Forgotten & Remembered - The Duke's Late Wife Page 3

  Rosabel sighed. “Surely he knows that my chances of making a favourable match are slim. I have no dowry, no family name, only a scandal attached to my person. A scandal that to this day people are unwilling to put behind them.” Taking a deep breath, Rosabel tried to steady her nerves. Not until this moment had she realized how much her neighbours’ disapproval hurt her.

  “Then you are determined?” Ellie asked. “When will you speak to father?”

  Rosabel shrugged, her palms feeling clammy. “As soon as I can find the courage. Hopefully before the Comptons hire someone else.”

 

  Chapter Three − The Proposal

  Difficult business was best taken care of without delay, and so Graham Astor, Duke of Kensington, found himself in his carriage at the break of dawn. He ordered the coachman to maintain a slow pace, giving him the time he needed to prepare himself, lay down the words he was to say. After all, he could not offer his heart, nor depend on a long-standing acquaintance with the family.

  Graham knew the desired outcome of this endeavour and felt fairly certain that the baron would not refuse him. After all, had he not paraded his own daughter before him and Edmond only two weeks ago at the Davenports’ engagement celebration?

  Giving his name to the butler who opened the door upon his arrival, Graham observed with satisfaction the slight widening of the man’s eyes. Consequently, after seeing Graham to the study, the old man hurried away to inform his lord of his guest.

  Mere moments later, Lord Harlowe burst through the door, eyes aglow as he hastened to welcome Graham to his humble home. “Your Grace, this is an honour. What can I do for you?” He gestured to a serving girl waiting by the door. “Can I offer you anything?”

  After Graham declined, Lord Harlowe bade him take a seat and once more inquired after the purpose of his visit. Watching him closely, Graham assumed the baron’s excitement stemmed from the hope that he had come to ask permission to court his daughter.

  “My visit is of a personal matter,” Graham began, watching with some amusement as Lord Harlowe ever so slightly fidgeted in his seat like a school boy before summer holidays. “To be frank, I have come to ask for your niece’s hand in marriage.” At his words, the baron’s smile slid off his face and burst into a million pieces upon hitting the floor.

  “My…my niece?” Lord Harlowe stammered.

  “Your niece,” Graham clarified. “Miss Rosabel Lander.”

  For a long moment silence hung in the air as Graham was sure Lord Harlowe considered whether or not his hearing was impaired. Then his eyes refocused on his guest, and some of the colour returned to his cheeks. “I mean no disrespect, Your Grace, but the young woman you were introduced to at the Davenports’ engagement celebration was my daughter, The Honourable Elsbeth Munford.”

  Graham scoffed. “I am aware of that, my lord.”

  “Certainly, certainly,” the baron hastened to agree. He cleared his throat. “My niece then.” Still squirming in his seat, he seemed to contemplate asking the next question lest he should make the Duke withdraw his proposal. “May I ask why…what led you to ask for my niece’s hand?”

  Face collected, Graham leaned back in the chair. “My reasons are my own, my lord.”

  “Certainly, certainly.”

  As Graham rose to his feet, the baron shot up too, eyes frantically looking at him. “If you intend to refuse my offer, do say−”

  “Of course not, Your Grace,” Lord Harlowe hastened to clarify. “I wouldn’t dream of it. We are most honoured, and I have no objections to the match. Be assured of that.”

  Graham gave a slight nod of the head and sat back down. The baron followed. “I would prefer a short engagement. With your permission I will obtain a special license for the wedding to be held within a fortnight.”

  Lord Harlowe’s eyes strained to pop out of his head. “A fortnight?”

  “A fortnight.”

  The baron’s head bobbed up and down. “Certainly, certainly. If you have no objections, Lady Harlowe will make all the necessary arrangements for an announcement as well as an engagement affair.”

  Graham nodded. “I suppose it cannot be helped.”

  “Good, good.”

  Rising to his feet, Graham fixed the man across from him with an icy stare. “Do as you feel appropriate as long as the wedding will take place within a fortnight. Time is of the essence.” Seeing the baron’s uncomprehending face, Graham thought of Georgiana. She needed a mother. Now, not in a year. Finding a suitable wife had taken him long enough.

