Chapter Twenty-Three

Three days passed, and Julia felt as if she were haunting her own life, going through the motions of living without feeling any of them. Gregory, who preferred to sleep well into the middle of the morning, was always up and dressed and gone before she herself awoke, no matter how early she arose. Julia continued her round of fittings for the ball, her morning and afternoon calls, and a nightly routine of suppers and parties, but none of it mattered. Even when she and her husband were together, she felt the rift between them.

Gregory made certain never to be alone with her. Julia’s anger had burned itself out, but she couldn’t allow herself to go numb. She patently refused to accept this ridiculous fate.

Still, in her darker moments she worried that the duke understood what she could not. Perhaps Gregory was only being realistic about his own shortcomings. After all, if he believed that Julia could ever again want that wretched Lucas Campbell after what the man had done to her, then she’d married a fool.

The duke either didn’t know Julia at all, or he knew himself too well. Neither was a promising option.

Julia sat and stewed in her unhappiness during tea with Susannah and Constance. Her misery had one good function, at least. She barely felt the barbs of her stepmother’s words.

“I fail to see why Her Majesty should choose a fancy dress party as the grand sendoff of the Season.” Constance tsked as she nibbled an almond biscuit. “And a fairy tale theme? Really, I feel terribly sorry for the queen and the ton. To think they’ve all been led astray by a story that wouldn’t make a sufficient plot for a bad novel.”

“I assume you’re speaking of my marriage, Constance, dear.” Julia knew that her smiling placidity only piqued her stepmother’s rage. It was one of her few pleasures left. “At any rate, I wouldn’t place too much stock in your tastes in fiction. I know you’ve a difficult time comprehending a story that doesn’t come with many pictures.”

Susannah cleared her throat pointedly before sipping her tea. Julia knew the girl hoped to keep this from devolving into an argument. Alas, poor Susannah’s wish would not come true today.

“A rise in station has turned you even more uncouth, Julia.” Her stepmother glowered.

“Well. You are the expert in that phenomenon.” Julia smiled sweetly.

“Oh, please. I so wanted this to be a nice tea.” Susannah put her cup down and seemed to droop. Ashamed, Julia recalled that she and Constance were the only family Susannah truly had. She didn’t want to make the girl choose between her stepsister and her mother.

“Lord Cheltham asked after you last night,” she said. Susannah gave a thin, tired smile. “Do you not like him? I hear he’s a regular caller.”

“He’s also a mere baron,” Constance said with a slight laugh. “My Susannah can do better than that. If you can achieve the rank of a duchess, I doubt my darling girl will settle for anything less than a duke herself. Or perhaps she might even aim for royalty.”

“At the moment, most princes are eighty, married, or both,” Julia said. “Happy hunting.”

“Besides, I don’t know that I want to marry my first Season.” Susannah appeared agitated, almost as if she’d had this exact conversation before. Constance ignored her daughter completely.

“What of Ashworth’s friend, the Duke of Huntington?” Constance leaned slightly across the table, almost upsetting the tea things. “He’s titled, vastly wealthy, and as young and handsome as a man can be. Would he not be a perfect match for our dear Susannah?”

“I see now why you allowed Susannah to have me to tea,” Julia drawled. “Unfortunately, I doubt Ashworth would encourage you to start targeting his closest friends. The Duke of Huntington is a particular man. He’s extremely amiable, so if he wished to pursue Susannah I’d have no objections. But I won’t try to force the matter.”

“And the duke doesn’t want to pursue me anyway,” Susannah added quickly. How interesting. Most young girls would be prepared to sell their souls if it meant possible marriage to a handsome duke. Had Susannah someone else already in mind?

“You might discuss it with your husband,” Constance said.

“He wouldn’t consider it.”

“He might if you asked him.” Constance stirred her tea, relishing Julia’s discomfort. “Unless you are not both so close as you pretend.”

“Our marriage is perfectly happy.” Julia hated to lie, but she hated Constance’s satisfaction more.

