Page 26 of The Lady’s Guide to Deception and Desire
Lord Studborne would be such a man.
Once she was wed, she’d make sure that Madame Florian was no longer welcome, and her mother would be calmer, knowing their position was secure.
On a whim, she flicked open the little book her mother had given her. Wasn’t there a page on husbands?
Rosamund began reading.
A woman may live her life perfectly without any husband at all, if she has the companionship of friends and the satisfaction of intellectual pursuits.
That was all very well, but to live without a husband, a woman also needed independent means, didn’t she?
No woman can be content wedded to the wrong man.Choose wisely and well—for marriage is a union not just of bodies, but of minds. Its foundation lies not in passion but in respect, and the love which cares as much for another’s happiness as our own.
Rosamund snapped the cover shut.
How very preachy the book was!
And how exactly was one to tell if a man was ‘wrong’ or ‘right’? She certainly wasn’t in the grip of passion where the duke was concerned, so she didn’t need to worry about that leading her astray.
As for love, she’d barely spent more than a few hours in Lord Studborne’s company—though people were married on lesser acquaintance. It was generally held, so she believed, that love was not the most dependable basis for marriage; certainly not a requirement.
If His Grace wished her for his wife, she would do her duty, bearing him the heir he required. In return, her life would be comfortable.
More than that.
She would be a duchess, wanting for nothing.
In the late afternoon,Mrs. Burnell woke from a disturbing dream—of dark caves filled with snakes, and not being able to escape or make anyone hear, though she called with all her might.
Fortunately, Rosamund was close to hand.
“The drops, dear. The drops. I must have them!” Mrs. Burnell grasped at her daughter’s sleeve.
Unhappily, Rosamund fetched the bottle from the back of the drawer. Her mother was in such a state of agitation, she hardly had a choice. However, she made her take them on her tongue, hoping the bitterness would deter her from asking for them again.
Mrs. Burnell grimaced but made no complaint. She sagged once more upon the pillows. “It was so horrible, you can’t imagine!”
“All’s well, Ma. I’m right here, and no snakes, I promise.”
Of course, it was all Madame Florian’s fault, putting ideas in her mother’s head.
As for snakes, they seemed to be cropping up everywhere—although there were none in the decor of the bedchamber. Rosamund could only guess that her mother had been looking at the one in the centre of the table on the night of the séance.
Much as Rosamund disliked the idea of giving her mother a sedative, it seemed the duke had been right in suggesting it. Recent events had brought her to a state of near hysteria, and Rosamund was at a loss.
She could only hope that sleep would do its work and, if she were able to put her mother’s mind to rest over their future, that would surely aid her recovery.
A knock at the door saw Bessie enter.
“I’ve tea for you both, and a nice slice of fruit cake.” Setting up a small table at the side of the bed, she laid out the plates, pot and cups.
Rosamund made sure her mother had all she needed, then drew the maid aside while she took paper and wrote a hasty note. Folding it in two, she gave it to Bessie.
“Would you pass this to His Grace’s valet? I’m excusing myself from dining downstairs.” She glanced over at her mother. “I don’t want to leave her alone this evening. I’m sure Lord Studborne will understand.”
“Yes, Madam.” The maid bobbed a curtsey.
“And, Bessie, which room belongs to Madame Florian? I’ve a mind to speak with her.”
