Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Fifteen Months Later, The Duchess of Grovemont’s Dressing Room

G emma stared at her reflection in the looking glass. It had taken a full year, but it had happened. She’d finally turned into the beauty that Mama had promised she would. Of course, her husband hadn’t been here to see her transformation. That ass had never even told her he was leaving. He’d simply left a note.

At first, Gemma had felt relief. After all, she’d won the battle. He wouldn’t send her to Cumberland. She should have been nothing but pleased when she’d read the short missive he’d left on her nightstand the night after they had consummated their marriage .

Gemma,

I have reconsidered our arrangement and have decided to go to India to attend to some business that requires my attention. I expect you’ll have everything you need for your stay here in London. Mrs. Howard can assist with any questions or concerns.

Yours,

Lucian

It was strange, his valediction. He’d used the word yours . That was amusing. He wasn’t hers. Not at all. Perhaps she legally belonged to him . But he wasn’t hers. Was he mocking her by using that word? Or did it flow from his fingers as a lie so easily? Or perhaps he’d merely written it in the event someone else read the note. A servant or her relatives. Her husband did so like to keep up appearances. She’d learned that about him in the short amount of time they’d spent together.

Regardless, she’d taken the blasted note and put it in the far recesses of her wardrobe. Hidden it inside a glove she rarely wore. And then she’d done her best to forget it. Forget him. Because Lucian Banks wasn’t worth the space in her memory.

After making love to her so tenderly, an act that had shattered her emotionally, then threatening to send her far away like an unwanted horse being put out to pasture, the man had left the country without so much as discussing it with her. Leaving nothing more than a three-sentence note that ended with a false “yours.”

It shouldn’t have surprised her given his previous behavior, but it had angered her. She couldn’t help it. He’d left her to rot.

But slowly, as the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months, her anger had turned into indifference. Just like a good member of the Grovemont clan. Over the last fifteen months, Gemma had learned to perfect indifference.

In addition to his other sins, he’d never written. Not once in all these months. Not even one note to say he had made it to India safely. She only knew he had because from time-to-time Mrs. Howard mentioned letters she received from him, ordering her how to go about some of her duties in taking care of the household.

Of course, Grovemont didn’t know that she and Mrs. Howard had become thick as thieves over the last fifteen months. She’d heard all about Mrs. Howard’s family in Somerset. And Mrs. Howard had heard all about Mama and Griffin and Meredith. Gemma had even told the older woman about Richard, Gemma’s eldest brother who’d died in a horse race before Griffin had come back from the war. Grovemont might be instructing the housekeeper by letter, but Gemma was now the lady of the house. She and Mrs. Howard and Mr. Warwick, the butler, consulted each other on all things. The three of them even had dinner together every Monday night. She quite enjoyed their company.

Which was how Gemma knew Grovemont hadn’t so much as asked after her health or well-being in the letters he sent the servants. She’d ask them from time to time and would be met with a blush and a subject change from dear Mrs. Howard, or a bit of stammering and an offer to refill her wine glass from Mr. Warwick. Apparently, asking after his wife’s health would be far too considerate of Grovemont. He’d merely written to the servants to ask them to complete their duties. Gemma could be dead for all he cared.

He hadn’t even inquired whether the one night they’d spent together had resulted in a child. Though Mrs. Howard would certainly have told him as much if that had been the case. And, at first, Gemma had wished it had been the case.

For that first month before she got her menses, Gemma had prayed she would be with child. Because she refused to let her husband touch her ever again. Not without a fight. Because Gemma had a plan. A plan that made her smile to herself each time she considered it.

Grovemont was off gallivanting around the world, no doubt thinking his absence would make her pliable and willing. He may have had the upper hand before he left, but upon his return, he would not find her turned into a meek woman willing to do his bidding. On the contrary, he would find a wife who had every intention of divorcing him .

A divorce would result in a scandal, of course. But Gemma no longer cared. Of course, she hadn’t told Mama or Griffin or Meredith yet. They would try to talk her out of it. But her mind was already made up. Which meant the less her family knew about her plans, the better. She’d have to tell them eventually, of course, so they could prepare themselves for the inevitable gossip, but she would wait for the right time.

She didn’t even care if she had to plead guilty to criminal conversation. A charge that would be tantamount to admitting she’d been with another man. She hadn’t, of course, but it would be worth everyone thinking she had to be free of him .

And other than the scandal, what would Grovemont care? The man had clearly never wanted their marriage. Had thought so little of it that he’d abandoned her. He should be happy that she would so easily agree to a divorce.

And now, she would finally have her chance to inform him of her decision. True to his behavior of only communicating with the servants, the ass had sent a note last week. One that indicated he would be arriving home soon. One that asked the servants to prepare his rooms. Gemma hadn’t even known about the note. She’d only discovered his plans after she asked Mrs. Howard why the housemaids were dusting in his rooms more frequently than they had before.

But no matter. She was done waiting around and wondering what Grovemont would do next. She intended to take the reins of their marriage and steer them firmly toward divorce.

Gemma stared into the looking glass. She was still tall, of course, but no longer lanky or awkward, and her breasts had filled out quite nicely indeed. The belle of the ton , they called her these days. She was more popular than ever, and she’d used her power to keep Lady Mary from terrorizing the wallflowers. She’d become fast friends with Mary’s most coveted suitor, Lord Pembroke. Just this Season, Mary had finally given up on Pembroke and become betrothed to a long-suffering baron, who was no doubt fated to be even more long-suffering as Mary’s husband. But at least the unmarried ladies of the ton were free to dance with the men of their choosing again.

Gemma dabbed a bit of her new favorite perfume behind her ears. If her husband would not give her the common courtesy of informing her of his return, she would not give him the courtesy of telling him where she was when he arrived. She would go to her brother’s town house for the afternoon, and from there, she intended to go to the Monroes’ ball tonight.