Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

E mily stayed in her room until Mrs. Martin departed. She had nothing against the woman, but she couldn't let her husband know that. She would only disappoint her mother-in-law now, as Emily must continue seeking an annulment, but it did help ease the sting of her marriage, that her husband's mother was not a terror.

Once the woman was gone, Emily readied to depart herself. She couldn't think of anywhere she might go to get away from him, but she could go seek counsel from the duchess. Isabel might be a few years older, but she still treated Emily as an equal, even though they very much were not. She could discuss her feelings more openly with the duchess, and without the iron fist of the duke. He had proved himself a good man, and Emily had her suspicions about why, but she could not trust him with everything. Not yet.

Emily dressed for the day with the help of her maid, then made her way downstairs with her head held high. Per his instruction after her first outing, she intended to inform him of her departure, but she would do so with whatever pride left she had intact .

"Where might I find Mr. Westcott?" Emily asked the nearest footman.

"The master is in his study, madam, just down that corridor."

Emily walked through the foyer, then squared her shoulders and took a deep breath before knocking on the dark wooden door.

"Come in."

It caught her by surprise that he did not ask who it was, when she'd been ready to spit out "your wife" with every ounce of animosity she possessed. Perhaps that meant he might be comfortable with her entrance as a possibility, or perhaps he did not care one way or another. As for herself, she still could not stand his presence for any length of time without her hackles raising and the flame of anger burning in her chest, but perhaps she was on the verge of being rid of him for good.

Jaw clenched, she turned the gilded knob and pushed the door in.

Emily entered the study, and again discovered another perspective to the man she had married. This room, like the dining room, was not full of elaborate furnishings or decorations. It was still worthy of a gentleman in his status, but it was simple. She found him seated comfortably at a desk, surrounded by bookshelves on the walls and a table to his side covered in tools. He looked up casually, no doubt expecting a servant, then his eyes went wide, and he shot to his feet, his tools clattering to the floor. His shirtsleeves were rolled to the elbows, revealing his forearms, and his dark hair appeared disheveled, as though from active tousling more than lack of attention.

No matter. His physical appearance meant nothing to her.

Lifting her chin, Emily said, "I am going to visit the duke and duchess, and I will likely not return home before dinner. Is that acceptable?"

He clenched his jaw before clasping his hands together in front of him. "Of course. Should you need money for a hackney?"

"It is a short distance. I shall walk." Emily quickly bobbed in a curtsy, wishing to be gone from his presence.

"Wait. Please."

His voice stopped Emily in her tracks, his gentle tone catching her off balance and spreading uncertainty through her stomach. Taking a shaky breath, she slowly turned to see him round the desk and take a careful step toward her.

"What you said…" He started strong and firm, but he shook his head and sighed. When he looked up again, he bore the look of a vulnerable man, someone who was tired. "I spoke to you harshly this morning, and many times before that. It was ungentlemanly of me. You did not deserve such treatment, and you were right to censure me." Emily's heart pounded, for she had never heard such an apology, yet he went on. "We may not always see eye to eye on things, but I do not want this place to be a prison to you. It is your home, so whatever would make it feel more like that for you…"

Emily raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. "As in, changing the wallpaper in my bedroom?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "If you wish. Or if inviting the duke and duchess for dinner would put you more at ease to dine with me…"

Again her stomach recoiled, recognizing what he was trying to say. Hating it. He was trying to reconcile with her. Trying to find common ground in their marriage, a marriage neither of them wanted. Why did he just settle and accept it all? Why not fight back and find a way to end it if they were both miserable?

"The duke is much at parliament, but I will ask them when they are available." Emily almost lost her voice as she nodded in departure. She bolted out the door without much help from the footmen, stiffening in the bright sunlight. Various ladies and gentlemen were already out taking afternoon strolls, or had hired hackneys to deliver them for morning visits, and all of this Emily had already anticipated. Only she had hoped to appear more confident, but instead, she left feeling lower than ever. He had sought to find peace between them, and she had responded with cold detachment. Now she was on the verge of tears, ready to crumble should anyone even approach her. These were the repeated tears she had fought against since her wedding day. She'd struggled with her frustrations since the moment he brought her back to his home, but she hadn't actually accepted it as her future, as her fate.

His attempt at peace made her confront something she wasn't ready to accept: defeat. And she couldn't raise a white flag. Not yet.

Emily ground her jaw, hoping her quivering lip was not visible to the people in the street passing her by. She could not meet their eyes; she dared not in her current emotional state.