  ***

  Walking down the winding staircase to the lower floor, Rosabel’s nerves jingled. She was summoned to her uncle’s study. Why? What had she done? Although terrified of being the cause for yet another scandal−as everyone around her seemed to expect of her sooner or later−, Rosabel often had minor slips of judgment, like when she had played tag with her young cousins at the Davenports’ engagement celebration. Her uncle had not been happy. What had drawn his disapproval now?

  Tentatively, Rosabel knocked on the heavy door. As her uncle’s stern voice ordered her to enter, she stepped into the room, eyes cast down. “You asked to see me, Uncle?”

  “Yes, my dear, come in.” Her uncle rounded his desk, waving her forward, his face bright, eyes glowing. Rosabel froze. What was wrong? Had he just called her my dear?

  “Please, sit.” Taking her hand, he led her to the armchair set by the window overlooking the park. As he sat down opposite her, his eyes flowed over her in a calculating and very unsettling way. A shiver ran down Rosabel’s back. “I have wonderful news.” He clasped his hands together, looking at her in a way that made her feel like she should know what he was talking about. “The Duke of Kensington just paid me a visit,” he said at last, still looking at her with questioning eyes.

  Rosabel averted her gaze. “That is wonderful,” was all she could think to say.

  “Indeed, it is.” When she remained silent, her uncle continued, “I am glad to say there will be a wedding soon.”

  “A wedding?” Rosabel asked, a catch in her voice as she spoke. Instantly, she feared the worst. Had he asked for Ellie’s hand? Would she soon be his wife?

  Leaning back in his armchair, her uncle smiled. “Did you have any idea that he would make an offer?”

  “No, Uncle, I did not.”

  He shrugged. “Well, it does not matter now. The reason for his proposing is secondary. What is important now is that His Grace wishes for a speedy wedding. It is to take place in a fortnight.”

  Rosabel froze. “A fortnight? So soon?” She couldn’t believe that in a mere fortnight her dear cousin would be lost to her. A large boulder had suddenly come to rest on her chest.

  Her uncle nodded. “It is soon. It will not give you much time to prepare, but do not be alarmed, Lady Harlowe shall guide your hand at every step.”

  For a moment time stood still. Rosabel’s gaze froze, locked on her uncle’s delighted face. Hearing his words again and again play in her head, she strained to force air into her lunges lest she pass out. Slowly, time sped up again, and Rosabel heard herself say, “Me? He wishes to marry me?”

  “Indeed, he does.”

  Stars started to dance before her eyes. “But why? I have never even spoken to him.”

  Her uncle shrugged. “He would not say. It does not matter after all.”

  Through the slight blur settling on her vision, Rosabel once again found herself staring at her uncle. “You agreed?”

  Now it was Lord Harlowe’s turn to stare. Shaking his head in disbelief, he snorted, “Of course, I did. He is a duke.”

  “But…but−”

  “Do not worry yourself. I am most confident that you will make him a good wife.” Again he shook his head, amazement giving his eyes a most unbecoming glow. “Never would I have thought to procure such a good match for you,” he chuckled. “And you did not make it easy on me. After all, you never seemed to encourage any gentleman who appeared to fancy you. Lady Harlowe an
d I feared you would never make a connection and become an old maid.” Now he was laughing, slapping his knee and shaking his head. “Wonderful how things turned out, isn’t it?”

  Desperately trying to focus, to keep from blacking out, Rosabel stammered, “But…Uncle, I do not wish to marry.” His laughter died. “Just a few days ago, I thought a governess position would be the perfect solution.”

  “A governess position?” her uncle blurted, all cheerfulness gone from his face. “What nonsense is this?”

  “No, nonsense. I just−”

  “No, no, no.” He shook his head vehemently, almost wagging his finger at her. “Nonsense. You will marry the duke. No one in her right mind would decline such an offer. Especially a girl in your position should be grateful to have her future in safe hands.”

  “A girl like me?”

  Her uncle nodded vigorously. “After the shame your mother brought over this family, it is only right that you do your utmost to restore our good name to its rightful status. Marrying the duke will elevate all of us.” His eyes narrowed, fixing her with an unyielding stare. “Do you understand?”

