CHAPTER 4

Finally my mother and Kitty, sated with sweet tea and biscuits to kill a horse, were placed back into their carriage. With firm promises to write with our intentions for the season I waved, standing on the gravel driveway.

To my left were the stables, where no doubt the irritating Fitz was smugly anticipating tonight. He declared he was doing it for his own amusement, as though I was to be some sordid tale he could brag about in a gentleman’s club in later years.

So casual, so easy-going. I was wound tightly, fit to explode. The mechanism inside me, the one that kept me stationary and suspended in boredom for so long had broken it’s catch and now I itched, ached to be active.

I weighed up going to the stables, if only to trade barbs with him again. Maybe I would win this encounter. Currently I believe we are even. My slap for his trickery of yesterday.

Knowing this would be unwise I walked the other way. Down the driveway, the same way my mothers dark, gilded carriage with two horses had just departed. I tried to study the hedgerows and plants, the flowers that would normally occupy my time were insipid now.

“Your Grace!” a man called and I snapped to attention, drawing my dark blue shawl over my shoulders against the wind. Doctor Farrers was approaching. He had been Edmund's quack of choice for some months now, normally he became frustrated and terminated their services fairly swiftly.

“Doctor Farrers, good afternoon,” I returned with a polite nod, he offered a substantial bow.

“Forgive me, I do not mean to intrude upon the privacy of your day…I have a…query.”

“Then by all means proceed,” I replied. He was in his thirties, dark hair, beady little eyes. Tall and well built. Possibly quite handsome to most women but his eyes left me cold. There was something I never could trust in him. Perhaps the way he seemed to look at every room and size ups its contents, as though he ran an auction house.

It did not bother me if he stole or conned Edmund. As my husband often reminded me, it was his money and not mine. He could spend it as he damned well pleased. If Milo Farrers flattery was enough to convince him to hand over guineas for vegetable broths, more fool him.

“As I say, I mean no disrespect, judgement or anything on behalf of His Grace. But the Duchess does know that the disease he carries is potentially dangerous to you?”

“Apologies Doctor Farrers, I am afraid I do not understand”

“Milo,” he interrupted, taking my hand in his. It was cold and unwanted. This was uninvited attention from a man who was solely employed to look after my husband. “I mean to say, I understood your husband was not having…relations of the carnal nature with you. As he has told me he plans to resume so, I suggest you take these pills to ensure he does not transfer his ailments.”

Silently he moved his hand away and I realised I was holding a small metal canister. They rattled as I put my hand down to my hip.

“Thankyou, Doctor Farrers, Milo. I shall certainly take your advice into consideration.”

“May I apologise again for the intrusion on your day. Good day your Grace,” and with a polite bow he took his leave. There are so many questions swimming around my head now it is almost dark by the time I return to the house having wandered the gardens, lost in thoughts and memories for the longest time.

Even Marie was concerned, insisting I take soup as well as my dinner in my room to warm me. She undressed me more carefully. The boned half corset, with its demi-cups holding my breasts aloft carefully removed to avoid pinching the skin. My stays, attached to white stocking, were discarded and I stepped into a thick, cotton, matronly nightgown.

“You may have caught a chill wandering about like that ma’am,” she said, perhaps the kindest thing she had said to me in three years. I should have been cheered by that knowledge, instead my heart thundered with the fear that she knew.

She knew that tonight I was to meet another man. Perhaps all the servants knew and considered me a whore of the worst kind. My chest tightened and I found myself opening a window and breathing deeply, sending birds fluttering. Over and over I tried to steady my breathing.

The most challenging thing to admit, the fact that made me so breathless was the dirtiest, lowest fact of all. I wanted to lose my virginity. I didn’t want to live the life of a nun, I wanted to be touched. The grim baseness of my thoughts, the way my mind flicked back to his huge forearms, the way his green eyes caught the light. His smirk, so annoying, forced so many emotions I couldn’t start to untangle them in my mind.

It meant when the clock struck eleven and Edmund softly knocked I was wide awake and alert. There had been no rest. Just endless pacing, “calm down,” he snapped as we walked the length of the corridor. Guided only by his candle as the rest of the house was shut down and servants asleep we silently walked. I followed behind, ever the dutiful wife I pondered ironically to myself.

The guest suite had a gentle orange light underneath the door. He was already there. My breathing picked up, I had no idea what to do with myself. Behind that heavy wooden door waited a man. A man I despised. Or is it the situation I despise?

All I can do is hold my breath as Edmund opens the door.