The Unclaimed Duchess Read online

  He understood something about that. And now, as he stood looking at her on the sandy beach, he wondered how he had been so blind as to not see these things in all the years they had spent betrothed.

  “R-Rhys?” she whispered.

  He blinked, shoving away his thoughts. “Hello,” he finally responded. “I thought you might have gone, after all.”

  She shrugged one shoulder, but he could see she was biting her tongue to keep herself from arguing about her departure once more. Instead she said, “When I came out of the cottage, I noticed the driver had left my bag when he departed. I hadn’t even noticed.”

  Rhys blinked. Normally he was observant, but he hadn’t noticed, either, so distracted had he been by both arguing with and desiring Anne.

  “At any rate, I took it in and unpacked it.”

  He stared. “Yourself?”

  Her gaze settled firmly on his. “Yes, Rhys. I’m not so incapable that I couldn’t put a few things into a drawer. But when you didn’t return by the time I had finished, I thought to look for you.”

  He nodded, awkward and unable to think of a good answer now that he was standing here with her, this woman who loved him. He hadn’t even known that, so he wondered what other things she had kept to herself over the years. Did he know Anne at all?

  She paced past him to the edge of the water. Lifting her skirt just a fraction, she allowed a wave to splash over her bare feet. Rhys swallowed at the glimpse of her bare toes, her ankle, a little calf.

  “It’s beautiful here,” Anne finally said after it seemed like the uncomfortable silence would last a lifetime.

  He nodded. That, at least, was a subject he could address.

  “My mother used to bring us here every summer for a week. She said every child, no matter their rank, deserved to run free for a little while.”

  He shut his eyes. He could so clearly picture his normally staid mother running down the shore, laughing and playing with him and his sisters.

  But now his image of her was tainted. Had she run wild here? Was this where he had been conceived, or some other place where she went to escape her husband? And had she had a tryst only with Simon’s father or were there other men?

  Great God, what her indiscretion had wrought. For him, but also for herself and for his sisters, when and if this thing came out into the open, they would all be punished for her shocking lack of control.

  “What about your father?” Anne asked, coming closer to his thoughts than she likely knew.

  “My father…” He hesitated. “The Duke of Waverly didn’t accompany us.”

  “Never?” she asked with surprise in her tone.

  Rhys shook his head. “He disapproved of the ‘savage’ surroundings and said that this little place was beneath us, but my mother insisted. He allowed it for a time, but when I was thirteen it ended abruptly.”

  He remembered the day his mother had told him he could no longer go to this place. She had been crying, he thought. And after that, she laughed even less, but he had never put much thought into her happiness or lack thereof. Now he wondered about it, about her, even as he burned in anger and betrayal toward her.

  “Why did it end?” Anne asked, turning toward him with empathy in her eyes. Not pity, for he hated that, but something else.

  “We came home that year and I was talking foolishness about making friends with some of the village children, perhaps even inviting them to one of our estates some year.” Rhys shrugged. “The duke had never supported the idea of me coming here. He didn’t like it that I consorted with children who had no rank and believed that my wild behavior was below my station.”

  Anne’s brow wrinkled. “Didn’t it matter to him that you had a little happiness here?”

  Rhys’s shoulders stiffened. He had confessed that fact to only one person. It seemed Simon had felt compelled to share it with Anne. The idea that she had such a glimpse into the weaknesses he had been taught to hide was troubling.

  “Happiness is irrelevant. The duke was correct. At thirteen, I wasn’t a boy anymore. It was high time to forget such foolish notions and begin to truly prepare myself for the future my father saw for me.”

  Anne’s gaze dropped and she slowly turned to look at the ocean again. “How sad your father thought joy was a foolish notion. And sadder still that he convinced you his opinion was gospel.”

  Rhys didn’t respond, but instead stepped a fraction closer and looked out with her over the water. The afternoon was waning now, beginning to cast a faintly orange glow over the waves in the distance. They were quiet for a long moment, but unlike when she first came to the water’s edge, there was nothing uncomfortable about it.

  When some time had passed, Rhys looked down at her. “I’m not trying to hurt you. It was never my intention.”

  She didn’t look at him. In fact, she hardly reacted to his statement at all, just continued to look out to sea. Finally she nodded.

  “I know that. In fact, it’s obvious from simply looking at you that you are the one who is hurt. Deeply enough that you would run away not just from me but from everything important in your life. And it says something that when you ran, you came to a place where you were happy almost twenty years ago. Where you weren’t stifled by the ideals of rank and propriety that were so important to your father that he would crush any other instinct you might have once had.”

  Rhys frowned. That was actually a remarkably good assessment of what was happening here, especially coming from a woman who wasn’t fully aware of the entire situation. Was he so easy to read?

  Slowly she turned toward him and lifted her face to his. Her hand fluttered at her side, almost like she wanted to touch him, but held back. He found himself wishing she would cup his cheek or take his hand, but then he pushed those desires away. This was what heightened and unchecked emotion did, it made one imprudent.

