Married to the
Duke of Ice
Preview
Prologue
“Whatever are you doing?” Rupert flung his head back and laughed aloud as his closest and dearest friend attempted to climb onto his horse. “You have been too much in the liquor for riding, Chesterton!”
“I think not.” Lord Chesterton steadied himself as the horse stood stock still, perhaps sensing that his master was not entirely himself. “I am more than able, not only to ride but to shoot! I fully intend to join the hunt.”
Rupert rolled his eyes and leaned one arm on the horse’s stall. “I hardly think so.”
“Yes, I shall!” Lord Chesterton, frowning hard, pulled himself up onto his horse and, much to Rupert’s surprise, did not immediately slide off the other side. “Ah-hah!” Letting out a triumphant cry, he pushed himself to sit tall, grasping the pommel and holding on tightly. “You see? I am quite well.”
With a small sigh, Rupert considered what he ought to do. Lord Chesterton was in high spirits for, only some three days ago, he had become engaged to the young lady he had been courting for the last month or so. Even better, he had become engaged at Rupert’s house gathering which had made the occasion all the more delightful.
That being said, he did not think that Lord Chesterton joining the hunt was a wise idea. The small glass of brandy after luncheon had become another and then another as Lord Chesterton had spoken at length about what he was to face in married life, making Rupert wonder whether the gentleman was truly delighted at the prospect or if there was a little anxiety there, hidden underneath it all. Ought he to permit him to join the other guests for the hunt? If he fell from his horse, that could be dangerous indeed. And he certainly had no intention of offering Lord Chesterton a gun!
“You cannot prevent me, Wessex! I insist!”
“I am the Duke of Wessex, this is my house gathering and I can easily prevent you should I wish it,” Rupert answered, firmly, as Lord Chesterton managed to turn his horse around so that it now faced the entrance of the stable. “It is not only my sister that I can command, my friend! I really do think that –”
“Please do not prevent me.”
Rupert stopped, a little astonished to hear a sense of pleading begin to pervade Lord Chesterton’s voice.
“I know I have imbibed a little too much but that does not matter, not to me.” Lord Chesterton’s hands were tight on the reins, looking at Rupert with a steadiness in his eyes that did not seem to match the slight slurring of his words. “I want to ride. I want to hunt. Pray, do not stop me.”
“Chesterton.” Rupert frowned, coming to stand a little closer to his friend, looking up at him. “Are you quite well?”
His friend’s jaw went slack and he looked away. “I am well enough,” he answered, without giving Rupert a real answer. “Are you going to let me participate?”
Chewing on the edge of his lip, Rupert held his friend’s gaze. “I will let you ride but you cannot shoot,” he said, firmly, even though Lord Chesterton let out a huff of breath and looked away. “I am doing my best for you, Chesterton, even though you might not think it.” He was going to say more, to state that Lord Chesterton had been the one to choose the liquor but Rupert told himself not to. It would not bring him any relief and Lord Chesterton would remain frustrated.
“I shall tell Lady Dinah about you.”
Rupert’s lips quirked. “Indeed?” he remarked, his thoughts going at once to Lady Dinah, the daughter of the Marquess of Kent. For the last few months, he had taken note of her and now, at this house gathering, he had finally felt her close enough to propose. His intention was to do so very soon, something that only Lord Chesterton knew of. “And what shall you tell her?”
“That you are cruel and inconsiderate,” Lord Chesterton said, heavily. “That you are much too demanding and authoritative and she ought not to accept your proposal.”
Chuckling quietly and not taking a single thing Lord Chesterton had said to heart, Rupert gestured to the door. “Come now, my friend. Let us take our leave of the stables so I might begin the hunt. The other three gentlemen are already waiting.”
“As is your horse,” Lord Chesterton muttered, grumpily. “If you had told them to saddle mine when they saddled the others, then we would not have been tardy.”
Rupert said nothing but watched his friend carefully as he rode out of the stable. Lord Chesterton was able to hold the reins securely and guide his horse out safely enough, though whether that was the horse knowing where to go rather than Lord Chesterton directing it, Rupert could not be sure. Running one hand over his chin, he followed out after Lord Chesterton, not at all sure that he had made the right decision. A knot of concern wove itself tightly into his stomach as he mounted his horse, glancing at his friend and seeing the way he scowled back at him.
“Are we ready?” he asked the other gentlemen, who all nodded and smiled at him, ready for their hunt. “Then let us go!”
