“Do you think you should ask him if there is any other way?” Cecily bit her lip.
Gemma blinked at her friend. “Any other way to what? Justify a divorce?”
“No. To live together. Perhaps declare a truce?”
“A truce?” Gemma blinked again. “It’s not a war. At least it shouldn’t be. I simply don’t want to be his wife.”
Cecily pulled the tip off one end of the scone. “Perhaps you could go to the country. I would miss you terribly though.” She frowned.
“I do plan to go to the country,” Gemma admitted. “But only until the scandal dies down.”
Cecily popped the bite of scone into her mouth and chewed and swallowed before adding, “You could divide the house, stay out of each other’s pockets.”
Gemma scowled. “Divide the house? How would that work?”
Cecily waved her hand in the air. “Oh, my mother and father do it. They’re quite adept at the practice. Though I doubt they have ever formally spoken about it. Upstairs, Mama stays to her rooms and ours, and Father stays in his. Downstairs, Mama occupies the breakfast room and the drawing room, and Father remains in his study. It’s quite efficient.”
Gemma’s scowl deepened. She’d never heard of such a thing. “They never speak?”
Cecily shrugged. “Oh, we have supper together, and I’m certain I’ve heard them exchange words at the dinner table upon occasion. But otherwise, no. I can’t say I see them speak.”
Gemma shook her head. That was not how she understood marriage to be. It was not the way Griffin and Meredith behaved with each other. They both talked and laughed all day in each other’s company. Or they sat in the same room reading and sipping tea, content to be quiet together. It was lovely. And it was precisely how Gemma wanted her own marriage to be. Only she’d ended up stuck with Grovemont, who preferred a newspaper in his face.
“Even if we divided the house, the second half would still be occupied by an ass,” Gemma finally explained. “No. I definitely want to divorce.”
Cecily looked a bit sad but nodded. “If you think that’s best, Gemma. I support your decision wholeheartedly. But if you are divorced, Mama won’t allow me to speak with you, you know?”
“I know.” Gemma frowned. She knew how serious divorce was. Only a handful had ever been granted. And the accompanying scandals were legendary. “We’ll still be able to write though, won’t we?”
Cecily expelled her breath. “Before you decide for certain, you may want to speak with someone who knows about scandal.”
Gemma cocked her head to the side. “An expert in scandal?”
“Yes,” Cecily replied, nodding sagely. “You should write to Lady Clare Handleton.”
O
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Later That Afternoon, Brooks’s Club
When Southbury entered the club, Lucian glanced up. Excellent. Gemma’s brother was just the man he was looking for. He’d already spent the first half of the morning making discreet inquiries as to whether anyone had actually known his wife to have cuckolded him.
Turned out, not one man had knowledge of anything of the sort. In fact, they’d all been quick to assure him the duchess had carried herself with nothing but grace and dignity since he’d been gone. She’d been entirely faithful to him, despite the fact that she’d apparently had an abundance of offers to stray.
“She’s quite beautiful, you know?” Lord Melmont said after giving Lucian an earful of similar information.
Lucian clenched his jaw. “Yes, I know,” he ground out.
Why did everyone insist on telling him how beautiful his wife was? As if he couldn’t see it with his own two eyes. He wasn’t blind. Far from it. In fact, last night when she’d been railing at him, he’d been struck half dumb by the sight of her. It had been difficult to concentrate on the mad things she’d been sayingbecause he’d been so preoccupied by the view of her gaping bodice. And the alluring flush on her high cheekbones.
Gemma looked so unlike she had last year. It was almost as if she was a different person. Only the eyes made him realize it was her. Those same dark, compelling eyes that had been wide with apprehension after their wedding were trained on him last night with fire flashing inside them.
Yes, she was gorgeous, which was precisely why he needed to know if she had cuckolded him. It was also why he could not take her to bed until he’d been back for at least a month. Any child born to her would have to be proven to be his and his alone. Frustrating but true. Not that the woman appeared to be ready to welcome him into her bed anytime soon, but surely she would see reason after she realized he would not be granting her a divorce.
“I know at least three men who offered her an arrangement,” Melmont continued. “Pembroke has been?—”
Lucian’s hand shot up. “Do not mention Pembroke’s name in my presence, if you please.”
