| |
––––––––
SEBASTIAN WAS RICH. The fact was not unpleasant. There would be no more toiling in fields, and no more tromping about in the middle of the night if an odd job appeared. He would live in a house larger than the cottage.
And yet...
Sebastian was certain he’d been much happier yesterday than he was today. Yesterday, he’d been confident he had a wonderful wife, a wonderful family, a wonderful cottage. He’d had goals he was working toward to make everything even more comfortable.
Now, the only thing that remained was his comfort. He was a duke, one unconcerned with money.
The thought should give him more joy.
He’d been a fool to not recognize that Genevieve and her mother were lying to him. He’d thought he’d done something wrong by having such a fancy chaise and such well-bred horses. He’d thought he hadn’t attempted to support his family with sufficient effort and dedication.
All of that had been a lie.
“My poor duke,” Lady Letitia said. “You look so glum. You should be happy you’ve been rescued.”
“I’m happy,” he said.
“I am so glad,” Lady Letitia said, “that my efforts were successful.”
“She was very worried for your health, Your Grace,” Lady Letitia’s mother said. “My daughter has such a caring, giving soul. She is utterly selfless and obstinate in fighting for the causes she believes in.”
“Helping to locate dukes?” Sebastian asked. “Is that your cause of choice?”
Lady Letitia frowned slightly. “I am a good friend.”
“Indeed,” her mother said quickly. “Caring and considerate.”
Sebastian settled back against the seat of the coach. He regretted not taking his chaise, but Lady Letitia and her mother had insisted that someone with a new head injury should not be attempting a week-long journey to drive all the way back to Hampshire.
The logic had seemed sound, but he was tired of Lady Letitia listing all her good qualities, even those exaggerated, and having her mother confirm or elaborate upon them.
Sebastian didn’t have any doubts that Lady Letitia had come after him out of marital self-interest. She seemed to think that because he was a duke, and because she was pretty and fashionable, that they were an ideal match. They weren’t. Sebastian remembered being happy to postpone finding a wife, happy to assist Lucas in spying pursuits.
When he returned to Hampshire, Sebastian could return to his normal life of balls and brandy, gambling and races. The thought didn’t usher happiness into his heart. The thought of relentless balls, didn’t entice him. He didn’t want to sit in heavy smoke-filled rooms with men comparing the bosoms of their latest conquests in between games of whist. He didn’t want matchmaking mamas to promote the virtues of their daughters. He’d already had a wonderful marriage: with Genevieve.
He pushed thoughts of Genevieve away. He shouldn’t be thinking of Genevieve. Not now. Genevieve had betrayed him.
And yet, it was true: he wanted to be with Genevieve.
“Did you hear about Genevieve Devon’s father?” Lady Letitia asked. “He’s been going around London, asking for money. Absolutely pathetic.” She shuddered.
“You are very lucky to have been rescued from that family.”
“I didn’t know that,” Sebastian said.
“Indeed,” Lady Letitia’s mother continued, her eyes shining, perhaps excited at finally having captured his interest, more even than when she’d extolled her daughter’s embroidery and entertaining skills.
He frowned. “Do you think that’s why they were living under another name?”
“Obviously.” Lady Letitia’s mother guffawed. “They wouldn’t want anyone in the ton to find out where they were.”
“I see.” Sebastian tapped the edge of the coach thoughtfully.
Perhaps Genevieve hadn’t enacted some elaborate plan on him. Perhaps she’d simply needed to live in the cottage desperately, and perhaps her mother had declared him her husband out of desperation when the vicar and his family had happened upon them.
He frowned.
Obviously, this was simply what he desired to believe. It didn’t mean it was true.
He stared at the shifting landscape. The blue slivers of ocean had long vanished. He was returning to society with Lady Letitia. Perhaps one day he would marry her. Or perhaps, he would marry someone else.
And yet...
Leaving Cornwall didn’t seem like a good plan.
In fact, leaving Genevieve seemed like a terrible plan.
He’d been happy in Cornwall, even though he hadn’t known he was rich, hadn’t known he didn’t need to plow fields. He’d been happy because of Genevieve.
I love her.
When he’d come to Cornwall and argued with Genevieve, he hadn’t understood that her family needed to stay in their cottage. He’d been arrogant and argumentative. Was it any wonder that she’d protested?
Perhaps Genevieve had shot him, but he had been disguised as a highwayman. She’d been brave and wonderful.
He shouldn’t have allowed Lady Letitia to usher him into a carriage, away from everything he most prized.
“Please stop the coach at the next posting inn,” Sebastian said.
“Would you like to admire the scenery here?” Lady Letitia asked.
“I would like to catch the next coach to Cornwall.”
Lady Letitia furrowed her brow. “Back to Cornwall?”
“But surely that’s not necessary,” Lady Letitia’s mother said hastily. “You have just seen Cornwall. And the company outside Cornwall is superior.”
“Far superior.” Lady Letitia’s chin firmed. “It would be a mistake to leave.”
“In that I must disagree,” Sebastian said.
*
HE WAS GONE. IT WAS absolutely predictable, yet if someone had told Genevieve that someone had come in the night and carved out her heart, she would not have been surprised.
Her chest ached, and any movement seemed impossible. All she could think about was him, and all she could think of after was that he was gone.
