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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

“ I shall kill him!” Vincent snarled, marching back and forth across the drawing room as if he was already on his way to battle. “I told you he was wretched; I told you he was a beast. Why did you not send for me? I could have drawn my pistol on him there and then, seizing justice for you!”

“You would have had to shoot him in the back to win,” Beatrice remarked from the window seat, rolling her eyes at the display. “Honestly, why must you gentlemen jump immediately to violence?”

Teresa winced, for her brother would not appreciate such a remark. Yet, she would not ask Beatrice to cease, not when the woman’s sharp words might just distract Vincent from taking his pistol to Darnley Castle.

She is right, though. Why must gentlemen jump immediately to violence? It was not as if Vincent was the one who had been so viciously insulted and rejected.

Vincent rounded on Beatrice, his eyes shooting daggers at her. “Stay out of this, Miss Johnson. Truly, I do not even know why you are here. You are not family; this is no concern of yours.”

“On the contrary,” Beatrice argued. “She is my dearest friend, and she asked for my presence, though I cannot fathom why when you are reacting so reasonably.” She flashed him a sarcastic smile, batting her eyelashes.

Vincent jabbed a finger in the direction of Teresa’s sore ankle.

“He dismissed my sister, and he did so while she was terribly injured. Do you expect me to react calmly at such a… despicable slight? This is everything I feared would happen, considering the stories. I should have listened.” He shook his head, glancing at Teresa with guilt in his eyes.

“I should have done more to prevent the marriage. I should have borne the brunt of the scandal for you, Tess.”

“There will surely be one now,” Julianna added in a strange, disembodied voice, her eyes glazed over, staring blankly at the opposite wall.

“The papers were filled with glowing articles about the new Duke and Duchess of Darnley. I kept each one. Now, they will feast upon its demise, picking you apart to the bones, Teresa.”

Teresa had feared as much. As if the humiliation of being cast aside by her husband was not bad enough, society would demand their opportunity to drag her through the mud, judging her as they had always done.

“Everyone said he was a wicked man,” Vincent continued to rant.

“They said he killed his father and grandfather. They said he tried to burn his castle to the ground. Now, he has hurt you, my dear sister, as I worried he might. I should have paid more attention. I should have dueled him from the beginning, refusing the proposal on your behalf.”

Pulling her shoulders back and tilting her chin up, finding her courage, Teresa shook her head. “The stories are not true, Brother, and it is only my pride that has been wounded. My reputation shall undoubtedly take a beating, but that is nothing new.”

“Are you certain he did not push you from that crag?” Vincent replied, as if he could not hear anything that his sister was saying.

Beatrice groaned loudly. “If he wanted her dead, Vincent, he would not have ridden so far to get her back to the castle, nor would he have summoned a physician. Truly, I do wonder if it is just an empty tunnel between your ears. If I breathe through one and Tess stands on the other side, perhaps we can find out, once and for all.”

A snort erupted from Prudence’s nose, her hand clamping over her mouth in an attempt to hold back a laugh.

She gained a sharp scowl from her brother in return, which only seemed to make the impulse worse.

Her puffed-out cheeks turned very red, her eyes watering with the strain of keeping her laughter in.

“Well, still, he has killed her position in society,” Vincent snarked, resuming his frustrated pacing. “How can she show her face again, after this? It will not be long before everyone knows that he is residing in Bath and she has back here with us. It will ruin her. Again!”

Teresa shrugged. “I have no desire to be in society, so that is not such a great tragedy.”

“But what of children?” Julianna chimed in once more, tears glimmering in her eyes.

She clasped a hand to her chest. “Oh no—what of children, Teresa? What will you do with yourself if you do not have children to occupy you? What purpose could you possibly have now, if you are not at least blessed with being a mother?”

“Does the man not care about legacy, for pity’s sake?” Vincent agreed, throwing his hands up.

Beatrice grinned, inspecting her nails as she replied, “I imagine he cares about legacy as much as you do. You have an awful lot to say for a gentleman who is neither married nor a father—unless, of course, you have some illegitimates running around that we do not know about?”

“Why is this girl here?” Julianna barked, for there was nothing she tolerated less than slights against her one and only son. Her precious boy.

Vincent gestured to the door. “You should leave, Miss Johnson. You are upsetting my family.”

“She stays,” Teresa interjected, with more ferocity than she expected. With a gentler tone, she turned to her friend. “Please, Bea. I adore you, but do try not to say everything that leaps to your tongue, just for the sake of keeping the peace.”

Beatrice held her hands up. “My apologies, Tess. I shall refrain; I swear it.”

Taking a tremulous breath, her head bowed, Teresa answered her mother and brother’s most pressing question.

“There will be no children. I will not be a mother, it seems. I do not know what will occupy my days, but I shall find something.” Her breath hitched.

“I will just have to be the very best aunt that I can be… and find the strength to be content with that.”

She was reminded that she was not quite like Beatrice. They shared many beliefs, many truths, but she had only shunned the idea of motherhood because she had doubted she would ever be married.

That had changed when Cyrus happened.

