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She stopped in front of him. Her hand swung out, palm open, and she slapped his cheek. ‘Get out of my house.’
He didn’t flinch and his expression did not change. ‘As you wish, Mother.’ He turned and left.
The loudest thing in the room was Bellona’s thoughts. The duchess had her head averted and stood away from her.
‘It wasn’t like you think,’ Bellona said to the duchess finally. ‘He didn’t take advantage of me. I needed... I wanted...’
‘Do not say it. The two of you created this wrangle and I cannot slap you because you are not my child.’ The duchess sighed. ‘The only thing I want to hear from you is that you will leave immediately.’
‘If the servant hadn’t heard Rhys drop something in the room and walked in to discover what made the noise, no one would know. Nothing would have changed.’
The duchess turned to Bellona and the lines at her eyes and mouth had deepened. ‘And if the black plague hadn’t happened—well, then we would have missed all that death and dying.’ She put a hand to her chest. ‘I would not usually compare this to the destruction of so many lives, but right now, it feels about the same to me. Get dressed. I have had enough of being a mother for one day. For one lifetime. I am going to have some wine and lie down. And if I wish to speak with you when I wake up, I will take a carriage to visit you at Whitegate.’ She made a flitting movement with her hand, as if sweeping Bellona out through the door. ‘I would not stand by the door and wait if I were you.’
* * *
Rhys sat at his desk, examining the black-ink mark Bellona had made on the page he’d kept. One smear, with another beside it. A heart, or rather two halves of one. Not joined. He tried to find the right oath for how he felt. There simply wasn’t one strong enough and even stringing all the ones he knew together hadn’t worked. Whoever invented swearing did not make words strong enough.
His father had once said that being a duke was no different from anyone else except one had to always appear perfect. Wise words. Not quite accurate, however.
His father did not mention days when one did not know exactly how one could be so imperfect and not decipher any of it. He could not jump over a broom and then try to leap back to undo the action because then two errors had been made.
‘Your Grace.’ A footman stood at the doorway. ‘The carriage is readied as you requested and Miss Cherroll—’ His gaze dropped. ‘She is also asking to be taken to Whitegate.’
Rhys felt no surprise. If he did not miss his guess from the flustered servants who had been darting to and fro, his mother was trying to manage the tales to reflect her family in the best light. Bellona would not fare well.
But he would change that. ‘We will travel together,’ he said. ‘Let her know the vehicle is ready.’
The footman darted away.
Rhys stood and walked to the front of the house. He stepped outside and into the carriage. In a few moments, the door was opened. Bellona was half-inside the carriage when she saw him. She halted, but then continued and sat beside him, or rather as close to the other side of the carriage as she could get. She pulled her reticule into her lap and crossed her arms over it.
‘Lovely dress,’ he commented.
‘Thank you for returning it.’
‘I see your reticule does not have a blade poking from it.’ The carriage jolted forward.
She ignored him.
‘Are you going to London?’ she asked.
‘Eventually.’
‘I’m going north.’ She looked out of the window.
‘Not in this carriage.’
‘I do not need your carriage. I must tell my sister goodbye and arrange the trip.’
He grunted. Warrington might have other ideas. And he wagered her sister would as well.
‘Are you...wearing a weapon anywhere about your person?’ He watched her face carefully.
‘Will I need one?’ she asked. She didn’t turn from the window.
‘I might wish to borrow it from you. I don’t think Warrington is going to be pleased when he hears of the recent...events.’
‘I expect him to be more upset when he discovers his carriage missing and on the way to Scotland.’
‘Bellona. Do not be surprised if he is aware something has happened before you even arrive. My mother had many servants scurrying to make sure she got in her side of the story first.’
‘No.’ Her head snapped around. ‘Surely the news...would not travel that fast.’
‘I think it moved as fast as it could be written on paper and carried through the woods by the fastest runner at Harling House. Accept that we are to be married.’
‘I accept that you are to be married. That is no surprise to anyone. You have no choice, Your Grace.’ She smiled and touched her earring. ‘I do.’
