Page 19 of The Duke and His Jilted Bride

Aurelia followed him through the connecting doors without speaking. She had been quiet since the entrance hall, looking around cautiously, mostly keeping pace with Nike.

The music room was at the far end. He opened the door and stood back to let her in first, and he watched her stop in the doorway.

The instruments were more or less arranged as his great-aunt had left them. Her collection, gathered over forty years. Every piece was unique. The pianoforte at the centre, a Clementi & Co, was in better condition than it had any right to be. Around it, cases of smaller instruments, a viola da gamba in its stand, two lutes, a harpsichord against the far wall that had been built in Antwerp supposedly, which Evander's father had once offered to sell and the entire household had revolted. And so much more it made his head spin.

Aurelia walked into the room slowly, a hand pressed against her neck.

“It is a little cold in here,” Evander said, moving to light more candles. “But I see they removed the dust sheets for you. They must have heard that you were a musician. Who can say how. Word travels fast. About musical duchesses. About eloping brothers and brides.”

She ran her hand along the edge of the pianoforte without touching the keys. She stopped at the harpsichord and looked at it closely, stopping at the painted panels on the lid: birds, flowers, a small hunting scene in the corner. She looked at the viola in its stand, at the lutes in their cases, at the shelves of bound and sometimes crumbling music books along the east wall.

Evander only realised he was staring when a bead of wax dropped on his hand, and he flinched with a hiss.

“Is this the surprise you mentioned in the coach?” Aurelia asked.

Her voice was strange. He worried he had done something wrong.

“Yes. This was hers,” he said, setting down his candle steadily. “The duchess had no children, which meant she could spend her husband’s money on things she actually wanted. Evidently she wanted a great deal of instruments.” He paused. “This room has not been used since my father's time. He could not play and did not see the point of a room that only meant to host a musician. Mother had no ear for music, and my brother and I are completely without rhythm.” A pause. “Is something wrong? Is this–”

He stopped, because Aurelia had turned around, and she was crying.

Her face had barely registered the emotion, but her eyes glistened in the candlelight, and he heard her sniff. Evander had not expected this. He had thought she would be pleased.

“Aurelia,” he said, and then stopped, because he did not know what he should say next.

She pressed her fingers to her mouth for a moment, then wiped her eyes with her sleeve. She looked at the pianoforte, looked back at him.

“Would you really give me this room?” she said.

“Yes, but only if you want it,” he replied carefully. “It occurred to me that you might…" He stopped again. He was not, as he had told her, an eloquent man. “It is yours. If you want it. Of all the areas of this manor this wing is the emptiest. That is all. I thought it would help for someone to care for it, and it would give you something to do in the meantime.”

She looked at him for a long moment in that old music room, with its beeswax smell and its centuries’ old instruments, and he could not read her expression at all, which was unusual. He did not look away.

Not even when she parted her lips to speak, and his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. Her opinion should not have mattered so much to him about these small things. And yet…

And yet.

Seven

“Oh, don’t mind me. I am fine, I swear,” Aurelia said, not convincing him, her cheeks going red with embarrassment. She pressed the back of her hand briefly to each eye in a way that was meant to look casual but didn’t really. “It is just so unexpected. And it has been a very long day, and I didn’t sleep much last night. But this room… It’s just a lot to take in.”

Evander nodded, gripping the candleholder tighter. He had learned in the past week that Aurelia did not like to be crowded when something had caught her off guard. So he stayed where he was and let her look at the pianoforte again, and he waited for her to say something that would finally put him at ease.

And then she said it: “It is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me,” she whispered to the pianoforte rather than to him. “I am not accustomed to these kinds of gestures.” She stopped and started differently. “Don’t mistake me. My aunt is very generous. And Lydia is generous. And other friends I have had have been generous too, before they married their husbands and got too busy. But this is…” She gestured, a small movement of her hand that seemed to indicate the room, the instruments, the history of the house, all of it. “This is something else entirely. Or maybe I am just tired,” she added with a self-depricating laugh, but she was crying again.

He crossed the room. He was not certain when he decided to do this. It was the same instinct that had made him catch her in the church, the same thing that operated before his mind made itself up. He put his free arm around her carefully, drawing her into him. She went very still.

“I am sorry,” he said quietly, above her head. “If any of this has made you unhappy. I made you marry me. I know that. I told myself it was the only reasonable choice, and don’t mistake me, I still believe that. But I am aware that reasonable does not always mean easy – and this is my home but it is not yours yet.” He paused. “I will try to be what Frederick would have been. I know I am not– I know we are different men by a mile. But I have to try for my sake and yours. We will have what we will have, but you will have this room.”

Aurelia pulled back just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were still shining with tears but her expression had changed, from something soft to something more direct. Had he misspoken?

“But I don't want you to be like Frederick,” she murmured.

He looked at her, stepping back slightly but still holding her. And suddenly the inappropriateness of what he had done hit him all at once. But he was holding her now, and releasing her would have been worse than not.

“What Frederick and I had was the worst kind of convenience,” she continued. “And a much different convenience than what you and I have found ourselves accepting. Your brother… I liked him. He was charming. I was suitable. And we were both sensible enough to know that was enough for a marriage. And Aunt Violet was beside herself. We have never hoped for a marquess. We always thought I would marry down not up because of my circumstances.” She stepped back slightly, out of his arms, and he let her go. “The night he decided to marry me, there were at least four other women in that drawing room who would have said yes, and likely more than that he could have selected via a letter. He could have chosen any of them, but I think I was nearest, at the right place at the right time, and that was the extent of his consideration of the matter.”

“You cannot say that with any confidence,” he argued.