How could she even face him tomorrow, never mind attempt to undo herwork and find a basis for marriage between them?
The duchess watched the young woman leave the room. Miss Armitage had agreat deal of control, but it would seem the time alone with Lucien hadnot gone well. She waited for her son to reappear so she could betterjudge what had occurred. Eventually she realized he was not coming.
“William, I worry about this plan of yours,” she said softly.
The duke looked up from his book. “They will deal well enough intime.”
“Did you look at her when she passed through this room, William?” sheasked. “That poor girl looked bruised.”
The duke stiffened. “You think he struck her?”
“No, of course not. Bruised in spirit. But will you care,” she askedangrily, “if he beats her as long as she gives him sons?”
“I have assured Elizabeth of her welfare,” said the duke, gazing at hiswife. “I will not have her hurt.”
“So what are you going to do if he mistreats her, William?” shechallenged. “Forbid the marriage? You can’t do that and still achieve yourpurpose. Or will you bring them together for occasional matings, carefullyguarded like a dangerous stallion and a prize mare?”
“Yolande!”
She leapt to her feet and challenged him. “Tell me. What are you goingto do?”
He rose too, color on his cheeks. “A fine opinion you have of your son,madam! From knowledge of the father, no doubt.”
“His manners have been learned from you, Belcraven. And hiscruelty.”
“Youdare accuse me of cruelty?”
She turned away and ran her hands through her hair.
To the duke she looked like the girl he had married and adored. Herfigure was still shapely and in the candlelight her hair lookedguinea-gold.
“Yes, cruel,” she said softly, still facing away. “I never realizeduntil you proposed this plan just how ruthless you could be. All theseyears I have thought you suffered,” she said, turning to stare at him withtear-filled eyes. “Now I see you were merely obsessed with punishingme.”
With that she fled the room. Too fast. Straight on the thought herealized how stupid it was to worry about the servants. Why should theynot for once see the family as human beings, not remote demigods withoutemotions or flaws?
Punishing her? She thought he had been punishing her all these years?All these years of anguish and self-denial. . .
He remembered wanting something sharp to break their crystal prison.Was this what he wanted? To be hated? To see Yolande cry?
Seeking an outlet, the duke’s anguish turned to rage and found a focus.It was all Arden’s fault. Everything was Arden’s fault, and now he couldnot even manage a simple dynastic marriage with grace.
The duke stalked out onto the terrace to castigate his heir but foundthe place empty in the cold moonlight. Control slowly returned. The girlhad been tired after her journey and nervous in a strange place. If therehad been trouble, it had doubtless been over nothing and soon smoothedover.
He returned to the drawing room and extinguished the candles one byone. In the moonlight he saw his wife’s book where it had tumbled to thefloor, and he picked it up, smoothing the pages. She had lookedmagnificent in her rage. He remembered those rages when they had beenyoung. He felt remarkably young himself tonight.
Again he clamped control upon himself. Their crystal cage wasprotection as well as restraint. Like an old lion he did not think hecould live without the bars.
The marquess had left the terrace by the steps which led down to theknot garden.
He was marrying a whore. He might as well marry Blanche. Much better,in fact. He liked Blanche, and she had her own impeccable sense of honor.What would the duke say if he told him about Elizabeth Armitage’spromiscuity?
He wouldn’t care as long as the children were legitimate. No, hewouldn’t care as long as they appeared to be legitimate. The marquess onlyhad to give them a name. As long as they were Elizabeth’s brats they’d beworthy of the de Vaux inheritance.
He slammed his hand into a tree. It hurt, but he didn’t care.
He strode over the rolling parkland, relishing his hate. Who did hehate the most? Elizabeth? No. He despised her, but she was just anotherpuppet like himself. The duke? Oh yes, he could hate the duke, but,legitimate or not, the marquess was a de Vaux with all the pride of theline, and he understood the duke’s motives. He, too., wanted his sons tocarry on the line.
His mother? Yes., that was the person to hate. Her foolish lust hadcaused all this. But with the thought came such desolation he could havehowled.