“My dear girl, this childish pretense is wearying. You accomplished the great dream of womankind: you tricked your way into a position of rank and influence through marriage. If you’d only accept that as enough, I could respect it. Instead, you struggle to maintain this ridiculous charade.”

“Tricked?” Julia thought of her father in that moment. Sir Arthur had mourned the death of Julia’s mother bitterly for years. He’d told Julia frequently she was his solace, the one gift her mother had left for him to cherish. When he’d met Constance, Julia recalled the joyful spark she’d seen in his eyes. He’d wanted to give Julia a mother, but she also knew he’d wanted a wife again. He and her mother had been so blissfully happy, according to him and to the servants. He’d wanted that happiness again. “And you tricked my father into marriage, then? To raise your own position?”

“It’s no differently than I did with Susannah’s.” Constance seemed outright puzzled.

“Mamma!” Susannah paled.

“If I’d looked for love, I’d have ended up a shopkeeper’s daughter and wife the same as my mother.” Constance displayed no embarrassment at her admission. If anything, she appeared proud of herself. “You two ladies have only ever known position and privilege. You can’t imagine how grim the world appears without those two things.”

Maybe the woman had a point, but Julia still felt revolted at the idea.

“My father married you because he loved you!”

“Please, my dear girl. He married me out of love for you.” Constance’s smile soured. “You were all he ever spoke of. He married me to provide you with a mother and a sister in Susannah. We were both only useful objects to him.”

“That’s not true,” Susannah said.

“You were five years old when he left us, Susannah. How could you possibly know? Sir Arthur wanted a family for his daughter, and I wanted a title. We both got what we wanted out of the other, and that was enough. That’s all men and women are to each other, Julia. Useful objects. At your age, such appalling sentimentality should be well behind you. I’m certain you only embarrass yourself with the duke.” Constance shook her head as she selected a cream-filled pastry. “No wonder he’s booked passage on a ship for Spain.”

“How on earth do you know that?” Julia asked. She felt suddenly ill. Gregory had said they would be parting after the end of the Season, but to think he’d already booked passage and that Constance of all people knew that fact before his own wife was like a stab to the gut.

Julia’s stepmother appeared victorious, as if her deepest suspicions had been confirmed.

“The word is already spreading across London that the duke is leaving the country the day after the queen’s ball.”

Julia had to salvage this.

“Of course, it slipped my mind entirely. Ashworth is off on business to the Continent for a few weeks. He’ll return to Lynton Park as soon as he’s finished. Thank you for letting me know of the ton gossip, dear stepmother. What silly creatures, chattering about affairs that don’t concern them in the least. One would think these women had other, more important things to discuss. But I suppose for a certain kind of person, gossip relieves the tedium of an empty life.”

Constance narrowed her eyes. “Your ruse is unraveling quickly, Julia. Pray you don’t provide Her Majesty any mortification. If she discovers your grand romance to be a farce after all the expense she’s gone to for this ball, well. You and Ashworth both may have to flee the country in disgrace. Separately, of course.”

“Will the two of you stop?” Susannah shoved away from the tea table, tears of frustration on her cheeks. “I don’t know why everyone in this city must be so horrid to one another. I wish I’d never debuted at all! I’m sick to death of society!”

“Darling.” Julia rose to comfort her stepsister, but Susannah fled the room.

“Look what you’ve done now.” Constance glared as she stood. “You should leave, Your Grace. I must see to my daughter.”

Though Julia outranked Constance, Beaumont House was not her home any longer. She’d been reduced to the role of a guest here. Julia stiffly took her leave and walked out into the London streets. As she entered her carriage, she believed she could feel eyes upon her from every direction. Julia wondered if people were whispering about the silly duchess and her fraudulent marriage.

The worst part was that if they were, they would be perfectly right.

…

“Tell me it isn’t true.” Percy sat down alongside Gregory, obliterating the duke’s attempt at peaceful dissolution. He was on his second ale, and the sting of life was beginning to grow fuzzy at long last.

