English Rose Ch. 06

The drapes had been drawn against the late afternoon light but a candle burned on the table between her and the bed. Quietly, Sabrina checked to make sure the duke's breathing was easy and even before taking out her needlepoint and starting to sew.

It was hours later, her needlepoint long forgotten, that Sabrina sat lost in thought.

"Where's my son?" came a gruff voice from the bed.

Sabrina looked over to see the duke struggling to sit up. Quickly, she rose and carefully helped him to rise. "Douglas is sleeping, as is Mae and George. He asked me to sit with you."

The duke accepted a sip of wine before waving her away. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Somewhere after three o'clock in the morning," Sabrina stood unsure of what to do. She had hoped to let the others sleep through the night but the duke did not look pleased to be in her company. "Shall I get one of the others?" she asked.

"No," the duke said. "Sit."

It was an order, curtly given and expected to be followed. Very few people spoke to Sabrina like that. As the daughter of a duke there were very few that had the position or power to get away with it. Still, she recognized that the duke had things to say to her.

"It appears that my son has forgiven your...indiscretion," he said.

"I believe he is beginning to," Sabrina said, when it appeared that he expected some sort of response.

"Well, I won't." the duke snapped.

"I'm not asking or expecting you to," Sabrina said and felt the familiar pang at having lost this man's respect and affection. "I made my choices and I'll live with the consequences."

"And Douglas with you," the duke said.

Outside the duke's chambers, Douglas stopped to listen. He had woken feeling rested and thought to relieve Sabrina. He was surprised to hear is father awake and hesitated.

"I wouldn't have thought you capable," the duke said. "Douglas deserves better."

Sabrina swallowed past the lump in her throat. She had no defense to that, nothing she could tell the duke to make him understand. She refused to ruin what remained of his time with Douglas just to ease her hurt feelings.

"I'll see that one of the others comes to sit with you," she said.

Relief shown clear in her eyes when she turned to find Douglas standing in the doorway. Quietly gathering her things, she quickly crossed the room.

Douglas grasped her by the wrist, stopping her from slipping out the door. "I'll speak with him," he said.

"No," she said, shaking her head and fleeing back to their room.

Douglas resumed his place at his father's beside. Elbows on his knees, hands hanging between his parted thighs, Douglas tried to decide what to do. In that moment he knew that he had to tell his father the truth. Up until then he'd be willing to let Sabrina bear the brunt of his father's displeasure. She was right, he didn't want their last days together to be tainted by what Douglas had done. But more then that he realized that he didn't want to disappoint the man. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Let me tell you a tale," he said.

Charles sat in stunned silence as Douglas told him of kidnapping and raping Sabrina only to abandon her on her father's doorstep. Of manipulating her into marriage and encouraging her to care for him all without disclosing his part in her earlier trauma. "So," Douglas concluded, "when you sent her on to Westhaven she was able to put the pieces together. She confronted me with the truth, which I was unable to deny, and then fled back to London."

Several moments passed in silence until finally his father said, "Bloody hell, Douglas. How could you?"

"It's no excuse but back then I was bitter and angry," Douglas thought back to those days and the sense of rage he had lived with until it had become a part of him. "I had money but no real power and blamed one man for my mother's ruin. I lived for revenge."

Charles shook his head trying to understand. "Even if what you say is true..."

"Believe it, Father," Douglas said. "I would hardly admit it otherwise."

"Be that as it may," Charles continued. "Your wife's behavior is inexcusable."

"Father, if you condemn Sabrina then you condemn me right along with her," Douglas said. "I was no innocent party in this."

Charles frowned finding it hard to let go of his anger and disappointment. He had come to care a great deal for Sabrina and the news of her affair had stunned both him and his sister. It had felt like a betrayal, not just of Douglas but of the entire family.

Douglas watched his father. He hadn't bothered to try and tell him that Sabrina had never consummated her relationship with Edington. Charles wasn't likely to believe Douglas and it would matter little in the long run. For now, he would settle for peace between his father and his wife. "Promise me that you'll try with Sabrina. She cares for you a great deal and has been devastated by the distance."

