The Duke's Divorce (The Reluctant Grooms Series Volume IV) (2 page)

“Oh aye, there will be an agreement all
right. She will become your duchess or you shall die.”

The threat held cold gravity that Robert
could not shake. Staring at the gun, he knew Stewart would use it.
He’d heard tales of some Highlanders’ ideas of justice and they
weren’t pretty; stoning, horse dragging, even some tall stories of
lynching.

“Stewart, you must be reasonable. I cannot
marry her. What will it take? Five thousand pounds? Ten? Twenty?
Give me a figure and I shall have my solicitor in Edinburgh arrange
for the funds.” Robert threw the last straw onto the pile, but
didn’t realize it would be the one that separated the chaff from
the grain. Fiona walked over to him and slapped him, hard, across
the face.

“You filthy pig! How dare you!” Her eyes
blazed. “You think you can buy your way out of this, is that it?
With all your grand refinements, and pretty manners, you are
nothing more than a common trader.” Fiona stood in front of Robert,
staring daggers, her breath coming in heaving gasps.

Robert noticed her trembling. She was angry,
yes, but he saw fear underneath the rage. Fear that she would have
to marry Robert and didn’t want to, or was it the fear of what
would happen to her if she did not.

“Forgive me,” Robert said softly. “That was
uncalled for. I did not mean to cast aspersions on your person.
That was not my intention. Obviously, we are at an impasse.”

“There is no impasse, Cantin,” Stewart said.
“Ye’ will marry Fiona this afternoon before you leave for London.
Either that, or ye’ die.” He raised the gun and brought the hammer
back.

A cold sweat broke across Robert’s forehead.
He looked from the old man to the girl. There was no way out of
this he could see. He had to marry her. He was honor bound, duty
bound, and title bound. If he did not, the rumors would follow him
forever. He was thankful his father wasn’t alive. This would kill
him.

“Very well, Stewart. Find your priest and
have your daughter packed and ready to leave for London within the
hour.”

Fiona gasped. “I will not marry you. Are you
daft?” She looked to her father. “Take the money, old man. Twenty
thousand pounds is not too high a price to pay for my virtue.”

Stewart laughed and Robert realized the old
man knew just how much his daughter’s virtue was worth.

Robert gazed down at her frightened face. “I
am sorry. We do not have a choice.”

The fury faded from her eyes and her
shoulders slumped. Robert thought he saw tears. She glanced back at
her father who stood with a self-satisfied grin. In an instant,
however, she stood upright as if ready to seal her fate. Not a
fate, Robert thought, she had ever wanted for herself.

The sky threatened an hour after they left
Peebleshire, and Robert took this as an ominous sign for the future
of his matrimonial life. Married at gunpoint. He imagined his
friends would take great joy in repeating this story. Robert sighed
and prayed they would never find out how his marriage had really
happened. He stared morosely out the window watching the side of
the road. His mother would cry. She had written him news of the
latest batch of debutantes this Season and had her eye on a
particular duke’s granddaughter. His heart ached for her
disappointment.

He glanced at his new bride. Fiona was indeed
a pretty sort of girl, if he could get past her drabness, but was
that enough. Did she have manners and deportment? Could she pass
muster as the Duke of Cantin’s wife? He had no idea. He didn’t know
her well enough. Truth be told, he didn’t know her at all.
Moreover, he didn’t want to.

The question remained – how was he to
dissolve their marriage? He couldn’t kill her, although he would
like to get his hands around her father’s throat. He couldn’t pack
her off to the Continent. That would lead to too many questions he
did not want to answer. His mind lit upon another idea. Surely, an
annulment wouldn’t be out of the question. He did not intend to bed
her. He barely intended to acknowledge her. He would speak to his
solicitors as soon as they returned to London, and well be rid of
this nightmare. He smiled to himself. He’d settle a generous sum on
her for her pains. Yes, that is what he would do, and if that
didn’t work, well, he would divorce her. Highly unusual and
absolutely scandalous, divorce would be painful for his family to
endure, but less so if he remained married to a woman he did not
want.

