didn’t want the name of her errant husband. But equally, she didn’t want the name of the Duke of Warwick, no matter how much prestige it may bring.
A single tear trickled down her cheek. She just wanted to be left alone. She just wanted to heal, in her own time, and in peace. Why could no one understand that? And why could they not accept that she never wanted to stand at the altar, beside a man, ever again?
Chapter 7
The Duke was already sitting at the table when she came into the dining room the next morning, as were her parents. She had slept badly, tossing and turning. She couldn’t get it out of her mind that the gentleman was just down the hallway. That he was lying in the guest chamber, only metres away from her.
“Good morning,” she said, in a bright voice, sitting down.
“Good morning,” said the Duke, sipping his tea. “I hope that you slept well.”
“Never better,” she lied, rubbing her neck. “Like a dream.”
“Hetty,” said her father slowly, a spoon hovering over his boiled egg, “we should talk. About what can be done to procure a divorce for you.”
Straight to it,she thought, ruefully.Not even a chance to make the usual small talk.
She shrugged, picking up a piece of toast, and smearing it liberally with gooseberry jam. “What is there to say about it?” Her knife scraped against the dry bread. “We all know that they do not like togive them. That it is a hard road to go down, which is the reason why people usually do not.”
Her father cleared his throat. “His Grace and I have been discussing it, at some length,” he continued. “We believe that the best course is to appeal to the Ecclesiastical Court. If we can prove Frank Blackmore’s desertion was intentional, then we just might have a case against him.”
Hetty put down her toast, turning to her father. “The Ecclesiastical Court? But they rarely give divorces in favour of the woman. I do not know of any, at all …”
“There has been one,” said the Duke, gazing at her steadily. “Not a good track record, but thereisprecedent. We would try to obtain the divorce on the grounds of desertion and procure a settlement for you, from your estranged husband. Either the return of your entire dowry or something similar.”
Hetty stared at him. The use of the term ‘we’ rankled her. It was as if he and her father were in cahoots, and she was just tagging along for the ride. The fact that her father had placed all of his trust in this man, who he knew nothing about, rankled her too. Duke or not, hewasstill a man, but her father was blinded by his title and could not see clearly, at all.
Papa had done no background checks on this gentleman. For all he knew, the Duke of Warwick could be secretly insolvent or be hiding any number of dark secrets. She was irritated that after theexperience with Frank Blackmore, that her father would take such a chance, so quickly. To place all of his faith in this man, to solve the problem of her.
