Tilly and Adrian stopped, Adrian leaning hard upon his walking stick as they turned to face her father. The day had required a great deal of standing, what with the ceremony in the church. She knew his injury must be paining him.
“We are leaving, my lord,” Adrian announced, imperturbable as ever.
Papa stormed toward them, twin flags of red marring his cheekbones. “You cannot leave whilst the wedding breakfast is still being held. Why, it has only just begun.”
Mama emerged from the drawing room next, hands wringing in agitation as her gown swayed about her in a swirl of upset. “Why have you left? What is amiss?” Her gaze settled upon Adrian. “You are the source of this, are you not, sir?”
“I am the source,” Tilly said, speaking up for herself. “I am weary, as is my husband. We thank you for the honor of the wedding breakfast.”
“If you leave, it will be disastrous.” Mama’s hands were in her gown now, clutching the pale-blue silk in a grip that was destined to cause wrinkles. “We are already the talk of London because of your insistence upon marrying a common country booby before your period of mourning is at a proper end. This will only cause more scurrilous gossip.”
Fury ignited.
Tilly released her hold on Adrian’s arm and swept forward, putting herself between her parents and the man she had just wed. “You will speak of my husband with respect, or you will not speak of him at all.”
“Apologize to your mother for the manner in which you have just dared to speak to her,” bit out her father.
There was the steady thump of Adrian’s walking stick upon the polished parquet, and then he appeared at her side once more, a comforting presence. “If anyone should be issuing an apology, it is the two of you to your daughter for allowing her to marry a heartless monster like the Duke of Longleigh.”
His defense of her took Tilly by surprise. He had been so icy with her, their interactions stilted over the weeks during which they had prepared for their wedding. Here, at last, was a glimpse of the man she had fallen in love with.
Her reckless heart swelled with hope.
“She may count herself fortunate indeed that she is the Duchess of Longleigh. She married well, befitting her station, which is more than I can say for this marriage,” her father said, his tone biting.
“What shall we say to the guests?” her mother wondered. “How shall this make me look, my own daughter fleeing the wedding breakfast after I have worked so hard to make certain we would not be scorned for her foolish decisions?”
And there was the crux of the matter. Her parents were far more concerned with how society would view them, and whether or not her decisions would harm their social standing amongst their friends, than they were with her own happiness. Years may have passed between her first marriage and her second, but nothing had changed. The only difference was that once, she had been young and naïve and she had wanted to win her parents’ approval, to make them proud.
For the first time, it occurred to her that she would never be able to do so. They did not care about her. If they had, they would not have encouraged her to marry a man who had been cruel and heartless just because he was a wealthy duke. Why had she even submitted herself and Adrian to this wedding breakfast?
How silly she was.
“Tell the guests whatever you must,” Tilly said. “We are leaving.”
“Good day, my lady, my lord.” Adrian bowed stiffly, and then once more, Tilly’s hand was on his arm, and he escorted her from her parents’ home, into the bright light of the early-afternoon sun.
* * *
If she had expectedAdrian’s ice to melt following the altercation with her parents and his stern defense of her, Tilly was doomed to disappointment. The carriage ride to Haddon House was once more marked by stony silence. Any attempts on her part to initiate conversation led to noncommittal grunts from her new husband. Eventually, she fell quiet until the conveyance rolled to a stop.
She emerged first, stepping down from the carriage before turning back to await Adrian’s disembarking. However, he did not emerge as she had anticipated. On a sigh, she moved nearer once more.
“Shall we commence with the introductions and tour, then?” she asked.
“No.”
Still, he had made no move to exit, and his denial now echoed from the equipage, a disembodied refusal.
Tilly remained on the pavements, waiting for him to emerge. When no movement occurred, she stepped forward, craning her neck, to find him still calmly seated, his walking stick resting idly at his side.
“Are you not coming?” she asked.
“I am already familiar with the interior of Haddon House, as you may recall, and as I will not be staying beneath its roof, I see no need to pretend.”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“I am not living here.” His tone was measured, cool.
