My amusement vanishes at once, and my entire body stiffens at becoming the subject of their gossip. It occurs to me that I should make my presence known, but I hesitate. I cannot help but wish to know what they will say.
“She is indeed. It is evident to all she is a great credit to her renowned family.”
Slowly, I let out my pent-in breath. I am greatly relieved.
“However, if the whispers are to be believed, she cannot be as perfect as she would appear.”
“Whatever can you mean, Charlotte?”
Yes, Charlotte—whatdoyou mean?
“Well.” The young women’s voice goes so soft, I lean forward, straining toward the sound of her voice. “It has been said that she and the duke have not yet consummated their union! Can you imagine? They have been wed nearly a fortnight!”
I draw back so suddenly, I nearly hit my head on the wall. I slide my hand up to cover my mouth, then I bite my own gloved palm.No! How is this possible? No one can know… unless… surely His Grace would not tell anyone? He is a most vexing man, but I do not believe him to be cruel!
“No! That surely cannot be!” The other woman sounds horrified and titillated in equal measure.
I, unfortunately, being the source of their mirth, do not have the luxury of being anything other than horrified. Particularly when the full weight of this revelation hits me—had I the misfortune to be standing, it would throw me off balance entirely.
I am with child. The Duke knows this all too well, as does my father. Perhaps, given the evidence of my new husband’s wagging tongue, we are not the only ones. Regardless, now that the ton seems aware of my husband’s disdain for me, when my child is born, no one will believe it to be the duke’s.
He knows this! He must have known it all the while! He will find no shortage of ways to shame me in this marriage. I thought him merely playing a game… but unless I humiliate myself by becoming a beggar and pleading for something no wife has to ask for, he will see me gossiped about for the rest of my life!
Shock gives way to horror, which bends the knee to fury unlike any I have ever known. It robs me of good sense, and I do not care that the ladies—whoever they may be—know I am here, or that I have overheard them.
I slip out from behind the screen and walk straight to the wash basin. I can feel the heat of their gazes and my ears detect the soft sharp intake of breath as I am noticed. I do not spare either of them a glance as I begin to wash my hands. I do not look at the lady’s maid as she proffers a cloth to dry my hands. I have no need of the pity I am certain I will see in her face.
After I dry my hands, I wave off the maid who steps in to fix my dress and check my hair. I can find it within me to care what I look like, not to the duke, or anyone else. I lift my chin and begin to make my way toward the door.
“My l—Your Grace, please, do wait a moment.”
I do not so much as pause until I feel a hand on my shoulder. I shake it off and spin around so quickly, I become lightheaded from the effort. “Yes?” My voice is as regal as one could hope. My dear mother would be proud.
“Please…” A blonde in a deep blue gown wrings her hands in worry. “We did not know… that is… what I mean to say…”
“Yes, by all means,doget to the point so that I may take my leave,” I say, my frosty tone making her cringe.
“We did not know you were here. We did not intend you to overhear.” Another woman steps into view—the Princess Amelia. Even if I had not already admired the emerald of her gown earlier, perfectly offsetting her red hair, I would have known it was she. She is too poised, too regal of bearing to be anyone else.
Still, I do not soften, not even for the princess, though tradition demands my knees bend.
“Please, do rise,” she says, and her features truly appear remorseful. “Come, sit with us just a moment, I implore you.”
“My lord husband waits for me,” I answer, my voice no warmer than before.
“Please, we shall only detain you for a moment longer,” she entreats.
I allow her to tug me to the blue velvet settee. Sheisa member of the royal family, after all. Who knows when her favor might one day come in useful?
“Your Grace, I ask your forgiveness. We spoke thoughtlessly,” she begins. Though she and I are seated, the third woman only hovers above us, still wringing her hands.
“Wedidsay you make a splendid duchess,” her companion adds, her expression drawn.
“So, you did,” I murmur, studying my clasped hands in my lap.
“We, of course, have no way of knowing whether this latest morsel of gossip is true.”
I look up sharply, careful to school my expression—Iamfacing a princess, after all.
