Page 113 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

He tried to reason it was only natural, this attraction he felt. He had been starved of companionship for a long time, and Alice was an attractive young woman. Never before had he dallied with a respectable unmarried woman, but on the night of the Midsummer’s Eve ball nearly a year earlier, he had been unable to resist kissing her, even though he’d known better. That attraction, that deep desire, had not faded in the time he was away, although now it was even more imperative that he did not do anything to jeopardize the delicate balance of their relationship.

Once Alice was settled he pulled himself away and mounted his horse, glancing over to check his wife was not looking too nervous.

‘Shall we start with a gentle walk down to the Serpentine?’

‘That would be pleasant.’

He urged Socrates on gently and was pleased to see Alice doing the same to her horse, and after a minute he was able to fall into step beside her. They had to wind along a couple of tree-lined paths to get to the wide-open space of the more central area of Hyde Park, but before long they were side by side, riding towards the water.

‘How are you finding it?’

‘I am a little nervous,’ Alice confessed with a self-deprecating smile, ‘but I think I am beginning to enjoy it.’

‘I am glad. We can stop at any time.’

They rode in silence for a few minutes, and each time he glanced across at Alice he could see she was deep in thought. He realised he knew so little of her hopes and her wants that he had no idea what she would be amenable to when they discussed their future. It was clear she understood they would not have a conventional marriage, even now that he had returned to England, yet it was hard to fathom whether she wished to continue her life completely separate from his or if she wanted companionship from him.

As they approached the sparkling blue water, he slowed and her horse followed his lead, and for a moment they took in the view without saying anything. It was a glorious day, and the park was wonderfully empty despite the pleasant weather.

‘Is there somewhere we can go that is a little more private?’ Alice said, leaning towards him slightly. ‘I do not wish what we discuss to become gossip by this afternoon.’

‘Of course. The park is vast. If you are happy to continue with our ride, we can find somewhere we will not be overheard.’

‘Thank you.’

He led them away from the lake, pleased to see with every passing minute Alice’s confidence was growing, the reins now held loosely in her hands as they allowed the horses to pick the pace. After ten minutes they were away from the people strolling by the water, and it felt as though they had this part of the park to themselves.

As he watched, Alice straightened in her seat as if gearing herself up for battle. He felt a stab of regret that they needed to have this discussion but also knew that once their expectations and preferences were out in the open, they could move away from the uncertainty that surrounded them both.

‘You wished to discuss our future, Simon,’ Alice said, glancing over at him but not holding his eye. He could sense her trepidation of the subject but was pleased she had initiated the conversation.

‘I think we both need to know where we stand.’

‘Do you wish to divorce me?’ she said, her voice low. Simon was an experienced rider, but in his shock he almost fell out of his saddle.

‘Divorce you? Whatever gave you that idea?’

She looked at him incredulously for almost a minute before replying. ‘You married me thinking you would be dead within a few months, so that our union was an act of duty that would not really affect you. Now that you have been told you are not imminently going to be struck down, in fact you may never be in the way your brother and your father were, I expect you wish to return to your normal life to a certain degree.’

‘I am not going to divorce you, Alice. That would ruin us both.’

‘I would not try to stop you,’ she said softly.

‘Do you want me to divorce you?’ he asked, unable to fathom how divorce had even entered her mind. Divorce was a messy and protracted affair, and he had only seen it occur a couple of times, and on each occasion neither party had come out unscathed. He found he was upset at even the idea of divorcing Alice.

‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘Far from it. From the whispered conversations I have heard about when Lord Southerhay divorced his wife eight years ago, I can see it is a catastrophic course of events with both parties completely humiliated by the discussion of their private business in front of Parliament itself. I am aware if you divorced me my life as I know it would be over. I doubt I would ever marry again, and I wouldn’t have children, a family. My own family would disown me. It would be the worst possible outcome.’ She paused and then looked over at him, holding his eye. ‘But I do understand if that is the path you wish to take. I am not what you had planned for your life, and if you now want to find a wife you actually want to marry, I will understand.’

‘I am not that heartless, Alice,’ he said, his voice low. He felt a flicker of anger that she would think so little of him and had to remind himself she had only known neglect and desertion from him. Divorce was a fate worse than death to many and happened only once in a generation in their social class. Yet surely she would understand they had entered into this marriage to save her from ruin, and he wouldn’t callously abandon her now.

‘Not divorce, then,’ she said, nodding with relief.

‘Not divorce, we can agree on that.’ He paused, wondering how he was going to say what he had to. Despite not knowing Alice well, he did know she wanted a family one day. She had spoken of being surrounded by children, of a happy family life with a husband who loved her. He remembered how she had been with the two children in Hyde Park, sailing the model boat on the Serpentine. At that image he felt the words stick in his throat. That was not the life he could give her.

‘I may have been told by the doctors the headaches were not a harbinger of imminent death, but I still cannot know what the future might hold,’ he said slowly, watching Alice’s reaction. ‘I may suffer the same fate as my father and my brother, and it could happen at any time. It has meant addressing my mortality each and every day, knowing this could be my last. I was eager to return to England to see my family and to take up my responsibilities once again, but it does not change the fact that one day in a few months or years I may have to leave suddenly again, or I may die without any warning.’

‘That could be said for any of us,’ Alice said softly. ‘I do not mean to take away from the seriousness of your situation—of course your risk is greater—but none of us know what the future will hold. I may catch consumption from one of the children at the orphanage tomorrow and wither away within the next six months, or I could be thrown from this horse and crack my skull this afternoon.’

‘You are not wrong. I know it is foolish to live one’s life always thinking about whether today is the day you die, but I find it is not a thought I can change just by intention.’