***
The afternoon turned wet and cold by the time Rupert and his friends began to make their return from the hunt. They had enjoyed some shooting and had a few pheasants to show for it, though Lord Chesterton had grumbled and complained most fervently that he had no gun. Rupert did his best not to respond, hoping that, once Lord Chesterton recovered himself from his imbibing, he would appreciate Rupert’s determinations. Sighing to himself, he turned his head, making sure that the other gentlemen were following after him, Lord Chesterton included, only to see Lord Chesterton holding one of their guns.
“Wait a moment!” he exclaimed, turning around as Lord Chesterton pulled his horse to the left, returning back the way they had come. “Chesterton, come now, you cannot do such a foolish thing!”
His friend did not deign to glance back at him. Instead, he rode back towards the trees, the horse cantering now and Lord Chesterton looking increasingly wobbly, making Rupert fear he might fall at any moment.
“We must go back with him,” he said, gesturing for the other gentlemen to come after him. “Quite how he found a gun, I do not know!” The footmen who had accompanied them had been sent back to the house with all the guns and the like, for they would not be needing it any longer. Had Lord Chesterton waylaid one of them and taken a gun back? Why had Rupert not seen it? Frustrated, he squeezed his horse’s sides and, with the other gentlemen riding ahead of him, pursued Lord Chesterton.
The trees were heavy with branches, the shadows going this way and that. They had already ridden through this dense forest on their way to the shoot and Rupert knew all too well they would find very little to hunt here! There were too many trees, to many places for the birds to hide which meant that Lord Chesterton could only be going in one direction – to the clearing that lead towards the open fields on the other side of the forest. This forest was well known to Rupert, the paths all laid out like a map in his head so he knew precisely where to go.
“You go ahead!” he called to the gentlemen in front of him. “He is making for the clearing, no doubt. I will go around and cut him off from the other side.”
One of the other gentlemen nodded and nudged his horse a little faster though it was not as if they were all easily able to ride through the forest at great speed! Taking the path that broke to his right, Rupert made his way through the forest, his heart quickening as he pursued Lord Chesterton. Whatever was his friend thinking? It was one thing to be frustrated that he could not hunt but quite another to demand a gun and then ride off alone! Especially when he was in his cups! Gritting his teeth in frustration, Rupert urged the horse a little more quickly now, seeing the clearing up ahead.
And then, the most dreadful sound rent the air, stealing away his breath with a sudden sense of dread. Pulling the reins back sharply, the horse came to a stop and he, breathing heavily, stared straight ahead.
That had been a gunshot.
There was only one gun, he knew, one gun that Lord Chesterton had in his possession – but why would he shoot it now? Surely he had not made it to the clearing, dismounted, loaded his gun and thereafter, walked slowly and quietly so he might find something to take aim at? Squeezing his eyes closed, Rupert took in a long, calming breath, told himself silently that all would be well and began to ride again. The clearing soon came into view though, much to Rupert’s surprise, the other gentlemen were already present. Had he really paused for so long?
“What has happened?” he asked, throwing himself down from his horse and coming to where the other gentlemen were standing, crowded around together. “I heard a shot and –”
His gasp was audible, one hand flying to his mouth as, eyes wide, he stared down at the prone figure of Lord Chesterton. There was blood on his breeches coming from a wound in his thigh and spilling out onto the grass beside him.
“I – I do not know what we ought to do,” one of the gentlemen said, his face white as Rupert flung himself down beside his friend. “We are so far from the estate and…”
“He is breathing.” Rupert closed his eyes for only a moment, taking that time to steady himself. This is all my fault. I ought never to have permitted him to come.
“I shall go to the house,” another of the gentlemen said, getting back on his horse. “And send for the physician, mayhap?”
“Yes, do so.” Pulling off his gloves, Rupert set one and then the other onto the wound before shrugging out of his jacket. Wrapping it around Lord Chesterton’s leg as best he could, he kept looking to see if his friend would respond in any way, afraid that the pain would be too great… but Lord Chesterton’s eyes remained closed, his face paler than ever. “Help me to lift him. I must get him back to the house as quickly as I can.”
Within a few minutes, Lord Chesterton was half sitting, half lying on the horse with Rupert behind him. His horse was strong, Rupert knew, but all the same, they would not be able to make their way back to the house with any great speed. He did not dare think of what might become of his friend, did not dare let himself imagine what the outcome might be. Setting his thoughts solely on the manor house, Rupert kicked at his horse and began his journey.
