The Duke's Divorce (The Reluctant Grooms Series Volume IV) (20 page)

“Send someone to Bow Street immediately,” he
growled at Edwards. “Bring them to me as soon as they arrive.”

Storming down the hall, Robert took off his
jacket and threw it over the sofa. He walked to the tantalus and
poured himself a large brandy. Taking two deep gulps, he let the
amber burn its way into his bones.

The door-knocker banged and Robert’s nervous
stomach flopped to his feet. He met his mother in the hall. She
said nothing, but took his arm as they walked to the foyer.

Edwards opened the door and found William on
the stoop.

“Will, I’m glad you are come,” Robert said.
“Let us go into the library.” He turned to his mother. “Perhaps you
would like to wait upstairs where you can rest, Mother.”

“I am not resting until that poor girl comes
home. I shall join you in the library. I feel the need for a
serious libation.”

In the library, Robert poured a balloon of
brandy for William, and another shorter tot for his mother.

“I asked Penny for a list of places where she
thought Fiona could have gone off to, and checked every one of them
personally,” William said without preamble. “The zoological
gardens, the theatre district, even to the orphanage in Cheapside.
Pen made mention on their last visit, Fiona spent most of the
afternoon with the children.”

“Yes, Fiona said she found them lovely,” his
mother whispered. She brought a handkerchief to the corner of her
eye.

Robert walked over to his mother and squeezed
her shoulder. “We shall find her.”

She looked down into her glass. “I only hope
it is not too late.”

Robert heard the front door-knocker. Moments
later, Edwards ushered a large man into the library wearing a red
waistcoat, incongruous against his black overcoat and impressive
mustache. Before introductions could be made, the doorknocker
pounded again.

Edwards bowed out.

“I’m Kennedy from Bow Street,” the man said.
“I understand your wife is missing.”

Before Robert could respond, Edwards yelled
from the hall.

Robert ran from the library where he found
Edwards holding his wife in his arms. Her little maid lay slumped
against the inside of the door, her face cut and bleeding, her
clothes torn.

“Fiona.” His heart nearly stopped at the
sight of her. He took her gently from Edwards.

She lay pale and shivering in his arms. “I’m
so sorry, Robert. I did not mean to wander so far from home, and
then the men came. Forgive me.” And she fainted.

Fiona sat in the conservatory three days
later, still sore from the bruises inflected upon her from the men
who had accosted her and Merry. Robert had remained silent the next
morning as she explained how they had gotten lost near the docks
and picked the wrong men from whom to ask directions. She thought
they could outrun them, but Merry tripped and fell and when Fiona
stopped to help her, the cads overtook them. Manhandled and certain
they were about to be raped, Fiona fought them off, kicking and
punching like a wild animal, screaming until her lungs were
bursting. She didn’t think she could ever be more grateful for the
sight of two less than lady-like ladies, but those two women, she
was sure, saved their lives. They joined in the fracas, and kept
the men at bay while Fiona and a limping Merry made their
escape.

The journey home was frightening, the both of
them wet, cold, beaten, and too scared to ask again for directions.
Finally, a sign led them to Regent’s Park and Merry, thankfully,
found their way.

When finished with her story, the only words
Robert spoke were that she would need to give a description of the
men to the Bow Street runner, then he was gone. And she hadn’t seen
him since.

Lady Joanna had been kindness itself, sitting
by her bedside, bringing bowls of soup for her and Merry. Fiona had
insisted the girl be ensconced in her room with her. Poor Merry
hadn’t gotten over the trauma, remained pale and jumped at every
little sound. Fiona caught her weeping on more than one occasion
and her heart bled for the young girl.

Merry wasn’t accustomed to the seedier side
of life, having grown up in a small farming community, protected by
her brothers, cousins, and uncles. Coming to the city as a scullery
maid had been her mother’s idea to help with the family finances,
and during the eight months she had been at Cantin House, her hard
work and dedication had paid off with advances in the household as
well as in pay. However, with barely a day off every fortnight,
Merry had known little about the city when Fiona and she had left
the house, and Fiona took the blame for their misfortune entirely
across her own shoulders.

