Page 24 of His Runaway Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #3)

CHAPTER 24

“ I can’t help but feel,” Theodore said slowly, “that you are not telling us everything.”

Daphne shot her brother-in-law a baleful glare. “And I can’t help but feel, Theo, that you’re talking through your hat.”

Theodore gave a wry smile. “Was this the sort of witty banter to which you treated your husband, dearie?”

She considered briefly whether she should throw her cup of tea at Theodore’s head. She decided against it. It was, after all, a good cup of tea, and it would be a shame to waste it.

Besides, this isn’t really my home anymore. I can’t go throwing teacups around willy-nilly.

That thought made her shiver. It wasn’t her home, no matter how fervently Emily and her mother told her that it was. Daphne was a married woman, a duchess , and her home should be her husband’s home.

Not that my husband wants to share a home with me, of course. Or a bed.

In a jolt, she imagined herself lying back on the edge of Edward’s bed, him leaning over her, his head ducked so that the stubble on his cheek grazed her stomach teasingly. She imagined his wry, knowing smile, a kiss pressed to her sensitive skin, making her shiver, his hands skimming down the outside of her thighs. He knew, the wretch. He knew what she wanted, knew that she longed for him to move his lips or his fingers lower, to her core, and to make her feel as though she were flying once again. He knew , and he took his time.

She cleared her throat, doing her best to banish those troublesome thoughts. She was, after all, with her family .

The family was seated in one of the nicest parlors. Anna was pacing up and down by the window, her face a furrow of concentration, and Theodore was lounging across a settle in the corner. As she glanced his way, he propped himself up on one elbow and twisted around to look at his pacing wife.

“Do give over, Anna. You’re wearing a path in the carpet,” he said, trying to sound jovial.

The tone didn’t quite work. Daphne wasn’t a fool. She knew that abandoning her husband in that manner, so soon after their marriage, was a bad thing , and Society would have a great deal to say about it.

“I need to walk if I’m to think,” Anna responded shortly. “And I need to think. Theo, can you think of any reason why the Duke would be so cold towards Daphne?”

Theodore paused, thinking. “I could ask Stephen—he has eyes and ears everywhere—but Beatrice is always so strange and oddly protective of her brother-in-law. I think the loss of his wife cut him deep.”

“Do you think he loved her?” Daphne burst out, aware of eyes on her. She had to ask. “He said that it was only a marriage of convenience, as ours was meant to be, but perhaps he’s been in love with her all this time.”

Theodore considered this, then shook his head. “No. They were well-matched enough, but it was fairly common knowledge that they were more like brother and sister than husband and wife. Lots of people do that, you know. They marry a friend because it is comfortable. Love can be a troublesome thing, let me tell you.” He shot Anna a pointed look as he said this, a smile curving his lips.

Anna paused in her pacing and glanced over at him. She stuck out her tongue and continued pacing.

“There’ll be a great deal of talk, and that’s what worries me,” Octavia spoke up. “If we can hide the fact that Daphne left him?—”

“Doubtful,” Anna interrupted. “If the coachman who drove her here knows, then the rest of the servants in that household know. From there, it’s only a few steps to the rest of London. This will get out, believe me.”

Daphne shrank back in her seat, listening to them talk over her head.

I’m so inconsiderate . I didn’t even think about my family. I never thought about how my reputation—and theirs—would suffer. But how could I not have thought about it? Fleeing from my husband’s home in the dark, so shortly after marriage. Of course , people will talk.

“I have an idea,” Anna said suddenly, cutting through the chatter.

One by one, the others fell silent and glanced up at her. Once she was sure she had their attention, she smiled broadly.

“There’s no sense in hiding it,” she said. “Everybody will know that Daphne left her husband’s house. She’s the Duchess of Thornbridge now—everybody is interested in her. They’ll want to know why she left. Of course, we don’t have the answers to that yet, and that will require some neat conversational side-stepping on our part, to be sure.”

“Conversational side… What are you trying to say, Anna?” Octavia demanded.