Whether his friend would survive or not, he could not tell. All he knew was that the responsibility for this accident fell solely upon his shoulders.
Chapter One
Two years later
The wedding was over. That much was a relief, though Rupert knew there was still some more societal requirements to come. There was the wedding breakfast and, finally, the departure and that would be the end of it all.
He could hardly wait for that moment when the house would be his again, when it would have no-one but himself within it. Scowling, he made for his carriage, relieved that his duties were over. His sister was now the responsibility of the Marquess of Burnley and thus, he had nothing more to concern him.
Settling back in the carriage, Rupert closed his eyes and concentrated solely on his breathing, despising the weakness that had been in him before the wedding itself. He had been forced to deal with anxiety and that had repulsed him, hating that such a feebleness had been within him. When he had walked in with his sister Martha on his arm, he had felt every eye upon him rather than upon her, knowing full well that this unusual situation of him being present in company would have a good many of them talking about him once the day’s events were at an end.
I do not want to be a part of them any longer, he reminded himself, a steely resistance to any sort of fine company returning to him again. I am more than contented alone.
The last two years had seen Rupert shrivel into himself, hiding away from anyone and everyone. The accident with Lord Chesterton had been so heavy upon him, it had spread guilt into every part of his being, breaking him with shame. Yes, his friend had not died but the injury to his leg had been severe and the broken arm – which had been discovered thereafter – had never properly healed, leaving him with a weakness that would always be with him. On top of that, Lord Chesterton’s betrothal had been broken by the lady herself, leaving him desolate.
And it had all been Rupert’s fault.
Once he had made sure Lord Chesterton was well on his way to recovery – as much of a recovery as could be had – Rupert had chosen to cloister himself at his estate. The guilt of his actions was so heavy, he had felt himself unable to step back into company again for fear of what would be said of him. All would know of his foolishness, of course, for the countryside around his estate had been rife with rumor and whisper. Nor could he bring himself to face society in the knowledge that he was responsible for Lord Chesterton’s absence and his broken betrothal.
Rupert had never been sure how the accident had happened. Quite how Lord Chesterton had managed to discharge the gun so that it shot him in the leg, he could not understand but nor had he asked his friend for the details. It had not seemed right, for all that had mattered at that time had been whether or not Lord Chesterton would recover. The physician had worked quickly and effectively, given that Lord Chesterton still breathed, but the time for questions had never come to pass. Once Lord Chesterton was well enough to return home, he had done so – and Rupert had not spoken to him since. Lord Chesterton had written to him on two occasions thus far but Rupert had not been able to bring himself to open the letters, too afraid of what he would find within. Their friendship was at an end, that he understood which meant, as far as Rupert was concerned, he was unworthy of any sort of friendship ever again.
The carriage pulled into the driveway of his manor house and Rupert let out a slow breath, feeling frustration begin to tighten his limbs once more. He did not want to host the wedding breakfast but nor did he have a choice. This was the only thing that was left for him to do, he understood, but the thought of having guests return to his house made his stomach roil.
Getting out of the carriage without waiting for the footman to open the door, Rupert strode into his house and made his way directly to the study. The house was a hive of activity, with maids and servants carrying things this way and that, ready for the arrival of the guests. Rupert wanted nothing to do with it, eager to stay far from even his staff, if he could help it. Closing the door of his study behind him, he leaned against it and closed his eyes, breathing hard.
“Soon,” he muttered to himself, opening his eyes and walking across the room to pour himself a small measure of whiskey. “Soon, I shall have my solitude again… and in a greater way than ever before.”
At the beginning of the Season, he had sent his sister to London under the sharp, watchful eye of their mother, the Duchess of Wessex. That had brought him some relief, for no longer did he even have to sit with them over dinner and discuss inane matters. Nor would he have to hear his mother ask when he intended to marry, as though somehow it was perfectly feasible for him to make his way to London and choose a bride of his own.
Sighing heavily, he sat down in an overstuffed chair that faced the window, taking in the glorious sunshine that streamed through it.
He felt nothing.
Taking a sip of his whiskey, he let the heat flow through him and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the chair in an attempt to quieten his mind and heart.
The door opened and he groaned.
“Did you forget that I was waiting?”
Rupert’s eyes shot open and he turned his head. “Mother, you told me you were returning to the house with my sister.”