Finally she arrived at a familiar place; the duke's townhome in Grosvenor Square. It broke her heart to know that it was more appropriate that she should knock now, as she would be a guest instead of at home. Holding back a whimper, Emily knocked on the door.

The butler opened it and smiled brightly. "Miss Emily!"

She should have corrected him, but she didn't much care. "Is the duchess home?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"Yes, of course. Do come in."

Emily stepped inside and realized what she had done. She had retreated. She'd sought comfort in her old home instead of facing the difficulty head on .

"Oh Emily!" The duchess grinned from the top of the stairs. "I didn't expect to see you so soon. The duke is out, but little Theodore has been asking for you…" Her smile fell, as if suddenly seeing Emily's true state. "Whatever is the matter, my dear?"

Unable to keep the tears at bay any longer, Emily rushed up the stairs, and fell apart in Isabel's arms.

Emily didn't know how much time had passed, but eventually her nerves calmed. She found herself staring at the wall in the drawing room where she laid on the settee, her head resting on Isabel's lap as the duchess rhythmically brushed a hand over Emily's unpinned curls. She was exhausted now, having bitterly wept all her pent-up emotions, and vented all her frustrations. Isabel had listened and soothed so effortlessly until all Emily's anger had simmered away.

Much of the inner turmoil had been released, so she felt a little better, but that did not mean her situation had been resolved.

"Isabel?"

"Hmm?"

"Is there really nothing to be done?" Emily asked.

"I don't see what other options are available to you."

Emily sat up. "Not even an annulment?"

Isabel sighed. "Unfortunately not, my dear. Your situation would not merit an annulment, for it would require either mental incompetence, which neither of you have, or impotence, which would only be proved after three years of sharing your husband's bed."

Emily flushed.

"I believe there are grounds of fraud, as well, but neither of you are pretending to be someone you're not. "

Perhaps not, but there was always the truth about Emily's identity, the nagging reminder in the back of her mind that she, in fact, could be more than anyone was telling her.

"Beyond that, there is only divorce, which you know would be more of a scandal than if Mr. Westcott had not married you at all."

Emily leaned back and sighed. Hearing all the facts from someone who loved her, who would not judge her, helped provide a clearer perspective, helped her come one step closer to accepting the dreaded truth. "Then I must stay married to him."

Isabel nodded, brushing a hand over her curls again. "Then so you must."

"How does one even survive an arranged marriage?" Emily lamented. "It makes the rest of your days seem so helpless and doomed."

"Not at all. I'm certain in some cases, but I do not think that will be your lot." Isabel paused. "I still think you should speak to Marianne. Their situation was different, to be sure, but she could provide some insight that I think would help."

Emily shook her head. "Mr. Westcott is no Mr. Ramsbury."

"No, I suppose not."

"That is why I sought you out." Emily sat up, turning to Isabel earnestly. "My husband has a much more similar demeanor and temperament to the duke, so cross and distant at times. Though I know His Grace is not always like that, is he?"

"That's right. But you said Mr. Westcott was kind to you just this morning, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but that was out of obligation, not out of sincerity." Emily shook the pressure from her head. "He does not care one whit about me. "

Isabel nodded. "And yet he did so knowing you do not care one whit about him either."

"Are you saying he is better than me?" Emily asked in mock offense.

"I am saying he is trying. Therefore, you need to try as well."

Emily sank back against the settee. "Then how do I try? How do I have a successful marriage, especially when I long for someone else?"

Isabel looked at Emily carefully for a long moment. "First and foremost, I think you will need to let that dream go. Cry your tears for Mr. Evans, wish him well in life, and then let him go. You will only make yourself miserable to linger there."

The words sank deep in Emily's heart, for she knew the duchess was right.

"After that, it will be up to you and your husband. You will need to work together to create an environment that makes you happy in your new home with him. For every marriage will require a good deal of work." Isabel placed a comforting arm around Emily's shoulder. "It will take sacrifice and compromise, but I do not think you are doomed to loneliness and despair as you might imagine for the rest of your life. It will require much of you. In fact, it may require all of you. But creating a home and a family is quite possibly one of the best joys there is."

Emily did not feel that joy yet, nor did she even have a hope for it, but she was buoyed by such a vision. "Thank you, Isabel."

The housekeeper announced the tea was ready, but Isabel took Emily's hand in her grasp.

"I will say one more thing. The duke and I love you, and you may always come here to visit. I will welcome you with open arms and be thrilled to see you in any moment." Isabel's eyes steadied with a soft smile. "But at the end of the day, you will need to return to your husband. He is your home now, and that is the place you need to fight for. Find common ground with him and make it your own. It is the only way you will find a sufficient path forward."