“I am saying,” Anna said, with great patience, “that if she stays holed up here, she will look as guilty as sin. It’ll be clear that something is wrong. However, if we all go about our business as usual— and take Daphne with us— people will be confused. We shall be acting as if there is nothing wrong, and they will start thinking that perhaps this is all part of a plan. Perhaps she left her husband’s house on good terms. Perhaps he’ll be joining her soon. Who knows?”

“I don’t much want to make an appearance at the moment,” Daphne murmured. “I… I feel rather raw, Anna.”

Anna’s face softened for a moment. “I know, darling. This is all very upsetting, but now we need to consider damage control . This is serious, Daphne. Already, all eyes are on you after that little stunt you pulled at the wedding. The first one, that is. The one that didn’t happen.” She cast a quick, apologetic look at Emily, who appeared unmoved. “All eyes will be on us . I don’t expect much, but I think it would do you good to at least show your face in Society. I will bring you along to a party or some event. There’s one coming up tomorrow evening, and we will all be there. We will all be there, Daff, and you’ll be safe.”

Daphne sighed, closing her eyes. “Do I have a choice?”

Anna winced. “I’m afraid not. I was hoping you’d agree with me, and then it wouldn’t be too obvious that you didn’t have a choice. Still, never mind, eh?”

“In that case, fine. I will come with you.”

“ Excellent . Daffie, my dear, you shall go to the ball.”

Daphne pursed her lips. “Lucky me.”

There was a tap on the door. Edward bounced up from behind his desk, his anxiety fizzing. He’d turned away from the window, where he could see servants darting in and out of the dower house in the distance. On his desk, a half-finished letter to the Abbess of St. Agnes’ sat, staring accusingly up at him.

It was a fairly well-known place, where women in dire circumstances could find shelter. Women with aggressive, violent husbands who threatened their lives were often sheltered there, as well as beggars, cast-off wives, impoverished spinsters, and so on. Edward would speak to Peter about paying an allowance for Clarissa’s upkeep. There was no need for her to suffer. It might be a prison, but he was determined that it would be a comfortable one.

He took a moment to compose himself before opening the door.

Alex stood there, and Mrs. Trench stood behind him. Her face was pale, her hands folded in front of her.

Alex was glaring at his father.

“Grandmother is packing,” he said, without preamble. “She’s leaving, Papa. Did you send her way?”

Edward glanced up at Mrs. Trench, who spread out her hands helplessly. “He overheard a pair of footmen talking about it. I’m sorry, Your Grace.”

“It can’t be helped,” he said, sighing. “I’ll speak to him alone, Mrs. Trench.”

She nodded, curtsied, and slipped away.

Alex watched her disappear and turned wordlessly back to his father.

“Come in,” Edward said, gesturing for the little boy to step inside. “I have to talk to you, Alex. It’s a serious matter.”

Alex stepped gingerly into the study, glancing around him. As expected, his eyes fell on the little silver dish perched pointedly on the edge of the desk. He brightened at once.

“Are those marzipans, Papa?”

“Of course. And they’re for you. Come, let’s sit and eat them.”

Edward was secretly pleased with himself for the addition of marzipans. Alex took a couple of sweets and sat in one of the chairs by the fire. He paused, wrinkling his nose.

“It smells of whiskey in here, Papa.”

Edward winced, lowering himself into the opposite chair. “Yes, I spilled some.”

Alex eyed him, his cheek bulging out with a mouthful of marzipan. “Where is Grandmother going?”

“She’s going to stay in a convent.”

“Why?”

Edward drew in a breath. He’d expected this question, of course, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear it. “Because she isn’t happy here anymore, Alex. Something very bad has been weighing on her for a long time, and she wants to get her peace of mind back.”

Was that too much? Could a child understand such a speech?

Alex eyed him for a long moment. “Is Grandmother angry at me?”

Edward flinched. “At you? No, no, Alex, never.”

“She’s unhappy, though? Can’t we do anything to make her happy again?”

