Page 26 of A Tale of Two Dukes

Much as he was tempted to confront his cousin that very morning and relieve his own bruised feelings by telling him exactly what he thought of his behaviour, Richard could see it would be of no use, and might do actual harm.

He was not the one with most at stake. How to proceed from here must be Viola’s decision, and she knew already that her case was hopeless.

Damn his own situation that made her even more trapped – he’d driven that home to her last night himself.

But it would have been cruel to give her false hope, and he couldn’t do it.

This was not a world in which they could be together.

Despite Mrs Addison’s success last year as the first woman to divorce and shame her husband through Act of Parliament, and gain custody of her children into the bargain, the old booby Marchett had been right to say that the circumstances were very different.

Addison’s incestuous affair with his wife’s sister had been vouched for by witnesses – there was nothing so definite here.

Edward’s crime had been one of intention and manipulation only.

And furthermore, the determined Scottish lady had had substantial financial resources and a shocked, supportive family behind her – Viola knew only too well that she could boast of neither.

Marchett and Winterflood would lie to save themselves; it would be their word against hers, and society was not currently arranged to favour women’s interests over those of rich, powerful, titled men.

It seemed doubtful if it ever would be. No – there’d be a huge scandal, as she’d said last night, and she’d be the one to suffer most even though she was entirely blameless.

Who could doubt it? Her family would be pulled down with her too – it would be a comprehensive disaster.

She emerged later in the morning, finding him doing nothing in particular in the library as he waited for her, and his heart was wrung by her pale, unhappy face.

‘Let’s walk,’ she said. She was already wrapped in a grey velvet pelisse and holding her bonnet carelessly by the ribbons.

He fetched his overcoat and hat and accompanied her outside.

It didn’t seem to matter where they went, but by tacit consent, they climbed the winding path up the slope that would have them out of sight of the house as quickly as possible.

It was a looming presence that pointed up the vast disparity in power and influence between the Duke and themselves.

‘Have you seen Edward?’ he asked her, and she shook her head.

‘Marchett accosted me this morning over breakfast – tried to get me to leave, prosed on about honour, as if I were the one behaving dishonourably here. But I confronted him with the horror of what his old companion is trying to do you, not to mention me, and he had nothing to say to me in his defence. He told me he would not report our conversation back, and I believed him. He’s appalled, but you won’t be surprised to hear that he isn’t actually going to take any action on your behalf. ’

‘What could he do, after all?’ she said with an air of indifference, almost of apathy.

‘What can anyone do? I was never foolish enough to imagine that Lord Marchett, Edward’s oldest and closest friend, would support me, and I’m not sure it would help much even if he did.

How is it possible to be surrounded by such splendour, to supposedly be mistress of it, to be widely envied, and yet to be so powerless?

I have no money beside the allowance my husband makes me, which is a great deal by most people’s standards but is entirely dependent on his continuing to pay it, and my family has nothing to spare.

I am a duchess, but it is an empty title, product of my marriage – people would bow and scrape to me wherever I went, I’d get endless credit at the modiste’s so I could buy another stupid gown I don’t need, but that is all.

In law, I am no more than Edward’s possession.

It makes me feel sick and furious to think of it. ’

There was nothing to be said to all this, because it was true.

They made their way to one of the summerhouses, and took some comfort in holding each other, but today, their kisses were desperate and feverish, as if they both knew that a shadow hung over their relationship and a time limit had been placed on it.

That had always been so, of course, but it had been possible to ignore the facts before – now, it was not.

When they returned to the house, they found a great and unexpected bustle in the hall, with servants running to and fro; it soon became clear that Lord Marchett was leaving, and the Duke was bidding him a punctilious farewell.

The carriage was already drawn up by the door, the luggage was almost loaded, and the horses could not be kept waiting long in the chill air.

The Earl shook hands with Richard with a tolerable show of friendliness, and bowed over Viola’s hand with an artificial smile pasted on his face, thanking her for her hospitality as he told her that he had been summoned home by an urgent letter in the day’s post. Every single person present knew that this was untrue, and they all pretended to believe it.

‘I am sorry to see you go, old fellow,’ Edward said, appearing to mean it.

Whatever had passed between the two old friends in the last hour, it did not seem as though they had had a falling-out: nothing so severe as to be irrevocable, at any rate.

‘But perhaps it is as well, since I too must be absent from home for a day or two, and so would not be here to entertain you as I should.’ He turned to Viola and said with perfect composure, ‘I hope you will forgive me, my dear, but Thompson came this morning with an urgent message about a serious outbreak of some infectious disease among the stock on the farms over towards Cambridge. I feel I must go and make sure all is being done to prevent it spreading and causing a great deal of damage, even panic among the tenants. If I leave soon, I shall be there in good time this evening, and I shall be busy with it all day tomorrow, and put up at an inn, or at Thompson’s house, for two nights at least. My valet is packing a bag for me, and you should not expect me back before Friday.

But Richard will keep you entertained, I am confident of it. ’

Viola was plainly taken aback by this news, and murmured some incoherent response; Richard could only be grateful for Lord Marchett’s intervention, for once.

The Earl raised what Mr Armstrong could not help but see as a satirical eyebrow, and said with a touch of impatience that it was time he was away, and any awkwardness was lost in the flurry of farewells.

By the time his carriage had rolled away, Edward had said it was time for him to leave also, or it would be pitch-dark when he reached his destination.

He made his way round to the stables for a less ceremonious departure, brushing away with a sudden vagueness his wife’s insincere offer to come and see him off.

The pair were left alone, save for the servants, looking at each other in silent consternation.

They wandered into the library and sat by the fire, both chilled. ‘Thompson did come in and ask to see him urgently when we were at the breakfast table,’ Richard told her. ‘So it could be true, but it seems an odd coincidence all the same.’

‘It may all be true, but it’s still a pretext to leave us alone together,’ she said, her voice rich with contempt directed at her husband.

‘I do not believe he would normally go haring across the countryside in February because a few sheep have a cough. He has people to tend to such matters for him, surely. I know he does. Perhaps in the end, he cannot stomach the idea of being in the house while we… Or perhaps, and more likely, Lord Marchett has told him that if he insists on make a cuckold of himself, at least he need not be present while it happens.’

‘Is it going to happen, Viola? You weren’t sure last night.’

She looked at him, straight in the face, and then incredibly, she smiled. ‘Yes, it is,’ she said. ‘If you want me, I am yours, even if it can only be for a night or two, and then we must part forever.’