  “Rhys,” she said quietly. “No matter what you feel about it now, I’m still your wife. Clearly something has happened that has driven you to these uncharacteristic actions. Perhaps I could help you.”

  All the anger she’d expressed upon her arrival was gone, though he suspected much of it lurked beneath the surface. Still, in the strength of her face and the flash in her eyes, her passion and the love he did not want remained. If she had once hidden her heart to protect herself or to make him more comfortable, those days were over.

  He shook his head. “I can’t tell you why I’m here, Anne. Or why I left.”

  She nodded slowly. “Then don’t. But allow me to stay. Let me be with you while you do whatever it is you came here to do. Perhaps you’ll change your mind about revealing the truth to me, but perhaps you won’t. Either way, I want to be here for you.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face, suddenly aware of how exhausted he was. Since his arrival, he had hardly slept, and now this war with Anne had sapped almost all his remaining energy. The idea of fighting with her for the next few days about staying or going wasn’t a pleasant one.

  And truth be told, the thought of having her here with him…well, it wasn’t as unpleasant as he might have thought. As long as he didn’t reveal his secret or make love to her and risk creating a child, perhaps there was little harm in her staying.

  “Fine,” he said softly.

  Anne’s face lit up with a smile, and Rhys stared at the expression for a moment. When she looked at him like that, he could almost forget his own misery. He could almost see how making her smile could be a man’s life pursuit. Some other man. Not him.

  He shook his head. “But if I allow you to stay with me, you must obey me from here on out, Anne.”

  Her bright smile faded to a more controlled one and she nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, Rhys. That was one of my vows, after all, and I take my vows very seriously.”

  Anne restlessly stirred the fire and looked around the cottage once more. She was alone, Rhys had gone to “take care of an errand.” Her initial response was to chase after him, but she resisted. He had only j
ust agreed to let her stay; she had to remain calm if she wanted to slowly gain his trust…and perhaps, one day, his heart.

  Still, she couldn’t help but fear he would run away again, and this time perhaps to a place where no one could find him. But every time she stared out the window, she could see his horse moving about the paddock in the distance. Wherever Rhys had gone, he had walked, so there was little chance he could find means of escape tonight.

  She sighed as she picked up a wrinkled shirt and moved it to a hamper in the corner of the room. For a man who was usually so refined, Rhys had been a bit of a mess since his arrival here, and his cottage reflected that. She wasn’t certain if that was a symptom of his upset or just about the fact that he didn’t often tend to himself, just as she didn’t.

  She smoothed the bed’s cool coverlet. Despite its small size and current state of disarray, the cottage was a comfortable place. Cozy and homey.

  “Still, it’s odd that you loved it here,” she mused aloud as she sat down on the edge of the bed. “It’s so different from the life you live in London, from the man you have become there.”

  She heard a swift, certain step outside and scrambled to her feet with a blush. The door opened and Rhys stepped into the room. He had forgone his jacket, leaving him only in a linen shirt tucked lazily into black trousers. The first two buttons were open, leaving a glimpse of his chest and making her think of that moment earlier in the day when his naked body had pinned her down. He held a big basket under one arm as he swung the door shut behind him.

  “Food,” he said, and his voice was rough.

  She shook her thoughts away and stepped forward to take the basket he offered.

  “Goodness,” she murmured as she carried it to the plain wooden table through the open door in the other room. “It’s quite heavy.”

  He nodded. “That’s why I was gone so long. There is a woman in the village who has been cooking for me. Normally someone from the family brings me a late supper, but I wanted to be certain you had enough to eat after your trying journey. When they heard my wife had joined me…well, the family went into a state to prepare something extra special.”

  Anne lifted her gaze from the fragrant basket that had been slowly seducing her with its succulent choices. She found a small but amused smile unlike anything she had ever seen on Rhys’s face.

  “You like them, the family you visited,” she said as she returned her attention to the basket before her. She unloaded item after item onto the plates that had been sent along with the food.

  “Don’t be silly,” Rhys protested as he moved forward and took a place at the small table. “They’re pleasant, of course, but peasants. I played with their eldest son as a child, but things are different now.”

  Anne glanced at him as she took her place, but said nothing. This was the second time he had mentioned friendships he’d shared with village children. And though he dismissed them now as foolish, it was clear they had once meant a great deal to him.

  Now Rhys’s ideas about the sanctity of rank matched his late father’s. They were well-known, he had never hidden them. Still, she sensed he retained a bit more feeling for the village family than perhaps he was ready to admit even to himself. Once more her hopes were fed by this brief, unintentional glimpse into Rhys’s soul. If he could still care for a family so beneath him, surely she could give him reason to care for her.

  They began to eat. Anne couldn’t help her silence. The last time she’d eaten was a not particularly pleasing luncheon along the road just before her arrival. Now darkness had overcome the countryside, and the smells of the hearty country fare made her stomach growl.

