Page 13 of Impassioned
A comfort Sabrina rarely experienced settled over her. Mrs. Renshaw had put her immediately at ease with her kindness and authenticity. She had to be the first person Sabrina had met who’d done so. Taking a breath to quell her remaining nerves, she repeated what she’d told Lucien about needing a wardrobe and invitations.
“Lucien was correct in saying that I’d be delighted to assist with your wardrobe. We will begin immediately this afternoon.” She smiled brightly at Sabrina, her eyes dancing. “We are going to have such fun.”
A weight lifted from Sabrina and was replaced with a burgeoning excitement. For the first time since she’d conjured this far-fetched scheme to come to London and reinvent herself, she felt as though it was actually possible. “Thank you. I’m doing this to gain my husband’s attention. I’ve come to London to get with child.” The inevitable heat rose in her cheeks.
“I see. Is your marriage as estranged as Society thinks it to be?”
Hearing Mrs. Renshaw say what Sabrina had suspected was rumored about them stung, but she was not surprised. “Yes. We rarely spend any time together.”
“Do you mind telling me about it? Your marriage, I mean.”
Sabrina wasn’t sure where to begin. The story of their marriage started well before the ceremony. “We met during my first Season, but I felt as if we were already acquainted.”
“You struck an immediate accord?” she asked with a smile.
“No. I was terrified when I met him. Though my parents had spoken of him for over a year, he was still a stranger.” And Sabrina didn’t like strangers—until today. “They’d already communicated with Aldington’s father—the duke—about a potential marriage. It was all but arranged by the time I came out.”
“I didn’t realize that.” Mrs. Renshaw took her arm from Sabrina and angled herself toward her on the settee. Sabrina did the same so that they were facing each other. “Were you in favor of marrying him?”
“Not particularly,” Sabrina whispered. She’d never admitted that to anyone outside her immediately family. Why would she when they’d reacted so poorly? Her father had threatened to send her to a nunnery if she didn’t wed Aldington.“He is the heir to a dukedom!”her father had raged. “I was not given a choice in the matter.”
Mrs. Renshaw’s answering grimace was tinged with sympathy. “Women seldom are, particularly young ladies being used to further a family’s social position.”
“He was not in favor of the marriage either.”
“How unfortunate for you both. I can imagine things did not progress well after you married.”
“Not at all. We barely knew each other, and I was content for things to remain that way—at least until I grew more comfortable with him.”
“And did you?”
Sabrina shook her head. “That’s difficult to achieve when you are scarcely together. I spend most of my time at Hampton Lodge, a place I have been fortunate to call home and in which I find comfort. But it’s lonely.” Her throat burned to say the word. Shewaslonely. She longed for a connection, a family. “Aldington only visits twice each year, and when I came to London last Season, we rarely attended events together. He is always busy at Westminster or with the business of it. And as I said, I didn’t mind because I was still growing accustomed to being a countess.”
“Are you now?” Mrs. Renshaw asked. “Used to being a countess.”
Sabrina pressed her lips together in frustration. “Only at Hampton Lodge. Here in London, I still feel like I’m an imposter.”
“You arenot. You are a countess, so let us make sure you act like one. That is what you want?”
“It is. Along with a child. That is what I want the most,” she added softly.
“Forgive my candor, does your estrangement extend to the bedchamber?”
Despite an edge of discomfort, Sabrina was surprised to find she wanted to share this with someone, and Mrs. Renshaw seemed to genuinely care. “That is where we are least suited.” Sabrina clasped her hands once more, squeezing them together as she worked up the nerve to tell her everything—she felt in her bones that this woman could help her, that this woman was a friend. “He rarely comes to my bed and when he does, it’s dark and quick, and utterly unremarkable. I understand that is how it’s supposed to be, but neither one of us wants to endure the ordeal.”
Mrs. Renshaw leaned her shoulder against the settee. “Oh dear. You think it’s an ordeal?”
“That is what my mother always called it.” Sabrina mimicked her mother’s higher tone. “You must suffer the Ordeal whenever your husband insists upon it, my dear.”
Staring at her wide-eyed, Mrs. Renshaw murmured, “How dreadful. And you say Aldington is uninterested?”
Sabrina unclasped her hands and flattened them against her lap. “He seems to loathe the prospect and can’t get through the event fast enough. I don’t think he finds me desirable. When I demanded my marital rights last night, he used an excuse to avoid coming to my chamber.”
“What iswrongwith your husband?”
“We are simply not well suited.”
Mrs. Renshaw pressed her lips together. “It doesn’t sound as if you can know for sure. When you’ve shared a bed with Aldington, has he found pleasure in the act?”
