A Duchess to Remember (25 page)

Stomach churning, she managed not to blurt out her wretchedness. “W-what sort of impediment?”

Montford’s dark eyes seemed to penetrate her thoughts. She braced herself for an inquisition.

He said, “Did you know that the Duke of Ashburn had a seat on the Ministry of Marriage?”

The dissonance between her expectations and Montford’s question made Cecily blink. Her mind struggled to change tack. “No, I didn’t. Well, I suppose if I’d thought about it, I might have guessed he would. He is the head of the house of Kendall, just as you are the head of the Westruthers. But—but what has that to say to anything?”

“A great deal, as it happens.” Montford leaned forward. “There is a rather draconian power in the rules of the ministry that says each noble house may veto one marriage sanctioned by the ministry. Once exercised, that family may never use the power again.”

A
veto
? In a low, trembling voice, she said, “Ashburn has vetoed my marriage to Norland?”

She sensed that beneath Montford’s bland façade, he watched her keenly. “Apparently. Yes.”

Hurt, betrayal, and a good dose of fear swirled like a whirlpool inside her. She shot to her feet. “But this is outrageous! I—”

He held his hands, palm outwards to silence her. “Histrionics will not help you in this instance, my dear. I suggest that instead of railing against Fate, you put that rather fine mind of yours to good use. Once you have thought it over, you will see that the wisest course is to accept this outcome with good grace.”

“No, no, I won’t accept this. Good God! Did neither of you even think to consult
me
? To ask what I wanted?”

Of course they had not! Who ever consulted a mere female about her future?

“If it’s any consolation, we did not consult Norland either,” offered the duke.

Cecily ignored that piece of frivolity. This was exactly the sort of high-handed behavior she’d wished most fervently to escape by means of her marriage to the docile Norland. She’d been right all along about Ashburn. How could she tolerate such a man having dominion over her?

Biting her lip, she began to pace, desperate to think of a solution. “Is there a right of appeal against this veto? Surely there must be.” She whirled on the duke and held out her hand. “Show me those rules, if you please.”

The duke pursed his lips. “I’m afraid I can’t. The rules of the Ministry of Marriage are confidential. Your betrothal to the Duke of Norland is at an end. Accept the decision as final, Cecily. You will only make a fool of yourself if you don’t.”

He gathered up the papers that lay before him on his desk and transferred his attention to them, signaling the interview was at an end. For the space of a minute, Cecily battled the urge to throw herself on the floor and kick and scream like a child throwing a tantrum.

But of course that would only confirm his obvious belief that she could not govern her own affairs or know her own mind or judge what was best for her.

There was no point arguing with Montford; once he’d acted, he never reneged.

Cecily swept from the library, seething.

Ugh! The insufferable smugness of those men, coolly deciding her and Norland’s fate! Montford and Ashburn were two of a kind. She’d known that from the beginning.

So this was what Ashburn had meant when he’d declared war on her back at Anglesby. How stupid of her to believe he must have forgotten that stern resolve.

Well, she would not meekly wave the white flag in surrender. He ought to know her better than that.

Chapter Seventeen

Rand watched Cecily pacing his book room like a small tigress, lethally beautiful in her fury. Her elegant hands were clenched into fists, her skin flushed a rosy pink. Fire smoldered in those dark eyes. She was so different from the other bloodless aristocratic girls he’d known, she might have hailed from another species.

He loved her like this, loved to see all that passion rise up in her, even if it was the angry kind rather than the amorous.

At this point, he’d take any sort of passion he could get.

He couldn’t resist adding fuel to the flames. “My lady, this visit is most improper. You should have sent for me and I could have called on you at Montford House.”

She all but bared her teeth and snarled. “I needed to speak with you alone. Besides, it would become known throughout London if you called on me. We would be a byword in no time at all.” She flung up her hands. “What am I saying? We are a byword already, thanks to you!”

“But all I’d have to do is make your presence here known to compromise you,” he said calmly. “That is a greater risk than a little gossip, I should think.”

