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“You asked me if there was anything I would like,” Edwina said dejectedly. “I told you; are you telling me no?”
“I will not subject myself to those people again,” he told her emphatically. Recognizing that his pulse would not subside, he stood, needing space to calm his panic. “If there was anything else, though, that I could do, I would do it. Just not that.”
“Fergus –” Edwina tried to protest.
“I shall take my leave; please, forgive me,” he said, bowing to her. Trying to make his retreat seem less like he was running away, he added, “I have some business to attend to.”
As he made his way back through the gardens, he cursed himself for being unable to control his feelings. Edwina had asked him not to run away when they had uncomfortable conversations, but he could not help it. His body betrayed him, and no amount of negotiation with his subconscious seemed to help. He headed back into the house, intending to change into traveling clothes when he ran into Simon.
“Your Grace,” Simon said with a bow. He raised his eyebrow at Fergus, seeing his expression. “Everything all right?”
Fergus threw up his hands in exasperation, part of him wanting to rant about his conversation with his wife, the other part of him annoyed for being asked about his feelings.
“What does it matter?” he exclaimed in annoyance. He tried to step around Simon but Simon placed himself in Fergus’ way, raising a hand to stop him.
“Your Grace, you seem upset. What can I do to help?”
“Nothing,” Fergus grumbled. When Simon refused to move out of his way, he threw his hands wide. “My wife wants to host a ball, and I think it is a terrible idea. Now she is upset. No matter what I do, I lose. I host a ball, and I place myself on a stage to be laughed at. If I refuse my wife, she gets upset with me. What am I to do?”
Simon laughed out loud, making Fergus scowl at him. “What is so funny?” Fergus growled.
“Your Grace, I think you are experiencing the first of many marital arguments. I believe you will find, with time, which battles should be fought and those to which you should surrender.”
“You know me, I cannot compromise on this,” Fergus told him adamantly.
“Cannot or will not?” Simon challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Perhaps your wife is right, Your Grace. Maybe it is time that you reintroduce yourself to society. You are a Duke, and your title must count for something. You have power and influence. I am sure that people can get past your appearance for that.”
“You mean, use me,” Fergus said. He shook his head. “No, I will not subject myself to ridicule.”
Simon shrugged. “I suggest you think on it some more before you dig your heels in.”
Fergus shook his head again then, passing by Simon at last, he called over, “Send James up to me. I am going out.”
* * *
Furious with Fergus, Edwina stayed in the gazebo for longer than normal, long after she finished her tea. Her book could not keep her attention for long, and she sighed, frustrated. Even though she knew that Fergus disliked public appearances in society, she did not think that he would outright refuse her request to host a ball. She wished she had argued with him more and offered more compromises.
They could have hosted a masquerade or a costume ball, something where his scars and mask would not be out of place. He could have made a single appearance or speech and retired to his room. After he left, she thought of a half dozen suggestions and cursed herself for not thinking of them at the time.
Once she stepped back into the house, she searched for Fergus but could not find him. He was not in the parlor nor the library or his study. Heading up to his room, she found James shutting his door.
“Is His Grace in?” she asked him.
“No, Your Grace,” James said, bowing. “He left for a ride just a few moments ago.”
“A ride where?” she asked him.
James shook his head apologetically. “I am not sure, Your Grace.”
She sighed with frustration, and James bowed before leaving her standing in the hallway. Unsure what else to do, she went into her own room, hoping to figure out something else to entertain herself with while Fergus was gone.
Heading to her writing desk, she sat down and shuffled through the stack of letters and invitations she had received. The volume of mail she got had increased dramatically since word had gotten out about her marriage. Before becoming a duchess, she only got invited to small affairs or very, very large ones. The balls and suppers for the elite remained out of her reach. Now, though, she had gotten invites from several of the other powerful women in theton.
In the stack of letters, though, was a gossip column. Normally, she did not buy them, so she took it out, wondering if someone had intentionally delivered it to her. Reading the columns always made her self-conscious, especially after one of her father’s embarrassing events had been described in detail. After that, she stayed far away from them.
Curious, she read the front page which detailed several parties that Edwina had not attended. In the middle of the page, though, large text read,
“Monster of London Strikes Again!”
