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‘It is a good match,’ her mother said. ‘He is a duke. He is well liked in society...’
‘Yes.’
She didn’t know why, but he also frightened her. On some deep level. As much as he drew her to him. And she had not intended to embroil him in this.
‘He deserves better. Than me.’
He had lost a wife already. Beatrice did not know what ailment had taken his first Duchess, but to be married to a woman who had been told she might not... Be strong. She had not intended to steal any chances from him and a happy life. She and James had an agreement. An understanding. Briggs had not been part of it, and he did not deserve this.
‘His honour will not allow him to let this all fall upon you, dear.’
‘But it should,’ Beatrice said. Then angrily disagreed with herself. ‘No. It should fall on Hugh. Because he is the one who forced me into this position. He is the one who made this untenable. And I... I’m just so sorry. I care quite a lot too much about Briggs for this to... For this to be his fate.’
‘Beatrice, we must speak. And you are getting married in three days and...’
‘Yes?’
‘There are things that a married woman must do. There is... A duty in being a man’s wife.’
Beatrice tried to imagine what duties that might entail when one was married to a duke who surely had a full household staff. Well, her mother saw to a great many domestic activities.
‘I must help run the household,’ Beatrice said.
‘Beatrice,’ her mother said. ‘I mean there is more than that. It is only that you will be expected to...’
‘Yes?’
‘There is the marriage bed.’ For a moment her mother’s face took on a distant quality, the expression in her eyes something fond and sad and angry all at once.
And just when it became too sharp to bear, it eased.
‘What happens between a husband and wife in the bedchamber,’ her mother continued.
Bedchambers. James had said they ought to be caught in a bedchamber. And then she thought of nymphs again.
And of her governesses. All young and pretty and fluttery and more interested in her father than in her.
‘Oh.’
‘It is not so unpleasant. Your husband will...know what to do and he will take the lead.’
‘Like dancing?’ she asked.
Though she had been given lessons in dance.
Her mother looked relieved. ‘Yes. Like dancing. He will lead you, and he will ensure that all is well. As you said, he is a good man.’
‘What... What am I to do?’
She wished she knew...anything. She felt like a great blank space was stretched before her and all she had were scattered images and ideas, and what she wanted to do was demand answers.
What made a true marriage?
What happened in bedchambers?
Why were women so easily ruined?
Why had she felt like she had when he’d held her?