Not to mention the very real danger in which her virtue now stood. Cecily was no longer betrothed to Norland, so she could no longer use him as an excuse to deny her passion for Rand.

She glared at him. “You would not be so base as to trumpet my disgrace to the world.”

So she trusted him that far, then. He placed a hand over his left breast. “It warms my heart to hear you say so.”

She snorted. “Look, I’ve thought about this and it can’t be right that you have the power of veto over my marriage. The Ministry of Marriage had nothing to do with arranging my betrothal to Norland. How can they now dissolve it?”

He paused. This was precisely the argument he’d raised with Montford, after all, when they’d discussed the scheme.

Smoothly, he said, “Ah, yes, but Montford
is
bound by the ministry rules. He has the power to forbid the match under the terms of his guardianship.”

“It’s a clear abuse of his power, then!” she retorted. “Surely he cannot allow a third party to dictate his actions.”

The intelligence he so admired in her could be deuced inconvenient at times. Well, perhaps she was right, but he wasn’t about to agree with her. Instead, he regarded her with a gleam of amusement. “Do you plan to take Montford to court over it?”

She simmered with temper. “Of course not! How should I? Besides, the most infuriating part of it is that he
is
doing what he thinks is best for me! Utterly misguided and patronizing though it might be.”

Briefly, she met Rand’s eyes, and the air sizzled between them. She turned away. In a muffled voice, she said, “But he’s wrong.”

Rand took a deep breath. “Cecily, why are you here?”

She swung to face him. “To demand that you withdraw that confounded veto, of course!”

His jaw tightened. “I believe I told you back at Anglesby that this was war, my dear. I cannot let you marry him. I need time to make you see—”

“Do you know, you had almost won before you pulled this trick?” Her eyes glittered, still with anger, and perhaps also with tears. “I’d all but convinced myself you were right; that love would conquer all.” She closed her eyes, as if in exquisite pain. “And then you used your power to coerce me. To force me to do as you wished.”

He was thunderstruck. “I acted to stop you taking a step that would ruin all of our lives!”

She went on as if she hadn’t heard him. “Why would I be better off with a man who does not scruple to ride roughshod over me when it suits him than with a man who allows me to act as I see fit?”

He stared at her, incredulous. “You would prefer a man who left you to your own devices out of indifference to a man who would love you, cherish you, respect your intelligence, share your dreams? Why do you have to do it all on your own, Cecily?”

“But you do not respect my intelligence, Rand,” she said, ignoring the question. “You aim to prevent me marrying the man of my choice. The irony is that by doing so, you have proved I was right to choose him in the first place.”

She stopped pacing and looked at him. “For such a clever man, you can be very foolish, you know.”

Deliberately, he said, “And for a woman who knows her own mind so well, Cecily, you have very little acquaintance with your heart.”

“Love makes women weak and slavish,” said Cecily, pacing again. “But not me. Did you think once Norland was out of the way, I’d fall into your arms?”

Had he thought that? No, but he’d hoped. Even at this moment, when he could shake her for being so pigheaded and stubborn, his arms literally ached to hold her.

She pressed fingertips to her temple, as if her head hurt. “Men like you and Montford are accustomed to manipulating everyone to get what you want. Often with the most altruistic motives, I’ll grant you that.” She drew a breath. “Perhaps it is because neither of you has allowed yourself to truly love another human being that you view every other person in your life as a pawn or an adversary to be maneuvered or vanquished. But if you love someone, you should care about what they want, too, Rand. You shouldn’t use your advantage to
make
them fall in with your plans.”

For a long time, he couldn’t speak. The turmoil inside him was too great. “So this is your opinion of me,” he said in a low voice. “I commit one desperate act to stop you doing something that was irreversible, something that would have destroyed the happiness of all three of us, and you think that means I would ride roughshod over you once we were wed?”

He threw out a hand. “I would hope that once married we would discuss things, argue them out and reach a decision together. I have no desire to dictate to you. Why should I, when I so admire your determination and independence? Those qualities are what made me fall in love with you.”