Eammon had gone mad when told about the
incident and wanted to set off to find the villains. Fiona heard
through her mother-in-law that it had taken Robert nearly a full
hour to convince Eammon to allow Bow Street to apprehend the
criminals. Fiona was heartened Merry had a champion in the young
groom. The girl deserved every bit of happiness she could find in
London.

Fiona did not believe she could ever find
such in her own situation. She had presumed Robert would berate her
yet again for her foolishness, whereupon she would be able to make
him see he could share the blame, but his ominous silence only
brought the truth with her misery. Seeing the folly in her anger,
endangering not only herself but another person as well, made her
finally realize she could never be the duchess he desired.

Her ways were too wild, too unstable for the
restrictions Robert placed on her. Fleeting and rare, whenever they
did manage to capture an amiable accord, it took only moments for
it to disappear again.

Fiona wiped a tear. Oh, why could she have
not stayed away from him in Peebles? Why could she not have just
let him go back to London where he belonged? Perhaps his
insinuation she had intentionally remained with him in his room
that last night was not far from the truth. However, Fiona did not
do so with the purpose of trapping him.

Her father had planted the seed in her mind,
but whatever slight supposition may have sprouted from her father’s
imaginings, Fiona dismissed. Her reasons for remaining with Robert
that night were selfish and quite her own. Foremost, that she cared
for him as a singular human being, and did not want him to choke to
death. Although more to the point, she also understood she would
never see Robert again, and a small piece of her wanted the memory
of him to keep her warm during the rest of her cold and miserable
life. The same as she cherished the memories of the little blonde
girl when she was nine.

During the course of their very short
marriage, she only wanted to be the best she could be for him, to
show him she wasn’t ignorant, or without character. To show him he
did not have to regret his choice in marrying her and to quite
possibly, dare she say, even come to love her.

However, the tragedy at the docks had shown
her exactly how foolish she had been for thinking in such a
ridiculous way. During the entire episode, her only thoughts had
been of Robert. How good it would feel to be held by him, that he
would soothe and comfort her, he would reassure her everything
would be all right. Since that night, Robert avoided her, as if she
were damaged goods. As if she had been raped and was no longer
respectable. As if she had deliberately chosen to walk the docks
and put herself in such a position. He would never look at her with
a favorable eye again, especially after reading about it in the
newspaper yesterday morning.

Duchess of Cantin Accosted at the
Docks
.

Reports account His Grace and Her Ladyship
had a tremendous row at Cantin House and Her Ladyship, accompanied
only by her maid, fled on foot in a blaze of anger. Losing her way
by the docks, Her Ladyship (and maid) were accosted by several
ruffians and barely escaped with their lives. This reporter has
often wondered what the very proper Duke of Cantin was thinking
marrying a woman without any common sense. How soon will it be
before Her Ladyship owns to another disgraceful foray in
Society?

A single tear escaped down her cheek. She
brushed it away forcefully and stood. Under a cold and brutal
reality, Fiona finally admitted she and Robert would never find the
happiness she craved, and any hope she had, died that night on the
docks. She had shown she was irresponsible and troublesome, and
could never be anything more than a scandalous foolish ninny
hammer. Robert would never love her. As the newspaper reporter
asked, how soon would it be before she landed in another scandal?
She couldn’t live with herself knowing her selfishness kept him
from finding a woman he could be proud of, with whom he could be
happy, whom he could love with his whole heart. There was only one
thing to do.

*****

Sitting at his club, Robert nursed his second
brandy of the day. It seemed to be the only way to shake the cloud
of guilt he felt over Fiona’s misadventure, for he knew he was
partially to blame. If he hadn’t taken away her planning of the
dinner party, Fiona never would have left the house, and she and
Merry would not have been hurt. Robert still could not believe they
had come out of it relatively unscathed, and remained undeniably
grateful Fiona proved her mettle not to back down from a fight. He
hated to think what could have happened to them.