“I did no such thing! You suggested that I might do such a thing and before I said yes or no, you disappeared into the church!” His mother, with her still dark hair and sharp blue eyes, put both hands to her hips. “That was not only disrespectful, it was inconsiderate.”
“And unintended.” Refusing to apologise, Rupert closed his eyes again. “Would you mind closing the door on your way out?”
“Out?”
Groaning loudly, Rupert cracked open one eye. “What is the matter now? Do you not have a daughter you can pay attention to?”
His mother’s lips flattened.
“I do not need company. You know very well that I do not even want company.”
“You shall have mine for a time, since Martha and Lord Kent have not yet arrived, though some of the other guests have made their way here already.” Dropping her hands to her sides, the Duchess came to sit in the chair opposite, her gaze intense and steady, making Rupert’s lip curl into a grimace.
“Mother, please. You know that I am finding this day somewhat trying.”
“I care not. This day is not about you or your feelings,” came the sharp reply. “It is about your sister and her happiness.”
His lip curled all the more. “Which is why I am doing all that is required of me to make sure she has a happy day,” he said, instantly defensive. “There can be no fault for you to find here, I am sure.”
Something about what he had said softened his mother’s expression, making Rupert frown. This gentleness was not what he wanted either, for that would lead to expressions of sympathy and thereafter, what he ought to do to change his present circumstances.
He did not want any of it.
“You must marry.”
With a scowl, Rupert sat up straight, one hand curled into a tight fist. “What I need, Mother, is for you not to involve yourself in my life at present.”
“Except I have to.” Her eyes melded to his, her mouth an angry line as the softness he had seen faded. “You and I are to live in this house together until you wed and, truth be told, I have no interest in being here with you.”
“Then go to the Dower house,” Rupert answered, his fingernails biting into the soft skin of his palm. “Reside there, for all I care. “
“And bring yet more rumours to our family name?”
Those words bit down hard and Rupert flinched visibly.
“I do not say that to suggest you are in any way responsible,” she continued, the firmness still in her tone and her gaze still fixed. “You know that I do not believe you were, though you continue to pull the cloak of guilt over your shoulders without hesitation.”
Rupert gritted his teeth and looked away. “I do not want to speak of Lord Chesterton.”
“Good, because we are not,” came the quick reply. “We are talking of you and your need to marry. Or do you want this family line to fall to your uncle?”
This made Rupert’s heart drop to the floor, fully aware of what his mother meant. His uncle was next in line and he was an utterly despicable fellow who was, at present, living in near poverty given just how much of his coin he wasted on gambling and the like. Rupert knew all too well that he had a responsibility to prove himself as the heir and whenever he thought of his uncle, that responsibility weighed on him all the heavier which was why, most of the time, he did all he could to forget about him.
“I have a solution.”
“A solution?” Rupert repeated at once, his eyebrows lifting. “Mother, please do not tell me you have found some woebegone creature who is in desperate need of a marriage in order to save her family’s honour – or their coffers – for I will not, under any circumstances, wed such a creature.”
A glimmer of a smile brushed across his mother’s face. “There is a Lady Marie who I should like to introduce to you. She is very dear friends with Martha and I am sure would suit you very well.”
Rupert snorted, getting up to pour a second measure of whiskey, even though he knew he ought not to do so. Ever since Lord Chesterton’s accident, he had barely imbibed at all and had silently promised himself he would never become drunk. “I hardly think that you know what would suit me, Mother.”
“Oh, but I do.” She held up one hand and began to tick her fingers off, one at a time. “You desire a young lady who is beautiful, do you not? One who would capture your attention. Thereafter, she must be considerate and, most of all, quiet.” Her shoulders dropped a little. “She must do all she can to stay far from you and be content in her own company, even if it lasts for a long duration. Is that not so?”
Opening his mouth to deny all that his mother had said, Rupert was forced to close it again, seeing that she had said everything perfectly. Instead, he returned to his chair and slouched down into it, wishing desperately that his mother would bring this conversation to a close and she would return to his sister.
“Lady Marie would do you well,” she continued, when he said nothing. “She is very contented in her own company, she is quite lovely in her own way and I am all too aware of just how much her father desires her to marry.”
“Then why is she not wed?” Rupert asked, frowning but surprised that he was not instantly refusing to even think on such an idea. “You said she was in London with Martha. What is it about her that had no gentlemen pursuing her?”
