Chapter 20

"Duchess!" Dorothy cried out in alarm, breaking away from her friend and rushing to her mother-in-law's side. "Help! Someone help! The Dowager Duchess has been taken ill!"

She gently positioned the unconscious woman's head on her lap as Miss Hughes quickly hurried over from some other bushes nearby, a similar small herb collection bag in her hands.

"Oh my!" she exclaimed and cried out for assistance as she too knelt down beside the unconscious woman.

"I should go," Lauren's silvery voice said behind Dorothy's shoulder. "This is a family matter, and the Dowager Duchess will not want strangers around when she awakens. Au revoir, Dorothy."

It was an odd manner of leave-taking in such a situation, but Dorothy was too occupied in trying to rouse her mother-in-law to respond as Lauren walked rapidly to the gate and departed in her coach.

"Was Her Grace feeling unwell earlier, Miss Hughes?" Dorothy asked the companion, who had already checked the Dowager Duchess's pulse, touched her forehead, and listened to her heartbeat. "Should someone fetch the physician?"

"I'll send someone immediately," Toynton said, appearing at the bottom of the steps and beckoning a footman who had also responded to the women's cries. "Rogers! Come here…"

Finally, Aaron himself came bounding out of the house and joined the women in the garden just as his mother was coming to herself.

"Oh, what happened?" the Dowager Duchess moaned. "I was with Louisa, picking lavender for my headaches, and then, and then…"

"I think you fainted, Your Grace," Miss Hughes replied. "Do not exert yourself. Your son is here beside you now, and Toynton has sent for the physician."

"Aaron, how foolish you must think me, fainting at my age. Perhaps it was the sun."

"Not at all, Mother," Aaron assured her, helping her up from the ground with his strong arms and keeping her steady on her feet. "Your health is delicate. Can you stand?"

"I do not know, Aaron. I had a terrible dream, and now I feel so very strange…"

"I shall help you into the house, and Miss Hughes will look after you until the physician arrives. Do not distress yourself over dreams."

"But it was awful, Aaron," the Dowager Duchess said with trembling lips. "I thought that awful woman had come back to marry you. That gold-digging, title-hunting, untrustworthy…"

As she spoke, she slowly ascended the front steps, supported by Aaron and with Dorothy walking closely behind her in case she slipped.

"I am married to Dorothy," Aaron reminded his mother with a brief glance to his wife that gave her no clue as to his feelings on the matter at this moment. "No other woman can have any claim on me now, except you, Mother."

"And your daughter, of course, when she arrives." The Dowager Duchess suddenly smiled. "Imagine how pretty that little girl will be, with you as her father and dear Dorothy as her mother."

"Let us not get ahead of ourselves, Mother," Aaron muttered, now avoiding Dorothy's eyes as much as she was avoiding his.

"Quite a handful your daughter will be too, I'll warrant, with the tempers the two of you both have! Miss Hughes and I can both hear when you shout at one another, you know, and probably everyone in the servants' hall too…"

"I'm sorry, Mother. It won't happen again."

Aaron looked rather red-faced at this gentle and confused admonishment from his mother but did not pause in his efforts to ensure her safe return to the house.

"Every married couple argues, Aaron. Your father and I certainly did. The important thing is that you make up afterward, isn't it, Miss Hughes? Otherwise, how will I ever become a grandmother?"

Both Dorothy and Aaron were blushing intensely now, what with all of the Dowager Duchess's observations spoken loudly, and a number of concerned servants hovering nearby in case they could be of assistance.

"Let's get you settled in the blue parlor, Mother," Aaron offered, choosing not to engage her in a discussion about his private affairs. "The sofas are comfortable, and there is plenty of light for the physician to see you."

"Oh, but where is my lavender bag? I must have my lavender!"

"It is here, Duchess," Dorothy replied, raising the bag quickly and handing it over. "I picked it up from the grass when you fainted."

"You are a good girl, Dorothy." The old woman thanked her profusely, before raising the scented bag to her nose with a satisfied sigh. "There, I feel better already. You will sit with me, won't you? I don't want to be alone if that dreadful woman comes back."

"She isn't coming back here," Dorothy declared, drawing a sharp look from Aaron but no words. "But I will stay with you as long as you wish."

She drew up a stool beside the sofa where Miss Hughes was tucking up the older lady with a blanket, and allowed Mary to take her hand.

