Midnight Marriage: A Georgian Historical Romance (Roxton Series) (28 page)

In fact the servant had formally announced her and departed before Deb came to her senses and dropped into a respectful curtsey to the two persons who had risen as one from the sofa. She felt a hand on her elbow as she straightened and a perfumed kiss lightly brushed one cheek and then the other while words of welcome were uttered in French by a pleasing feminine voice. Deb caught the flash and sparkle of diamonds and emeralds about a slender white throat before space was put between her and the exquisitely embroidered silk-hooped petticoats of Antonia, Duchess of Roxton.

A masculine drawling voice offered her the wingchair opposite the sofa and when she declined to sit the Duke and Duchess remained standing. There was a moment of awkward silence that brought the color and heat up into Deb’s throat and her gaze remained firmly lowered to the carpet. It was only when she reluctantly sat where requested that her illustrious hosts did likewise.

“Under the—er—circumstances, I won’t insult your intelligence with inane words of welcome into the family fold,” drawled the Duke and took snuff. “You have come to us in your own good time so perhaps you would do the Duchess and me the courtesy of knowing how we may be of service?”

Deb’s gaze flashed up angrily at the Duke’s face. He was regarding her with a thin smile of sympathetic insolence and yet his dark eyes held a spark of mischief, as if he was enjoying her discomfort. He looked just as Deb pictured him from her sleepy, late night remembering: a shock of snowy white hair, coal black eyes, and a long face etched with the deep lines of dissipation. It was impossible to guess his age, only that he was ancient. She had expected him to be taller, but perhaps that was because she had been only twelve years old, and all grown men were tall to a child. But he was frailer and it was as if breathing was an effort for him now. She looked away, lest she appear bad mannered and more importantly, lost her train of thought.

“I sincerely hope you may be of service to me, M’sieur le duc,” she answered with a slight clearing of the throat, then continued forthrightly. “I am in this predicament through no fault of my own. My marriage to your son was for your political and dynastic preservation, and although such cold hearted reasons for marriage are commonplace amongst the nobility, it is not the sort of marriage I had envisioned for myself.”

The Duchess leaned forward, hands clasped in the lap of her billowing petticoats. “
Ma belle-fille
, what kind of marriage did you have in mind?” she asked gently.

Deborah did not raise her gaze above the Duchess’s slender bare arms where, encircled about both wrists, were half a dozen sparkling diamond and gold bracelets. “Mme la duchesse, it is very difficult to explain to someone who cannot possibly understand that I find the idea and practice of arranged marriages abhorrent. Forgive me if my blunt speech offends you for that is not my intention, but I had hoped to marry for reasons that would appear foolhardy and incomprehensible to you.”

“You hoped to marry for love,
ma petite
.”

It was not a question and the sadness in the soft pleasant voice made Deb swallow and hard clench her hands in her lap.
I must remain strong
, she told herself,
emotion must not get the better of me
.

Yet her conviction could not stop her curiosity and she stole a glance at the face that owned such a sweet, sad voice. Her shock was evident in the way she could not help staring openly until the Duchess smiled at her kindly. Only then did Deb blink and quickly avert her gaze. This noblewoman could not possibly be the Marquis of Alston’s mother! She was far too young. Yet, Julian had those same emerald-green eyes. Deb had thought the Duchess beautiful, the family portrait over the fireplace was testament to that, but in the flesh the word beautiful seemed a rather inadequate and inane description for this elfin creature. The Duchess of Roxton was so breathtakingly beautiful she was dazzling. And even more startling, if that was possible, she had to be closer in age to her son than she ever would be to the Duke.

She must have been a child bride, reasoned Deb, and was revolted by the thought of her as a beautiful young girl forced into an arranged marriage with a lecherous rake; resigning herself to a life of titled privilege as wife and devoted mother and suffering in silence her husband’s excesses and infidelities. No doubt the Duke expected the same of her. How wrong he was!

“I trust you are recovered from the illness that kept you bedridden and a—er—prisoner in your own home for an astonishing twelve weeks?” inquired the Duke with that hint of insolent disbelief Deb found annoying. It served to shatter her mental musings and further inflame her anger.