His mother lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “I cannot imagine.”
Studying his mother’s face carefully, Rupert tried to ascertain if there was something more behind all that she said but he could not. The Duchess was simply looking back at him with a clear expression, waiting for him to respond.
“I do not need your help when it comes to matrimony,” Rupert stated, after a short silence. “When the time comes, I will choose my own bride and I shall marry.”
His mother shook her head. “When the time comes?” she asked, as she rose to her feet. “You have not moved from this house in two years and, instead of seeing any sort of positive, contented and happy change within you, it is clear to me that there is nothing but sadness and regret. Why will you not think about it? To dismiss it at once is foolish.”
Because I do not want to marry.
Rupert dropped his head into one hand, his fingers pushing through his dark hair as a long breath of exasperation left him.
But I have to.
That was true enough, at least. He could not escape that fact and even though he wanted to push it aside, to pretend that it did not matter, he could not.
“Will you at least let me introduce you to her?” His mother inched forward in her seat, her eyes searching his face but Rupert let out a breath and looked away, angry that she had been so easily able to twist his thoughts with her words. The only reason he was thinking about marriage, the only reason he was considering what she had said was because of the mention of his uncle and the hinted suggestion that he was not doing as he ought as regarded his responsibilities.
“There is no need.” Rupert lifted his chin and kept his gaze steady. “I have no need for you, my mother, to find me a suitable match. I am well able to do that on my own.”
Her eyes narrowed. “In what way?” she asked, a hint of anger in the way her lips thinned. “How are you to find a match when you have not moved from this estate in two years?”
Rupert could give her no answer.
“Think on this, my son,” she said, refusing to look away from him but holding him with the intensity of her gaze. “If you stay where you are, if you continue to linger at this estate, then it shall be you and I residing here together.” The corner of her mouth lifted for only a moment and Rupert’s stomach dropped, feeling as though he were about to be caught in a snare of her making. “Do not think that I shall be happy and contented to linger here alone with you,” she continued, her voice quieter now but her words holding a good deal more weight. “I shall have to have many a friend present. Indeed, I may have a soiree now and again, or perhaps a house ball of my own.”
The very thing that Rupert despised was pushed towards him, a path that he would be forced to walk upon.
“You know you cannot refuse me such things, given that I reside here also at present,” his mother continued. “This solitude that you so desperately desire will evade you, my son… though to my mind, that is no bad thing given that you are so determined to cling to it despite the fact that it causes you nothing but further pain.”
“You can remove to the Dower house,” Rupert said, repeating the suggestion from earlier in the conversation. “We have already discussed that and I told you –”
His mother held up one hand, palm out. “I shall do nothing of the sort,” she said, clearly. “Until you are wed, my place is here. Therefore, until you wed, I shall be under this roof and in this home.” Her head tilted. “Unless it is that you have secret intentions of making your way to London and finding a bride there? That would surprise me, certainly but it would not displease me.”
A low growl from Rupert’s chest was her only answer.
“Then I propose that you introduce yourself to Lady Marie and consider her as a potential bride,” his mother said, not in the least bit perturbed by his harsh response. “Why should you refuse me? This idea is an excellent one, for you can marry a lady that will give you all the solitude that you desire and can provide the required heir. Think on it, Wessex! This house could be split in two, so that she resides in one part and you in the other.”
“You could do such a thing,” Rupert muttered, looking away from her and finding his heart trembling within his chest. “You could reside separately from me, if you chose to do so.”
The laugh that broke from her lips did nothing but antagonize Rupert all the more and he threw back the rest of his whiskey in an attempt to calm his anger.
It only added fuel to it.
“My dear son, need I remind you that I have lived in this house for many a year more than you?”
“You do not need to remind me, Mother.”
“Then what right have you to make such a suggestion?”
Rupert’s anger broke apart in a moment as tears glimmered in his mother’s eyes. She got to her feet, one hand pointing out towards him.
“When did you think it right to speak to me with such disrespect? When did your character of kindness and consideration change into this dark, shadowed creature you are now?”
His mouth went dry, no answer coming to his lips. She was quite right, he knew. He ought never to have suggested such a thing. Indeed, it had come from a place of irritation and upset but he had not set a guard on his words as he ought to have done.
“Your father brought me here on our wedding day.” A single tear slipped down her cheek. “Now, so many years later, I have my very own son suggesting that I hide myself away from his company so that he can be more comfortable?”