Edward bit his lip, glancing away. “No, Alex, I’m afraid that we can’t. It’s a hard thing to understand, I know, but there it is. You’re old enough and clever enough to know that some things can’t be changed, no matter how much we would like them to be different.”

Alex nodded slowly. “What bad thing did Grandmother do?”

“I… I can’t tell you that.”

A mulish expression settled over Alex’s face. “Why not?”

“Because you’re too young.”

“I’m too young for everything .”

Edward leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “One day, Alex, when you’re much older, I’m going to tell you exactly what happened and what Grandmother did. I can promise you that you’ll understand. You’ll be upset, but you’ll understand why Grandmother had to go. And you’ll be glad that I didn’t tell you now.”

Alex pursed his lips. “All right. I’ll remember that you said it, though.”

“I should hope so.”

“Can I have another marzipan?”

Edward only hesitated for a moment. “Yes, if you like.”

Alex hopped down from the chair and hurried over to the sweets. He spoke again while his back was turned.

“You don’t always tell me the truth, Papa.”

Denials and excuses swarmed up inside Edward, begging to be said. He pointedly swallowed them down.

“No,” he said, as honestly as he could manage. “No, I haven’t always been honest with you. That was wrong of me. A parent should always be honest with their child. But I promise you now that I’m going to be honest with you about everything. Because, you see, I want you to tell me the truth, so it would be hypocritical for me not to do you the same courtesy.”

Alex turned around, his mouth full of marzipan, and studied his father for a long moment. At last, he nodded.

Edward had no time to congratulate himself on his excellent parenting. Alex came back to the armchair—it was fairly obvious he had marzipans in his pockets, and Edward had a feeling that if he looked into the bowl, there would be none left—and made himself comfortable.

“Where is Daphne?” he asked.

Edward flinched. He hadn’t been expecting that.

Alex was watching him carefully. Since the boy clearly had a habit of eavesdropping, it was entirely possible that he already knew and was testing him.

Clever boy.

Edward felt a flash of pride.

“Daphne and I had an argument,” he said. “I was unkind to her. She packed her things and went to stay with her mother for a while.”

Alex swallowed his mouthful of sweets. Sadness swept across his young face, and Edward felt like the worst father in the world.

“Oh,” he said quietly. “Will she be coming back?”

“I don’t know,” Edward answered honestly. “I hope so, but I can’t promise anything.”

Alex nodded slowly. “Is… is it my fault? Is she upset with me?”

Edward reached out and took Alex’s small hand in his own. “No, Alex, she is not. I can tell you that Daphne cares about you very much.”

“She didn’t say goodbye.”

There was a little catch in Alex’s voice, and an answering crack opened up in Edward’s heart.

I’m sorry, little man . This is all my fault.

“I know how much you like Daphne,” he said a little hesitantly. “But we?—”

“You don’t know how much I like her,” Alex huffed, shaking his head. “How could you? You never talk to me about anything. You only did things with me because Daphne told you to.”

Edward missed a beat, gathering his thoughts. He had tried to plan out how the conversation would go in his head, but he might have known that was pointless. One couldn’t plan out anything, not with a child thrown into the mix.

“You’re right,” he relented. “I spent time with you because Daphne told me to, or Mrs. Trench hinted that I should, or Peter reminded me. And that was very, very wrong of me. I am your father. I shouldn’t have had to be reminded or instructed to spend time with you. I’m sorry, and from now on, I shall do better.”

Alex blinked at him, all big, mournful eyes. “It’s all right, Papa. I know why you act strangely around me. It’s because Mama died because of me, isn’t it?”

Time seemed to slow down. Edward’s chest constricted, seeming to press all of the air out of his lungs. Before he even knew what he was doing, he was out of his chair, on his knees in front of Alex. He caught the boy’s sticky hands in his own and held them tight.

“It was not your fault, Alex,” he said, his voice shaking. “Not one bit. When I was your age, my father used to tell me that it was my fault that my mother died. At the time, I believed him. I believed it for a long time.”

“But… you don’t believe it anymore?” Alex hazarded.

A lump had formed in Edward’s throat, and no amount of swallowing could make it go down.

