Page 28 of The Penitent Duke
“I… I did not know.” Lady Fairmont closed her eyes tightly, her lips in a thin line. “How dare he? I understand that he has a poor reputation but I did not ever expect him to be as calculating as that!” She leaned forward. “Even now, Rosalind, you do not have to wed him. You can break the betrothal!”
“I cannot, not when it would ruin not only myself but Emilia also.” Feeling something like frustration and upset melding together within her, Rosalind got to her feet. She began to pace up and down the room, herthoughts beginning to swirl through her mind, her sorrow over the Duke’s actions growing into a wild and furious anger. “It was cruel of him to do such a thing.”
“Yes, it was, but what shall you do about it now?” Lady Fairmont spread out her hands. “As I have said, though it may cause difficulty, your father and I will not force you to marry him.”
Rosalind stopped pacing, her fingers curling up into her palms, a sudden desire to be alone burning through her. “Mama, if you do not mind, I think I shall take myself for a short walk-through London. My thoughts are many and they do not settle to give me peace for even a moment!”
“I shall come with you, if you like?”
Rosalind smiled but shook her head. “Thank you, Mama, but I think I need some time alone with my thoughts. I think I shall take a hackney to St James’ Park.”
Her mother shook her head. “No, my dear. I will have the carriage prepared for you. You will not need to hail a hackney.” She held up one hand, silencing Rosalind’s protests. “I understand that you want to hurry from the house and walk alone as quickly as you can but I will insist on coming with you, if you take a hackney.” A smile touched the edges of her mouth as Rosalind sighed. “You are strong willed, my dear, and you know that your father and I trust you completely. That being said, youmusttake the carriage and the maid with you, so that I know you are quite safe. I do not always trust hackney drivers, as well you know.”
Trying to be grateful for her mother’s understanding, Rosalind nodded and then gestured to the door, the urge to be alone still gnawing at her. “I will go to change, I think.”
“And I shall call the carriage,” Lady Fairmont replied, quietly. “Do be careful, my dear.”
***
Rosalind meandered slowly through St James’ Park. It was not yet the afternoon and thus the park was still rather quiet. The dappled leaves, the birdsong and the clean, crisp air were all balms to her otherwise heavy heart but they did not bring her any true relief. These were passing pleasures whereas the future that was now held out before her was one of darkness and pain.
The Duke of Strathmore had proven that to her when he had manipulated her into accepting his proposal. In the moments afterwards, when the two ladies had exclaimed together and Lord Westlake, clearlylost in surprise, had managed to utter his congratulations, Rosalind had felt a numbness seeping into her soul. She had not known what to do or what to say, hearing the Duke speak to her but finding that she had no real knowledge or understanding as to what it was he said. Her legs had grown weak and she had been forced to take the Duke’s arm, only to then fix a smile to her face as words of congratulations had poured towards her. The Duke had been the one to take a hold of each conversation that had been brought to them for Rosalind had remained silent, struggling to comprehend the shift which had now taken place within her.
Even now, walking through the park in the beautiful sunshine, she still could not fully grasp it.
I am to be the Duchess of Strathmore.That thought brought her no pleasure. Instead, she recoiled from it, wishing she could take the thought from herself and throw it as far as possible so it would not connect itself to her again. But doggedly, that thought clung to her, telling her that her fate was now tied to his, that she had made a promise that she would not be able to escape from. Untying the strings of her bonnet, she held it loosely in her hand, watching the ribbons fly lightly in the breeze.
I am bound to him. I cannot be free again.
Not unless the Duke chose to end their betrothal and she did not think that he would be at all willing to do that. This had been his intention, his plan from the very beginning of their acquaintance and she could not escape him now.
“You there!”
Rosalind blinked in surprise, only for something big, something strong to barrel past her, pushing her back, hard. She did not know what had happened, the world spiraling around her as she stumbled back, only to trip and fall backwards, her feet going from under her. Her head hit something hard, her skin scraping as she collapsed in a heap.
Then everything went dark.
***
“Milady? Milady?”
Pain swam through her as Rosalind tried to open her eyes. The crisp air now seemed to be chilled and cold, making her skin prickle. The voice of her maid came to her still but Rosalind struggled to answer. Her lips felt too bruised, her eyes too heavy to open.
“Whatever shall I do?” The maid’s hand squeezed Rosalind’s and with an effort, Rosalind squeezed it back.
“Oh, you are awake, then? Milady, you must – oh, stop! Please! My lady is hurt and…”
The voice of the maid faded for a moment and Rosalind groaned, her head aching terribly. She again tried to open her eyes and, with an effort, managed to do so. Her vision was blurred, the leaves above her swimming in brown and green rather than standing out clearly. With another groan, Rosalind tried to push herself up, realizing that she had hit her head on a tree and was now lying at the foot of it.
“Careful now, Lady Rosalind.”
The maid had returned and, this time, with another person beside her. Someone that Rosalind did not recognize.
“Mr. Stephens,” the man said, as though he knew what Rosalind was thinking. “Just as well your maid here found me! I was just on my way home. Now, we need to get you back to the carriage and call for the physician to come and look at you. If you don’t mind, I’ll be lifting you up into my arms and getting you back to the carriage.”
“My head.” Rosalind closed her eyes again, trying to lift one hand to the back of her head, her fingers coming away sticky. “What has happened to my head?”
The sound of tearing cloth was all the answer she was given. In another moment, she found herself lifted in Mr. Stephens’ arms… though the pain that came thereafter, with the maid pressing something to the back of her head was so great, Rosalind could not help but cry out.