Charles frowned but gave his son an absent nod. He was tired, his conversations with Sabrina and Douglas taking a toll. As he let the laudanum do its job and pull him back down into sleep Charles realized that above everything else he wanted his son to be happy.

Marcus stood off to one side, drinking and watching as Lord and Lady Whitman strove to put his mother and stepfather at ease. It was obvious to anyone watching that his mother still thought him responsible for Miss Whitman...ah, make that Lady Edington's fall from grace. It was also clear that his mother was completely at a loss as to how Marcus came to be married to the young lady.

His mother, herself of perfect breeding, would never think to actually ask after the details. She would make an assumption, come to a conclusion and move forward based on her own misbelief. Marcus was too indifferent to set her straight.

"My lord?"

Marcus looked down to find his bride standing beside him, concern marring her perfect brow. "Marcus," he said.

Joan blinked, "I beg your pardon?"

"The name is Marcus, we're married therefore you should use it," Marcus realized that he was quickly becoming intoxicated causing his tone to sharpen.

Having married the chit he now felt at a total loss as to what to do next. Watching her with her parents it was obvious that she came from a loving family, one comfortable with affection and free from trauma and scars.

"Joan," she said, "though my parents insist on calling me Joanie."

Marcus raised a brow at her tone, "You don't care for the name?"

"It makes me feel twelve years old and considering the tone it is usually uttered in like I've just been caught with a stolen cake." Not that Joan had ever actually stolen a cake...well...maybe one...

"Well, then, I shall refrain from using it," Marcus said. "Unless of course I catch you with a stolen cake."

Joan smiled in surprise at the gentle teasing. She had been watching Marcus, noting that he remained separate from the gathering, and had decided to try and draw him to join the others. She knew very little of him though her mother had warned that he had a reputation for being a rather cheerless fellow. Joan could certainly see how he gained such a reputation. For all his golden good looks he had an air about him of deep unhappiness. Joan, having been raised and protected by two loving parents, had no experience with darker emotions and wondered at their cause.

"Was there something you wished to ask me?" Marcus asked when she remained quiet.

"Hmmm?" Joan had been admiring her new husband, noting that his hair was a darker blond then hers and seemed to contain strands of red and gold. His eyes were also an unusual shade of blue - almost gray - unlike hers which had been compared to a clear, blue sky. There was absolutely nothing unusual about the color of the sky and she had wondered why young men felt the need to wax poetry over such ordinary eye color.

Marcus wondered what she could be thinking of staring up at him with such seemingly concentration. "Is there something I can do for you?" he asked again.

Joan blinked. "Oh, no...that is, I thought to come and check on you. Can I get you something to eat?" she offered. A buffet of breakfast foods had been set out in honor of her marriage. It was not the wedding celebration the family or the servants had thought to have upon her marriage. The circumstances of her marriage to Lord Edington had dictated a quick and quiet family celebration.

"I'm fine," Marcus assured her. "Will you want to remain with your family long?"

"I beg your pardon?" Joan asked in confusion.

"Your servants were ordered to move your belongings to my...our...townhouse this morning during the ceremony. I understand that you may wish to remain with your family for a while but I thought you might like to oversee the unpacking of you things and get settled." Marcus didn't mention the fact that it was only after his housekeeper had asked if she should open up the suite adjoining his that he had realized he would be bringing home a wife.

"Oh!" Joan said, having just realized that she wouldn't be sleeping in her own bed. "I honestly hadn't thought...that is, I'm ready to leave whenever you are," she said. A sudden flutter of nervousness settled into the pit of her stomach. While she had known the day would come would she would leave her parent's home for that of her husband she had thought to have more time to prepare. She had also thought to be more familiar with her husband having been courted by him prior to marriage. Unfortunately, she knew next to nothing about Marcus and wasn't sure how to go about rectifying the situation. The man didn't seem forthcoming with information about himself.

"Excellent," Marcus said, relieved at being free to leave. Setting aside his empty glass, he offered Miss Whit...er...Lady Edington his arm and prepared to escort her home.

"Marcus."

Marcus stiffened at the sound of his mother's voice.

"You're not leaving yet, are you?" she asked looking from him to his wife and back again.

