Chapter 7

CHAPTER7

“You promised you would be better,” Nancy choked out, clinging to her father’s arm as he came back in from the rain that had begun to fall. “You swore you would not do this again! You promised I would have the freedom to choose my own husband!”

Through the still-open doorway, Nancy watched the Duke’s carriage turn around and trundle back toward the gates of Tillington House. The Duke had barely said another word to her after she had walked in on the handshake that would seal her fate, and what he had said had made her want to kick him in the shins.

“Adieu, Lady Nancy. I look forward to seeing that scowling face when you walk down the aisle toward me.”

He had even had the audacity to grin at her before making his way out of the manor. Even if he had been trying to soothe the situation with some humor, he sorely needed to educate himself in the art of timing.

Her father pried her fingers from his arm and held her hands tightly in his, his eyes misty as he said, “It could not be helped, my darling. I know this is not your fault, I know this is not what you desire, but when I tell you that the alternative does not bear thinking about, you must believe me.”

“Because you have seen the way Society treats ruined women? How many of yours have been spurned by Society, hmm? Is that why you are so familiar with the consequences?” Nancy regretted the words as soon as they left her lips, seeing her father flinch.

“My angel,” Fanny interjected, coming to her side, “I do not blame you for being angry, but we have all agreed to put your father’s past behind us. Do not dredge up old wounds, otherwise, we shall never heal.”

Joanna tutted loudly from where she leaned against the post at the bottom of the stairs. “Nancy is suffering from a fresh wound, Mama. If she should throw a sharp word at Father, then so be it.” She smoothed a hand across her rounded belly. “Just because you have agreed to forgive does not mean we are able to forget.”

“No, Mama is right,” Nancy said quietly. “I should not have spoken to you like that, Father. I am sorry. I just… I just thought I would… I…” Her voice failed her, cracking under the strain of what had been promised, and what had been taken from her.

Joanna swept in, taking her by the arm. “Come, sweet one. Let us have some tea in the Rose Room. There is nothing that an excellent cup of tea and some cake cannot remedy—Mrs. Hislop taught me that.” She beckoned to Marina, who was loitering awkwardly a short distance away. “Join us, Cousin. Everyone else, we shall see you when we are all calmer.”

“Even me?” Edwin asked, smiling.

Joanna blew him a kiss. “Even you, my darling.”

“I shall still send that letter to Aunt Peggy, to inform her of the situation and see if she cannot work some manner of miracle,” Edwin said, looking at Nancy. “I will not tell you to hope, but if anyone can find a way to make this disappear, it will be her.”

Nancy’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Thank you, Edwin.”

He bowed his head, and, offering an encouraging smile, he headed back across the entrance hall to the drawing room, to finish his correspondence. Fanny and Nicholas stayed where they were, Fanny’s hand holding onto Nicholas’s elbow in a gesture of solidarity… or restraint, Nancy could not decide which, as Joanna led her away.

Is that what my life will become?

Nancy thought back to the long days and nights that her mother would spend locked in her bedchamber or staring blankly out the window at the driveway while her father had been away in London. At the time, Nancy had been sheltered from all of her father’s misdeeds, but the truth had trickled out after Joanna and Edwin had gotten married, allowing her to put together the missing threads in her memory to create the full, heartbreaking tapestry of her mother’s years as a neglected wife.

“That will not be you,” Joanna said as if reading her sister’s mind. “Once upon a time, I thought the same thing. When I married Edwin, I was convinced that I would end up in a hollow union, unloved and dismissed and miserable. But I could not be happier if I had chosen Edwin myself, from the very beginning.”

Nancy mustered a smile. “But you and Edwin were lucky. You are an exception.”

“Not necessarily,” Marina interjected shyly. “My friend Olivia got married a year ago to a gentleman she was matched with. She had met him only a handful of times and had been dreading the union, but now they are both besotted with one another. She has said the same thing Joanna just did—that she could not have been happier if she had chosen him herself.”

Joanna squeezed Nancy’s arm with her own. “You see. It is more common than you think, to fall helplessly in love with the gentleman you are matched with.”

“Indeed, I have known the opposite to be true,” Marina said eagerly. “My mother and father were in love with one another from the very first moment they met, and they went to great lengths to be allowed to marry. Everyone I have spoken to told me that it was true, that my mother and father were the envy of Society when they got married. But all I can remember of them together is them screaming at one another, despising each other, unable to be in the same room without sniping. It is why my mother imbibes, and that did not cease when my father died. If anything, she drank more, cursing him for dying so she could not screech at him anymore.”

“Oh, goodness,” Joanna whispered. “I am so very sorry to hear that, Marina. I had no notion.”

Marina shrugged. “Why should you? They were discreet about their distance from each other until my mother had sipped too many cups of punch. Even now, she still spurns him when she has imbibed too freely, but they did love one another once, long ago. It just… soured one day and could not be sweetened again.”

“So, whether in love or forced together, there is no certainty of a happy ending,” Nancy murmured miserably. “And besides, there is one thing you are forgetting.”

Joanna frowned, ushering the two younger women into the Rose Room, a pretty, secondary drawing room that overlooked the majestic rose gardens. “What is that, my dearest?”

“That my betrothed—” Nancy faltered, her heart sinking, “—is an infamous rake who, apparently, cannot go a week without finding his name in the scandal sheets. I cannot understand Father’s reasoning that thisis the best course of action. How can it be? Either Society will believe what was written about me and take this marriage as evidence of my guilt, or they will pity me for being bound to such a wretch. How is marrying him any less shameful or mortifying than refusing this awful proposal?”

