The Duke's Divorce (The Reluctant Grooms Series Volume IV) (6 page)

Fiona entered her new room. Pale cream
wallpaper adorned the walls. Yellow velvet curtains hung from the
large windows. She walked to the doorway on the wall across from
the bed. It was a dressing room. Her trunk had been brought up, the
clothes from Scotland hung in the armoire alongside her new
purchases from Madame Rochelle. Through another doorway, a water
closet with a private tub. Fiona was stunned. In Scotland, she had
to boil her own water, and haul her own tub up to her bedchamber
when she wanted a bath. Here, it was built right into its own
room.

Back in her bedroom, she noticed another door
on the opposite wall. She opened it and found a sitting room
decorated in shades of dusty rose. A small settee, a chaise, and a
small escritoire were the only furniture. And another door on the
far wall had her curious. The house was like a giant maze. She
opened the door and found a very masculine bedchamber decorated
with heavy mahogany furniture and a huge four-poster bed.
Obviously, Robert’s room. She stepped back and shut the door
quickly. Not that she didn’t believe Robert when he said he
wouldn’t visit her at night, but one never knew. The question
remained would she allow him in?

Merry was waiting for her when she returned
to her own room.

“Lady Cantin said you would like to rest now.
Let me help you with your gown. Shall I brush out your hair as
well?”

“Brush out my hair?” Fiona could not believe
what the girl was asking.

“Yes, of course, my lady. You do not wish to
sleep with it coiled, do you? Before you dress for dinner, I can
put it up for you in whichever manner you wish. I have been told
I’m very good with hair.” The girl seemed to know more about living
in high society than she did.

“Yes, of course. That would be lovely.”

Fiona let Merry take over. She said nothing
as the girl helped her off with her gown, and then brushed her
hair. Climbing into the huge bed with the pretty, yellow coverlet,
Fiona hadn’t realized how exhausted she was. It overwhelmed her and
before Merry had finished hanging up her gown, Fiona was
asleep.

“Lady Fiona? Lady Fiona? Would you like to
wake now?”

Fiona heard someone calling to her and opened
her eyes. Surprised, she sat up in bed. It took three seconds
before she realized where she was. Her maid, Merry, stood holding a
tray.

“I took the liberty of bringing you a cup of
hot chocolate. It always helps me when I need to waken. I hope you
do not mind.”

Fiona sat upright and took the cup. She
smelled its delicious aroma and took a tentative sip. Nectar from
the gods.

“What did you say this was?”

Merry looked at her, surprised. “Hot
chocolate, my lady. Have you never had it before?”

“No, I cannot say I have.”

“If you wish, I can bring you a cup every
morning, if that is agreeable to you.”

“Yes, by all means. That is very agreeable,
thank you.”

“Have you decided what gown you should like
to wear to dinner this evening?” Merry asked, heading for the
dressing room.

“The dark purple I think,” Fiona said. She
wanted to look nice for Cantin on her first night in his house.
‘Twas the least she could do considering he had allowed her to buy
the gowns in the first place.

Merry helped her with the gown, and then did
her hair in a lovely up-style with ringlets cascading down her
back.

“Is that really me?” Fiona stood and gaped at
her reflection in the cheval glass.

“Yes, my lady. And may I say you look very
beautiful this evening.”

Fiona smiled at her new companion. “Thank you
so much for all your help, Merry. I think you and I will rub along
nicely together.”

Fiona glanced at the little ormolu clock on
her dressing table. She had plenty of time before dinner, but no
desire to wait in her room. Perhaps Lady Cantin would be somewhere
downstairs.

Fiona descended the staircase at the front of
the house and found Edwards in the hall.

“Mr. Edwards, could you tell me if Lady
Cantin is downstairs yet?”

“She is with His Grace in the green parlour,
Lady Fiona. If you would follow me.”

Fiona tempered her nerves and followed the
butler to the doors of the green parlour. She swallowed tightly as
he opened the door. “Lady Fiona,” he said, and bowed out of her
way.

Fiona walked into the room and found Lady
Cantin smiling at her. Cantin stood near the mantle, a strange
expression on his face.