Of late, her daydreams had changed too, imagining the castle hallways brightened by the laughter of children.

Imagining the gardens as the perfect place for her children to play, having grand adventures in such an enchanted realm.

Imagining Cyrus with their son or daughter in his arms, doting upon them.

Silly fictions, like everything else…

“I will not stand for it,” Vincent said, his voice rough with emotion. “Something must be done. You deserve… more than this, Tessie. He cannot be allowed to get away with this disrespect to our family, to you.”

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. “That might be the only thing you have ever said that I have agreed with.” She sighed.

“But you are wasting your time. Tess does not want anything to be done; I have already offered extensive retribution, to no avail. She just wants you to accept her back in this house, where she may live in peace.”

“Is that true?” Prudence asked, her earlier humor gone, replaced with the sympathy that only a sister—or an exceptional friend—could embody.

Teresa nodded, offering her sister a sad smile. “I am a duchess in name, but a spinster in situation. All I can ask for is the support of my family.”

At that moment, Julianna stepped forward.

Her arms were crossed over her chest, her eyes shining with a renewed clarity, her expression stern.

“What I simply cannot understand is what provoked this,” she said.

“Did you say something to him to make him withdraw his affections? Did you do something? Did he find those tawdry books of yours?”

“What?” Teresa rasped, her heart twinging.

“Mama!” Prudence barked, scowling.

“Mother, come now,” Vincent chided more mildly.

Meanwhile, Beatrice muttered something under her breath that did not warrant repeating.

Julianna scoffed, throwing her hands up.

“I am merely saying what everyone is thinking! I love you, Teresa, but you have never been the most… adept at maintaining gentlemanly attention. And none of this makes any sense whatsoever, considering he was the one who proposed and you claim that your marriage was progressing. Is it so terrible for a mother to ask for a reason, when her daughter has been rejected in such an abrupt fashion?”

“Do you think I have not asked myself that same thing?” Teresa shot back, her temper rising.

With it, the prickle of tears that she had been fighting so hard to hold back.

“Do you think I just accepted it meekly? I have questioned it over and over, and I have found no answer that is any balm to my broken heart! One moment, he cared. The next, he did not. It does not make any sense, but it is, nevertheless, the fact of the matter.”

Julianna gasped, her face turning a patchy shade of red as she puffed and spluttered. “Well, I do not see why I deserve to be spoken to like that!”

“This is not about you, Mother!” Prudence interjected. “You were rude and are suddenly upset because Tessie is no longer bowing her head and backing down as she used to. Like she said, she is a duchess—she can speak to you how she likes, Dowager Countess. ”

Julianna’s furious face turned a shade darker, but it was Vincent who jumped in before his mother could explode. “I think we ought to have some tea and calm ourselves, so we do not become uncivilized.”

He looked to his mother. “ You should not say hurtful things to antagonize Tessie.”

He looked at Prudence. “ You will not speak to our mother like that again, or you will be sent from this room.”

He looked at Beatrice. “I still do not know why you are here.” His expression softened as he looked to Teresa. “But I would not deny you your friend, Tessie, and you were quite within your rights to lose your temper. It does not make sense; you do not need to be reminded of that.”

“Thank you,” Teresa croaked, grateful for her brother’s defense, even if it would not change anything.

Vincent rang the bell in the drawing room, and the housekeeper entered with a somewhat startled look on her face. Considering how quickly she had arrived, it stood to reason that she had been nearby, perhaps hearing more than she ought to.

The sorrowful glance she passed to Teresa as she left again confirmed it: news of her rejection had already leaked beyond the drawing room. And though Teresa knew that the housekeeper would not gossip, she also knew that her heartbreak would not remain private for long.

“Does this mean that you permit me to stay?” Teresa asked Vincent. “You will not insist on me returning to Darnley Castle?”

Vincent sniffed. “I would not send you back there, even if His Grace begged.”

“You might consider the townhouse at Bath,” Julianna muttered, her nose in the air. “ I do not think it is too late to remedy this. There has obviously been a disagreement, and once tempers have cooled, you may yet continue as you were.”

Beatrice stared at Teresa’s mother in disbelief.

“There was no ‘disagreement,’ my lady. The man has either gone mad, there has been an external influence that we do not know about, or he was always a cowardly wretch, and he has just now shown his true nature.” She squared her shoulders.

“Whatever has caused this, Tess is not the one at fault.”

“But something has caused it!” Julianna cried out, exasperation etching runnels across her forehead.

“We are going in circles, and I am beginning to feel dizzy,” Prudence retorted with a sigh, lounging across the settee.

Teresa raised her hand politely. “It was never meant to be anything but a marriage of convenience. It was a kind gesture that has run its course.” She drew her handkerchief from her sleeve, twisting it in her hands.

“And I must consider the possibility that he was… pretending to be a different sort of husband, for my sake, and could not pretend any longer. I am not what he wanted; I am just what fell into his lap.”

She thought of her name, crossed out at the bottom of that awful list, and imagined him taking his quill and drawing a thicker, more definite line through it.

A strike of ink so dark it would obscure the entire facade of their marriage, removing it from his mind and any future they might have had together.