"The physician is at the gate, Your Grace," Toynton reported, poking his head around the door. "It's Dr. Cranton."

"Good, I will speak to him first and then bring him through to see my mother. Please make sure Dr. Cranton has everything he needs for his examination."

"He's not a bad man," Mary said quietly, squeezing Dorothy's hand as the door closed behind Aaron. "My son, I mean, not the physician. You do know that, don't you? You must know that by now."

"I…" Dorothy hesitated, torn between her anger at Aaron's boorish behavior yesterday and the new doubts now swirling in her mind over Lauren Talbot.

Her friend's probing for intimate bedroom details had felt distasteful from start to finish. She had heard Lauren asking similar questions to other young women in the past but hadn't then understood quite how inappropriate they were. Last year, Lauren had seemed very worldly and sophisticated, and Dorothy had judged herself naive in such conversations, perhaps excusing behaviors that she would otherwise have condemned.

Nor had she been entirely comfortable today with Lauren's interest in Lord Lensbury. She could understand how fortune inevitably drove the marriage market, and how families might prioritize money above their daughters' preferences. But something in Lauren's words on this matter had rung false. Dorothy instinctively felt that Gareth Wardle was being actively and coldly hunted for his fortune, not his handsome face or easy affability.

Then, had the very sight of Lauren even caused Mary to faint? That suspicion seemed a little too far-fetched, like something from a gothic novel. But in the panic of the old lady's collapse, Miss Talbot had certainly left too quickly for true friendship or even common decency. Surely even a passer-by would have offered to fetch a physician if their carriage was at the gate?

"I know Aaron isn't a bad man," Dorothy assured at last. "But I do need him to talk to me, Duchess. I get angry when he doesn't explain himself. I don't mean to shout and disturb the household, but I don't know what else to do."

"Love him, my dear," Mary said. "That is the only way. My son needs so very much to love and be loved."

Dorothy had neither the heart to respond to these words nor the full comprehension of what they might mean. As with so much else, Mary might simply be confused.

As far as Dorothy knew, the Duke of Dawford had not been looking for love at any point in their acquaintance, whether arguing with her at the dinner table, standing in unhappy but solid comradeship at her side before Reverend Gibbs, or ravishing her body in his capacious bed upstairs.

Dorothy and Aaron found themselves alone together at dinner that night. The Dowager Duchess was resting in her room as per the advice of Dr. Cranton and the effect of the mild sedative he had administered for her shock, whether real or dreamed. Miss Hughes had requested her dinner on a tray in the Dowager Duchess's rooms, intending to keep watch there for some more hours.

The servants had set a smaller table for the Duke and Duchess. It made more sense than seating them at opposite ends of the long and otherwise empty dining table, but tonight Dorothy sensed that neither of them would have sought the proximity afforded by the smaller arrangement.

"Good evening, Duke," she said very politely as she took her seat, occupying herself with arranging the skirt of her green silk evening dress as she sat down, in order to avoid those intense blue eyes.

"Good evening, Duchess," Aaron returned.

Dorothy could not tell from the tone of his voice whether he was greeting her, echoing her words, or simply sad that she had not used his first name.

"I am glad that Dr. Cranton found no serious problems with your mother," she offered as the soup was served, a light chicken consommé with summer vegetables.

"As am I," he replied and then waited until the maid had left the dining room before posing a pointed question. "Do you know why she fainted?"

Dorothy frowned and shook her head. "Your mother was picking lavender when I walked around from the back garden terrace with Lauren. I called out a greeting, but then Mary looked up at us and fainted."

Aaron put down his spoon and exhaled deeply, a pained expression on his face before he finally looked straight at her. "Do you actively enjoy seeing me angry? Is that simply the kind of woman I have married? One who deliberately seeks to enrage me for her own amusement?"

"That is unfair," Dorothy countered, putting down her own spoon but making a great effort to keep her own temper in check.

She was very sure now that there was something important that she did not know. Unlike yesterday, she was determined not to let her natural combative spirit get the better of her good sense.

"I can think of no other explanation for your behavior today. I explicitly told you that I did not want that woman in the house. And do not try to give me the facile excuse that you were in the garden rather than the house. You are young, but you are not a child, Dorothy."

His voice rose in anger as he spoke, and she knew that they could easily fall into another major row.

Again, Dorothy took a deep breath and thought carefully before she responded.