Dropping his head forward, Rupert said nothing, shame burning in his chest.
“Can you not see that, even in this, I am doing my utmost to care for you as a mother ought?” Her voice had lost none of its strength but he could hear the slight quaver in her words. “You turn me away at every point, choosing darkness instead of permitting even a single flicker of light to break through to you.”
Rupert closed his eyes. “You have said quite enough. Please, will you not now return to Martha? You are wasted on me, Mother.”
He did not open them again until he heard the rustle of her skirts and her footsteps leading her away from him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her open the door and, giving him a long look, she stepped out into the hallway.
Relief floored him and he closed his eyes again, going almost entirely limp as he sank back into the chair. The last thing he wanted to talk about, to think about was matrimony and yet, here his mother was attempting to force him to do so. The idea of sharing this house with a bride was unthinkable, for he would never again have his solitude!
Though you are never to have it here either.
His eyes opened, a scowl pulling at his mouth.
Your mother has as much right to do as she pleases in this house. Coming thick and fast, his thoughts crowded him, making his brow furrow. She will do just as she has said, for she does not crave the same isolation as I.
How was he to free himself from this, then? If his mother was always to be present, always to be with him until he wed, then he would never gain the seclusion he so desperately desired.
Unless…
Scrubbing one hand over his eyes, Rupert tried not to let his thoughts turn to what his mother had said, determining silently that this was nothing more than foolishness but, the more he did so, the more they pushed into his mind.
What if there was a way in which he could have his isolation and be wed at the same time? His mother could not be given a particular set of rooms to keep to given that she had lived here for most of her years but a wife… well, that was different, was it not? His mother’s suggestion had not been a poor one, then, he realized. It could be that his bride was told precisely what it was he expected and that, in knowing that, would do just as he had stated. He would not need to be in her company for very long at all, only present to do the required duties and nothing more.
And what of Lady Marie?
Rupert grimaced, getting to his feet to get yet another measure of whiskey. He did not want to give in, did not want to do as his mother had suggested and permit her to introduce him to this young lady but that came from his own pride, he recognized. Besides which, how exactly was he to find a suitable match? Did he really think that he could make his way to London, step into society and find himself flocked by eager young ladies all desiring to know him better? His stomach turned over at that thought, leaving him with a resolve not to do so. The chances were that, even if he did go to London, the whispers about him and the shame that would follow would be too much to bear.
Which meant he had only one choice.
The only difficulty was, he simply did not want to accept it.
Chapter Two
“You are so very kind, Martha.” Marie grasped her friend’s hand, beaming at her. “To have invited me to your wedding when we have only been friends for a few months is generosity indeed.”
“Oh, but of course!” Lady Martha – now Lady Kent – squeezed Marie’s hand. “Our friendship has been such a blessing to me, I assure you. When I first came to London, I was quite certain I would not find a single soul willing to befriend me! But you proved to me that my concerns were nothing but dust and ashes, ready to be blown away.”
Marie smiled back at her friend, aware that what Martha spoke of, she did not fully understand. It was quite true that Martha had held some deep concerns over what the ton might think of her but Marie had never truly understood why. Martha was the sister of a Duke which meant her connections were very strong indeed and her standing almost the highest in all of England! All the same, she had encouraged Martha where she could and they had ended up becoming very close friends though Marie had never once questioned her as to where such concerns came from. She had thought to herself that if Martha had wanted to explain, then she would have done and thus, no clarification had come.
“And now I am wed!” Martha released Marie’s hand and sighed contentedly, a dazzling smile on her face. “Lord Kent is the most wonderful gentleman and I am sure I shall be very happy with him.”
“I am certain you will,” Marie answered, turning her head to see Lord Kent laughing loudly at something another had said, though she did not miss the way he glanced towards his bride. Her heart squeezed, both with happiness for her friend and a hint of jealousy though she did her best to quash the latter. “As for myself, I must continue on in the hope of finding a suitable gentleman.” She winced as she saw Martha’s sympathetic smile. “You know as well as I that my father now despairs of me utterly. He is quite sure that I shall end up a spinster and that, to his mind, is nothing more than a shame upon the family.”
“I cannot imagine that you will have no husband at all,” Martha answered, stoutly. “You need to find a gentleman who is just as Lord Kent is to me – considerate, accepting and generous. There are bound to be many gentlemen like that in England, I am sure!”
