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“You are no prisoner, but you have duties as my wife.” He did not want to press her by demanding her duties; he wanted her to wish to be with him.
Their stares combatted fierce, none willing to give ground. “Fine. I will petition for divorce in that case.”
At this, fury incinerated him, he neared her and took her by her shoulders, their breathing hard. “You want to divorce me? No problem. The child remains with the father as you know!”
The simple notion of her divorcing him chilled his soul. She would have no right to financial support, even though he would grant it. The sour part being the fact he would be away from her. He seemed to be losing this battle flagrantly.
Her beautiful face contorted with pure resentment. “You would not dare!” She hissed tight.
“I would, and I shall!” He let her go. Her touch made him want to kiss her senseless. “This is my heir we are talking about, too.”
“It might be a girl.” She challenged. As if he cared. His children would to be with their parents and he would be a decent father to them.
“I don’t care! She will be an heir’s betrothed, surely.” He had to block her from doing this. For the child’s sake at least. Never mind the bitterness at her rejection of him.
“You are despicable!” She vented her distemper.
“The law is on my side.” Needless to say, he acknowledged.
She strode away, her back to him. “Unfair as it might be.” She murmured, her back to him for long moments. “Don’t forget,” she turned to him, determination in her features. “I will call on our agreement when the time comes. Then I’ll be free of you!” With the ultimatum, she strode to the door and left.
How would he forget that he had signed to go live in London after an heir and a spare were born? He would not. It swarmed in the back of his mind now and again. But it gave him time, plenty of it! Air escaped forcefully from his nostrils, he fell on the chair by the desk. This wife of his proved to be a tough nut to crack. They had a baby on the way; hence, he would stand his ground.
At night, Aurelia slept in her chamber. As her head rested on her pillow, loneliness mantled her. Had she lain in her husband’s bed, they would probably be having a rather… entertaining evening. He would cuddle her after their… interaction would do it the whole night, only to watch her wake in the morning surrounded by warmth and other interesting activities. Like this very morning, she remembered again.
That remained the crux of the question. How on Earth did he bring her to this state of entanglement? Nights by his side made her needy! This did not become satisfactory at all. She did not do needy! Worse. She did not do weak. For it must be a weak spot in her. He told her he changed. It was hard to trust someone who disappointed you for so long and in so many ways. She feared her heart could return to a point before her marriage. Which was a good thing, lest she try again and be demolished in the process.
He missed her. He missed her a damn lot! Conrad admitted almost a week later, while he got dressed for a dinner party at his in-laws, his valet fussing around him. He wanted her back in his bed, soon. Tonight. They reversed back to how they treated each other as he returned. Stiff dinners, cold platitudes, her absence or avoidance of him. She locked herself in afresh. He did not discern what to do.
The dinner would provide him with her company since both had been invited naturally. Likely, it would be difficult for him to be close to her an entire evening. But close to her he wanted to be, he concluded as he left his chamber.
He met his withdrawn wife in the hall
while the carriage parked in front of the main entrance. She dressed one of her new frocks of a soft yellow which highlighted her rosewood hair, tied in a loose bun on the top of her head. The dress tempted him with her feminine figure and breasts, fuller now, marked by the soft fabric, through the modest neckline.
The footman helped her in, and he sat across form her. Her rosewood eyes averted to the window where the sunset tinted the horizon in shades of pink and orange. The light played in her beautiful face and perfectly smooth skin. He envisioned himself touching her skin, sliding his hands over its silky texture, exploring further. He blocked the fantasy, but not fast enough. She snapped her eyes to him and caught him staring. Her cheeks acquired a lovely colour as her gaze jumped away from him, back to the afternoon outside the window.
Aurelia cursed this dinner at her parents while the carriage jerked to movement. She did not find a way of skipping her husband’s company. If she showed without him, the neighbours would deem it strange. More than that, she had been quite sure her mother organised this to show off her daughter’s apparently rekindled marriage. Since the gossipmongers raged over Lord Strafford’s excesses. Said excesses shamed her family in the same abysmal way they did herself.
It constituted no secret to anyone her parents did not regard her betrothal to Conrad in a positive light. He had proposed to her parents, her father inclined to say no directly due to the proposer’s reputation, or lack thereof, so to say. Aurelia had heard of it and had written him accepting it. The letter came to be the proof of her acceptance which Lord Strafford showed to her father. With such proof, there had been nothing to do but yield to the engagement and prepare the wedding.
Aurelia stifled a sigh at the recollection. She had been a naïve young lady to be sure. Now she carried his child together with a blasted lot of labyrinthine emotions hard to explain and even harder to make sense.
A risked glance to him, she found his dark eyes on her. He looked magnificent in tailored black trousers, white shirt and cravat under a black dining coat. Lightning heat zinged in her with his tall frame dominating the cramped space. The sunset fell on his midnight wavy hair, lending bluish streaks to its smoothness. Her fingers itched to tangle in it to revel anew. She preferred to burn in hell than to admit she missed him. In every possible way. She averted her eyes and obliged them to lock on the landscape for the rest of the way, even though her heart lurched under his scrutiny.
The carriage stopped before her parents’ manor entrance. Conrad helped her down, and her gloved hand rested on his arm as part of the pantomime. Once inside, she realised it was more party than dinner as the place swarmed with people from several of the neighbouring estates. Many noble families may have come back from London especially to attend, she concluded. Her mother must be on cloud nine, she concluded in contrariety.
The party proved to be a success. Or rather, Lord Strafford became the heart of the party. Noblemen surrounded him, accepting him back in their circle, even raising him as their leader. It did not compose the worst though. He was besieged, literally. Hordes of women manoeuvred their fathers, brothers or even husbands to approach him and obtain an introduction. He talked to all of them in a courteous manner which put stars in their eyes. Aurelia was sick! She tried to put it down to her condition which did not convince even herself. It held a sour quality to it which made her blood boil and her eyes spit fire.
Dinner announced; he came to her side, offering his arm. He did not offer to accompany any of the other ladies. Played his part well did he, she presumed spiteful. They sat far from each other, he by her mother’s right and she, by her father’s.
On purpose or not, her mother had put a dowager countess on his other side and a widower marquis across from him. From her corner, she covertly observed his considerate behaviour towards both. Downing struck her like a cannon ball. She loved him. Blasted hell, she loved him! Or else, she might never have stopped loving the wretched Viscount! And yes! She was jealous. Jealous of Mrs Somersby together with all the females of all ages besieging him and pestering her peace of mind in the process!
Rosewood eyes strayed to him again. As if sensing it, his molten dark ones turned to her. Their stares locked for several seconds, a well of undercurrent messages in transmission. Unable to divert hers, her heart throbbed. If only she had known what perturbed her the night she got lost in the rain! Jealousy! For her own husband, after five years: three of bad marriage, two of estrangement. Jealousy because she could not rip her love for him from her insides. Love, because this man would always be her undoing, her torment, her perdition. Her glory at night! Her comfort in the morning! She had been naïve in insisting in marrying him. She was even more naïve in continuing to love him. Her spirit sank. For her to direct such a sentiment to a man who hurt her so much. She must harbour a tendency for self-flagellation, the sole possible reason!
Conrad held her gaze and lifted his goblet of water to her, so slight a movement, no one perceived it. Of its own accord, her hand flew to her neck in a clear sign of coveting she could not hide.
Her father asked her something related to the alienated conversation, dragging her from her reveries and freeing her from his hypnotising stare. She broke eye contact with him and tried to reiterate the forgotten subject of the conversation.