"Why?" she asked calmly, and this question seemed to stop her irate husband in his tracks. "Why do you not want Lauren Talbot on your property? You failed to tell me, and I failed to ask. Those failures are at the root of our misunderstandings, I fear."

"Misunderstandings?" Aaron echoed.

"Yes, you thought me defiant of your will, and I thought you a bully who only wanted to get his way. But neither of those things are true, are they? You are not a bully, and I am not willfully defiant. So…"

"Bullying? You think me a bully? I would never take advantage of…"

When Dorothy looked up, she saw that hurt was now much stronger on her husband's face than anger.

"Aaron, I know that. I have had time to think, and so have you. Please consider that I have spent twenty years of my life living with a father and then a brother who sought to control me. I do not take kindly to that sort of pressure. I hoped to escape it in married life."

"I do not wish to control you, Dorothy. It is only that…" He paused and shook his head.

"Tell me, Aaron," she urged. "I only need to know why you don't want Lauren Talbot here. That could convince me so much more than forbidding me to bring her here. Perhaps I might even agree with you. Something isn't right, but how can I understand what that is if no one will tell me?"

His face softened as he listened to her reasonable words.

"I do not seek to control you, Dorothy," Aaron said at last. "Although, I admit I do not understand you yet. No one, certainly no woman, has ever… I have never been contradicted so directly, except by my enemies?—"

"I am not your enemy, Aaron," Dorothy interjected, horrified by the idea. "I am your wife, your other half, whether either of us sought that or not."

"No, I know… But your nature perplexes me, and your behavior… infuriates me on occasion. You are not like other women I have known."

"We must learn to understand one another," she said earnestly. "That is a marriage, is it not? Two people in good understanding, promised to one another, and acting as one?"

"I suppose it is." He shrugged. "Whatever the poets might say…"

"As for other women," she could not help adding, finding herself irritated by the idea that previous lovers might be relevant to him now. "I am your wife. Why should I be like other women you might have known? I do not wish to be compared to them…"

"No, I am sorry," he responded swiftly. "You are right. I should not have spoken of you in the same breath."

Stomping down faint fires of jealousy, Dorothy refocused her mind. "But you must tell me about Lauren Talbot, Aaron. What happened there?"

"Yes, I do owe you an explanation, don't I?" Aaron sighed, picking up his spoon again but toying with it rather than eating. "My father died when I was very young—eight years old. My mother was left to manage the estate for some years, although she was ill-equipped for the task…"

Shaking his head, he put down his spoon once more.

"My mother had lived a very privileged and over-protected life. My father had managed all estate business and family finances, and before her marriage, her education had been limited to French, dancing, and calligraphy. She has always been a gentle soul without your fire, Dorothy. How could she possibly manage the Dawford estate?"

"She could not," Dorothy guessed quietly.

Aaron nodded, his jaw twitching with repressed emotions. "No, it was beyond her, although she did her very best for my sake. My intellect came from my father's side, not my mother's. She could make no sense of accounts, projections, or politics. She was a woman made to arrange flowers, raise children and please her husband. It makes me sick now to think of her struggling and being taken advantage of by those vultures…"

"I understand that."

Aaron took a deep breath before he continued, encouraged by his wife's empathetic silence. "There were many people ready to take advantage of a sheltered woman with no business background. It would make you sick if you knew, Dorothy. And they did take advantage of her."

"Shame on them," Dorothy murmured with real feeling.

While young, she already had experience of seeing certain people take advantage of young ladies less sharp, well-educated and pugnacious than herself.

"Do you know who was chief among them?" Aaron continued. "The Viscount Frampton, Lauren Talbot's father. He took every penny he could get his hands on. My mother's dowry investments, our estate interest since my father's death, a portion of estate capital, although I recovered most of the latter through the courts…"

"The scoundrel!" Dorothy gasped, although still wondering on some level whether it was fair to visit the sins of the father on the daughter.

"Yes, he thought me too young and my mother too naive to resist him, but I taught him otherwise in the end."

Aaron closed his eyes once more and sat back in his chair. It was as though he could look at her, or tell this story, but not both at the same time.

"At fourteen, I had to fight that man in the courts. I'd already fought him physically in my own house by then… I won, by God! On both occasions. But, what a price… Toynton's father had to bind up one of my hands afterwards—After I hit him, I mean. Not after the courts ruled in my favor."

