The Duchess War, Page 26

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Knowing what was going to happen didn’t help. Minnie couldn’t even feel her heart beating, so thick was her anxiety. As Robert spoke, her whole body turned to ice. And when everyone turned to see who he was looking at—when all their eyes landed on her, dark with accusation—a wild, ragged panic took her. The murmurs grew to a crashing swell.

  “That’s her,” someone said.

  She couldn’t remember how to breathe. Her lungs caught in airless spasms. She shoved to her feet, but the crowd was all around her. Shouting. Screaming. Her vision swam with dark spots that grew ever larger. The last thing she saw was Robert standing up from the witness stand and vaulting over the edge. And then everything went dark.

  She wasn’t sure when she came back to consciousness. It returned slowly, like a piece of a dream gradually coming to life. There was the gentle sway of the carriage, her husband’s arms around her, his breath against her neck. His hands. He was whispering words of encouragement, but she couldn’t open her eyes.

  Awareness came in flashes. Being carried up the stairs. Softness surrounding her. And his voice—Robert’s voice—was there, even in the middle of restless dreams. It made a muffled murmur in her ear until the disquiet fell away and she drifted off.

  When she awoke, it was afternoon. She was lying in bed. Not, she realized, their bed. This was her bed—the bed that had been set up in the duchess’s quarters. It was the first time that she’d been on this mattress, and she didn’t like it.

  Someone had taken off her blue silk day gown and her corset, petticoats, and drawers, leaving her in her shift. She wasn’t surrounded by a crowd—but yes, she really had fainted again. In public. Other memories followed swiftly on the heels of that. The courtroom. Robert, sitting up front. Robert, looking directly at Minnie as he spilled all her secrets to everyone.

  She wasn’t angry so much as curiously hollow. Minnie sighed and sat up.

  She could remember falling. But the most curious thing—she couldn’t remember hitting the ground. Slowly, gingerly, she poked one toe out of bed. Her feet found the floor; she tested her weight on them, and they held.

  And that was when her eyes fell on a figure in a chair across the room—a female figure.

  “Lydia,” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”

  Lydia stood. “Your husband sent for me.” Her face seemed shadowed. “I heard what happened. He said you needed me, so I…I came.”

  “But…”

  “I’m so sorry,” Lydia said in a rush, moving to her side. “For the longest time, I could only think that you had lied to me, that I couldn’t trust you. That you didn’t trust me.” Lydia sat down next to her. “I said you didn’t tell me anything, but I knew. I knew you had these spells, that you hated crowds. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you collapse in front of everyone. If I had thought, I would have realized. I’ve been so hateful.”

  Minnie looked at her friend. “Don’t say that.”

  “How can I not? It wasn’t a lie when you found out I was pregnant and you told me that everything would be all right. It wasn’t a lie when I miscarried and you read to me for hours while I lay in bed fearing that I, too, would die. I wish you had told me, but…” Her voice grew quiet. “Nothing between us has ever been a lie. And I should have been here for you, as you were for me, long before now.”

  Lydia gave her a fierce hug, one so tight that Minnie didn’t think she would ever let go. She didn’t want her to.

  “I’m also sorry,” Lydia said in a more prosaic tone of voice, “because it means I never had a chance to say I told you so.”

  They looked at each other and laughed. “You did. And you were right. It’s been—” Minnie frowned. “What’s that noise?”

  Lydia turned around. “That? That’s just your husband talking to people in his chamber.”

  His chamber? That was their bedchamber. They’d never used separate rooms thus far. Even during her husband’s dark moods these last days, they’d shared a bed. This room had gone entirely unused.

  She could hear him talking—not loud enough to make out the words, but at just the volume where she might hear the cadences of his speech, the rhythm of clipped orders being delivered.

  “Lydia,” she asked, “where is my husband?”

  She would have sworn that he’d carried her home. He’d sent for Lydia. The last time she’d collapsed, he’d been there when she awoke, even knowing that the blow to her reputation would require him to offer marriage. Why was he not here?

  Lydia shook her head. “In the other room.”

  “He should be here. He was here.” She pulled on a dressing gown from her wardrobe. Then she tottered a few steps to the door that separated them. The handle turned under her weight and the door swung in.

  There were three servants in his room—his valet and two footmen—and several trunks. Robert was sitting with his back to her, watching them bustle about. One footman had just emerged from his dressing room, arms loaded with a stack of colored silk waistcoats. He placed these in a trunk, and Minnie’s world came to a standstill.

  “Robert, what on earth are you doing?” Minnie asked.

  He froze, his back turned to her. The servants all looked away and started packing more swiftly, more silently. Only their sidelong glances showed their interest.

  “You recuperated rather swiftly,” he said, his spine still to her. “I had thought I would be gone by the time you were up and about.”

  “Gone? But where are you going?”

  Finally, he rose and turned. But even though his body was generally pointed in her direction, still he didn’t look at her. “Away.”

