"I truly was not even aware that Devon was searching for a wife," Rebecca explained, "because I was too wrapped up in my own wishes and desires. I feel rather ashamed of myself, as a matter of fact."
Her mother-in-law inclined her head. "What do you mean?"
They began walking again, slowly, side by side. "I almost do not want to tell you, because I do not want you to think badly of me. I hold you in the highest regard, Your Grace."
The duchess gave her a warm smile. "First of all, you must no longer address me as Your Grace. We are family now, Rebecca, so call me Adelaide. Second, I could never think badly of you. You are simply a woman who is in love with my son. Don't look so surprised. It's as obvious as the nose on your face. I would never have supported the marriage if I didn't believe that."
Feeling some relief, Rebecca nodded at Adelaide. "I do adore him. I fell in love with him the first time I met him when he helped my father and me on the road four years ago."
"We've all heard the story of his daring rescue, so rest assured, I applaud you for your efficiency in winning his heart. You must have said and done all the right things."
Rebecca thought of the diary she had read aloud to him, winced slightly at her scandalous tactics, and of course chose not to mention it to her mother-in-law.
"There is more to it than you know," she said to Adelaide, "which is why I was distracted just now. I am afraid Devon is unhappy with me today."
"Why?"
"As I said, I was in a desperate hurry to become his wife--but not just because I adored him. I've adored him for years from afar without ever once leaving my father's home to do anything about it. Until now, when I was forced to take action."
"Forced?"
"Yes. My father had promised me in marriage to someone else."
The duchess stopped abruptly. "I presume you did not love this man."
"No, I did not."
"Was it a very advantageous match?"
"Only for the man in question," Rebecca replied. "He is wealthy and owns property, but he is not a member of the aristocracy. His father was once a successful merchant in West London, but from what I understand, he lost everything in a gamble. His son has been working his entire life not just to regain their social position, but to surpass it. Which is why he wanted me."
They arrived at the maze.
"So that is why you came here hoping to marry my son, and why you were in such a hurry?"
"Yes." Rebecca accompanied her mother-in-law into the gravel path between the hedges. "The problem is that I did not disclose this to Devon, and he found out today when my father arrived looking for me."
Adelaide stopped at a junction. "Your father was here? When? I was not told and did not receive him as I should have. Is he still here?" She gestured toward the house, looking as if she wanted to return.
"I am sorry, he is gone." Rebecca strove to explain. "He is not a very...sociable man, Adelaide, as I am sure you have heard, which is why I am concerned. He would never have come here if he were not very distraught about my disappearance, and the fact that he left so quickly after learning of my marriage without even speaking to me...I can only conclude he was very angry."
"Angry? One would think a father would be overjoyed to learn his daughter has married the heir to a dukedom. He couldn't actually prefer that you marry this neighbor of yours, could he?"
"I believe he would prefer it, Adelaide, which is why I fled, and why I am still so angry with him for agreeing to such a thing."
"But why would he agree? Is it possible this man has some control over your father?"
Rebecca hesitated. "That is what Devon suggested. I confess, up until now, I believed that my father made the arrangements because he has been living too long in isolation with his pain. I believed he lost his grip on reality. He has never seemed to realize there is a whole world of opportunity outside our estate. All he knows is his own small world of intimidation, from a neighbor who enjoys beating down those who are weaker than he. But after his visit today, I have begun to wonder if there is more to it than that. I am going to write to him for answers."
Her voice trembled slightly, and she realized with distress that she had not once cried over her father's betrayal. She had only been enraged and focused on her escape. And upon winning Devon's affections.
"It is not easy when we cannot understand those we love," the duchess said. "Especially when that person is a man--not to mention a peer of the realm--and we are expected to honor and obey him. Come."
Adelaide took her arm and led her through the maze to a wooden bridge in the center. They climbed the steps together. It provided a fine vantage point from which to see a way out.
Adelaide took hold of both Rebecca's hands. "I understand what you did more than you know, for I, too, was forced to marry one man, when I loved another."
Rebecca took a breath to ask about that, but Adelaide raised a hand. "No, dear, that's a story for another day. It is your marriage we must focus on now. I know you care for my son. That is without question. I also know that forced marriages between strangers can result in disaster and a lifetime of unhappiness. In that regard, rest assured that you did the right thing, to refuse the other man and stand up to your father. As far as Devon is concerned..." She paused. "Well, there are things that have happened in his life which make him wary of happiness in any form. Our family certainly has its warts."
"He told me about MaryAnn," Rebecca said.
Adelaide's eyebrows lifted. "Did he? Then he must care for you if he shared that."
"He did not tell me because he wished to open his heart to me," Rebecca admitted. "He told me as a warning, after he learned I had come here seeking protection from another man."
"Ah. That is because he does not want to be responsible for other people. He is afraid he will fail them."
"That is exactly what he tried to tell me. Obviously he entered into this marriage believing it was based on..." She hesitated a moment. "Based on duty and our surface attraction to one another. He feels duped, Adelaide, and I cannot blame him. I will never forgive myself."
"Did he openly accuse you of 'duping' him?"
"He used the word manipulated, and was angry with me for having an ulterior motive."
Adelaide gazed down at their hands clasped together and seemed lost in thought, then she sighed. "Perhaps it is not my place to interfere," she said, "and I might live to regret it, but you are going to find out sooner or later, so I might as well tell you now."
"Tell me what?"
