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‘I know, Rhys. I understand completely. I know you would never wish to leave me.’ She exchanged the fashion plates for the prayer book on the table beside her chair. Running her fingers over the lettering on the cover, she sighed. ‘But, Rhys, if you do not... If you do not go to London and find a wife, you will be abandoning your title. Your duty to your family. Your brother’s heritage. You have no choice.’
She raised her face. ‘I understand you must go. I do not want you to marry a wife only to make her unhappy. Togetherness in marriage, I believe, is formed by people who have the same background and the same interests. You must marry a woman you have something in common with. One who shares your dreams for the dukedom and can be at your side, a helpmate. I wish the same marriage for you that your father and I had, except, of course, for the one year when we could not stand the sight of each other.’
‘I know what I have to do.’ He did. A wife. House of Lords. A son to pass the title to. It did not have to be written in stone to be engraved in his head. Geoff’s heritage.
‘It’s harder for a duke with all his duties and responsibilities and the stewardship of the estate,’ she said. ‘And women notice the duke, Rhys, rather than the man, as I am sure you are aware.’
Rhys remembered the last soirée he had attended with Geoff. The women had fluttered around Geoff, and the brothers had jested privately afterward about the peerage being far more handsome than any visage. The next event Rhys attended after Geoff’s death, the perfume had choked him, the expanse of pale flesh had burned his eyes and the high laughter had been like spears in his ears.
Without Geoff, it was not humorous any more.
The door opened and Bellona walked in, wearing both boots and carrying the slippers. ‘They bite my toes,’ she insisted. ‘I cannot wear them.’
‘I know you must have slippers at Warrington’s estate,’ the duchess said. ‘Send for them or trim off a few toes.’
Bellona put the shoes on the floor beside her. ‘I will be considering which toes I can spare.’
‘Of course,’ the duchess murmured, ‘you do want your little niece, Willa, to be proud of her aunt...’
The tousled head darted up and her eyes could have flailed the duchess. ‘I do have some slippers my sister gave me. I suppose I could send for them and a gown that matches.’
‘I have a tutor planned for you tomorrow in the ballroom. Do not be late. He will not.’
‘I will not dance. I have a pain in my foot.’
The duchess spoke to Rhys. ‘She can practise archery for hours. A few moments’ dancing will not hurt her.’
‘I will not,’ Bellona said again, calling the duchess’s attention back to her.
‘It would mean a lot to your sister to know you are settled with a nice vicar or man of affairs. Perhaps a soldier who has returned and needs a wife to care for him? Your sister might even wish for a niece or nephew of her own. Someone her own little ones can call cousin. If you do not dance with a suitor... He will see you as thinking yourself above him and dance with someone more...pleasant.’
She held her fingers up as if dusting crumbs from them.
‘I will dance the country dance if you insist.’
‘Send a servant to me and I will give the order for your bow to be returned,’ the duchess said.
‘My foot is hurting more now and the pains are moving up to my head,’ Bellona said, turned and left.
Rhys saw the jutting chin as she stepped his way, but as she passed by him, the tiny wink nearly did him in.
The door crashed behind her.
The wench would be the death of him.
‘I would not say this in front of her, but if she carries on like this, that heathen child will never even be worthy of a tradesman as a wife. It’s just...she did lose her mother, as she is constantly reminding me,’ the duchess grumbled to Rhys. ‘I cringe to think what would have become of your sister had it not been for my firm hand.’ The duchess stared ahead. ‘This one is more like your father’s mother.’ She nodded and her lips firmed. ‘No one ever took that woman in hand and I will certainly not let this motherless child be so unruly.’
‘You gave her the gold earrings.’
‘Yes, and the matching necklace. I never really liked them. I’m trying to make a female out of her, Rhys. No man will ever give her a second glance if she does not present herself as a lady.’
Rhys turned to the door. He did not correct his mother on that point. But she was very, very wrong.
* * *
Bellona grabbed her cape, shaking it in her frustration. She had to escape the house for a few minutes and practise her archery. The first dancing lessons with the tutor had gone well, but today he had insisted on a much more difficult dance. Bellona had refused. She was determined the man would not touch her.