“What would you like me to deny? I’m afraid that if you’re waiting for me to dismantle Kepler’s laws of planetary motion, you’re out of luck. The man’s reasoning is remarkably sound, and I’m a tad drunk at the moment.”

They were at their gentleman’s club, the air around them currently filled with cigar smoke and inebriated laughter. Gregory had taken to a corner, intent on brooding and counting the minutes until he could depart this cursed city. His coming flight, incidentally, was what bothered Percy as well.

“The news is spreading about London like the plague. They say you’ve booked passage on a ship bound for Spain the day after the queen’s ball. And they say that you are not taking the duchess with you.”

“I can’t stop the bored matrons of the ton from saying whatever they please, but I must admit I thought you had more on your mind than they do, Perce. Next you’ll have very firm opinions on which brand of button is decidedly unfashionable.”

“Why are you fleeing from us and from your wife?” Percy seemed shocked into disbelief, which only infuriated Gregory. Men like Percy could never understand people like him. Rotten, unsympathetic people with only the basest human instincts.

“Julia will be returning to Lynton Park. She’s much she needs to learn as mistress of a large estate. And I have business abroad.”

“Please. You’ve never gone abroad for business in your life.”

“You don’t know that,” Gregory snapped. There was so much even his closest friends didn’t know about him, his charitable endeavors included. But Gregory didn’t want to tell Percy about all that; the man might argue that he should stay with Julia, which would be all too tempting.

“I confess I have no idea who you are anymore,” Percy snapped.

“Marriage changes a man,” Gregory muttered.

“Evidently not well enough. How could you open your wife to the possibility of gossip like this?”

“When you’re furious, Perce, you tend toward a ruddy complexion. Rather like a bruised tomato. It gives one ideas for all the least flattering insults.” Gregory swallowed the rest of his ale quickly, planning a hasty exit. If his oldest friend was happy to berate him publicly, then Gregory wasn’t going to give the rest of the ton added ammunition for gossip. “Besides, how the devil was I to know someone would learn of my plans?”

“Because you are now part of the most talked-about couple in London.”

When Gregory had married Julia, he’d thought himself a genius for performing their love in a most public manner. After all, he’d gotten those society wives and husbands to leave him alone. He now saw the flaw in that particular plan. These women no longer wanted a night in his bed, but they were positively fascinated by what went on in it between the duke and his damned wife.

“We can’t lose the queen’s favor,” Gregory muttered. The ale had started to loosen his tongue. “I’ll have to cancel my plans yet a-bloody-gain and find a slyer way to the Continent. I might have to disguise myself as a sailor. Or swim the Channel. Whichever proves more amusing.”

“I’ve often pitied you, Ashworth, but I’ve never been ashamed of you before,” Percy said.

The blood all rushed to Gregory’s head, and he just managed to keep from tackling his oldest friend and punching him repeatedly out of sheer frustration. What man could possibly pity him? What had Gregory ever lacked? He had wealth, charm, and the most perfect woman in England to call his wife. That he was currently trying to get away from her was his issue, not hers.

“Why should I be ashamed of knowing my own foibles?” Gregory stood and walked away from the table, though Percy insisted upon trailing behind him.

“I’ve never seen you lie to yourself before.”

“I can be accused of many despicable qualities, my dear friend. I’m a seducer of married women, a destroyer of happy homes, and I’ve never once cried at the opera. But one charge nobody could ever level at me is the charge of being a liar.”

The two men passed out into the summer afternoon, and Gregory signaled for his carriage at once. He hoped Percy would take the hint and leave, but that would have made his life far too easy.

“Why can’t you simply confess it to yourself?” his friend demanded as Gregory’s coach finally arrived. “I can see how miserable this is making you.”

“Your conversation? You may have a point there.”

Gregory climbed inside and shut the door, but Percy stuck his face in the window.

“It’s not a sin to fall in love with your own wife, Your Grace.” Percy’s voice was laden with all the scorn a man might muster. He then turned on his heel and walked back into the club.

