Nodding his permission to the footman to help Ariadne inside the cavernous carriage, he followed. After the footman closed the door and took his place, the carriage went off.
“Do… I call you, Your Grace,” she asked quietly. “I know a lot of ladies call their husbands my lord, especially in a situation like this.”
“A situation like this?” he asked flatly.
“A marriage of convenience,” she replied. “I don’t know what to call it.”
“There is no situation like this,” he said. “And no, you do not have to call me Your Grace, or My Lord. You call me what is appropriate in the moment, but I’d appreciate it if you called me Cedric.”
She swallowed, “What do you think happened to your brother? Do you think he went off to his mistress?”
“It’s a valid theory, one I came to as well. Rest assured, my men will be at Lady Porter’s house by tonight,” he said.
“Is she married?”
“Yes?”
Scandalized, Ariadne asked, “But—but how can she be so brazen with this affair if she is married?”
“This might be hard for a naif like you to understand, but some marriages are simply marriages of the purses, not bodies,” he said. “Lady Porter’s husband is a milksop who makes sure she is given a generous allowance and all the jewels, furs she wanted just for her to turn a blind eye to his…. proclivities. Do you see what I mean?”
“No.” That explanation was as clear as the mud on London’s streets.
“Of course not,” he snorted, “He has a desire for women of the night.”
She was quiet for almost ten minutes before she asked, “Why did you choose to marry me? You could have left me in the turmoil.”
Cedric gave a long, staid look. “I realized it could be of mutual benefit. Though I never wanted to marry again, at thirty-two, and a widower with a young daughter, I am beset with invitations, coercions, and blatant, overt demands to marry again. Marrying you will stop them, well, I hope so, as there are always one or two who will try their hand.
“Secondly, my daughter Emily is already asking why she had to learn embroidery instead of Latin, and as much as I try to explain the expectations of lords and ladies in the ton, I do not think I am getting through to her.
“If it comes from a lady, it might be better received,” he said. “And moreover, you deserved better than ruin. You will have a comfortable life, but as a duchess, your sisters will have the privilege of my association and will have no worries in finding husbands.”
It’s a sensible arrangement, but… it still feels unfair.
“You’re not pleased by any of this, are you?” he asked.
His question startled her. “Why—why do you say that?”
He snorted, “Your face is more expressive than you think.”
Ariadne pressed her lips tight and looked out the window. Pleased? How could she explain that she was overjoyed that her sisters would no longer live in poverty or uncertainty, and yet, she could not stand that she would be trapped in a life with a husband who would never want her for her?
“I didn’t want to marry this way.”
“Whatdoyou want?”
“A love match,” she said plainly. “To be with someone who understands me and does not ask me to be something I am not.”
“Love matches only exist in novels and in the heads of the ninnies who read them,” Cedric snorted derisively. “I know it’s a harsh reality for you to hear, but it is one.”
Her chest burned. “My mother and father had a love match.”
“Love is not what you think it is,” he said coldly.
“You’re so cy?—"
A sudden jerk of the horses slamming the carriage to a stop was so severe that it flung Ariadne forward. She would have crashed to the floor or been flung over the following seat if Cedric had not caught her.