Forever.
“I miss Sebastian,” Billy said.
“Genevieve misses him too,” Mama said.
“That doesn’t help,” Billy said.
“It will be quite fine,” Mother said.
“No, it won’t,” Genevieve said. “We misled him.”
“He didn’t say anything about evicting us this time,” Mama said brightly. “And he didn’t mention contacting the magistrate. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Genevieve simply stared at her. “Are you happy with what happened?”
“Nonsense,” Mama said. “But it could have gone worse. What we did was truly dreadful.”
“And yet we did it anyway.”
Mama shrugged. “I didn’t want your reputation ruined when Mr. Ackley saw you.”
“I’m quite certain my reputation is now thoroughly ruined.”
“Oh.” Mama sighed. “Perhaps Mr. Ackley Junior—”
“No,” Genevieve said.
Mama glanced at Billy. “The good news is that we will have Genevieve at home with us for quite some time.”
“Was she leaving?” Billy asked, bemused.
“Big sisters normally leave when they become older,” Mama explained.
“But not Genevieve.”
“No. Isn’t that wonderful?” Mama asked.
Billy looked at her skeptically.
“I think we should all leave,” Genevieve said. “I think we should never be here again.”
“But you love Cornwall,” Mama said.
“Cornwall wasn’t the only thing here I loved,” Genevieve said, and Mama looked at her thoughtfully.
Carriage wheels sounded, and despite herself, Genevieve dashed to the window. She hoped Sebastian had returned.
Instead, Mr. Ackley stepped from the carriage with Mr. Ackley Junior, and her heart tumbled.
“It’s Mr. Ackley and his son, Mama,” Genevieve said.
“See. We haven’t been ostracized,” Mama said. “You needn’t have worried about that.”
“Mr. Ackley’s face looks terribly grim,” Genevieve said.
“It always does,” Mama said blithely.
But when Mr. Ackley and his son entered the drawing room, Mama’s expression dimmed.
The vicar glowered as if he were going to confront the devil himself after a lifetime of lamenting the devil’s poor qualities.
“Mr. Ackley, Mr. Ackley Junior.” Mama curtsied, and Genevieve followed.
This time Mr. Ackley and his son did not bow. Instead, they stood rigid, as if bracing themselves for a task worse than avoiding a societal nicety, and wanting to practice being impolite.
“I have come to speak about your behavior at church,” Mr. Ackley said. “It was improper.”
“I believe we were quiet during the sermon,” Mama said.
“Speaking during services is not the only sin you can do,” Mr. Ackley said. “You should know. You seem to be well versed in setting a poor example.”
“Would you like some tea?”
“Papa wants you to leave the parish,” Mr. Ackley Junior blurted.
His father turned to him, and Mr. Ackley Junior shrugged. “I thought they should know.”
Mr. Ackley sighed. “My son is correct. You are setting a bad example to the congregation. In Cornwall, we expect better behavior.”
“You mean, if someone is a duke and forgets it, you expect a reminder?” Mama asked.
“I was thinking more that we do not expect unmarried men and women to live together,” Mr. Ackley said.
“Scandalous is the word he used at home,” Mr. Ackley Junior said. “And shameful.”
“You set a bad example,” Mr. Ackley said. “We would prefer you to live somewhere else.”
“Are you evicting us?”
“I thought there was no benefit to pretending otherwise.”
Mama frowned. “I don’t think you can—”
“Mama, perhaps it’s for the best,” Genevieve said. “Lady Letitia will be sharing this story through the ton soon. It might be beneficial to move.”
“I don’t have the money to move,” Mama said abruptly.
Mr. Ackley frowned. “I don’t believe you.”
“Why do you think we didn’t inform the duke of his identity at once? He wanted to evict us.”
“Despicable woman.” Mr. Ackley exhaled. “There’s another cottage you can live in. It’s smaller and not near the coast. We haven’t had anyone live in it because needs to be repaired—but I’m happy to have you live in it for no cost.”
“You are?” Genevieve asked.
Mr. Ackley nodded gravely. “Though I will ask that you not visit this community.”
“We would not be tempted,” Mama said forcefully.
“What sort of repairs does it need?” Genevieve glanced at Billy, before returning her gaze to Mr. Ackley. “Is it...safe?”
“Just a few broken windows. It doesn’t get so cold in Cornwall.”
Genevieve frowned. “Mama, we can’t—”
“Do you want to be the target of more gossip?” Mr. Ackley asked. “I assure you, I can make your time here unpleasant. The cottage is perfectly fine. It has a roof and a door with a lock. What more does a family like you need? You should be grateful.”
Mama’s face paled, then she nodded. “You’re correct.”
Mr. Ackley exhaled. “There’s a coach leaving tomorrow. I can put you on it.”
“You shouldn’t do that,” Mr. Ackley Junior told his father.
“It’s the charitable thing to do,” Mr. Ackley said. “Even for a fallen woman.”
Genevieve’s stomach twisted, she gazed at her mother, but Mama did not protest Mr. Ackley’s description of her.
Mama tried to distract her with moving. Now that Lady Letitia knew where they were living, there was little point in living a quiet life here.
Mama and Sally packed up the house. Genevieve attempted to help, but every object seemed heavy, and even folding clothes into the chest seemed an impossible task.