“Take me home.” Gregory gave the order, and then sat back. He rattled through the city streets while Percy’s parting words rattled about in his own skull. To fall in love with one’s own wife…

Gregory almost wanted to laugh. He nearly had the coachman turn around and take him back to the club, all so Gregory could go interrupt Percy at billiards and shout at the man, “I love her! I know that I love her, you sanctimonious dolt! That’s why I have to leave her.”

But he didn’t believe Percy—or anyone else—would understand that reasoning.

When he arrived back at Carter House, Gregory made straight for his chambers. He’d change and then take Huntington up on his offer of dinner. He’d go anywhere, so long as he didn’t have to face Julia.

Of course, when the duke entered his bedchamber he found his wife serenely perched at the edge of the bed and waiting for him.

“Damn it all,” he muttered. Being in the woman’s presence itself was too strong a temptation. If Gregory hadn’t been quite so firm in his convictions, he’d have taken her into his arms at once. But he hadn’t done much right in his life, and he was determined not to be weak now. “Is something amiss? I need to hurry if I’m to keep my appointment.”

“I just braved tea with Constance. Apparently the gossip is all over London that you’re leaving for Spain the day after the queen’s ball.”

“Yes. I heard much the same from Percy down at our club.” Gregory rang for Tomkins. “You needn’t worry. I’ll amend my plans at once to save you from the gossiping hordes.”

“Thank you. I underestimated how much attention the ton would pay us once we were wed.”

“I’m sorry.” He meant it with all sincerity. “You shouldn’t be subjected to ridiculous nattering.”

“I prefer the scrutiny and gossip to life as Constance’s wageless maid,” she replied. Wherever Gregory went in the room, he felt his wife’s eyes follow after him. “Please talk to me. I can’t believe that a chance encounter with Mr. Campbell demolished everything I thought we’d built together.”

“None of this is your fault,” Gregory said. What an absurd idea. Julia had every right to be furious with him, yet she remained calm and reasonable. The woman was a marvel he did not deserve. “Campbell reminded me of my own shortcomings, not yours.”

“Why can’t you allow us to be happy?”

Gregory could scarcely put his thoughts into words. He recalled his father going for more than a week without exchanging a single sentence with him. Gregory’s mother had never written to him once when he was away at school, and the other boys had mocked him for the way he’d been abandoned by his own kin. It had gotten so desperate that Gregory eventually began writing his own letters to himself from his family. On the day that his parents’ ship went down, he burned the whole of the fantasy life he’d concocted for all of them.

He’d been sick with his own relief at their death. Now he did not need to pretend any longer, nor did he need to be ashamed of his own inability to inspire affection.

He knew he ought to tell all this to Julia, because she might understand where no one else alive could. His wife had the most marvelous gift for intuition, but what could she say to this admission? That he was wrong? Or that she pitied him? The last idea was too intolerable to be borne.

“We could never be happy,” he said. “Or rather, I could never continue to make you happy.”

“Why?”

“Because you deserve what I can’t give, and I’m not a strong enough man to watch you discover that fact on your own.”

“What if you’re wrong?” She was a stubborn minx.

“I’m never wrong about anything this important, unfortunately.”

“Am I not enough to entice you to stay, then?”

“You bloody little fool,” he growled. The duke was upon her in an instant, and Julia did not resist as he laid her upon the bed. The soft quiver of her mouth upon his was sheer paradise. “How many times must I demonstrate my desire for you?”

“Only until I’m fully satisfied.”

“When will that be?”

“I’ve yet to find the limit of it.”

He’d never find anything like this again—no other woman in this world would ever satisfy him. Only an idiot would give her up, and if he loved her less he’d keep her and enjoy her, let her grow to tire of him and ignore her displeasure in favor of his own delight.

But whatever shreds of decency resided within his breast wouldn’t allow such a thing.

“That’s precisely my point, Julia. I don’t have what is required to fully satisfy you, and I never shall.”

Once again, he was faced with the most startling sight: that of his wife struggling against tears.

“I think it’s worthy of a chance,” she said.

“I used to think I was a gambling man,” the duke said. “But you are the one thing I won’t risk.”

And even though it broke something within him, he left her there.