“Fiona, how beautiful you look this evening,”
Lady Joanna said. “And your hair is lovely. I knew Merry would be a
perfect match with you.” She turned to her son. “Robert, does not
Fiona look enchanting this evening?”

Fiona waited for him to say something. He did
not. Perhaps he did not like the new gown, or her hair this way.
Well, she was sorry to disappoint him, but not knowing any better,
she had no idea how she was supposed to look.

“Robert, I say, does not Fiona look
enchanting this evening?” his mother asked again.

Robert had trouble meeting her eyes. “Yes,
very lovely, Mother,” he choked out.

Robert strode into his house at half-five,
bearing the well wishes of his friends from his clubs. He made the
rounds to break the news himself, but it had already broken. It
seemed William’s minx of a wife had sent him a note before she took
Fiona on their shopping excursion that morning, and William,
gossipmonger that he was, could not keep the news to himself.

He laid the groundwork of the concocted story
to all his cronies and they were surprised, but not very much.
Davingdale said he knew it would happen this way. Robert was too
staid for any of the girls in their society and it would take an
exceptional woman to snare his hand in matrimony. Robert prayed
Fiona’s trip to the modiste had been successful. He did not wish to
have his friend’s wonder how he could have fallen for such a mousy
creature.

Robert was in good humor as he dressed, and
made his way downstairs to the parlour. He found his mother sipping
a sherry as he entered the green salon. Being the dutiful son, he
kissed her on the cheek.

“How are you this evening, Mother? Did you
have a pleasant day?”

“Very well, thank you. And you?”

“Very well. It seems the news of my nuptials
has already set tongues wagging.”

“As you knew it would, my dear.”

His mother seemed unusually smug this
evening, as if she held a great secret. “Did you manage to spend
some time with Fiona, or was she gadding about the shops all day
with Penny?” He had wondered about his new wife, off and on
throughout the afternoon.

“No, we had a lovely luncheon, and then I
introduced her to the staff. I found her a lady’s maid, and then
bade her take a nap this afternoon. She should be down
presently.”

And with that, Edwards announced his
wife.

There must be some mistake, Robert thought.
The girl who stood before him now was not the same woman he
married. She had been passably pretty before, but to say she now
looked stunning now was an understatement. The deep purple of her
gown offset her translucent skin, the candles giving it a healthy
glow. Her hair hung in cascading rivulets over her shoulders and
she no longer carried the deep circles under her eyes. If he had
seen her in a ballroom, he would have been inclined to ask for an
introduction.

His mother had stopped speaking and both
women were now looking at him waiting for a response.

“Robert, I say, does not Fiona look
enchanting this evening?” his mother asked.

Robert had trouble meeting Fiona’s gaze.
“Yes, very lovely, Mother” he finally managed to articulate.

Fiona had the decency to blush. “Thank you,
my lord.”

“I must say, I had no idea how much a gown
could improve your appearance,” Robert said without thinking. Her
eyes grew round. Too late, he’d insulted her again.

“Robert,” his mother admonished.

“Forgive me, Fiona. I sometimes say what is
on my mind without thinking of the consequences. You are very
beautiful this evening.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Fiona stared at the
floor.

“I presume this is one of the gowns you
purchased with Penny. Might I enquire as to how many you
bought?”

“I purchased three of the ready-made variety,
and had Madame Rochelle take measurements for seven more. I hope
that is enough.” Fiona looked from Robert to his mother.

“Only ten,” his mother said. “Goodness me,
Fiona, you shall need quite a few more than ten. Why you’ll need
afternoon gowns, morning gowns, not to mention ball gowns and a
riding costume.” She took her hand and led her to the fire. “I
shall make an appointment for us with my modiste and see if we
cannot dress you in the style to which you need as duchess.”

Fiona curtsied. “You are too kind, thank
you.”

Robert stared at his new wife. If this was
how a ready-made gown looked on her, he could only imagine the stir
she would cause in Society when she appeared in one made to
fit.

Edwards announced dinner and Robert went to
take his mother’s arm.