I think I believed it right up to this moment.

Now, looking at his son’s wide, pleading eyes, his trembling lower lip, and the pain on his face, Edward could feel nothing but rage. Rage at his father.

I was as small and as frightened as Alex once. How dare he? How dare he put the burden of that tragedy on my shoulders? He looked me in the eye and told me that I was a little monster, a murderer, responsible for my mother’s death. How could he?

He reached up, touching Alex’s cheek.

“It was very sad, what happened to your mother,” he heard himself say. “To Jane. Frankly, Alex, I blamed myself for it all, but the fact is that it was a tragedy. Do you know the last thing she said to me? It was about you, Alex. She said you were the most beautiful baby in the world. She’d held you, even as she was dying, and she loved you so much that she couldn’t even find the words. She made me promise to love you and take care of you, and I’m not sure I’ve been fulfilling my end of the bargain. But your mother loved you, Alex. She loved you so much. She never blamed you for what happened, not for an instant. And neither do I.”

Alex sniffled, a fat tear rolling down his cheek. Edward carefully wiped it away with the pad of his thumb.

“I wish I could have known Mama,” Alex whispered. “She sounds nice.”

“She was nice. One day, and one day soon, you’ll go and stay with Aunt Beatrice, who loved your Mama so much. She’ll tell you all about her, which I should have done years ago. In the meantime, Alex, we’ll be a family. You and I. I love you, Alex. I don’t believe I’ve ever told you that, and that is my fault. But you mean the world to me. You mean the absolute world.”

Alex gave a watery smile. “So… if I told you something bad, right now, you wouldn’t be angry with me?”

Edward bit back a grimace. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“All right. Well, I was the one who wrote to the scandal sheet, telling them that Daphne was here.”

Well, Edward had not been expecting that. He schooled his expression, however, and pushed through his horror.

“I see. Well, I’m sure you know that was very wrong of you and could have gone very badly.”

Alex nodded eagerly. “Yes, but I wanted Daphne to stay a little longer. And I thought she would make a good mother. So, I wrote the letter myself, and had Pet—that is, someone in the house deliver it. Besides, I could tell that you liked her.”

Edward squinted at his son. “And how could you tell that?”

Alex shrugged. “I just could.”

“Hm. Well, as I said, I’m not angry with you, but you must promise not to do anything like that again.”

Alex nodded solemnly. “I won’t, I promise. I only had to do it once.”

“Well, I can only have one wife at a time.”

“And right now,” Alex pointed out helpfully, “your wife is Daphne. I wish she would come back. It felt like a family when she was here.”

Edward bit the inside of his cheek, biting down hard to give himself something to focus on. “Yes,” he admitted, “it did feel like family, didn’t it?”

“I wish she’d come back. Can’t you write and tell her? I can write and tell her, and say?—”

“I think you’ve written quite enough letters already,” Edward said hastily. “No, I’ll go and fetch her myself.”

Alex nodded, seeming temporarily soothed. “And what if she doesn’t want to come back?”

“Well, then I’ll…” Edward hesitated.

What? What will I do? Drag her back by her hair? The law might allow a man to compel his wife to come and live with him, but I’m not that sort of man. And she is certainly not that sort of woman. Besides, I don’t think I want to bring the ire of her family down on my head. Lady St. Maur might tear my throat out with her teeth.

His thoughts were interrupted by Alex launching himself forward and wrapping his arms around his father’s shoulders. He rested one sticky cheek against Edward’s neck.

“I love you, Papa,” Alex mumbled.

The lump was back in Edward’s throat, threatening to choke him. Slowly, tentatively, as if he wasn’t sure what he was doing, he wrapped his arms around his son, holding him close.

“I love you too, Alex,” he answered.

The words felt strange and heavy in his mouth, but he was sure that if he said them enough, they would start to feel a little more normal.

My son. He bit back a smile. My son loves me.

“Please try and get Daphne back. If you can.”

He clenched his jaw. “I promise you, Alex, I’ll do everything I can to bring her back. I swear it.”