  Still, the quiet wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, as she dabbed her mouth with a rough napkin, she realized it might be the most intimate meal she and Rhys had ever shared.

  “You know,” she said as she gathered the empty plates. “I don’t think we’ve ever shared a meal without ten other people at the table or a newspaper or book between us.”

  Rhys glanced at her with a shrug. “It’s difficult to obtain a good paper in these parts.”

  She frowned as she searched for a place to put the tableware. That wasn’t exactly what she meant.

  Rhys motioned to the door. “I put them in the basket outside. The village family…Parks is their name…they collect it when they bring the next basket. I’ve also arranged for them to tidy up the cottage when they come tomorrow. I don’t mind its current state, but you deserve more comfort.”

  She nodded and did as he had suggested. When she returned to the cottage, she found he had turned his chair to face the entryway and was staring at her.

  “We’ll need to discuss our sleeping arrangements, Anne,” he said as she shut the door.

  Anne looked around them and then speared him with a look. “Because there are so many choices?”

  She thought his lip twitched with suppressed humor, but then it stopped.

  “I realize the accommodations aren’t up to the standard I would normally provide—”

  She held up a hand to stop him. “I love it, Rhys,” she interrupted. “I do.”

  His eyes widened with surprise, but then he continued, “Well, I’m glad for that, but it doesn’t resolve the problem. You see…well, there is only the one bed.”

  Anne folded her arms and tried unsuccessfully to keep a tinge of bitterness from her voice. “Yes, I see that. What is the issue exactly? We’re married. It isn’t the arrangement we have back at your—our home in London, but we won’t be here forever. We can share a bed for the time being.”

  Actually she very much looked forward to sharing that bed. It wasn’t overly wide and they would have to lie close together.

  Rhys pushed to his feet. “I realize we’re married, Anne…”

  Anne blinked. Rhys was actually uncomfortable with this discussion. She had never seen him squirm and fidget so, like a boy who had done something wrong and knew he was about to be caught for it.

  “But?”

  He cleared his throat. “But you see, what I said earlier about not being married…I meant it. Legally, of course, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to end the union, unless you would be willing to lie and make a case for annulment.”

  Anne stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open. There were only a few reasons the court would allow for such a thing and none of them was a circumstance she was willing to swear to, or even consider. When she was silent, he shook his head.

  “I thought not,” he continued. “But even if a legal termination is out of the question, our marriage can be ended in every other way.”

  Anne staggered back three steps. She would have gone farther but she hit the door behind her and was forced to a stop. She had thought his earlier words were mere fancy, a way to lash out at her in his frustration. When he said she could stay here, she had believed that to have passed. But now it was clear he had thought this through with a cool and logical head.

  “You mean to permanently separate from me?” she whispered. Suddenly the food she had so enjoyed churned unpleasantly in her belly.

  He nodded once, and Anne squeezed her eyes shut with a low groan. There were some in their circles who lived separate lives as he suggested, but those who did often suffered the social consequences. The rumor and censure Rhys abhorred would be visited upon them for years to come. And for what? She still had no inkling as to what would drive him to such extremes.

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered.

  He dipped his chin. “Anne, I know this is difficult for you, but there are forces at work that may demand we end this union. And for your own protection, it would be best.”

  “Best?” she repeated. Her voice sounded far away to her own ears, as if she was listening to this conversation from an echoing chamber.

  He nodded. “And that is why I wanted you to go. If we’re going to part, I want to be certain I won’t be leaving you with—with child.”

  Anne flinched. Although she wanted some time alone with her
husband before they had children, time to make him see that they could share a love match, she did long to be a mother. Now Rhys was saying he would deny her that pleasure, as well as the beauty of knowing he cared for her.

  Desperation clawed at her at that horrible thought.

  “You’ve told me on numerous occasions that you must produce an heir,” she choked, hating herself for sounding so plaintive. “You owe your bloodline, do you not?”

  Rhys turned away so she couldn’t see his reaction to her charge, but his voice was thick when he replied, “I do indeed, which is why I cannot bring a child, any child, into this world. I’m sorry, Anne, but this is how it must be.”

  Anne had heard that tone from her husband before. It was one that said he wouldn’t bend. And she was too stunned, too heartbroken to argue. Instead she whispered, “We have only lain together a few times.”

  “Once is enough,” Rhys said, and finally looked at her again. “We can only pray the damage hasn’t already been done. But making love isn’t something we can do again. Do you understand? That is why I have concerns over the sleeping arrangements.”

  Anne let out a snort of angry laughter. “Because you can scarce control yourself with me?”

  He moved toward her a step, and for a brief moment she saw something dark and dangerous in his eyes. Not anger, but something with more heat. More purpose.

  Of course he took it away, hiding that reaction just as he hid every feeling and thought from her. And now that he was saying he would end their marriage in every way that mattered, it seemed he would never give her more.

  All her hopes, all her dreams, everything that was of importance to her…he was holding those things up and then shredding them with so little feeling that she could almost feel her heart breaking in her chest.