“Are you all right, Robby?” William sat down
in the chair opposite and placed his coffee on the small side
table.

“As well as a man may be with scandal
surrounding him at every turn.” Robert couldn’t keep his sarcasm in
check. “Have you read the news rags these last days together?”

“Yes, I have seen them. More importantly, why
do
you
bother? As with everything, your wife’s latest
on
dit
will be forgotten as soon as something more notorious comes
along.”

“Yes, well.” Robert raised a brow. “That is
what I’m afraid of. ‘Twill be my wife. Again.”

“Robby, I really must say, this is so
particularly unlike your character. I remember well, when you would
allow the gossip to roll off your backside, as if nothing anyone
could ever say would bother you. Now it is as if you take all this
nonsense to heart.”

“We were children then, Will. We had no
reason to think that anyone could harm us, that anything anyone
said would hold weight.” Robert brought the glass to his lips and
took a short pull. “Unfortunately, it is different now. I have a
reputation to uphold, a family name that is synonymous with all
that is noble and right in these trying times. I do not wish to be
made a laughingstock in front of my peers.”

William snorted. “You should be more
concerned with your wife’s welfare instead of the gossip or your
heritage. Penny has related to me that Fiona suffers cruelly.”

“What?” Robert waved his hand. “Fiona is
fine. My mother informs me she is doing well under the
circumstances.”

“And when was the last time you spoke to
her?”

Robert sat straighter in his chair. “I spoke
to her the day after the incident. She seemed well.”

“Good God, Robert! Have you no care of her at
all? Pen said Fiona wept violently over her misfortune and that
Fiona said she could not help but think you are disgusted by the
sight of her.”

“That is ridiculous!”

“Well, that is what my wife tells me.”
William took a sip of his coffee. “Robert, I swear if this had
happened to anyone but Fiona, you would be tearing into Parliament
with new legislation for the docks to be swept of the riff-raff. I
could even imagine you would implore Prinny to hie the Horse Guard
to patrol the streets near the Thames. Now, because it is Fiona,
you do nothing except sit at White’s and drink all day.”

“How do you know what I do all day? What
business is it of yours how I spend my time or treat my wife, or
not?”

“Robert,” William said in a tone that Robert
had never heard before. “I do not know what has become of you.
Since you married Fiona you are more concerned with the state of
your name and reputation than you are with your wife and marriage.
Fiona was badly shaken. She needs your support in this matter, not
your indifference.”

“Why do you care so much about my relations
with my wife? Do you wish her for your own?” The drink made his
mind thick-headed. Had he really just insulted his cousin with such
a question?

“Do not attempt to malign my character,”
William threatened. “I am concerned about
your
relations
with
your
wife, because you are not being at all fair to
her, you, or the marriage itself. You are throwing away, possibly
the best woman you ever could have found, and I do not wish you to
end up regretting choices in the future that you make today.”
William stood. “Go home, Robby. Take care of your wife.”

William stormed off.

Robert sat and sloshed the amber around in
his glass. Damn if Will didn’t sound exactly like his father. That
is precisely what he would have said, regardless of the
circumstances in which Robert had married Fiona.

Robert thought about his wife. Fiona may be
common at times, but she was also gentle, kind, and one of the
smartest women he knew. There was more to her though, like a
trickle of a stream that met a creek, which in turn forged with a
river. Underneath her rough exterior lay a quiet strength. He saw
it in her devotion to his household, her unfailing concern for the
welfare of others, and in the way she related to people, with grace
and elegance that belied her difficult upbringing.

The emotions he felt that night upon seeing
her bleeding and broken overpowered him, strangled and suffocated
all rational thought. He wanted to go to the docks, find the men
who had harmed her, and kill them with his bare hands. He’d never
felt a rage like that in his entire life. And it was not because
they had done it to his wife, they had done it to Fiona.
His
Fiona.