Her friend’s encouragements made Marie smile, though her hopes did not lift with the curve of her lips. “Let us hope you are right, though I suspect that very few gentlemen want a bluestocking for a bride! And as I have said to my father, whether I hide it now or not, they will discover the truth about me eventually – and I will not be content with being despised by my husband.”
“I think that is very wise,” her friend replied, though her gaze soon returned to Lord Kent rather than looking at Marie. “One must be respected and considered by one’s husband, I quite agree. That is the key to a happy and contented marriage, I am quite sure. Lord Kent knows everything about me and I am sure I know near enough everything about him!” Her nose wrinkled, her attention returning to Marie. “There are some things that I do not like, of course, but I would never think lesser of him because of it.”
“Oh?” Marie was a little surprised to hear this for she had never heard her friend say anything untoward about Lord Kent before.
“He does not approve of my brother,” Martha answered, with a small but sad smile. “I have not told you of this, I know, but I did not want you to think poorly of him.”
“Of your brother?”
“Of Lord Kent,” Martha answered, with a wry tug of her lips. “I have not told you a good deal about my brother, I know, but that is for good reason. And indeed, the less I say about him, the better for it is of no importance to you whether you know him or not. Indeed, I might go as far as to say that not to be introduced to him is a good thing!”
Wondering if the champagne that Martha had drunk was now loosening her lips a little, Marie hesitated, aware that she wanted to pry a little more but that the only reason she would do so was to satisfy her own curiosity. “I am not sure I shall be able to remain unacquainted,” she said, after a few moments of silence. “We are at your wedding breakfast after all, which is being held in his manor house!”
This made Martha grimace, astonishing Marie all the more. Did she truly think so little of her brother? Or was there something more to her dislike?
“He may well hide himself away in his study and refuse to come out until it is time for Lord Kent and I to take our leave.” With a heavy sigh, Martha turned her head towards Lord Kent and then looked back at Marie. “Lord Kent thinks my brother foolish in his decision to stay far from the ton and hide himself away at this estate. Nor did he think it right for him to send my mother and I to London for the Season without attending himself, for I am his only sister and Lord Kent felt it would be the right thing for him to do.”
Marie said nothing, reaching to take a glass of champagne from a passing footman’s tray though she listened keenly as Martha continued, getting the sense that her friend was unburdening herself somewhat.
“I did so very much want my brother to attend my come out and I told him of my desire, but he was determined to do just as he pleased, despite my desire.”
“That is a pity,” Marie murmured, not quite sure what else she ought to say. “I am sure he had his reasons for remaining.”
Martha laughed but it was not a happy sound. “Oh, I am sure that he did but they were all selfish reasons, were they not? Ever since that house gathering, he has thought of no one but himself, becoming frustrated, at times, with even the smallest conversation!”
“House gathering?”
Martha waved one hand vaguely. “It was some two years ago and something happened – something that was not his fault but he has taken it as his own. Because of that, he has become near enough a recluse and that, mayhap, I would not mind so much if it was his own choice but he has become so cruel with it all that it is deeply upsetting to both myself and my mother.” A heavy breath escaped her, quite at odds with the joy that filled the rest of the day. “I am a little concerned about leaving my mother here with him, truth be told. I am to be happily married, indeed, but what of her? Is she to reside here with him alone? I do not know what that will do to her!”
“I am sure your mother will do very well,” Marie answered, not at all sure as to what she was speaking into but feeling the need to reassure her friend all the same. “She is a strong willed lady, is she not? She was well able to look after you during the Season, yes? She navigated that very well I thought. You do not need to worry, I am certain.” When Martha’s expression did not alter from one of concern, Marie filled her voice with enthusiasm. “Besides which, are you not able to invite her to reside with you for a time? She will be delighted at such an invitation, I am sure!”
This, much to Marie’s relief, brought a smile back to Martha’s face. “Indeed, I could! Lord Kent has already said as much. Thank you, Marie, I had quite forgotten that.” A contented sigh left her lips as she smiled. “I shall be able to invite her to reside with us once the honeymoon is over. That means she will not have to endure him for long.”
“Endure? Who shall have to endure?”
The smiling face of the Duchess of Wessex came to join them, breaking into the conversation though neither Marie nor Martha answered her. The Duchess, lifting an eyebrow, looked from one to the other, a curious smile on her face. “I do hope you are not speaking of marriage; else I have made a great mistake in permitting you to wed Lord Kent!”
