Page 83 of Rough and Rugged
“Close your eyes and keep them closed.” I place a slice on each of his eyelids. “This will cool and moisten your eyes.”
He catches my hand and squeezes it. “Thank you. I think.”
“Sleep if you can and in a quarter hour or so, I will replace the slices with fresh ones.”
“Where did you learn about cucumbers?”
“An old secret to give one bright and sparkling eyes. Just rest while I finish with the linens.” I gently pull my hand from his. What a ridiculous way to begin ending our connection.
When I return later to replace the slices, he is asleep. I stare at him for a few moments. Will I be able to push him away? I take the coward’s route and hurry home to hide in bed. I must break it off with Philip, try to explain why we must stamp out our feelings for each other. Can I tell him exactly why? Maybe, if I can suppress my tears.
I am utterly miserable. I cannot forget his touches, his kisses, how much I love being with him when we are in each other’s arms; but also when we talk about the estate, the walnut trees, and our dreams. But we must be finished with our intimacies. When I go out, I’ll see him everywhere, hear of his work, his ideas, his spirit. The whole community focuses on his every move, his every word. The tiniest rumor spreads everywhere. Every village maiden has fallen in love with him. And mamas all over the realm are inventing reasons to visit Abersham village.
I cannot rest. Not the slightest thought enters my mind without images of Philip. If this is love, I call it more an obsession than a delight. Blinding passion at one moment, sweet remembrance of his soft lips the next. Neither extreme is acceptable. I wish I could talk to my mother, to confess to someone besides Betsy, to be soothed by a considerate and gentle soul, with sympathy for my longing for his touch. I try to shut out the ache that brings such passion, desire, hunger—the emptiness I long to be filled. If only I had told him it was over, but when I tried to explain it, words failed.
Worst of all, I believe he loves me too, with all the power I feel for him. I must stay away from him. What if he turns to me with eyes filled with yearning and others recognize the truth? I imagine Philip receiving Lady Broadmoor and her daughter. Or others on the hunt, beautiful young females with status, tempting dowries, and worthy settlements. He can’t tell anyone he loves me. What young woman would agree to marry a man who loves another? Though since he is a duke, she might ignore his true desires for the sake of status. Ambitious mamas would not allow a duke’s prior romance to prevent a daughter’s ascent to the height of the peerage. My pillow is already damp with tears. I rest my forehead on my arm and sniffle.
How can I get away from here, and put duchesses and dukes out of my mind. The only place is my aunt’s house in Bath. Her children are all married off and she now shares a house near Queen Square with another widow. Once, she invited me to visit, and I suppose she would welcome me now. It seems like the only thing to do. I rise and scribble a note of inquiry, without explaining the real reason I want to come.
Chapter Seven
Iamdeterminedtofinish my speech. “So, go ahead,” I say to the duke. “Marry Lady Caroline Preston. Her grandmother says she meets every requirement to be an ideal duchess. You will find her lovely and amiable, ready to be your perfect wife and mother of your heir. And she is rich.” As much as I hoped to find a flaw, neither Betsy nor I could fault her when she arrived at the vicarage yesterday.
“My God! Don’t you understand? I have no idea how to be a duke. The only example I know is my great uncle, the man who ruined Aberfeld and its tenants. The last years of his life were miserable, as you can see from the mess he left for posterity.”
I called Philip to our house tonight to break off our flirtation. But when I name it a dalliance, he explodes in rage. His eyes bore into me like a steady flash of lightning. His anger knows no bounds and he speaks through clenched teeth and tight lips.
“What do they mean I have to wed a rich wife? I need an income, it is true, but I intend to achieve it myself. Who is saying I need an heiress?”
“Everyone—the tenants, the staff, Lady Broadmoor. And lots of titled mamas who want their daughters to marry a duke. That’s who.”
“Do you think their opinions mean anything to me?” he hisses. “You are the only woman I love.”
“Your Grace, I have no qualifications to be a duchess. I will spoil your future and you will come to resent me. Everyone knows it.”
“Nonsense. I know my own mind. Do you find me short on brain power? Am I some sort of simpleton?”
“Yes!” I shout at him. “Yes, a dunce. Irresponsible. You have a whole neighborhood that used to depend on Aberfeld. Dozens of families want to make you successful again. Look how they have turned out to help. You have no right to overlook their needs. Do you intend to be as reckless as your uncle?”
“Are you bloody well finished?” His face is red, eyes flashing.
I fight off impending tears. “Yes. I am finished.” I can hardly force out the words. “Finished. Forever.” I turn away and run toward the staircase.
“Correct, Meg. I want forever!”
As I reach the top of the stairs, I hear the slam of the front door.
A few days later, I am trying to escape into a novel when I hear Philip’s voice.
“I only ask that you hear me out,” the duke shouts through the door of Bowen Hall. “Please, Meg, let me in.”
How can I make him go away? My mind is made up and my trunk is packed for Bath. “Come back tomorrow,” I yell back.
“I need to talk to you now. You know how stubborn I am.”
It is a good thing my father got rid of the butler ages ago. He would have had spasms at this scene. “Go away.”
“I will not leave this doorstep until you give me ten minutes. I mean that, even if I have to sleep here overnight.”