  Unable to look away, Rosabel nodded, feeling the tears in the corners of her eyes. “May I be excused?”

  Lord Harlowe waved her off. “Certainly, there is much to do.”

  Holding on to her emotions for as long as she could, Rosabel fled from the room, almost ran up the stairs, and after closing the door to her chamber, threw herself on the bed and wept.

  ***

  Rosabel spent the entirety of the morning crying her eyes out, the desperation of her situation sinking into the core of her being. When no more tears would come, she realized that all spirit had left her. She had resigned herself to her fate, knowing that ultimately she had no say in the matter. Yet, she was no closer to understanding it.

  To clear her head and chase away the dense fog that was clouding her thoughts, Rosabel splashed some water on her face, brushed down her dress and went outside into the garden for a walk.

  Even though autumn was well on its way, the sun shone as brightly as though it were the height of summer. The green oasis surrounding her glistened as the sun’s rays were reflected in the morning dew still clinging to the individual blades of grass.

  Rosabel’s eyes however were blind to the beauty around her. As she walked down the small gravel path leading her away from the house and into the back of the garden, where a small pavilion stood in an isolated area hidden behind a tall hedge, she almost dragged her feet, feeling the weight of her situation acutely. She sat down on the bench and, burying her face in her hands, sighed, “Dear God, what am I going to do?”

  For a long time Rosabel sat, the wind rustling the leaves around her, the only sound to reach her ears until a soft step echoed along the gravel path, leading toward her. “Oh, please do not let it be my aunt or uncle,” she whispered into her hands before raising her head. Had they come after her?

  Glimpsing Ellie’s blond curls through a slightly less overgrown area in the hedge, Rosabel breathed a sigh of relief. Rubbing her hands over her swollen eyes, she turned to her cousin.

  The moment Ellie spotted her sitting in her hiding place, a relieved smile lit up Ellie’s features before she lifted her skirts and hurried to join her in the pavilion. “I was looking all over for you. Are you all right?”

  Rosabel shrugged. “I hardly know.”

  “Father told me.” Her voice a mere whisper as though it could reverse the truth, Ellie took Rosabel’s hands in hers. “Did you have any idea he would ask for your hand?”

  Staring into her cousin’s eyes, Rosabel shook her head. “None. I never thought…I still do not understand. Why would he want to marry me?”

  “I agree.” Ellie shook her head, making her curls bounce from side to side. “You have never even been introduced. He has never spoken to you, has he?”

  “Not once. After all, I only saw him the one time at the Davenports’ engagement celebration.” That afternoon replayed in her mind as though it might hold the answer to the all-consuming question, why? “When you pointed them out, standing up on the terrace, I looked and…”

  “And?” Ellie prompted.

  Rosabel’s eyes narrowed as she looked at her friend. “And he looked back at me. Just for a second, but his eyes were so cold. They made me shiver.” The memory alone sent a chill down her spine.

  Ellie frowned. “Did he seem to be taken with you? Maybe it was love at first sight. It happens, not often, but every now and then…”

  “No!” Rosabel interrupted. She wasn’t sure of much these days, but she was absolutely certain that the Duke of Kensington had not asked for her hand because his feelings had suddenly run away with him. “The way he looked at me held nothing affectionate, nothing…nothing that might suggest he would…” Again Rosabel buried her face in her hands. If only it made sense, she pleaded with fate. If only I could understand.

  “All right.” Ellie slowly peeled Rosabel’s hands from her face. “Talk to me. Do not hide how you feel. Do not ignore it. Talk to me.”

  A sob escaped Rosabel’s throat, and she was glad no one but her trusted cousin was near. “What can I say? Nothing I say will change what is. Nothing I say will explain what is.”

  Again taking her hands in hers, Ellie scooted closer on the bench. “All right, if he did not ask for your hand because he fancies you, then he might simply believe you would make him a good wife.”

  “But why would he? He knows nothing about me.” A million thoughts raced through her mind. “I have no fortune, no connections, no family name to throw in the bargain. All I have is a plain face and a past born out of a scandal. Why would he choose me?” Rosabel raised her eyes to her cousin. “Why not you? Not that I wish him on you, not with his cold countenance, but you would be a good match. You come from a respectable family, have a sizable dowry and…and you’re beautiful.”