"That Devon needed a wife, Rebecca--and fast--because his father had threatened to withdraw his unentailed inheritance if he did not marry."
Rebecca rested a hand on the wooden rail to steady herself. She was so surprised she could not speak.
"So, perhaps," Adelaide continued, "my son needs to be a bit more forgiving about your so-called ulterior motive. And perhaps you need to understand that if there are problems between you, they are not all on your shoulders."
Rebecca shook her head with dismay. "Why are you telling me this? To make me angry with him?"
"No, I am telling you because I know my son. He will use any excuse to retreat from loving you or anyone else. But someone has to fight for your happiness together. Someone has to tell him he's being stubborn and thickheaded."
Rebecca chuckled. "And that someone is me."
"Yes. Do not give up on him, dear. Just love him, unreservedly, however long it takes. Prove to him that it is possible to be happy for more than just a moment."
Rebecca gazed out over the complicated network of hedges below. "I don't think loving him will be difficult," she said. "The challenge will be holding back my foot, when what he really needs is a good swift kick for that secret he kept from me--the bit about the inheritance. Honestly."
Adelaide smiled. "Go ahead and kick away, dear. And the sooner the better, I say."
Chapter 17
Shortly after three, the wedding breakfast and reception drew to a close, the houseguests began to pack their belongings and prepared to bid farewell to the bride and groom, as well as their hosts, the duke and duchess. For a time, pandemonium ensued, while footmen scurried up and down the palace stairs with trunks and bags. Carriages lined up outside the front entrance, pulling away one by one with organized, ceremonial aplomb.
By teatime, the palace itself breathed a sigh of relief. The rooms settled back into a quieter, sleepier atmosphere. The chairs sat empty, the fireplaces went cold, the champagne was all gone.
After saying goodbye to Aunt Grace--and convincing her that all was well now that the earl had learned the truth about her marriage--Rebecca retreated to her room to pack her own things, for she was to move to different lodgings in the family wing, not far from her husband's. The duchess's maid, Alice, continued to assist her.
Alice was folding Rebecca's dressing gown and gently placing it into her trunk, when a knock sounded at the door. Rebecca crossed the room and answered it.
There in the corridor stood her husband, still dressed in his wedding attire, and despite everything, she responded immediately to his stark beauty, the mesmerizing lure of his confident stance and moody expression.
It galled her that he could have this effect on her after everything that had occurred between them that day, but she supposed he would always be that impressive man she had first seen on a big black horse in the forest. The man who had awakened her to her passions.
She stepped aside and invited him in. He directed his gaze at Alice. "The duchess needs you," he said.
"Yes, milord." The maid hurried from the room and swung the door shut behind her.
Rebecca strolled to the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed and sat down.
"It appears we have something to discuss," she said, not bothering to hide the anger and resentment she felt over the way he had treated her earlier, when he had been keeping a secret, too.
He casually unbuttoned his jacket as he moved toward her. "I thought we did enough talking this morning."
"Did you indeed? Then what are you doing here?" She was already fully aware of what he wanted, however, and was infuriated by the traitorous rush of excitement coursing through her veins as he stood tall and powerful before her.
"If you will recall," he informed her, as he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it clear across the room to the chair by the window, "we were married this morning, so I believe a consummation is on the agenda. We are to soldier on, remember? And duty decrees an heir."
"If you will recall," she said with a sharp bite to her voice, "we already consummated the marriage. So you may at least strike that off your list."
He grinned wolfishly. "I seem to recall you mentioning your desire for such pleasures again and again."
She glared at him with burning, reproachful eyes. "That was before I found out you were a hypocrite."
His fingers froze on the buttons of his waistcoat, and his expression darkened with suspicion. "How so?"
"Who, sir, was using whom?" she asked, her tone ice-cold with accusation. "You might have told me you were being pressured to marry, but you did not tell me why. Do not bother to play innocent. I know all about your father's will."
For a long moment he stared down at her, then he tore at his necktie, pulled it off and tossed it lightly onto the bench beside her. "Then it appears we have everything out in the open now, doesn't it? You wanted me to save you from marrying your neighbor, and I wanted you to save me from losing my inheritance. We trapped each other, plain and simple. So now we can move forward with this convenient marital arrangement without pretenses or romantic expectations. There are no more secrets. At least I hope that is the case."
"It is."
"You're sure?" he asked, pulling his shirt off as well, so she was forced to look at his smooth muscular abdomen, directly in front of her face. "Because I still have my doubts." He tossed the shirt to the chair with his jacket.
"There is nothing to doubt," she replied, realizing she was somehow on the defensive again. "I've told you everything."
He bent forward and braced his knuckles on the bench on either side of her, his face a mere inch from hers. "But do I believe everything, is the question."
Her breath was coming short, and she was very close to losing her composure. For the longest time he remained there, brushing the tip of his nose over hers, wetting his lips...
"What does he look like?" he asked.
"Who?"
"Your betrothed."
She huffed with annoyance. "He was never my betrothed."
"I'm sure he would argue with that. I would most certainly put up a fight if I had been told you were mine, then another man took possession of you."
"I am no one's possession."
"Yes, you are. You're mine."
She should have been offended. She should have slapped his arrogant face. But she was capable only of sitting on the bench, using every ounce of will she possessed simply to hide how shaken she was in the presence of such ostentatious masculinity. He was a powerful, imposing man. It was what had knocked her off her feet to begin with.