“You need bright colors then,” said the French maid. “The cerise riding habit, or the orange.”
They ultimately decided on the deep yellow-gold, since it looked so well with her hair, and because yellow-gold was one of Arlington’s favorite colors. Anything to quell that quiet fury in his gaze.
“If you want to look happy, Madam, you must smile,” said Pascale in her strident way. She adjusted Gwen’s hat again, seeking that perfect angle. “People go to the park to see and be seen. Make sure that they see what you want them to see.”
What did Gwen want them to see? That she loved her husband? It was hard to capture that feeling in the confusion of her muddled thoughts. He was waiting when she came out of her dressing room, and inspected her with a critical gaze.
“Will I do?” she asked tightly, as his perusal strung out.
“You’ll do fine if you keep your temper,” he replied with a warning note.
At least Gwen would be able to ride Eira again. She’d been overjoyed to see the mare yesterday, even if she was a different animal now. Tamed and subdued. Gwen would still love her forever, and Eira seemed to understand that love. She nickered softly when Gwen appeared, nosing her hand for a treat. Gwen tsked and petted her muzzle. “I see. Is that how they trained you so prettily?”
She went to the stable master and secured a bit of apple to feed her pet, as Arlington looked on impatiently. At last they set off to the park. Eira did very well among the sounds and sights of the busy London streets, so Gwen could relax and look about. London was still new to her. In fact, she doubted she would ever get used to all the people. Everyone gawked at the duke, and Gwen had to admit he looked very fine in his deep hunter green coat, atop his oversized stallion.
When they arrived at Hyde Park, it was even more crowded, and people still stared, although they stared with a great deal more judgment. She was glad now that Pascale had taken so much time with her hair and clothes, and so carefully adjusted the tilt of her riding hat.
Arlington stayed beside her, his black crop tucked beneath his arm. “Smile, would you?” he said between his teeth. “Or there’ll be another on-dit in the paper tomorrow.”
She tried to smile but there were people everywhere, staring and shouting back and forth to one another. A few gentlemen addressed the duke, and he introduced her as the Duchess of Arlington. She would never remember all the names. Lord this and Lord that, and Lady something-or-other who giggled behind her hand.
“Was that woman laughing at me?” asked Gwen when the last group moved along.
“I told you how things would be in London,” he said. “Didn’t you believe me? People are vicious. That’s the way the ton works. You’ve stopped smiling again.”
“I don’t feel like smiling.”
“You’ll do better to smile and pretend, than keep frowning that way.”
She looked down under the pretense of smoothing her gloves. She tried to curve her lips into a smile before she looked up again. They were garnering a great deal of attention, and yes, furtive mockery. One bold gentleman pointed before lowering his hand. This was why Arlington had punished her so angrily, she supposed. She had not only embarrassed him before the king and queen, but before his entire social set.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“There’s nothing for it now. Hold your head up another moment, and we’ll go.”
Thank God. Her face hurt from forcing a smile and pretending to be happy. She wanted nothing more on earth than to be away from these crowds, but then...
Then he’d take her home. She glanced at the square set of his jaw, framed by his queued hair. She noted his strong legs and broad shoulders, and thought about the things he did to her in private. She didn’t know if she dreaded them or wanted them again. Perhaps both. At least in his arms—or his Greek temple—she passed muster.
They rode back to Arlington House in silence. She could not divine his thoughts, although she guessed them quite unpleasant. How long would they be laughingstocks? How long would those crowds in the park judge her, and judge their marriage? Forever, she feared.
As they neared the house, there was a great clatter of carriages out front. She recognized the duke’s Oxfordshire friends and their wives, and wondered why they had come to call. Arlington went to speak to Lord Warren, and then Lord Barrymore appeared. It was a relief to see them, in a way. It meant he wouldn’t be taking her to bed again, for a few hours at least. She did not enjoy his perverse and sadistic tastes.
Or perhaps she didn’t enjoy the fact that she enjoyed them, when she really didn’t want to.
Oh, it was all such a terrible coil.