“Illness or not, M’sieur le duc, I was a prisoner in my own home until such time as I agreed to come to Paris,” Deb replied in a steady voice. “The only visitors I was permitted were my brother and M’sieur Ellicott. The latter, no doubt, sent to confirm that I was indeed as ill as reported.”

The Duke inclined his white head, saying with a smirk, “Sir Gerald’s visit was a regrettable oversight. As for Martin, I—er—presumed you would not object to his company. He is very fond of you.”

“And I of him,” Deb answered quietly and met the Duke’s look squarely. “But that does not explain why my house was being spied upon by your thuggish servants, M’sieur le duc. It was not as if I was about to run off. Not that I could, had I wanted to. Those buffoons would have found me soon enough.”

The Duke put up his white brows in mild surprise. “I gave you credit for more brain, Madam. It was my son who requested that your house be watched for your own protection. There are those who could seek to do you a harm now that you are intimately connected with my family.”

“Lord Alston’s concern is gratifying but I doubt a worse fate exists than being intimately connected by marriage with your family!” Deb retorted in English before she could help herself.

“Flippant sarcasm does not become you!” the Duke rasped in such an icy voice that Deb involuntarily swallowed and dropped her gaze to her clenched hands.

“The physician Medlow he assured us you are restored to full health,
ma petite
?” gently inquired the Duchess.

Deb nodded. “Yes, Mme la duchesse, I am well.” She glanced at the Duke. “I trust Medlow’s assurances were in response to your inquiry, M’sieur le duc, and not the other way round?”

“If you are concerned Medlow broke his Hippocratic oath, you may rest easy,” the Duke answered with a ghost of a laugh. “That is one physician who is—er—incorruptible. However, I regret to inform you that Sir Gerald’s lawyers are not.”

Deb breathed in quickly but instantly regained her composure. “My brother is not to blame, M’sieur le duc. He contacted his lawyers at my request, and most reluctantly too.”

“Your honesty is to be commended. Perhaps you would care to inform the Duchess why you had Sir Gerald approach his lawyers?”

Deb frowned and bit back a retort. So he was going to humiliate her in front of his wife. Not if she could help it!

“As you are well aware of my reasons for doing so, your Grace, I am surprised you did not tell the Duchess yourself,” she enunciated calmly in English, eyes bravely focused on the Duke. “Then again, you did not consult your wife on your son’s marriage, did you? Was that because you consider females little better than children and thus incapable of rational thought and understanding, or because you do not wish to upset her with the news her son’s marriage is to be dissolved using the Act of ’42 that grants annulment on the grounds of lunacy?”

The Duke’s dark eyes sparked with anger and his thin lips parted in reply but something made him pause, and in that small hesitant moment Deb’s gaze dropped from his lined face to his silken knee where two hands rested, fingers entwined.

The Duke and Duchess were holding hands!

That the Duchess had merely to move her fingers in his to silence the Duke amazed Deb, but what shocked her more was the fact the Duchess must understand the English tongue for her to give such an instant response to a speech she knew would anger the Duke.

“Forgive me, Mme la duchesse,” Deb apologized quickly, reverting to French. “Had I known you understood the English tongue I would not have been so blunt.”

The Duchess’s green eyes twinkled.

“I understand that you did not wish to upset me, yes? That is very considerate of you,
ma belle-fille
. But me I am not one of these females who wishes to be treated as a child. You understand?” When Deb nodded and looked suitably chastened, she added, “And I must tell you,
ma petite
, that my son Julian he has a quick stubborn temper like his Maman and a little of Monseigneur’s great arrogance—yet that is not such a bad thing for a man in his position—but one thing he is not is a lunatic.”

“Your son is not a lunatic, Mme la duchesse,” Deb agreed, bravely keeping her gaze on the Duchess’s beautiful face. “But as I understand it, for a marriage to be annulled it need only be proved that one of the parties was of unbalanced mind
at the time the marriage took place
. The night we were forcibly married off he was very drunk. I believe he had drunk himself into a stupor in order to forget his quite shocking behavior towards you, Mme la duchesse.” She glanced at the Duke. His eyes were all for his wife and he had raised her hand to his lips. Deb swallowed. “I do not know why he did what he did, but he did and that’s all that matters. Such action goes a long way to proving his mind was unhinged at that time. According to my brother’s lawyers that one act of lunacy is all that is required to have my marriage declared null and void.”

