It was a noble gesture, upon the part of Mr. Nottingham, but she knew that nothing could affect her husband’s indifferent feelings toward her. And if Flave didn’t care for her, he would not change the way he treated her — in public or otherwise.
Flavion did what Flavion wanted to do.
“See, Stephen.” He pounced upon her explanation. “Evensheconcedes her troubles are not my fault.”
Well!
Flavion didn’t have to be such a blockhead about it! “Don’t bother…darling.I wouldn’t want to distract you from your regular… entertainment.” She didn’t intend to sound churlish, but she was being reminded that she did not like her husband at all. The more she got to know him, in fact, the more she wondered at how gullible she had been. He was not a nice person at all. How had he hidden his true nature from her for so long? Had she been so shallow as to be blinded by dashing good looks and romantic overtures?
Apparently so.
Again, they were arguing in the presence of a guest. “Do forgive us, Mr. Nottingham.” She sighed. “It’s just that…” She found herself at a sudden loss for words. What could she say?It’s just that I hate this man for ruining my life? It’s just that your cousin is a bastard of the worst kind? It’s just that… all I want is to be free of him?
When she didn’t complete her sentence, Flavion turned back toward Stephen. “I do hate it when we are out of sorts with each other, Cousin. How can I get back into your good graces?” His words seemed sincere.
Cecily was amazed by the strange sort of hero worship Flavion held for the other man. It was touching, somehow.
Mr. Nottingham gestured toward Cecily again. “I should think an apology is in order for the countess. That would be a noble gesture on your part, anyhow.” His voice was gentle but firm.
Suddenly Cecily wanted to cry. It was stupid, really. An apology wouldn’t change anything. Would it? It might be nice though, to hear it out loud. It would be nice to hear even a trace of remorse in Flavion’s voice for the way he had treated her. It would validate this pain, somehow, for him to acknowledge the ruthlessness of what he’d done.
Flavion rose to his feet and stood before her. Like an actor, his eyes transformed. They were once again the eyes of the man she’d been courted by, the eyes of the man who had professed to love her.
“Cecily,” he said in all seriousness, “my lady… I am sorry for any pain that I have caused you. When I decided to marry you for that stupendous dowry of yours, I did not stop to think that you would engage such great affection for me.” He ran a hand through his beautiful golden hair and grinned sheepishly. “I did not realize that the removal of my attentions would cause you such heartache. Will you forgive me?”
What did one say to such an apology?
“Flavion, all I want is to be free,” she said earnestly. “I can forgive you, but won’t you divorce me? Please, please? Or can we consider an annulment? I’ll do anything.”
Flavion turned to regard his cousin as though he would have a solution. But Mr. Nottingham merely shook his head, leaving Flave no choice but to formulate his own answer. He frowned deeply. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Cece, but I really cannot.” And with that, he backed away from the gazebo before turning on his heel and going back into the house.
CHAPTER FIVE
After Flavion’s departure, Stephen watched Lady Kensington’s profile as she gazed off into nowhere. She was something of a fighter, he was coming to realize, but on the heels of Flavion’s bald statement, she looked defeated.
“I am feeling sorry for myself again,” she said with a voice that trembled slightly. “You will wish to run far away from me before I do something silly, like cry.”
When Flavion had looked to Stephen for a satisfying answer to give his wife, Stephen had felt utterly helpless. Helpless for them both. Helpless that he couldn’t inspire Flavion to be a better man and even more helpless in that he could not free Flave’s countess so that she could recapture her dreams.
It made one think long and hard about committing to marriage; that was for certain.
“Did you cry much as a child?” he asked her abruptly.
She looked over at him and blinked a few times before answering. “Oh, no. My father would not abide by it.”
“And what of your mother?”
“I never knew her. She died in childbirth.” And then, as though remembering, she fell silent for a moment. “Papa gave me a good childhood though.” The countess lifted her chin. “I never lacked for anything — food, clothing, even attention. If I ever felt lonely, I could go into my father’s office and he would hold me on his lap and include me in whatever discussion he was having at the time. He encouraged my opinion and ideas. He always said it was only a shame that I wasn’t his son. That if I were, I would do well to take over the business from him.”
“But you could not do that as a woman,” Stephen said. It was not a question. A woman would not be taken seriously in the male-dominated world of shipping and industry.
“No,” Lady Kensington agreed solemnly. “And then, one afternoon when I joined Pa in his office, an elderly couple was with him. The woman suggested that I ought to be at home, learning how to be a lady. She gave Papa the names of a few governesses that she recommended, and within a week, my life turned completely upside down.”
“How old were you?” Stephen didn’t want to picture her as a young sprite of a girl. For in his mind, that young girl was laughing and smiling. She seemed not to have a great deal to be happy about recently.
She lifted one side of her mouth into a halfhearted smile. “Fifteen… My first governess, Mrs. Crump, discouraged me from visiting Papa’s offices after that. She threw out all of my old clothing and dressed me in muslin and lace from that point forward.”
“Did you hate it?”