"No child should have to do what you did," Dorothy said with feeling. "I admire your grit, but I am sorry that you that you had no capable adult to fight on your behalf."

"I was already the Duke of Dawford." Aaron shrugged with a small laugh. "That counted for a great deal, I quickly learned, despite my age. I also had advice and encouragement, I suppose. But I was the only one who could make the court listen. If I had not done so, Lord Frampton and his cronies would have taken everything from us…"

"I had no idea, Aaron. I would never have… When Lauren mentioned she your family acquaintance, I assumed it was a friendly one."

He let out a caustic laugh. "Friendly? Lord Frampton's children tormented me while their father was busy swindling my mother. At school, George Talbot took great pleasure in taunting me about my family's growing poverty even while their father was the one siphoning off our funds. His sister was no better on the occasions his family visited the school. The Talbots broke my mother's heart—and her mind."

"Oh, Aaron…"

"My principal feud is with Lord Frampton, but I cannot forgive his family. I believe they all knew of and partook in his deception of my mother. I suspect the Talbots have done the same to many others, although I cannot prove it. The latest rumor is that they have bankrupted a neighbor of theirs, led on by hopes of marriage to Lauren Talbot. Rogues, one and all!"

Dorothy reached out a hand and laid it over her husband's larger one on the table. He looked down in surprise but then moved his hand so that their fingers intertwined.

"I'm sorry, Dorothy, I was lost in my memories. I should have told you this story sooner, but it is… painful to recall. Even now. You must not trust Lauren Talbot. She will deceive you, and your friends, if she has not done so already. She could do far worse than simply deceive you, in fact."

"Yes," Dorothy said quietly. "We should warn Lord Lensbury against her, particularly. It was seeing Lauren that caused your mother to faint, wasn't it?"

Aaron nodded. "I believe so. When my mother and Miss Hughes said they were going out for lavender, I assumed they were going to the apothecary, not into the garden. Otherwise, I would have diverted them until that woman was off the premises."

"I'm so sorry, Aaron," Dorothy sighed, raising a hand to his jaw instinctively. "I never would have brought Lauren Talbot here if I had known. She was kind to me last year, but I do wonder now if I was merely useful to her."

"Likely enough," he said, leaning his jaw into her hand with a faint sigh of relief at her touch. "That's what the Talbots are like. All of them."

"But why didn't you tell me all of this earlier, Aaron? I wish we hadn't rowed earlier, but I had no idea why you were so angry about Lauren yesterday. It made me see red."

"I'm really not used to a woman like you, am I?" he said and then laughed a little, covering the small hand on his face with his own. "Someone intelligent, capable, and strong who will always argue her point of view. My mother is very vulnerable, and all my previous lovers were?—"

Dorothy looked at him sternly. "I remind you again that I am your wife, Aaron. Be careful what you say next."

This time, he smiled with his eyes as well as his lips, evidently not averse to being reminded of his marital obligations. "Other women in my life were not committed to me, in one way or another. You and I are bound by duty and law."

"For better or worse," she agreed, stroking his lips lightly with her thumb. "You might not always like me very much, Aaron, but you can trust me."

Pushing his soup bowl aside, Aaron leaned across and kissed her on the mouth, his hands stroking her loosely piled-up hair and his tongue playfully seeking hers until she pulled away, gasping faintly. The change in his expression and the atmosphere in the room was striking and unmistakable.

"Then let me tell you that I have wanted you every minute since we last coupled, Dorothy. Even when I was furious with you."

The Duke planted a series of open-mouthed kisses on her throat and the minimal décolletage afforded by her relatively high-necked and girlish green dress.

"Aaron…" she breathed. "Oh God! Your lips feel so wonderful… But surely we must eat dinner. What will the servants think?"

"I need you now, Dorothy. More than food. I don't care what the servants think of that, or what anyone else thinks, except you."

"I want you too," Dorothy admitted, feeling her whole body aching for his touch.

Aaron had been working unsuccessfully to loosen the modest neckline of her dress, but now he gave up, simply cupping and squeezing one of her breasts through the fabric. She pressed herself against him with a moan, wishing to feel only skin on skin, his heat seeping into her and demanding ecstatic release.

"Then bed," he said gruffly. "Otherwise, I will end up taking you right here without even locking the door. That really would give the servants something to think about."

Swinging her easily up into his arms, he carried her out of the dining room and all the way up the grand staircase to the ducal suite.