In a strained voice, she said, “I am sure you mean what you say, Rand. But if something else arises that you judge to be an equally desperate case, you would act the same way again. If I married you, you would always be able to pull rank and command me, as my husband. I would grow to hate you for it, I think. And if I didn’t, if I submitted, well, then I would no longer be myself.”

Had she plunged a knife into his chest, he could have borne it better. “That all seems very logical, Cecily, but I don’t think it’s the entire truth of the matter. You are afraid to trust me with your heart.”

Her lips twisted. “You are right. I
am
a coward. Before this, I almost thought I’d found the courage, the blind faith to ignore my more rational objections. But now … Well, I ought to be grateful, I suppose, that this happened before it was too late.” Her gaze met his, and for the first time, he glimpsed pain in those velvet eyes.

“Good-bye, Rand.”

He did not even attempt to stop her when she left.

*   *   *

Cecily rather expected the news that came two days later. Rand had withdrawn his veto, allowing the world to think he’d merely played some ruthless sort of power game with Montford by issuing the veto in the first place.

Cecily’s wedding to Norland would go ahead.

Norland himself had been out of town on a research mission while all this went on. Montford had written to him, first when Rand issued the veto and later, when he withdrew the same, but they’d had no word from Norland in return. Perhaps both letters had missed him and he’d remained oblivious of the entire thing. She supposed that would be for the best.

Disgusted, Montford had washed his hands of both Ashburn and Cecily. He clearly thought Ashburn weak for giving in to Cecily’s demands.

She wondered about that now. Had Rand granted her this boon because he saw his case was hopeless and decided to finish with the entire business? Or had he actually accepted the force of her arguments, weighed them, and decided she was in the right? Had he wished to show her she was wrong about him?

Whatever the case, hers was a hollow victory. Small comfort that she did the right thing, the honorable thing, in forging ahead with her marriage to Norland.

The day her wedding arrived, she felt numb. Which was fortunate, because she was not at liberty to indulge her own emotions. Out of pride, she made herself appear lively and happy to Jane and Rosamund. The effort wearied her to the point of exhaustion.

She did her best to take an interest in her gown and the bonnet she would wear and the flowers she would carry. Long ago, she’d insisted on a quiet wedding in the drawing room at Montford House with only immediate family present.

She rather wished she’d made a bigger fuss of the whole thing now. That would make her feel at least some nervous excitement about the ceremony. As it was, she struggled to impress upon herself the utter life-changing significance of this day.

Jane and Rosamund gathered in Cecily’s bedchamber, ostensibly to help her get ready. Jane could not do much more than throw comments and suggestions from her reclining position on the chaise longue. As had lately been her wont, she soon fell into a soft doze, her hands placed protectively over her pregnant belly.

Cecily scrutinized her closely. Was Jane’s face a little paler than usual? She was so big with child, Cecily worried her cousin’s time would come upon her at any moment.

It was an anxious business, childbirth. Jane was, as she’d said numerous times, as healthy as a horse. But that did not mean the birthing part would be plain sailing.

Terror gripped Cecily with a sudden swiftness. What if Jane did not survive the birth? What would Constantine do? What would they all do? She could not bear to lose Jane.

“Best not to think about it,” Rosamund murmured in her ear. “And best for her if you don’t stare at her as if she is not long for this world.”

Cecily started and cut her gaze to meet Rosamund’s. She bit her lip. “I can’t help it,” she whispered, fingering the lace edge to her dressing table.

“I know, darling, but do try,” said Rosamund, smiling at her. “It is a natural part of life, after all, and the rewards are great.”

Cecily clutched Rosamund’s hand, squeezed it tightly. “Yes, I know.”

But she also knew that when Rosamund’s time came, as it inevitably would, Cecily would be out of her mind with fear for her. That was the terror of loving someone. But the rewards … The rewards
were
worth the risk. The pain and anxiety of childbirth meant a new small life to love.