The Duke's Daughter (11 page)

The actual wedding ceremony was over rather quickly. A few words from the Bishop of London followed by a very chaste kiss on Lucy’s cheek and it was done. As he drew back from the kiss, Avery in his nervousness attempted to lower Lucy’s short lace veil once more. A blush of red appeared on her face as she put out a hand and stopped him.

Avery fixed a happy groom’s grin to his face and accepted the congratulations of the assembled guests. His youngest sister-in-law, Lady Emma, gave him a big, tearful hug. Her fourteen-year-old brother Stephen beamed with delight. Lord Langham shook his hand and gave him a solid slap on the back.

‘Well done, young man; Lady Lucy will make a perfect Countess of Langham. Solid bloodlines and impeccable family connections. I couldn’t have chosen better if you’d asked me to find you a bride,’ the earl said.

With his daughter Clarice married to Lucy’s brother, the Langham and Radley family connections were further strengthened. No one need mention the saved reputations of various family members. Avery and Lucy’s wedding had smoothed over all the cracks.

Avery nodded. Everyone seemed particularly pleased. They constantly remarked how wonderful it was that the Langham and Radley families were bound to one another.

It didn’t seem to matter in the slightest that Avery wasn’t actually family. That he was in fact a distant relative who just happened to be next in line to the title.

He finished receiving the congratulations of the wedding guests and made his way to find his new bride. The Duke of Strathmore had agreed to Avery’s terms for the wedding but with several strict provisos. The first being that appearances had to be maintained.

Lucy and Avery’s marriage was a love match as far as the rest of London society was concerned, and the change from a church wedding to a private one at Strathmore House was due to the recent demise of the groom’s brother. A perfectly acceptable reason. As a story, it worked; no one else need know the truth.

‘Shall we?’ Lucy said as the gong sounded for the wedding breakfast.

Her long, white lace wedding gown fitted perfectly to her body. Somewhere a team of seamstresses had worked day and night to get it ready. The small posy of cream and red roses she carried matched perfectly to the stripes of Avery’s wedding waistcoat. They looked the perfectly matched newlywed couple.

‘Yes, let’s do,’ Avery replied and offered her his arm.

The wedding breakfast was a sedate affair; Avery partook of only two glasses of wine while Lucy didn’t touch any of the food or drink. There were a few minor toasts and several short speeches. Seated side by side, Avery and Lucy barely exchanged a word.

Most guests had taken their leave by late afternoon.

When David and Clarice left just before seven o’clock, citing Clarice’s need for rest, only the immediate Radley family members remained.

Millie came and gave Lucy a warm hug.

‘Congratulations, sister; I hope everything goes as you hope for tonight,’ she whispered.

She reserved a hopeful smile for Avery and brushed a kiss on his cheek.

‘Be kind to her; she is a wonderful girl. You just need to allow yourself time to get to know the real Lucy. I beg of you, don’t break her heart,’ Millie murmured,
sotto voce
.

Avery nodded silently.

He glanced at his wife and saw her anxiety displayed in the hard way she continually spun her new wedding ring around her finger. It took all his strength not to reach out and stop her.

Finally the time came for them to leave the wedding celebrations and go to spend their first night together as man and wife.

They slowly ascended the stairs together, forcing themselves to laugh as Alex offered a ribald wedding night jest. Millie dug an elbow into her husband’s ribs in disapproval.

‘It’s this way,’ Lucy said, as Avery stopped at the top of the grand staircase, uncertain as to where he was supposed to go.

‘Our personal things have been moved to our apartment.’

The sad look on her face gave Lucy away. She was dreading being alone with him.

It had been less than two days since he’d visited the duke at Strathmore House and offered for Lucy’s hand. Ian Barrett had sat silently beside him, offering moral support.

Once the duke reluctantly accepted Avery’s conditions, matters had moved quickly. Firstly, it would be a private wedding. Avery was determined not to stand in front of London society and show them he had been brought to heel. He didn’t need to be reminded that he had been put firmly in his place.

