Page 58 of Five Ways to Bed a Duke

“Something about seeing the older version of my first love filled me with remorse and nostalgia. I was even surprised when he agreed to claim the pregnancy. I moved back in, and throughout my confinement, he protected me from the rumors and gossip that surrounded my return.

“He became once again my doting husband, caring for me. He even helped pick out a name for the baby. We were so peaceful that I dreamed of a second chance at the love we shared at the beginning of our marriage, until the child was born. I was happy because she was a perfect girl with my blonde hair.

“That joy, unfortunately, was overshadowed because the moment your father stepped into the nursery, he took one look at Emmy sleeping peacefully in her cot, turned, left, and never returned. He locked himself in his study, refusing to allow me in. It was then that the guilt and shame hit.

“It did not help when you walked into the nursery, Richard, just returning from your friend’s home. I could feel your disdain and hatred for me—it radiated from every pore in your body. I already felt the guilt choking me, and just like clockwork, I returned to my chambers one day to find a letter from my old lover inviting me back to a party held in his townhouse in London. He also promised me a voyage on his father’s ship all the way to the Continent. It all sounded exciting, a distraction from the guilt and pain I felt.

“I knew that I was falling back into the vices I had thought I left behind, but I guess I always was an addict because the next day, I packed my meager belongings and I was on my way to the Continent, leaving only a letter behind. When I left before daybreak, my heart ached with guilt, but a voice in my head kept urging me away, promising oblivion aboard a ship to the Continent. So that is how I left, without looking back.”

A deep silence lingered after her long explanation while her children pondered a version of events completely different from the one they knew.

Hearing her speak gave them a deeper view of who she really was. Another human being who felt all the different emotions of love, hurt, anger, pain, and addiction. It was easier to hate her from a distance because pain was always better when there was a table for blame and hatred. It was unfortunate she became that target when at the time, she had needed the unconditional love of family.

It was difficult to fathom that his father had been a serial womanizer and abuser. An abuser because Richard firmly believed that any man who would take advantage of a fourteen-year-old girl, especially one in his employ, was a monster and an abuser. It was quite shocking to imagine his father, a man he had thought attached to his ledgers, could have the time to womanize.

But then his father was a duke, he didn’t really need to leave the comfort of his home to acquire a mistress when many women worked in his house. Richard was quite sure that those girls were not willing, since they depended on his father for food and sustenance.

It was one thing for his father to have a mistress outside his marriage, but it was another to carry out his affairs under his wife’s nose, completely unconcerned about the hurt he was causing. The Dowager Duchess was no saint because she had chosen one of the worst ways in history to show her anger.

Her story, if it was true, threw everything Richard thought he knew about his father in shadow.

To distract himself from the turmoil of marrying the two versions of events, he asked, “Why did you come back, then, if you had found joy in the Continent?”

“It was not true joy. I know that now, because true joy could never be that self-destructive. I soon realized that when I fell ill at one of our stops. They took me to a healer close by. My so-called friends and my lover left me there for dead.

“The healer, a kindly woman, cared for me till I was healthy enough. When I got better, I helped her with her house chores—cutting wood for cooking and other menial chores I wouldn’t have imagined doing as the Duchess of St. George.”

Looking closely at his mother’s hands, Richard realized that they were callused and bronzed with exposure to the sun. He also noted that some of her nails were broken.

“Later on,” she continued, “she sent me to apprentice under a textile maker in the village there. Over time, I learned and started making textiles, saving money to return to England. It was very long, difficult work, but in the end, I saved enough money to return.

“When I returned, I went straight to the country house and found out I was now a widow, since your father had died a month ago. I was devastated because I had hoped to make amends. But fate is cruel, isn’t it?” she said with a rueful smile.

His mother had lived a reckless life, but Richard believed that she had paid enough for it, with everything she had been through. He had not quite forgiven her yet. Grudges that old could not be easily let go. He was, however, ready to move in the direction of reconciliation.

“I know it is a little late, but I would love to be part of your lives.” At their nod of assent, she continued brightly, “I guess we have a wedding to plan.”

“Whose wedding?” Richard asked, confused.

“Yours, of course,” the Dowager Duchess said with a laugh. “With the besotted looks you have been giving Miss Burlow, I thought you would be halfway down the aisle by now.”

“Why would you think that?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“Everybody in Society knows, silly,” Emmy snorted.

He had quite forgotten she was in the room because of her uncharacteristic quietness. But he looked up to see that her eyes, while luminescent, were red-rimmed and puffy.

“You and Cat are so obviously in love that it is very vexing to watch you both circle each other while pinning for one another. Just marry her already and save us all the torment,” Emmy complained.

Richard looked away, mortified. He had thought Emmy was exaggerating when she said that everyone was aware of his infatuation with Catherine. It seemed it was true, since his mother, who had barely spent a fortnight with him and Emmy, had noticed that something was weighing heavily on his mind.

“Son,” his mother called.

He looked up to see an indulgent look in her eyes.

“I realize how scary it must be to fall in love, especially for a man like you who prides himself on his ability to control every aspect of his life. Unfortunately, love cannot be controlled that easily. I have watched you over the last few days as I visited Emmy, and I can tell that whatever happened between you two hurts you more than you would admit to anyone. Not even yourself.

“What you feel for Miss Burlow is beautiful, and I would hate to watch you let it go to waste because of the fear of what happened to your father and me repeating itself. You are not your father, and Miss Burlow is more intelligent than I was at that point in my marriage. I believe you would be very happy with her as a wife,” she advised.

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