Chapter Thirteen: Frank Talks
Aidan watched helplessly from the foyer as the servants bustled back and forth with trunks and baggage, and the Warrens’ baby crib. The ladies had gone upstairs to consult on sleeping arrangements. Aidan went into his parlor, where his gentlemen friends had gathered before the fire.
“So you’ve come to stay,” he said. “All of you?”
“We’ve come to bide a fortnight or so, if you’ll have us,” said Warren. “The ladies decided you had the grandest house, and the best place to throw a Christmas party.”
“A party?” Aidan echoed.
“We’re not just here to throw a party,” Townsend said, nudging Warren’s shoulder. “Tell him the truth.” He turned to Aidan. “We’ve come to save your marriage, which is reportedly in a shambles.”
“You read it in the papers?” he asked acerbically.
“And heard it at the club, and in the park, and in the ladies’ circles,” said Barrymore. “Sorry to give you the news, but it’s on everyone’s tongue.”
“Is it as bad as they say?” asked Warren. “Did your duchess really appeal to Queen Charlotte for an annulment?”
“Dear God. Is that the gossip?”
His three friends gazed at him in sympathy.
“Well, of course that isn’t true,” he said, pacing across the room. “I mean, she didn’t specifically say that. She said something more along the lines of wishing she’d never left Wales.”
“Blast,” said Townsend. “That’s not much better.”
“She also conversed with Queen Charlotte about ‘bearing my heirs.’ Neither she nor the king was charmed.”
“Goodness, Arlington,” said Warren. “What an uncomfortable audience that must have been.”
“Uncomfortable does not begin to describe it.” He poured a drink for himself, and for all his friends. “As for saving my marriage, I doubt it can be done. Once she gives me a handful of children, I suppose I’ll let her go back to Wales the way she wants.”
“What? Really?” said Barrymore. “Things are that bad?”
Aidan tossed back his drink, feeling cross and humiliated. “I know you three bunglers managed to make a go of your marriages, but Guinevere and I are poorly suited. We don’t get along. I would go so far as to say she despises me.”
“Why??
?? they all asked in varying degrees of outrage.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t stick your cock so deep in her mouth,” said Warren under his breath.
Barrymore smacked him on the side of the head. “This isn’t a time for laughs, Warren.”
Townsend glowered at him. “I agree. Show some respect to our old friend, and more importantly, his wife.”
“Forgive me,” said Warren, throwing up his hands. “I only feel rather helpless. Out of all of us, you’ve always been the finest, most stand-up chap, and the ladies adore Guinevere. There must be a way for the pair of you to come to terms.”
“The marriage is young yet,” said Townsend. “There’s still hope.”
There were times Aidan had hope, but those times were always followed by some wretched scene of emotional destruction. He wondered what his friends would say if he described his last twenty-four hours with his wife. I caned her for embarrassing me before the crown, then sodomized her as a form of punishment while she was tied to my bed. Later, I took her to the temple, bent her over a wooden trunk, and fucked her...
“You’re welcome to stay, of course,” Aidan said. “But I’m not sure if you can help.”
“It’s not as if we didn’t all have our own problems,” said Barrymore. “I broke my wife’s heart to pieces before I managed to get my head on straight.”
“And I made Josephine run away from me twice,” Warren said. “Once all the way into the country.”
“Shouldn’t have stuck your cock so deep in her mouth,” Aidan said.
“I couldn’t help it,” Warren retorted.
Aidan refilled their drinks, and the three of them looked at Townsend. He glanced over his shoulder and back at them. “What, my turn now?”
“C’mon, Towns,” said Barrymore. “Confess.”
He lifted his arms with a woebegone expression. “I don’t know where to begin. Before we even married, I tried to duck out of my engagement by trysting with another woman, who, thanks to you all, ended up being her.” Townsend continued enumerating his missteps on his fingers. “I also spanked her on our wedding night, forced her to learn bedroom techniques more suited to a courtesan, then bought her an insect to try to win her affections.”