Secondly, there was to be no wedding ball. The duke had argued strongly against this, regarding it as a personal slight against his daughter.

‘But Alex and David both had magnificent wedding balls. You attended David and Clarice’s wedding celebrations; you know how much it means to the bride. You would deny my daughter her moment in the limelight?’ the duke asked.

Lucy, having been summoned from her bedroom, had stood beside Avery, hands clasped in front. When Lord Strathmore further pressed his case, she simply held up her hand.

‘It’s all right, Papa, if Avery doesn’t want a ball then neither do I.’

If Avery felt as if he was being sentenced to his doom, his now-wife had shown even less enthusiasm for their impending nuptials. He could not fail to notice her bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

He had left Strathmore House that afternoon hating himself and the world.

Now, as they reached their private rooms, Lucy hurried to an adjoining dressing room. When Avery went to follow her, she stopped him at the doorway.

‘Have a nightcap, I will be with you shortly,’ she said.

She pointed to a large crystal whisky decanter which sat on a table in the main bedroom. After she closed the door behind her, Avery heard a key being turned in the lock.

Taking his cue, he poured himself a large glass of the golden liquid and after removing his jacket, took a seat by the well-stoked fire. The pay of a non-commissioned officer did not normally stretch to fine whisky. It was another taste he had quickly acquired upon his elevation to high society.

He took a sip of the whisky, screwed up his face and immediately set the glass down.

When Lucy finally appeared from the dressing room, he saw the look of disappointment on her face. She was still in her wedding gown.

He looked to the whisky decanter.

‘What did you put in the whisky?’ he asked.

A guilty look flashed in her eyes, but she shook her head vehemently in denial.

‘Nothing; I don’t know what you mean,’ she stammered.

He gave a derisive snort. From the first moment the whisky had slid down his throat, he knew it had been tainted.

‘You wouldn’t make a very good poisoner. I could verily taste the drug in the first mouthful. Were you planning to kill me on our wedding night?’ he replied.

Lucy screwed her eyes shut as a desperate sob escaped her lips.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just didn’t know what to do!’ she cried.

He resisted the temptation to go to her and offer comfort. Thinking he’d narrowly avoided being poisoned by his new wife, Avery was not in a particularly forgiving mood.

‘So you thought murder would solve your problems?’ Avery replied.

‘No, of course not. I just thought that if you slept well tonight, you might be more amenable,’ Lucy replied.

‘Amenable to what?’ he replied.

Wiping tears away with the back of her hand, she straightened her spine. With her gaze fixed firmly on his, she recited what were obviously well-rehearsed words.

‘I think I might have found a way out of this for us. If we are to end this marriage and be rid of one another it can be done. You will, of course, need to agree to my plan if we are to succeed.’

Rid of one another.

Avery was suddenly struck with the feeling he was about to make the worst mistake of his life. He pushed the emotion away, leaving it to linger in the background.

‘Lucy. I promise I won’t force you to the marriage bed. If you want your freedom, then I will do what I can to give it to you.’

‘Thank you,’ she said.

Having been set fast against this marriage himself only a matter of days ago, it shocked him to realise Lucy had actively sought a way out. From the moment they had exchanged their wedding vows, he had resigned himself to the task of making the best of things.

Not so Lucy. She really didn’t want to be his wife.

‘Explain something to me. If you didn’t want to marry me, then why in heaven’s good name did you follow me into the garden that night? You had to know the risk of us being discovered. No girl of your social standing does that unless she has her sights set on marriage,’ he said.

Lucy’s gaze fell to the floor.

‘I came into the garden to warn you about your visit to Hampshire and the Owens’ plans to match you up with one of their daughters. And yes, I thought to press my own case. I didn’t understand until that moment that you can barely tolerate the likes of me. Now that I understand things more clearly, the thought of being married to you when you don’t even like me is beyond my emotional capacity. If we had perhaps been able to remain friends, it might have been different. I would rather face ruin than live without love,’ she replied.

He had to hand it to his new, reluctant bride, she certainly had a way with words. If she remained married to him in a loveless union, it would destroy her. Her bone-deep misery cut him to the quick.

