Page 64 of The Rum and The Fox

“She’s too hard on you,” Keziah said, looking away from him as she walked to the stairs, anxious at what he might see if he looked in her eyes, but surely the tenor of her voice had been enough.

“Ah, well,” Ash said with a shrug as he followed her ascent. “I’m not the man she hoped for. My grandfather and my father were huge men, both physically and metaphorically, heroic figures, in fact. She sees none of that in me, and so is disappointed. Only natural, I suppose,” he added with a sad smile.

“No, it isn’t,” Keziah snapped, pausing on the stairs. “It’s idiotic beyond words.”

Ash looked back at her in surprise and Keziah blushed, realising she’d just rather badly insulted his grandmother. She cleared her throat and carried on up the stairs.

“I shall see you in a little while,” Ash continued as they walked to her room, his tone polite and formal as Keziah’s heart plummeted. “I … I think perhaps there are things we should discuss.” He gave her a smile that did not reach his eyes and turned and left her at her bedroom door.

Keziah said nothing, though a painful, icy sensation prickled in her chest at his words, yet she was too awkward to know how to tell him that she didn’t want to let him go yet, or ever, and that she didn’t want a discussion about anything, anything at all. Opening the door, she stepped inside and closed it behind her.

The room was quiet and still, though she knew Molly would be here any moment, bustling about and getting her from the sodden pelisse with nimble fingers. Her bonnet was likely beyond repair, and she dreaded to think what her hair looked like beneath it, sodden as it was, the occasional, icy drip still running down her neck. She’d likely get a scolding for not having begun herself.

Yet she could not move.

She was free, she told herself, free of her father, free of Martin, free of debt and the constant fear of starvation or disgrace, of bailiffs knocking on the door or those who were being blackmailed by Lord Todd regarding her with hatred.

It was all over.

She was the Duchess of Chartley, a powerful, wealthy woman with everything she could wish for and a husband … a husband …

Keziah turned and grasped the door handle, wrenching it open. Hurrying down the hallway, she found Ash’s door and rushed through it, forcing her way in without even knocking.

There was an exclamation of horror from his valet, who was holding Ash’s mauled coat with the expression of someone in deep mourning, and Ash himself turned, his hands at his cravat, his eyes wide as he saw her tumble into the room.

“Keziah, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I … I …” she began, staring at his valet and wondering how to tell him to get the hell out as he showed no inclination to move.

With one reproving look, Ash had more effect and the valet hurried away with an indignant expression, carrying the duke’s dishevelled jacket like a wounded comrade.

So now they were alone, but Keziah still didn’t know what she wanted to say. Blushing furiously, she stared at her husband, who looked just as awkward.

“Yes, we need to talk, don’t we?” he said, sounding stern and serious and as far from what she had come to expect of him as could be. He turned away from her and continued to undo his cravat, flinging the sodden material onto the dressing table.

No, no, no, Keziah cried inwardly, she had meant to stop this speech, not hasten it.

“Best get it over with, I suppose,” he added, sounding like he regretted what he would say next, and it made Keziah want to fall to her knees and beg him to reconsider. “I realise that … that our marriage was … is not what you had hoped for, nor I the kind of man that you likely intended to marry,” he began as Keziah felt a lump grow in her throat. No, Ash, please don’t, don’t send me away. The words jostled in her brain, the pain of them heavy in her chest, yet her throat was too constricted and she could not force them through.

“So …” he continued, “I thought, perhaps, it would be best if … if we come to agree what … what …”

Keziah could hold back the tumult of emotion no more. The fear and stress of the past days combined with misery as she feared she might lose her only chance for happiness before it had even begun, and she began to sob, her arms clutching at her sides, pitiful, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Keziah!” Ash exclaimed, turning and rushing over to her. He hauled her into his arms, holding her tight as she clung to him in turn. The now familiar scent of him embraced her as he did, fresh linen and soap and a light citrus aroma that had become so very dear to her. “Don’t cry, please, I can’t bear it. Come now, love, it’s … it’s not so bad, you’ll see …” he said, stroking her hair. “I was going to tell you, you see that I’ll keep my word if that’s what you want now… I won’t interfere with … with your life …”

Keziah shook her head and sobbed harder still, wishing she could get the words out. Instead, she looked up at him, his handsome face blurred through her tears, but not so distorted that she could not see the misery in his eyes.

“Is it … do you want … to … to divorce me, is that it?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “Because if it is … I … I don’t think …”

“No!” The word was wrenched from her mouth as Ash stared at her, obviously as miserable as she, and utterly confused. “No, I won’t let you divorce me, I won’t!”

Ash laughed, though it was a hesitant sound. He reached out a hand and touched her face, looking a little unsure, as though he wasn’t convinced he had the right to touch her so.

“Let me?” he repeated, sounding incredulous. “I will not divorce you, Keziah. I know I am a selfish wretch, and I know well that you do not feel the same, but … but I love you. I have loved you from the start, from that very first night I saw you, and I will not let you go, at least … not entirely.” The look in his eyes was so honest and so very raw that Keziah’s breath hitched. “I cannot say that I will not mind if you take a lover, for I shall, very much, but I forced you into this marriage when I knew it was not what you wanted and …”

“Shut up!”

Ash stopped as bid, his eyes wide as anger finally broke through the knot in Keziah’s throat. “You did not force me into this marriage, Ash, you sought only to protect me, to save me, I know that.”