Robert settled deeper into the coach seat and
closed his eyes, satisfied with the solution to his problem. He
would sleep until they reached the inn for the night. It had been a
hell of a day.

A few miles from the inn, the sky opened up,
and rain beat hard on the roof of the carriage. Twilight had fallen
and by the time they reached the courtyard, lightning crackled
across a blackened sky. Fiona jumped when thunder boomed overhead.
Several coaches had also stopped and the ostler and his men were
scrambling to accommodate the travelers.

“Stay here, while I see to the lodging,”
Robert said and glanced at Fiona. Long fingers clutched her
reticule tightly, her knuckles white. Her body seemed so taut the
tiniest movement would snap her in half. Another crack of lightning
flashed across the sky and Fiona closed her eyes and ducked her
head.

“Are you all right?” Robert asked.

She looked at him then and he saw the panic
in her eyes.

“’Tis only a storm, nothing to be frightened
by,” he said with minimal comfort.

“Aye.” She nodded, her lips pressed tight
together.

He felt a moment’s pity. “Come with me then.
I shall not have you out in the weather if it scares you so.”

She jumped across the seat and followed on
his heels as they crossed the courtyard into the inn. The taproom
was filled, the innkeeper and his wife trying to keep up with
orders for food, drink, and lodging. Robert led Fiona to a small
table by the fire and placed her in a chair.

“Wait here while I see to our rooms.” He took
in her pale face. The temper she had shown that afternoon while she
said her marriage vows was gone, replaced by fear of the unknown.
All alone with a strange man miles from home, going to a marriage
bed she probably wasn’t even prepared for, Robert could only
imagine the thoughts that raced through her head. He would reveal
his plan to her while they supped. It was only fair, he supposed.
Why let the poor girl think she would have to endure the
humiliation of a marriage she did not want any more than he
did.

Robert spoke with the innkeeper and was
annoyed they did not have two rooms. Storm ridden travelers had
acquired every available bed. Unfortunately, they would have to
share a room and he wondered how Fiona would take the news.

He made his way through the crowd and found
her sitting the same as he left her; stiff, upright, scared out of
her wits.

“Our room is ready,” he said. “Would you care
to dine upstairs or should you like to adjourn to the private
dining room?”

She looked up at him, green eyes pale and
searching. “The dining room if you please.”

Robert held his hand out to her. She clasped
his fingers like cold talons on prey. Good God, she wasn’t even
wearing gloves. What kind of woman had he married? He placed her
hand on his arm and could feel her trembling as the thunder roared
outside. They walked to a small parlour, where only two other
couples sat. The innkeeper’s wife showed them to a table in the
corner. Robert was grateful for the privacy.

While they waited for their meal, Fiona
fiddled with the utensils. He noticed her hands were rough and
careworn. What kind of life had she lived in Peebles? Surely, being
the only child of the Laird Stewart she had grown up with some ease
even though she acted, and was treated, more like a serving
girl.

“Tell me about yourself,” Robert said. “Now
we are married, I think I should know something about you.”

His new wife gave him a look he could not
fathom. “What would you like to know, my lord?”

“How old are you?” Robert looked at her face,
and again at her hands. Something did not sit well.

“I was six-and-twenty on my last
birthday.”

“Upon my word, that is a long time to be on
the shelf,” Robert said. Too late to take his words back, she
flinched as if struck. “Forgive me, Fiona. I’m afraid I am not
myself today. Six-and-twenty is a fine age. However, I cannot
believe a woman of your station should not be married by now.”

Fiona gazed down into her lap, her cheeks
ablaze. “After my mother’s sudden demise fifteen years ago, my
father sent me to a girl’s finishing school outside Edinburgh. Upon
culmination, he has needed me through these many years and I never
gave a thought to leaving him. I am still not sure why he insisted
I marry you. This is so decidedly unlike his character.” She
brought her eyes to Robert.