"Indeed we are; it's been a long morning and I would like to see my wife settled." Marcus would have sworn his tongue nearly tripped over the word 'wife'.

"I had hoped we would have a chance to talk," Lady Billings said. "Perhaps the two of you would like to join us for dinner?"

"No," Marcus said. "Now if you'll excuse us..."

"I didn't mean tonight," his mother clarified, stepping in front of him and effectively blocking their exit. "Perhaps later this week, after the two of you have had a chance to settle in."

"No," Marcus said stepping around his mother. The last thing he wanted was subject either his wife or himself to an evening with his mother. They inevitably ended the same way - with her hurt and disappointed and Marcus drunk and angry.

"Marcus, please," his mother whispered. "Just give me a moment."

"Marcus?" Joan was watching him, clearly not understanding the undercurrents that flowed between him and his mother. If Marcus had his way she never would.

Marcus took a deep breath before turning back to his mother. Well aware that the room had grown quiet, he asked, "What is it, Mother?"

Lady Billings resisted the urge to reach for her son. No matter how hard she tried to breach the gap between them she always seemed to say exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time. "I just wanted to say that I'm...that is, to say congratulations."

Marcus clenched his teeth knowing full well that his mother had intended to say something else. "Thank you, Mother," Marcus said giving her a shallow bow. "Now, if you'll excuse us I would like to see my wife settled before the hour grows too late."

"Of course," she said finally stepping aside and letting them pass.

A moment later Marcus stood stiff in the foyer watching as Joan said her goodbyes. It wasn't just her parents but the entire household that turned out to see her off. It was obvious that she was well loved among the servants and that they were sad to see her go, more than a few of them throwing a suspicious glance Marcus' way.

After what seemed like forever they were escorted to his carriage, Lord and Lady Whitman watching from the front steps as they pulled away. Breathing his first sigh of relief in days, Marcus reached for his flask, taking a long pull before slipping it back into his coat pocket.

"Do you always drink so much?" Joan asked, watching Marcus as he settled back for the short ride.

"No," Marcus said. "I usually drink a lot more."

Joan wasn't sure what to say to such blunt honesty. "I rarely drink," she offered.

Marcus snorted, "No, I wouldn't think you would."

For some reason Joan found herself feeling strangely defensive at his words. "I've never understood the appeal," she said.

"Oblivion," Marcus said, "however temporary."

Joan found that the more time she spent with her new husband the less she understood him. He didn't make light conversation, didn't offer her compliments or suggest entertainments. He appeared dark and moody and she was starting to wonder if that was a constant state of affairs. Contrasted with that were the few glimpses of humor and thoughtfulness - she wondered which was the real man.

Marcus knew he was being a bastard but honestly didn't know what else to do. He suddenly found himself with a wife yet had no notions of what to do with her. He'd barely spent ten minutes with the chit since first meeting her and now they were married. How the hell had that happened? Sabrina.

Remembering her last visit Marcus recalled how much he had hated thinking he had some how disappointed her. Regardless of how their affair had ended it had ended. He didn't hold out any hope for them but he couldn't shake the truth of one simple statement. For a while, with her, he had been happy and somehow she had managed to convince him that he could have that again.

Marcus was saved from his own thoughts by their timely arrival home. With one final look at his wife, he hopped down and said, "Welcome home."

Joan stared from Marcus' outstretched hand to the townhouse behind him. Like the man, the house stood tall, imposing and dark. Not a single light shown in the windows and the door remained closed. There was nothing welcoming about the place and Joan felt her heart start to hammer in apprehension.

Marcus saw something in her expression and forced his features to softened. Reaching for her hand, he said, "Come, it will be alright. I promise."

Joan nodded and let him lead her from the carriage, up the front steps and into the foyer.

The inside wasn't any better. Joan was met with an oppressive darkness that had her longing to step back out into the light of the afternoon. From the foyer she could see the stairs leading to the second floor and a long hallway leading towards the back of the house. All of the doors appeared to be closed and the drapes drawn. She had the feeling that the house had been closed up for a very long time. "Do you stay here often?" she asked.