“Robert, Fiona belongs on your arm now,” his
mother said.

“Yes, of course.” He turned and gave Fiona
his arm. “Forgive me.” It had been easy to make the faux pas. He’d
been escorting his mother to dinner since his father had
passed.

Dinner was pleasant, and Robert listened to
his mother prattle on with the latest gossip. He said very little,
only making comments when directly asked. He approved his sisters
meeting Fiona before the crush of a family dinner party, which he
knew would involve more than family. However, what his mother said
next almost made him choke on his pheasant.

“We should also decide which invitations you
would like to accept for the balls, my dear. Well, as soon as your
gowns are made.” His mother smiled at him. “You must make an
appearance and dance with your new wife at least once. You do not
wish the gossipmongers to say you are neglecting your new bride, do
you?”

“No, Mother, not at all,” he lied.

He had no trouble spending money on Fiona; in
fact, he enjoyed the idea now that he saw what a marked improvement
it brought. However, those feelings aside, and more to the point,
he wished he did not have to be attached to her. After his
disastrous failed engagement with Mary-Elizabeth in his early
twenties, he vowed never to go that route again. He’d held a place
in Society of charming, yet unobtainable gentleman for years, and
he liked it. He was handsome, sought after, and could charm his way
in or out of a dance or an interlude. No one could resist him. Now,
here he was, burdened with a wife, of all things. No more stolen
kisses on terraces, or quiet moments in a coach. He’d given Fiona
his word as a gentleman.

He’d never kept a mistress, his dalliances
had been fleeting affairs. His father had imparted his wisdom of
women at a very early age – Do what you will and be discreet. Never
keep a woman for any length of time, they shall always try to trap
you. You will know the right woman for your wife, upon first sight,
as sure as you know your own name.

Robert looked at his bride. A lovely gown and
a new hairstyle had created a rare thing of beauty. He was
terrified of the sensation she would make. Inundated with
invitations, he would have to escort her and pretend to make the
pretty. His seat in Parliament would also be changed, he would need
to hold his own dinners and balls now. For what act in Lords had
not been gone over in a library or card room at least a hundred
times before it passed? How could he allow Fiona to preside over
his table? She knew nothing of the world, Society, or especially
politics. He would become a laughingstock.

He needed a drink. Robert placed his napkin
on his plate and rose from the table.

“Where are you going, dearest?” his mother
asked.

“To my club, Mother. I need to speak with a
colleague about an important matter concerning the new shipping
line.” ‘Twas a blatant lie, but his mother would never know the
difference.

“Surely, you do not wish to leave Fiona on
her first night in London?”

He glanced at his wife, her hands clasped in
her lap, her eyes downcast.

“Forgive me, my dear. It is unavoidable. My
time in Scotland left me with much to do on my return.”

Fiona glanced up at him briefly and then back
down again.

“Robert, I am sure this business could wait
until morning,” his mother said a little more forcefully.

“Mother, if I am to keep Fiona in as many
gowns as you seem to require, I must attend to the matters at hand.
I will take my leave of you now. Good night.” He strode from the
room, regretting his tone and his words, but that did not deter
him. He could not stay another minute in Fiona’s presence.

*****

Merry waited to help her with her gown and
brush out her hair again. Tomorrow Fiona looked forward to a long
bath before meeting Robert’s sisters at breakfast. Then she would
be attending Lady Cantin on, what her new mother-in-law called, the
‘rounds’.

Fiona, dressed in her simple cotton
nightrail, crawled into bed and slid under the covers. Merry had
stoked the fire before she departed. Fiona lay there listening to
the crackling of the embers and wondered what would truly become of
her as Robert’s wife.

Perhaps she might entrust some of her
apprehension to Lady Penny. On their outing, Penny did seem to know
all the ways around a marriage. And although she and Robert were
married in name only, she would like it to appear they were happy.
Wasn’t that what he asked of her? Hadn’t they fallen in love, or so
the story went. Shouldn’t they then spend time together alone, to
at least make it seem as if they were in love? Especially in front
of his mother?