He gritted his teeth. It had been many years since someone had made him feel such a worthless piece of humanity. He reminded himself quickly that Lucy was not Thaxter. That she too was suffering.

‘You said you had a plan,’ he replied.

When the time was right, before he finally let her go, he would attempt to apologise for the harsh way he had treated her. Perhaps they could manage to reach an understanding. Even form the fragile bonds of friendship once more.

‘Yes, but not a very good one now that I have looked further into it. I had money coming from my mother’s side of the family upon my marriage. I thought it would be sufficient funds for me to run away to France.’

‘And now?’

She sighed. ‘As of yesterday morning, I was informed that most of it goes to my new husband. Believe me, Avery, if I had enough money I would be in Calais right this minute. And you would be a free man.’

‘So I give some of the money to you,’ Avery replied. A simple and agreeable solution to her problem.

Lucy growled with obvious frustration.

‘It is part of the dowry contract, which states that the money only comes to you after a year of us cohabiting. You might have won on the minor matter of the wedding celebrations, Avery, but my father has trumped you when it comes to the issue of money.’

‘You
did
say there was something we could do,’ he replied.

‘A divorce.’

Divorce. Even the sound of it had a chilling finality.

Avery’s breath caught in his lungs. Lucy had caught him off guard. He had anticipated tears or possibly a blistering row, but her open and honest response left him struggling.

Here on his wedding night, he and his beautiful young bride were calmly discussing getting a divorce.

For God’s sake, man, take her in your arms and make love to her.

His mind understood one thing, but his sex-starved body screamed another. He was well within his rights to command her to come to their bed, to give him willing access to her body. To end this nonsense and accept the inevitable.

But here she was, offering him a way out.

‘Considering the lengths that various people have gone to ensure our wedding took place, don’t you think that is an impossibility? Even I know that a divorce could take years,’ he replied.

She screwed up her face, her self-doubt evident.

‘Yes, in England perhaps, but not in Scotland. I have a distant aunt who, I understand, managed to secure a divorce at the courts in Edinburgh. There is nothing to stop us trying that avenue.’

She stared hard at him and he sensed she was somehow sizing him up. Assessing and judging his true intentions. Wondering if he would support her in her quest for freedom.

‘I can give you the name of a firm of reputable and reliable solicitors in Edinburgh. One which my father does not utilise for his business dealings. They should be able to find suitable grounds for divorce.’

His heart went out to her as she choked on the last word. Any other girl in her position would likely have kept silent and endured whatever came of their marriage. Not Lucy. A divorce would mean the complete loss of her honour, but she was prepared to pay the price to give him his freedom.

‘So what will you do if we succeed?’ he replied.

She sniffled back tears.

‘I shall do as I had planned. I shall go abroad. Eve’s brother William is back in Paris, I am sure he would be happy for some company. My parents will no doubt give me travel funds once they know you have instituted divorce proceedings. They cannot run the risk of scandal tainting the rest of the family. In a few years, hopefully after Emma has married, I shall return quietly to England and try to pick up the threads of my life.’

Lucy’s words were calmly delivered, but her still and fragile posture betrayed her pain. Emma was only twelve years old. Even if her sister married young, Lucy would spend at least the next six years in exile.

Tonight should be a night for laughter and love; instead the bride and groom were conducting a cold discussion as to how they could end their brief union. The bride was facing years away from her country and family.

If he could feel any worse at this moment, Avery doubted it was possible. Even the painful injuries he had sustained at Waterloo hadn’t burned to the depths of his soul as this did.

‘Well, if we are agreed, I shall bid you goodnight. We can discuss this further in the morning. Thank you, Avery, it is nice that we have been able to agree on something,’ Lucy suddenly announced.

He stood and watched in stunned silence as she turned on her heel and went back into the adjoining room, closing the door behind her.

Guilt welled up inside him. He knew it had taken every ounce of her strength not to break down in front of him. Once she was on the other side of the door he doubted she would be able to maintain her taciturn facade. Lucy was a woman incapable of hiding her true self from the world.