Marcus gave her a strange look, "This is my primary residence," he said. "There are several other estates, of course, but I prefer London."

"I see," she said, though she wondered how anyone could live in such a depressing place.

"This is Dillon," Marcus said indicating an older gentleman that stood waiting.

"Hello," Joan said.

"Mary is our housekeeper," he continued as a middle aged woman stepped forward and dipped a quick curtsy. "She can answer any questions you might have about the house."

Marcus helped Joan from her cloak and handed it to Dillon. "Shelly will show you to your rooms," Marcus said handing her off to a young maid.

"Where are you going?" Joan asked, suddenly nervous at being left alone.

"I have business to tend to," Marcus said, heading towards his study.

"Will I see you later?" she asked.

Marcus stopped and looked up at where his wife stood on the stairs. "Of course," he said. "It is our wedding night."

Joan watched him disappear down the hall before turning to follow the maid upstairs, the reminder of their upcoming wedding night echoing around her head.

Following Shelly, Joan noted that the second floor wasn't any better than the first. All of the drapes were drawn, the doors closed and few lit candles. With a sinking feeling she followed Shelly down the hall to a door on the right.

Stepping inside Joan felt her breath catch at the first glimpse of her room. Open and airy, it was decorated in pale blue and delicate furniture. It was the epidome of feminine grace and stood in bright contrast to the rest of the house.

"His lordship had us open and redo the room in honor of your arrival. He said to tell you that you were to change anything you didn't like." The entire house had been surprised to learn of Lord Edington's upcoming nuptials - even more so when hearing their new mistress was a young lady.

"Thank you, Shelly." Joan was stunned. After seeing the rest of the house she had expected dark furniture and oppressive fabrics. Nothing could have prepared her for this. Turning to the young woman, she asked, "Can you act as lady's maid? I'm afraid I didn't bring my own." Joan had always shared a maid with her mother and there was no way Cory would leave her mother to follow Joan to her new residence.

"Yes, ma'am," Shelly said.

"Very good," Joan said. Walking through her new rooms she found her trunks waiting. "Let's start with the clothes. I'd like to get as many of the dress hung as possible and avoid having to press them."

Shelly nodded and together they started pulling dresses from the trunks.

"Lady Radcliff," George said.

Sabrina looked up from her sewing. "Yes, George."

"His grace is asking for you."

Sabrina blinked in surprise. Turning, she looked at Mae in question. Mae shrugged her shoulders and went back to reviewing the household accounts. Douglas was in the library going over a number of correspondence which left her little choice but to answer the summons. "Thank you, George," Sabrina said. "I'll be right up."

Sabrina hadn't sat with or spoken with the duke since their last conversation. It saddened her to think that those were likely the last words they would ever say to each other. It wasn't how she had hoped to say goodbye to her father in-law but she held to the belief that it was better he blame her then Douglas. Feeling a knot of apprehension, she set aside her sewing and followed George.

Sabrina found the duke still in bed. It was obvious that he had recently bathed and changed into a fresh dressing gown. A light meal, barely eaten, sat off to one side of the massive bed. "You wanted to see me," Sabrina said remaining by the door.

"Indeed," he said and indicated a book that lay open on his bedside table. "I was hoping you would finish the tale."

Sabrina felt her eyes start to tear at the invitation. The book was left over from her first visit to Arlington Park. After Douglas had to return to London Sabrina had taken to reading to the duke in the afternoons, often times staying with him until he fell asleep. "Of course," she said and went to pick up the book.

Charles nodded as she sat down and settled into listen.

Joan had just finished overseeing the last of her unpacking when a knock sounded at the door. "Enter," she said thinking it was Marcus.

"Evening, my lady," Mary said, carrying in a serving tray. "Lord Edington asked that I bring you something to eat."

Joan watched as the housekeeper set the tray on a small table in front of the fire and arrange a place for her to sit. "Will his lordship be joining me?" she asked.

Mary busied herself with the place serving, unable to look the young woman in the eyes. "He didn't say, ma'am."

He didn't have to, Joan thought, as Mary set out a place sitting for one. "Well, it smells wonderful," she said forcing a light tone to her voice. "Thank you."