At this, Martha laughed and shook her head, leaning into her mother for a moment. “No, not in the least. I was speaking of something else.”
“I see.” The Duchess did not question this, making to say something more, only for her eyes to round as her gaze went over Marie’s shoulder. Marie, noticing this, fought the urge to look around, wondering what it was that had caught the Duchess’ attention so.
“Here you are, then.”
A low, dark voice made Marie shiver but still, she did not move, aware of the prickling of her skin.
“I have thought about your suggestion,” the gentleman said, slowly. “I shall be introduced but that is all.”
“Being introduced to new acquaintances is a marvelous way to gain a few more friendships!” the Duchess interrupted, her voice a trifle louder than before and a slightly panicked look on her face, though Marie did not understand why she should appear so. “Might I begin by introducing Lady Marie to you?”
The gentleman came a little further around and Marie looked up into his face, only for her heart to plummet to the floor. This gentleman did not appear to be in the least bit pleased to be introduced to her. A grimace pulled at his lips, his nose wrinkling just a little. Dark hair was flung over his forehead, his eyebrows low and heavy over shadowed blue eyes. His jaw was set tight, his gaze assessing rather than inviting.
She shivered.
“Might I introduce my son to you, Lady Marie?” The Duchess smiled warmly at Marie, the very opposite of what this gentleman was doing. “This is the Duke of Wessex. Wessex, this is Lady Marie, daughter to the Earl of Stockbridge.”
Marie did her best to smile as she dropped into a curtsy. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.”
“Hmph.” The Duke did not so much as bow, making Marie’s heart quail all the more. Was there something wrong with her? Something that had upset him? “Well, the introduction is done now, is it not?” He looked to his mother, one eyebrow lifted slightly. “I shall take my leave of you now.”
“I –”
The response died on the Duchess’ lips as the Duke walked away from them all, his shoulders pulled back and his head held high. He did not stop to speak to any other but instead made his way directly through the growing crowd and seated himself at the extremity of the room as if he did not want to speak to a single soul.
“My apologies.” The Dowager Duchess put one hand to her heart and gave Marie a rueful smile. “I am afraid that my son is a little overwhelmed with his duties at the present moment and is not thinking about propriety.”
“Or good manners,” Martha put in, taking Marie’s hand and pressing it gently. “You are not to blame for his rudeness. Recall all that I have said to you before.”
Marie nodded slowly, seeing the sharp look that the Duchess sent in Martha’s direction though Martha appeared to ignore it entirely. “Of course,” she said, managing to set aside her embarrassment and smile instead. “You are quite right. He will have his duties sitting upon his mind, I am sure and will find himself distracted. Pray, do not be concerned. I am not at all upset.”
Visible relief pooled into the Duchess’ eyes as a heavy breath escaped her. “That is good. I thank you for your understanding, Lady Marie. Now, if you will excuse me, I must see if the dining table is prepared for us all. And Martha,” she finished, directing her final few words to her daughter, “you must go to stand beside your husband, ready to lead everyone into the room.”
Martha beamed at her mother, cheeks flushing pink as the thought of being side by side with her husband pushed away all previous concern. “But of course, Mama,” she said, pressing Marie’s hand again and then stepping away. “I shall speak to you again, Marie, very soon.”
With a nod and a smile, Marie watched her friend make her way back towards her husband, seeing how delighted Lord Kent appeared to be at her arrival. He not only took her hand but pressed a kiss to it; a most unexpected expression of affection though given that it was their wedding day, Marie assumed most of the guests would expect it instead of exclaiming over it! As she took a sip of her champagne, Marie let her gaze rove over the guests. There were many of them and they all appeared to be laughing or smiling in clear enjoyment of the occasion, all save one. A light shiver ran through her as she looked straight back into the Duke’s eyes. Even from a distance, he was able to set a tremble across her skin and she quickly pulled her gaze away.
Now, having met him, she could well understand why Martha had not spoken of him in detail. He was, to her mind, somewhat terrifying given his dark looks and ill manner! Little wonder that he wanted to be at this house alone, for Marie was quite sure he would not easily find company willing to put up with such somberness!
But I shall not think of that now, she told herself, firmly. I am here to congratulate Martha on her wedding and enjoy the wedding breakfast and that is precisely what I shall do.
I hope you enjoyed the preview of my new novel“Married to the Duke of Ice” It will be live on Amazon soon…
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