  Ellie pressed her lips together, shaking her head. “You’re doing it again. You only think of yourself as full of defects. What your mother did was not your fault. People are wrong to hold it against you. But all your life you have accepted the notion that because your mother went against her family’s wishes, somehow that has tainted you as well.” She squeezed Rosabel’s hand. “Maybe he saw past it. Maybe he saw you for who you really are.”

  A fleeting smile crossed Rosabel’s face as she looked at her cousin, the sister she never had. “I love you for saying this, but we both know it is not true. Even if my face appealed to him, it would not be enough to tempt him. His station is far beyond mine, and there are many reasons that speak against a union between the two of us. No, I am sure there is a reason, but I am equally sure that we will not discover it. And that’s what scares me.” Remembering the cold grip that had settled upon her heart as his eyes had stared into her soul, Rosabel shivered. “I fear there is some evil to him.”

  Ellie gasped, but Rosabel held up a hand to silence any objection. “I don’t mean to think ill of people, and maybe there is nothing to it. It’s just a feeling I have, a feeling I cannot shake, and it terrifies me.”

  Pulling her close, Ellie put an arm around her cousin’s shoulders, holding her tight. “Do not think like that. You are just scared because all of this is happening so fast and so unexpectedly.” An encouraging smile tucked up the corners of her cousin’s mouth. “Look at the bright side. You are going to be a duchess. You will have everything you could possibly want.” Ellie’s smile grew bigger. “Children. You will have children. Children of your own. That ought to cheer you up.”

  Feeling the heat crawl up her face, Rosabel looked at her hands. “I do want children.” Her gaze lifted ever so slightly to look into her cousin’s eyes. “I’m just not sure I want his.” Her gaze dropped. “Am I an awful person to say this?”

  Ellie shook her head and smiled. “No. You could never be an awful person. I love you dearly, and I know you like no one else on this earth. And I tell you, the only fault I see in you is your readiness to think
ill of yourself.” She brushed a hand over Rosabel’s cheek as fresh tears threatened. “You are nervous, and you have a right to be. This is all happening very fast, but after you’ve had some time to get used to this situation, you will see its benefits.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “I do.” Ellie nodded. “Have faith. Everything will sort itself out. Who knows why he seems so cold? Maybe there is pain in his past just like there is in yours. It will be up to you to discover what kind of a person he is.”

  Rosabel nodded. “Maybe you’re right.” Again remembering his eyes, she hoped her cousin was indeed right. She desperately hoped that at least one day their marriage would hold something akin to affection. “I still wish things were different. I never dreamed of being a duchess.”

  “Then what did you dream of?” Ellie asked, patting her hand.

  Rosabel shrugged. “I can’t say.” Dreams were dangerous. Dreams promised nothing but disappointment. Rosabel had never entertained the notion. Never had she dared to dream of dreams.

 

  Chapter Four − The Wedding

  The fortnight had passed much faster than Rosabel could have ever anticipated, and only once in all that time had she laid eyes on her betrothed that was at their engagement party held in her uncle’s home. He had kept to himself though and had not spoken a word to her. To this day, she had no idea what his voice sounded like. His eyes, however, she knew well. While the blue they held might have reminded her of a calm lake glistening in the morning sun in another man, the blue in his eyes only brought to mind the icicles she sometimes found hanging outside her window in the deep of winter.

  Ever since that morning when the Duke of Kensington had asked for her hand, her aunt had been busy tending to all necessary preparations in anticipation of her upcoming nuptials. And while Rosabel herself received the occasional instruction to tend to a minor item on her aunt’s list, she was never consulted when it came to the actual event and what it ought to be like. Never once did her aunt wonder what flowers she would like to see that day? Or what dish she might care for that morning? In a strange way, Rosabel felt like none of it concerned her, like she had no connection whatsoever to the upcoming wedding. If only she didn’t have to attend, Rosabel thought. If only the past fortnight had been a dream, and all she had to do was wake up and find herself in her room, the bright morning sun shining in, promising a day of leisure spent in her cousin’s company. If only.