Joanna helped her to sit, before ringing the bell for tea. “Society is strange. For them, it is better that you marry such a man, so they feel they can honorably associate with you again.” She shook her head. “I admit, it makes no sense whatsoever, but that is the way of things.”

“Perhaps this Aunt Peggy willbe able to conjure a miracle, and you will not have to worry about any of it anymore,” Marina added hopefully, but Nancy was beyond believing in the impossible.

“She is powerful, I do not deny that,” Nancy replied, “but I doubt there is anything she can do. With more time, perhaps, but I do not have that luxury. A special license will be acquired, and that will be that. I shall be the Duchess of Stapleton, attached to a man I do not even like.”

Joanna laughed softly, gaining a sharp glare from her. “Do you remember me saying, while half-asleep, that you should find yourself a very rich, very handsome gentleman, but not a duke?”

“You said that you should get to win once.” Nancy nodded, but the memory did not amuse her as it once had. “Perhaps that was an omen, spoken aloud by Sleepy Jo.”

“Sleepy Jo?” Marina asked.

“She is who I become when I am not quite asleep but not quite awake,” Joanna explained sadly. “And she has been known to make some rather remarkable predictions, but… Oh, Nancy, I would give anything to undo this for you. I am sorrier than you could possibly know that I was not there to protect you this time. I let you down. I still have months before this child comes. I should have pulled myself up by my stockings and chaperoned you through the Season, as I have always done.”

Nancy stared at her sister in disbelief. “You were poorly, Joanna! You were instructed to keep to your bed, for the safety of your child. How could you have, in any way, let me down?” A great sob wracked her chest. “It is I who has let you down. Now, your original sacrifice means nothing. I have… squandered it.”

“Nancy, my sweet girl, no.” Joanna took hold of her sister’s hands. “Do not blame yourself, and do not, for a moment, think that you have let me down.”

“But I was supposed to find true love. I was supposed to find the husband I have dreamed of since I was a child, reading my beloved stories. I was supposed to be different from Mama and Father. I was supposed to… be one of the fortunate ones.” Nancy wept, veering toward the brink of being inconsolable, as the true enormity of everything she was losing hit her at once. “You stepped in and saved me so that I could have that dream, and now… and now it is… it is gone!”

Joanna wrapped her arms around her sister, holding her close as she stroked her hair, making gentle, soothing sounds that were not nearly enough to hold back the tide of terror and dread. From the other side of Nancy, Marina put a hand between her cousin’s shoulder blades and rubbed in slow circles, trying to calm that which could not be calmed.

“You will survive this,” Joanna insisted, whispering close to Nancy’s ear. “I have found happiness beyond my wildest dreams, and you shall find it too, even if it is not because of your husband. This is not the end of your life, my sweet sister.”

“Then why does it feel like it is?” Nancy gasped in reply, clinging to Joanna.

“Think of it,” Joanna replied. “The Duke is a reprobate, but there is some merit in that.”

Nancy choked on the lump forming in her throat. “In what way?”

“He will not want to give up life as he knows it. He is dependent on his way of existing,” Joanna explained haltingly as if she was just considering it. “If he was not, he would not have made such a public nuisance of himself for a decade or more. Now, I cannot profess to understand why he has made this offer of marriage, but it might just be the most decent, honorable thing he has ever done.”

Nancy pulled back, shaking her head. “I… do not understand.”

“It is not exactly your dream, my dearest one,” Joanna continued, “but I suspect that he will grant you your freedom. Not only that, but I believe he will give you permission to find the true love you have longed for. You will be his wife in name only, living however you please. You might even find that you are more liberated than you would have been if none of this had happened.”

Nancy frowned, at once appalled and intrigued by her sister’s words. Of course, she had assumed that the Duke would carry on with his wretched antics after they were married, but she had not considered how it might benefit her. She had merely envisioned herself as another iteration of her mother, left to bear the sting of constant betrayal.

“But… I would not be able to marry someone I loved, even if, by some chance, I were to find him,” Nancy said as the bubble of possibility burst once more.

Joanna puffed out a breath. “No, you would not, but… perhaps an arrangement could be made. I do not know. I wish I could see into the future, but, for now, all we can do is have faith that things will turn out better than you think they will.”

“Children might be your blessing,” Marina said. “My mother has always said that I was the greatest gift she gained from her marriage.”

Joanna nodded. “Mama used to say something similar. She said we gave her the purpose and love she had always hoped for.”

“Children?” Nancy’s throat tightened, for though she knew her sister and cousin meant well, they had overlooked one thing: how children were made.

Indeed, until her nephew arrived, Nancy herself had been somewhat ignorant of how children were created. But, in a moment of curiosity, she had asked Joanna to explain it to her, and Joanna had obliged in far more detail than Nancy had anticipated.

Now, Nancy wished she had never asked. She wished she had remained oblivious, for if she was to be married to the Duke of Stapleton, he would undoubtedly have expectations of her. Expectations that she fully understood.

Her stomach churned.

Is that why he has done this? Am I to be the vessel for a legitimate heir?

It was the only reason she could think of, now that her mind was clearer. Why else would such a man willingly take a wife? Indeed, how many children had he already created, children that could never take his name or title or gain from his legacy?

“Excuse me,” she said, jumping up and running for the doors that led out into the rose gardens, “I think I might be sick.”