Page 154 of Rogue of My Heart

A Lady’s Guide to Marriage

TABETHA WAITE

This story is dedicated to anyone who might have been, or is still struggling in their relationship. Never doubt in the power of true love.

One

A lady must never use foul language…

Lady A’s Advice Column

London, England

May 1818

* * *

Lady Albina Baine muttered an obscenity under her breath as she crumpled the paper and threw it in on the floor with the others. Absolute bloody rubbish. She sighed .

Unfortunately, for one of London’s most popular writers for newly married ladies, this was undoubtedly a problem. It was getting rather difficult to publish advice for innocent minds when she started to believe that anything she wrote was nothing more than pure… well, rubbish.

“Struggling with a bit of author’s impediment?”

Albina threw down her quill, ignoring it when the ink splattered on the blank pristine sheet of vellum before her. “I would say it’s more of a complete obstruction at this point.” She returned irritably, as she turned to face her dearest friend and confidante, Mrs. Lydia Langley. The widow was such a continual presence at Baine House that the butler didn’t even announce her anymore, just let her have free reign of the household. “I daresay I’m going to start writing Gothic fiction for Minerva Press like you.”

Lydia sat down in one of the wing chairs by the fireplace and shook her dark head, immersed with threads of silver. Albina walked over and settled into the other.

“As much as I love writing stories about dark halls and suspicious characters,” her friend noted. “It’s not the genre for you, and you know it as well as I do.”

Albina had to concede that Lydia was right, but then she didn’t feel like anything made sense to her anymore. She had started this advice column a little more than five years ago after giving some encouragement to her daughter, who had recently become engaged. Mary had been harboring a few reservations about marrying a man that she didn’t initially love, but who was a good, kind match in every other way.

After Albina had convinced her eldest child that what she was feeling was perfectly natural, a simple case of the jitters, she decided that she had

* * *

an innate talent for soothing the fears of new brides, so she decided to put pen to paper and try to make a difference in the lives of others who might be reluctant to join the bonds of matrimony.

Each month since she’d offered a new secret to a long and happy marriage — but there was a secret that Albina didn’t reveal.

None of it was true. A wife shouldn’t be biddable and meek, succumbing to her husband’s every demand. It was such an antiquated way of thinking that Albina was ashamed for believing the lie for as long as she had. She didn’t like to think of herself as a fraud, but when you merited advice to others when your own relationship had been on rough ground for years, what else was she to think?

“Maybe it’s time you took a break,” Lydia suggested.

Albina threw up her hands. “And do what? Writing is the only thing that’s kept me sane in this empty house for…” Five years. She didn’t say it out loud because she didn’t like admitting that she and her husband had been apart for that long. It made her feel like a failure as a wife. Then again, he hadn’t bothered to remain and try to make things work either.

She’d told herself, at the onset of their separation, that after a lengthy marriage it was only natural for the sparkling adoration of any new relationship to wane, and that was only if one was lucky enough to marry for love.

But had she truly been in love with him? Or was it merely attraction that had faded with time?

At first, the allure of the dashing, Michael Baine, Viscount Beauley, had been rather exciting, as he had been one of the finest bachelors on the marriage mart during her debut season. Albina still remembered the first time she’d been introduced to him at a society ball, and her heart had instantly skipped a beat. He had a smile that could charm the very birds from their trees, and the most hypnotic, warm brown eyes that she’d ever seen. He was tall, with dark hair, and filled out his well-tailored clothes rather nicely. For an impressionable girl of eighteen, she had not been immune to his appeal, believing that he was the most handsome man to ever grace the earth at five and twenty.

She remembered that breathless anticipation when he’d first called upon her at her parents’ home. She couldn’t believe that such a man could be interested in a naïve girl like her. But all through their courtship, he showered constant attention on her, complimenting everything from her attire, to her copper red hair and hazel eyes. But looking back, Albina knew what really made her fall in love with Chael was his sense of humor.

There was a sudden pang in her heart when she remembered the night

* * *

she’d introduced her personal nickname for him. They had been at the theatre and she’d teasingly emphasized the second half of his name. It rather sounded more like “chale,” but somehow it had stuck.