Weddings of the Century: A Pair of Wedding Novellas(45)

Before she had wondered if he had a mistress; now, sickeningly, she wondered if he had a woman who was not only his mistress, but his beloved. There had been a raw emotion in his voice that made her think, for the first time, that he was capable of loving deeply. Had he been forced to forsake the woman he loved so that he could maintain Swindon?

Sensing distress, Daisy whimpered and pushed her cool nose into Sunny’s hand. Mechanically she stroked the dog’s silky ears. What a wretched world they lived in! But even if Justin loved another woman, he was her husband and she must make the best of this marriage. Someday, if she was a very good wife, perhaps he would love her, at least a little.

She desperately hoped so, for there was a hole in the center of her life that the frivolity of the Season would never fill.



*

Sunny’s depression was not improved by the discovery that the dowager duchess was in an unusually caustic mood. Throughout an interminable dinner, she made acid remarks about the neighbors, the government and most of all her son.

As fruit and cheese were served, she said, “A pity that Justin hasn’t the Aubrey height and coloring. Gavin was a much more handsome man, just as Blanche and Charlotte are far prettier than Alexandra.”

Suppressing her irritation, Sunny said coolly, “I’ve studied the portraits and the first duke, John Aubrey, was dark and of medium build. Justin and Alexandra resemble him much more than your other children do.”

The dowager sniffed. “The first duke was a notable general, but though it pains me to admit it, he was a very low sort of man in other ways. A pity that the peasant strain hasn’t yet been bred out of the family.” She gave an elaborate sigh. “Such a tragedy that Justin did not die instead of Gavin.”

Sunny gasped, stunned. How dare that woman say she wished Justin had died in his brother’s place! Justin was worth a dozen charming, worthless wastrels like Gavin. She glanced at her husband and saw that he was carefully peeling an apple, as if his mother hadn’t spoken, but there was a painful bleakness in his eyes.

If he wouldn’t speak, she would. Laying her fork beside her plate, she said flatly, “You must not speak so about Justin, Duchess.”

“You forget who I am, madam.” The dowager’s eyes gleamed with pleasure at the prospect of a battle. “As the mother who suffered agonies to bear him, I can say what I wish.”

“And you forget who I am,” Sunny said with deadly precision. “The mistress of Swindon Palace. And I will no longer tolerate such vile, ill-natured remarks.”

The dowager gasped, her jaw dropping open. “How dare you!”

Not backing down an inch, Sunny retorted, “I dare because it is a hostess’s duty to maintain decorum at her table, and there has been a sad lack of that at Swindon.”

The dowager swept furiously to her feet. “I will not stay here to be insulted by an impertinent American!”

Deliberately misinterpreting her mother-in-law’s words, Sunny said, “As you wish, Duchess. I can certainly understand why you prefer to have your own establishment. If I were to be widowed, I would feel the same way. The Dower House is a very charming residence, isn’t it?”

The dowager’s jaw went slack as she realized that a simple flounce from the table had been transformed into total eviction. Closing her mouth with a snap, she turned to glare at Justin. “Are you going to allow an insolent American hussy to drive me from my own home?”

Justin looked from his mother to his wife, acute discomfort on his face. Silently Sunny pleaded with him to support her. He had said that she was the mistress of Swindon. If he didn’t back her now, her position would become intolerable.

“You’ve been complaining that the new central heating gives you headaches, Mother,” Justin said expressionlessly. “I think it an excellent idea for you to move to the Dower House so that you will be more comfortable. We shall miss you, of course, but fortunately you won’t be far away.”

Sunny shut her eyes for an instant, almost undone by relief. When she opened them again, the dowager’s venomous gaze had gone to her daughter. “The Dower House isn’t large enough for me to have Alexandra underfoot,” she said waspishly. “She shall have to stay in the palace.”

Before her mother-in-law could reconsider, Sunny said warmly, “Very true. Until she marries, Alexandra belongs at Swindon.”

“If she ever marries,” the dowager said viciously. Knowing that she was defeated and that the only way to salvage her dignity was to pretend that moving was her own idea, she added, “You shall have to learn to run the household yourself, Sarah, for I have been longing to travel. I believe I shall spend the rest of the winter in southern France. England is so dismal at this season.” Ramrod straight, she marched from the room.

Sunny, Justin and Alexandra were left sitting in brittle silence. Not daring to meet her husband’s eyes, Sunny said, “I’m sorry if I was disrespectful to your mother, but... but I’m not sorry for what I said!”

“That’s a contradiction in terms,” he said, sounding sad and weary, but not angry. Changing the subject, he continued, “By the way, I saw Lord Hopstead in London, and he invited us for a weekend visit and ball at Cottenham. I thought the three of us could go, then you could take Alexandra on to Paris for her fittings.”

Relieved that he didn’t refer to her confrontation with the dowager, Sunny said, “That sounds delightful. Are you ready for your first ball, Alexandra? I have a gown that will look marvelous on you with only minor alterations.”