A Most Improper Duchess by Alanna Lucas
Chapter Four
Although they emerged from Lady Kirkwood’s dinner party untouched by the tittle-tattle that had been circulating around the room, the carriage ride back to their aunt’s home was silent. Alexandra suspected Evelina was bursting with information—or more likely a fuming rant. Only when they had reached the sanctity of their private rooms did her middle sister finally speak.
“Mr. Robertson has to be without a doubt the most disagreeable man there ever was!” Evelina said as she stormed into the room and closed the door behind her.
“What—” Theodora only got one word out before Evelina interrupted her.
“I will tell you what happened,” Evelina said with an exasperated wave of her arms. “Mr. Robertson could talk of nothing but himself. Throughout the entire meal, everything was about his accomplishments, his estate, his mother, his interests.” She let out a loud harumph. “He is not interesting in the least, and his accomplishments are quite paltry, consisting of his ability to read an entire book, even though he has no interest in reading, and his ability to take long walks.”
“He sounds like an utter—”
Evelina whipped around, fury rumbling in her voice. “And do you know what the worst part was?”
“He does not care for poetry?” Alexandra quipped, trying to lighten the mood.
Evelina narrowed her eyes, clearly not amused. “That’s not the worst part, but you may add it to the list,” she said as she put her hands to her hips. “He believes women to be inferior in all aspects of life. He even said that men read better than women. And this coming from a man who prides himself on being able to read one book. One book!”
Not wanting her sister to wake the entire household with her tirade, Alexandra attempted to reign in Evelina’s temper. In a calm voice she asked, “Is that why you disappeared after dinner?”
“I needed a moment to regain my senses, but instead of finding relief, I became more agitated.”
“Mr. Robertson again?”
“Yes. No. All of them. All of the men who think so little of women.” She shook her head and let out a long sigh. “I was walking to rejoin the ladies after using the necessary when I heard the men guffawing in the dining hall. I was curious about what could be so amusing so I edged up to the door and overheard one say that wives are boring in bed. And then another said that wives are meant to be obedient and that’s why mistresses exist.”
“All men can’t possibly believe that?” Theodora questioned.
“Lord Kirkwood certainly seems to share that opinion. He went off to his mistress instead of attending his mother’s dinner party, as we all heard. The men in the dining hall applauded his actions and praised his choice of consort.”
But not all the men.Niall had been part of the after-dinner gaggle. She suspected, no, she knew he was different than other men. But why?
“We need to discover the truth,” she said.
An idea jolted her senses. Could they possibly do it? It was a scandalous idea but one she would enjoy seeing to fruition. It would be to the benefit of all their friends, after all.
She was still feeling ruffled after what Martha had revealed. She didn’t know what her own future held, but one thing was for certain: she would not end up miserable like her friend.
“I know you’re scheming,” Evelina stated as she took a seat beside the fire, then stretched out her hands to warm them.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh dear, that can be dangerous,” Theodora teased.
Laughter rumbled from within. “Precisely.” The three sisters were always—according to the gossipmongers in the country—thinking too much, reading too much, and voicing their opinions far too much.
“Are you going to share your thoughts, or do we have to wrestle them from you?”
“I was thinking that we need to host a salon.”
“Isn’t that what we did? Friends came, we discussed the weather and the latest on dits. There was nothing practical, realistic, or even useful about the gathering. Really, I don’t know if I can tolerate more occasions such as that,” Evelina sighed.
“This would be different.”
Both of her sisters turned an inquisitive gaze her way, but it was Theodora who spoke first. “How so?”
“We need to delve into forbidden topics.” Alexandra paced the room, mumbling through her thoughts until the words formed into cohesive sentences. “It would be a salon for helping us all master the complexities of the male mind. How else are we not to fall victim to loveless marriages simply acquired for advancement within Society and begetting heirs?”
“I don’t believe all marriages are so dispassionate,” Evelina started. “Look at our parents.”
“Look at Harold and his wife.” Theodora let out a long sigh as she shook her head. “I am not willing to take that chance. Rachel was agreeable before they married, and once she got what she wanted, she showed her true colors, and has made life miserable for our brother.”
“But how are we to discover the information we seek?” Theodora questioned, then before Alexandra or Evelina could answer, she quickly added, “And what exactly are we looking for?”
“We need more information before we begin. It’s not just enough to watch the men at social gatherings. And what about all the places men retreat to where women have no access?” Perhaps Niall could shed some light on the subject. He wasn’t the typical rake about Town—no, he wasn’t—but he would certainly know enough to answer questions. She would have to ponder this more.
“Like taking their brandy after dinner,” Evelina said with annoyance. “Or running off to their clubs and the devil knows where else.”
“Perhaps we could enlist the aid of servants,” Theodora suggested, interrupting their middle sister.