  She’d panicked when he’d spoken in front of all those people. They’d looked at her; her old terror had risen up. But as awful as fainting was, it was easy. Once you did it, you no longer had to deal with the situation at hand. There was no escape from this. This…this just hurt.

  “Away? Where away? For how long?”

  “I made you a promise,” he said at last. “And I broke it into more pieces than anyone would have thought possible. I can only imagine how furious you must be with me.” His jaw squared. “I won’t hold on to you. I won’t beg.” He gave her a wintry smile. “I’m making things easier for you.”

  Her head was ringing. “Just like that?”

  “No scenes. No arguments. No need to throw anything.” He finally looked up and gave her a tired smile. “You’ll have anything you want; just ask for it.”

  If anything, the footmen had begun to pack faster, as if to prove that their ears could not hear what was being said.

  Minnie walked slowly into the room to stand before him. “I don’t understand. Are you saying—”

  “I know what happened out there. You only married me because I told you that I would protect you. And I just—”

  “One moment, Robert.” Minnie waved her hand at the servants. “I think you’d all best go now. In fact, I think it would be best if you could clear the wing for the next hour or so.”

  A pause. One footman looked at the cravats he carried. Another glanced at the duke, who squared his jaw and said nothing.

  Minnie clapped her hands. “Leave everything and go.” They scattered.

  Minnie turned around. Lydia was still standing in the doorway connecting their two rooms, watching with wide eyes. She held up her hands. “I am already gone,” she said. “Come see me later, Minnie.”

  She cast Robert a hard glance and then she, too, disappeared.

  They waited, listening, until the retreating footsteps faded into the distance.

  And then Minnie set her hands on his chest, and gave him a hard shove. “Robert, you idiot, what in blazes are you thinking?”

  “I had to.” He stared at her. “I had to. He was my brother, and I had to—”

  “Oh, you stupid man.” She gave him another shove, and he stumbled back, his legs hitting the bed. “That is not what I’m talking about.”

  “I left a no
te,” he said. “This morning. I should have talked to you about it sooner. I should have woken you up. It took me that long to come to my senses. I feel sick, thinking that you were exposed to that simply because—”

  “I got your note,” Minnie said. “I read it. I decided you were right.”

  “You did…you did what?” He blinked at her stupidly.

  “I got your note,” Minnie repeated. “I read it. I decided your initial impulse was right. There was no hiding the truth of my identity. It was going to come out no matter what we did. That meant the only thing on the line for me was a little humiliation. Compared to your brother’s life, what would that mean?”

  “Minnie!” He sounded horrified. “But you—”

  She put her hand on his shoulder. “You had to tell everyone the truth of my past to save your brother from being ostracized. Do you imagine that I would have insisted on your silence, with that at stake? Yes, that scene was awful. Yes, I never want to do anything like it again. I don’t like it when people look at me. I can’t breathe. I can’t see straight.” She looked at him. “It was awful, but it was not the end of the world. And you think it means the end of our marriage?”

  He blinked. “It…isn’t?” Finally, he looked her in the eyes. He looked surprised, stunned even. “But you’re angry with me. I can see it.”

  “Of course I’m angry.”

  He shook his head. “Then… Aren’t you going to leave?”

  “Of course I’m angry,” she repeated. “Because I thought I meant something to you. And you’re willing to walk away simply because you can’t be bothered to patch things up.”

  “Can’t be bothered…” he repeated in a stunned voice. He looked at her. He turned and looked at the half-packed trunks, at the pile of cravats the footman had abandoned on a chest of drawers.

  “I just…” His voice was soft and tired. “I don’t understand. I hurt you. I knew I was going to do it, and I did it anyway. How can I make that right? I can’t tell you not to be angry. You should be angry. You deserve to be angry.”

  This was the man whose mother had walked away from him as a child. This was the man whose father had seen him as nothing more than a tool to extract money from other pockets. Robert had forgiven Minnie for her earlier deception. But he had so little expectation of forgiveness for himself that he couldn’t even ask for it.

  Minnie reached out and took his hand. “Do you know why I am furious? Because you would rather leave than try to make our marriage work.”

  He searched her eyes. “I…”

  “I know. You don’t want to fight. But fights don’t destroy a marriage. Not making up does.”

  He swallowed. “You want to fight?”

  “Yes. And I want you to say that you were terribly, desperately, sordidly wrong.”

  He flinched. “I was. I know I was.”

  “I want to believe you when you apologize. I want to know in my soul that you would never do anything to hurt me. I want you to promise me that next time this happens, you’ll come talk to me first, and we’ll decide what to do together.”

  He was looking at her, his head cocked.

  “And then, when you’ve done all that, I want to forgive you.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  “But why do you want to do all that?”

  “Because I love you,” she said. “I love you. I love you.”

  He let out a deep breath. “You’re certain?” he said quietly.

  She nodded.

  “I see,” he said. And then, without saying another word, he walked out of the room.