Robert knew exactly why Stewart insisted on
the marriage. “I daresay a father put in his position would have no
other choice. Tell me, what exactly did happen last night. I’m
afraid I have no recollection at all.” Robert rubbed his temples
and toyed with the idea she would tell him the truth. A nagging
suspicion led him to the disgusting conclusion last night had been
a set-up. The Laird Stewart wanted this match and had gone about
getting it any way he could. The possibility Fiona decided she no
longer wanted to belong to the Laird’s household had snuck in as
well. Either way, marriage to an English duke would certainly be an
advantageous match.

She repeated the story he’d heard earlier. “I
never imagined my father would be waiting for my return.” She
stopped and looked at him. “I am sorry we have ended up thus. It
was never my intention to force your hand into marriage. Especially
one neither of us wanted.”

“I believe you,” Robert said. “Undoubtedly,
your father chose to believe otherwise. However, I have come up
with a solution to our problem.”

Their meals were brought and Robert ate
heartily. Fiona picked at her food.

“Fiona,” Robert said. “I would like to
reassure you, I have no intention of…how shall I say this, of
having you as my bride this evening. The thought is the furthest
thing from my mind. However, you must eat to keep up your strength
for the journey.”

Fiona’s eyes blazed for an instant. Had he
unintentionally insulted her again?

“Thank you, my lord. That is very kind. I’m
afraid the idea of our marriage bed was not something I looked
forward to.”

Robert wasn’t sure if he wasn’t the one being
insulted this time.

Fiona took a bite of the simple meat pie,
swallowed, and looked at him. “You mentioned you had a solution to
our problem. Would you care to inform me of that?”

Robert smiled. “I believe it is a simple one.
Upon our immediate return to London, I shall step into my
solicitors’ offices and have the paperwork drawn up for an
annulment. Once it has been presented, and granted, I shall give
you a generous sum in which to start a new life. Your father could
hardly be expected to believe we would remain married.”

“You seem to have thought this through very
carefully, my lord.” Fiona’s eyes flashed again.

“Well, I have been told I have a deeply
analytical mind.”

“Pray then this is nothing more to you than a
business transaction.”

“Fiona, what else could it be? You and I were
forced by your father into a marriage neither of us wanted. I
propose to make the best of a bad situation. Very soon, you will be
free of me and with my generous recompense, allowed to pursue any
other avenue you desire. I think, my dear, you are getting the
better end of the deal.”

Fiona gave him a small smile. “Yes, it does
seem that way does it not?”

*****

After dinner, Robert allowed Fiona to retire
to the room first. He had said he did not intend to have her in
their marriage bed and Fiona believed him. However, a small part of
her wondered what it would be like to lay with a man. She was
six-and-twenty, far too old to be an unmarried woman, far too old
to have never even kissed a man. Robert was indeed handsome and she
would not be averse to his advances. She had examined his body last
night after he had collapsed, and he was certainly a fine specimen
of a man. The thought he was her husband now and would not share
their bed somewhat hurt what little pride she had left.

She had watched Robert over the last weeks
with her father, and found him extraordinarily learned,
capitalistic leanings aside. Her father fought to keep up as the
duke’s ideas jumped quickly from one thought to the next. Sometimes
she wished she could have expressed her own opinions, but that was
not to be. Her father would have dismissed her ramblings without a
second thought.

The Duke of Cantin did not seem like an
unscrupulous man, nor was he without certain charm. However, Fiona
could not disregard his aloofness, or the banality that sometimes
overtook his conversation when he knew he addressed someone of
lower station. And everything always came down to money. Who was
owed, what was spent, how much did it cost. But underneath all the
talk, she could sense a passion simmering just under the surface.
When he spoke on certain subjects, his voice rose, his eyes became
animated, and his hands flew through the air as he tried to make
his point. He was like a boiling pot with a too-tight lid. The
steam would erupt every so often, but the cover still held
unyielding to the pressure. She wondered what would ever make it
blow.

Fiona undressed by the light of a single
candle. The storm had abated during dinner and she felt a chill
coming from the window casing. Dressed in her nightrail, she placed
another log on the fire and stood with her hands to it. A moment
later, she heard footfalls in the hall and dashed to the bed. She
climbed under the covers and held the blankets to her chest as she
answered to the knock.