Page 59 of Her Wily Duke

“Yes?”

“I wish to apologise.”

“What for?”

The caution had faded, replaced by something which spoke more of curiosity.

“For the fact that I ever listened to any of your father’s advice, with respect to our marriage. I am not saying that I regret the marriage – but I do regret listening to the advice.”

She frowned, and he suspected that she was dealing with an internal conflict between the need to defend her father, simply because he was her father, and the desire to accept what Benedict said, and acknowledge that her father’s advice had not helped them, but had harmed them instead. After some time, while he waited in silence, she gave the tiniest nod, then spoke softly.

“Thank you. I… feel as if I should defend my father, and yet… I agree with what you imply – what he believed about how our marriage should go forward has not helped… I do not know how else one goes about a marriage, for my parents’ marriage is the only example I have had, yet I am quite certain that I do not wish us to go on as they have. That sounds so disloyal, yet it is the truth. There must be a better way.”

Benedict smiled, feeling a weight lift from him.

“I agree. Shall we try to discover that better way? I think it best if we do that ourselves, and mention nothing of any change in our attitudes to your father – I would not distress him, now that his health has so declined.”

Ariana’s brow creased.

“He was so unwell when we last saw him. I fear…”

“So do I. But he has the best of physicians – there is nothing more we can do, sadly.”

A sniff escaped her, and with infinite care Benedict reached out, and slipped his arm around her. She stiffened, then, when he did nothing more, that stiffness left her, and with a huge sigh, she began to cry softly. He pulled her gently against his shoulder and held her for the long minutes until the tears eventually slowed.

***

Ariana’s letters to Helena began to reflect more cheer, and more hope, to which Helena responded with cautions, and a disbelief in the idea that a man could change as Ariana described Benedict as changing. Ariana pushed those cautions aside, clinging to the hope which was beginning to grow in her heart, like the blossoming of spring flowers, even as the world outside became dark and snow crusted, the trees bare and the sky grey.

They still went for walks, on those days when there was not snow or rain, and became more comfortable with each other. As they did, that comfort, that hope, was threatened by only one thing – Ariana’s memories.

For when the one man she had ever loved had died, she had sworn to have no more to do with men, as anything more than distant friends. She had been forced to marriage, yet she had remained determined in that refusal to care for another man. But now… now she found herself beginning to truly care for Benedict – this new Benedict who did not deliver dictatorial lectures, who did not demand and argue, but who spoke softly, and listened to her replies, who looked at her as if he cared what she thought and said. As if he cared…

Now, she felt trapped in a completely new way – to care for Benedict seemed a betrayal of all David had been to her, despite the fact that he was more than two years in the grave. Yet to remain steadfast in her care for David, now that she was married to Benedict, and cared for him, seemed a terrible betrayal of Benedict.

It was an impossible conundrum, made worse by the fact that Benedict knew nothing of her past.

The inescapable conclusion which she came to, was that she had to tell Benedict, had to suffer through it all again, by putting it into words, so that he might understand why she had been so very cold to him at the start of their marriage. The very idea of telling him made her feel quite ill.

Perhaps it would be easier if she knew more about Benedict first? Perhaps it was time to ask him about the history of Darkmire Abbey, and his family, about the rumours. In truth, she had now long since decided that the vast majority of those rumours could have no basis in truth – for nothing about Benedict made her give them credence.

But she wanted to know why they existed. Why Darkmire Abbey felt so very haunted – for it did – there were many times when she felt as if someone watched her, both in the house, and out in the gardens and fields. Tonight – she resolved that she would ask him that very night, and see what he might be willing to tell her.

That decision made, she was about to rise from where she sat in the library, when a footman came in with the correspondence tray.

“A letter for you, Your Grace.”

Ariana lifted it from the tray, and quickly broke the seal – she knew, from the moment that she saw the hand it was addressed in, that it was from Helena. As she read it, a bubble of happiness bloomed inside her.

Helena would be visiting her aunt, Mrs Harbottle, for a single day as she and her mother travelled to London. She asked that Ariana call on her on that day, so that they might see each other in person for the first time in five years. Joyfully, Ariana wrote a reply, declaring that she would be more than happy to call.

Mrs Harbottle was a reasonable woman, sister to Viscount Catesby, Helena’s father, but her husband Mr Harbottle was, whilst rich, a rather crass gentleman and prone to displaying his wealth in a manner which anyone with taste would find rather overblown. But to see Helena, Ariana could certainly ignore that for one day.

***

In the end, Ariana did not get the chance to ask Benedict about his family, Darkmire Abbey, or the rumours, that evening. Benedict had gone to the closest larger town that afternoon, to see his man of business about a dispute over a boundary with one of the neighbouring estates, and returned to Darkmire Abbey so late that Ariana had given up, and gone to bed, after the fourth time that she had fallen asleep reading, and been woken by the thump of the book landing on the carpet at her feet.

She would, she told herself, ask him tomorrow. Now that she had decided to do so, she would not let too many more days slip away before she acted on that decision.