“I was coerced into becoming Lord Wellesley’s mistress, Lizzie, not his wife.” The Duchess did not blink stating this.
“Then why did you wed His Grace?” Elizabeth asked. “And why do you now seem happy?”
“Because I fell in love with the rake.” She sighed. “He proved himself not only adroit in bed”—Elizabeth flushed at this—“but adroit in heart and spirit. By the time Roland Wellesley figured out he loved me too I made certain that manearnedmy hand in marriage.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “You mean you?—”
“Oh yes, turned the tables on him neatly.” She grinned.
“You astound me, Charles. To think you went from?—”
“Reluctant mistress to respectful wife? Humble housekeeper to haughty duchess?”
Her Grace was remarkably blunt.
“It was no easy journey.” The Duchess looked wistful. “And you, my dear, are going about things quite opposite to me, for you have married first, and must now endeavor to fall in love.”
“Love.” Elizabeth harrumphed. “Love will never enter into my marriage.”
“Is he good in bed, Lizzie?”
Elizabeth was unable to speak.
“Let us assume from the color of your face that he is. And let us admit you are not the only woman to assess Baron of Milton’s abilities thus.” Her eyes twinkled.
Elizabeth grimaced. “He has slept with half of London, yes.”
“Then you have one point in favor of love, Lizzie, because carnal pleasure can lead to intimacy, which in turn can lead to trust.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I cannot trust him. He has proven himself so oft?—”
“Is he capable of tenderness?” the Duchess interrupted.
Elizabeth paused. “It has felt so, on occasion, which confuses me only more, because his tenderness is fleeting, and he quickly reverts to being unnecessarily domineering.”
“Hmm,” the Duchess mused. “Tenderness and generosity. These, too, can lead to love. Point two falls in his favor.”
“Does punishment point to love as well?” Elizabeth was unable to stop the words that tripped off her tongue. “For when I disobey him, he punishes me in the most egregious way. And if I?—”
“Do not relinquish your soul to any man, Lizzie.” The Duchess’s tone sobered. “Only in love does one relinquish oneself and even then…” She shook her head, changing course. “Yet what of passion, dear? Is your husband passionate toward you?”
“Oh, he is passionate enough when he—” She flushed only more.
The Duchess studied her. “Then point three also falls to love’s favor, because passion is as strong an emotion as anger and hate. Passion is not love’s opposite. Indifference is.”
Elizabeth was stunned. “You mean?—”
“Does he punish with passion when you disobey him? Does he respond with passion when you irk or goad him?”
“He is abeastwhen I displease him. He is only tender when I?—”
“When you submit or comply?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Then he is not indifferent to you, which points toward either love or hate.”
Elizabeth slumped against the settee. “Hate. He hates me.”