When the Duchess looked down and away, green eyes bright with tears, it was the Duke’s turn to squeeze his wife’s fingers and Deb stumbled on, eager to bring this painful interview to a close; willing herself not to be overcome with emotion, to let the tears run down her cheeks.

“I am so very sorry to speak of events which are still painfully raw for you both, but surely you cannot blame me for wanting to end a marriage based on deceit and false promises? I was robbed of the choice to marry for love and companionship. Yet,” she said on a deep sigh of resignation, “matters have conspired against my wish for an annulment and I have requested Sir Gerald’s lawyers to halt the annulment proceedings… for the time being.”

There was a long silence before the Duke spoke.

“That begs the question, Madam: Has Sir Gerald’s lawyers been instructed to pursue such proceedings at a later date?” he responded with his peculiar insolent drawl. “A time perhaps when you can again inflict cruelty on Mme la duchesse—”

The Duchess interrupted her husband.

“
Ma belle-fille
,” Antonia said earnestly, “tell me honestly that you do not love my son and I will see to it that he Julian never bothers you again.”

Deb gave a laugh that broke in the middle, a shaking hand to her trembling mouth. “Mme la duchesse, I’m afraid your assurances cannot help me now. I am five and a half months with child.”

There was an audible intake of breath from the Duchess and she spoke in rapid French to the Duke something Deb did not catch. The Duke’s silence brought Deb’s eyes up to his face and she was startled by the smile of tenderness he bestowed upon the Duchess and one he must keep exclusively for her because it transformed his harsh aquiline features into someone quite human and approachable. The Marquis had that same smile. His father was made of flesh and blood after all.

This intimate scene was all too much for Deb and she was up on her feet to pace the space between the sofa and the wingchair, her thoughts tumbling forth into speech as tears spilled onto her cheeks, hoping the sooner she managed to say all that was on her mind, and they agreed to her wishes, she could flee their presence for the solitude of the rooms assigned her. That they were overjoyed by her news only made her feel more wretched because in every other circumstance she too would have shared their joy at her pregnancy.

“I will keep up the pretense of an amicable marriage until the birth. But after the child is born I want a formal separation and ultimately a divorce.”

“And if I do not agree?” asked the Duke.

“If you do not give me your word that I may go my own road once the child is born then I will have no alternative but to force your hand, M’sieur le duc.”

“What—er—method of spiteful coercion do you intend to employ, Madam?”

Deb continued her pacing, not looking at the couple on the sofa.

“It would be an easy thing for doubt to be cast on the child’s paternity given that our marriage is yet to be publicly announced nor are the circumstances surrounding your son’s deception in legalizing our union universally known.”

The Duke’s upper lip curled in distaste. “You would do that to your own child? Put his future in jeopardy, make his life an uncertainty, all to exact revenge?”

“
Revenge
? I do not seek revenge M’sieur le duc,” Deb said simply. “I desire to have my freedom returned to me. With all due respect, it was you who forced your son and me into this intolerable union and thus it is you who must concede to my wishes if your grandson is to be born in unexceptional circumstances.”

“If I sanction a formal separation you relinquish all rights to the child.”

Deb stood with her back to the fire and faced them. “Yes, M’sieur le duc,” she answered with resignation. “That would be for the best.”

The Duchess looked anxiously from the Duke to Deb. “
Quoi
? A child needs its maman,
n’est-ce pas
?”

“A child needs loving parents, Mme la duchesse,” Deb argued sadly. “If I continue in this loveless marriage I will become a hateful, resentful wife and as such I cannot be the kind of mother my child deserves. Besides,” she shrugged, gaze dropping to the carpet where the shadows of little leaping flames from the crackling fire played upon the woven oriental patterns, “once our marriage is at an end I am very sure Lord Alston will do everything in his power to keep our son from me.”

The Duchess stood and the Duke did likewise. Antonia came across to Deb and took hold of her hands. “If you think that he Julian would do such a dreadful thing to the mother of his child you are greatly mistaken in my son’s character,
ma petite
.”