Page 17 of His Darling Duchess
He was quite sure he didn’t want to know the answer, though, so he refrained from asking.
Answering a quiet tap on the door a short time later, Harris said a few words to whoever was outside before turning back to Stowe.
“Her ladyship is in bed now, my lord,” he said, jerking his head towards the door with an exaggerated gesture, by which Stowe understood at least one of the maids had delivered the message and would probably be watching from along the corridor to see if he went to Aurelia’s chamber.
“I’ll talk with her. You go source some blood, and for God’s sake don’t let anyone know what you’re about.”
“I could always open a vein, my lord,” Harris said, straight-faced.
“Let’s not get quite that drastic, Harris.” Stowe gave the valet a sardonic look. “If anyone’s going to bleed for my lady’s honour, it should be me, anyway. But let’s see if we can’t find a chicken first.”
Harris only bowed, and Stowe sighed, pulling his robe firmly around himself. There was no point in delaying things; if he waited, Aurelia was likely to fall asleep and be frightened if he woke her. Opening the door, he crossed the corridor to the duchess’s half of the master suite and opened the door without knocking, pretending not to see the maid lurking at the far end of the corridor.
Aurelia shot upright in bed with a muffled squeal of surprised as her door opened unexpectedly and Stowe walked in. He held a finger to his lips, indicating she should be quiet, before closing the door and crossing to stand beside the bed.
“You promised you wouldn’t,” she stuttered, clutching the coverlet to herself.
“And I won’t,” he said quietly, “but my valet pointed out that your sheets will likely be examined in the morning.”
“Oh. Oh!” Sure her face was flaming, she ducked her head.
“I’ve sent Harris to source a chicken or some other ready source of blood. When he returns, he’ll bring it to me and we’ll stain your sheets before anyone else can see.”
“You’re very thoughtful, my lord.”
“I thought we had agreed you would call me Stowe?”
The bed dipped slightly, and she peeked up at him to discover him taking a seat on the edge.
“Sorry,” he murmured, “but returning to my own room within a minute or two will create gossip I’d rather avoid.”
She acknowledged the point, though her face flamed again as she realised everyone in the house assumed she and Stowe were even at that moment consummating their marriage. “I don’tmind you being here,” she said, surprised to realise it was true. She trusted his word that he wouldn’t touch her and was only concerned for her reputation with the staff.
Stowe let out a sigh and leaned back against the bedpost at the foot of the bed. He looked at her with a meditative expression. “What do you want from this marriage, my lady?”
Astonished, she stared at him with wide eyes, no longer feeling weary. “I beg your pardon?”
“Though the marriage is not to be consummated at this time, few outside this room will be aware of it, and having the marriage annulled isn’t something I should wish to contemplate.”
“No,” Aurelia agreed quietly. “Nor I.” She would have far more to lose than he by an annulment; it would be presumed he had found her wanting, and what man would marry her then? Whereas Stowe was a duke. He’d have no trouble finding another bride.
“Therefore, it falls to us to make the best of the situation, doesn’t it? I’m the one who is far richer for this union, I’m well aware. You’re young, beautiful and sweet, and I’m… well, I’ve spent too much time on the battlefield and too little among civilised society.”
Aurelia half-smiled. “Sometimes, Society is not at all civilised, my lord.”
“Rhys.”
“You asked me to call you that before. It sounds Welsh?”
“It’s one of my names, the only one my mother chose for me. Rhys was her father’s name, and yes, she was Welsh.” He didn’t smile, but there was a hint of softness around his eyes. “I don’t remember her, I’m afraid. She died of childbed fever when I was only a few days old.”
“So you use the name she gave you to honour her?”
“And to spite my father.” His jaw clenched briefly, head bowing, before he lifted it to look her in the eyes again. “I’m sure you’ve heard stories about what a terrible man he was, but I doubt they approached even a tenth of the truth. He was a monster, and there were times during my childhood when I envied my mother. At least in death, she escaped his tyranny.”
“Oh, Rhys.” Instinctively, she reached out a hand, wanting to comfort him. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what that must have been like, having to live with such a father.”
He put his hand out in return, letting their fingertips graze together lightly before drawing back. “I’m glad you never had to. If we are to have children, some time in the future, one parent who knows what a healthy family should be like increases our chances of raising them to be good and decent people, though there are never any guarantees.”