Evelina shook her head. “That would only work if we hosted a gathering here.” She paused for a moment, then with exclaimed with great exuberance, “I’ve got it! At the next dinner party, when the men retire, I will sneak away and discover what they talk about. I wasn’t even trying to eavesdrop at Lady Kirkwood’s and look at the information I gleaned just by passing the dining hall. Just think of what I could discover if I were trying to listen.”
“And how do you intend to do that?” Alexandra questioned.
“I don’t know yet, but I will think of something.”
“Perhaps there are more letters in the trunk that can shed light on the topic,” Alexandra suggested. She went to it and lifted the lid. Hopefully somewhere within the oak cocoon, they could find answers, ease their concern, and create a plan of action. She pulled out several stacks of neatly folded letters, then turned and handed a pile to each sister. “Let’s get to work.”
Not caring for propriety, the girls sat on the floor in front of the warm fire, just as they had done when they were little. Before long, they were sharing the contents of the letters in their particular stack.
“Mother wrote this one when she was pregnant with Harold and Papa was in London.” Evelina ran a gentle hand over the page. “She tells Papa about feeling the baby kick for the first time.” She handed the letter to Alexandra. “Oh, she was so excited.”
Alexandra longed for a friendship, a love, and a life—minus the illnesses—like her parents had. Would she ever find someone to share and experience these kinds of joys with?
“Oh my!” Theodora loudly exclaimed, startling Alexandra out of her musings. “This is not a sweet love letter. This is . . .”
Alexandra and Evelina turned their gaze to their youngest sister. “What?” they asked in unison.
“I had no idea . . .” Her words trailed away, and Evelina took the letter from Theodora’s hand, then scanned the sheaf as Alexandra edged closer and attempted to read it over her shoulder. Heat instantly filled her cheeks.
“A man would actually do that to a woman?” Evelina questioned in a breathy whisper.
“Even worse! Father wanted to do that to Mother!” Theodora exclaimed with shock as she stood and went to the window and opened it. The cold night breeze, carrying the scent of early springtime in the city, permeated the room. Clearly Alexandra was not the only one overcome by what they were reading.
Alexandra and her sisters opened other letters from the same pile, each scanning the contents. She didn’t know what they were looking for. Perhaps an explanation?
“And here’s another letter. This one is from Mother to Father,” Evelina said as she gently held the yellowed pages and read it to herself.
A moment later shocked green eyes met Alexandra’s. “What did Mother write?” she questioned, wanting yet not wanting to know the details.
“That thing . . . in the letter from Father to Mother. Well . . .” Evelina swallowed as her cheeks reddened deeper than a ripened strawberry. “It would seem that she wanted to do the same to him.”
Theodora plopped down on the sofa, shaking her head. A moment later, Evelina joined her. Both just stared at the letter in utter disbelief.
Alexandra was at a loss for words. Only a short time ago, Martha had broken down in tears over what she’d had to endure in the marriage bed. But clearly not every woman found the act distasteful.
“I . . . I don’t understand.” She paced several feet in each direction before stopping in front of her sisters. “What makes one woman cry in despair and another want to . . . you know—”
“Perform intimacies like these?” Evelina waved her mother’s letter.
“And why didn’t Mother discuss such things with us?” their youngest sister said.
“We were still quite young when she first took ill. I was but sixteen,” Alexandra said, emotion choking her words. “I’m sure there were so many things Mama would have wanted to say to us to guide us.”
Silence filled the room weighed down by the grief they each still felt. The sisters had been so young, too young in Alexandra’s estimation. Evelina had been fourteen, and Theodora not quite thirteen. It was an impressionable age for young ladies, but they had made a pact to care for their dearest mama, and for each other. Little had they realized that, one distant day, their father would slowly, painfully lose his mind. But through it all, the sisters had been together. Hot tears stung the corners of Alexandra’s eyes. Soon it would all change. Soon they would marry. What then?
Evelina sniffled, then shook her head—as was her wont when trying to conceal her feelings—turning her attention to the large trunk. She lifted a wooden box from it, only this one had a carving of the mythological Three Graces on the lid. She removed the lid, revealing neatly arranged items. “There’s a letter,” she started, “with our names on it. And a small box for each of us.” She handed the boxes to her sisters, and they each opened theirs.
“Mother gave us each a cameo with a depiction of the Three Graces,” Theodora said, emotion choking her words.
Evelina then opened the letter and began to read. “My greatest desire for my girls is that you find a love and friendship like your father’s and mine. Go out in the world and discover devotion and passion, and never be afraid of desire.”
Theodora went to Alexandra, wrapping her arms about her. Her voice quavered as she whispered, “They truly had a beautiful life together.”
“I always loved the tenderness in their eyes when they looked at each other.” Evelina brushed a single finger under her eye, wiping away a tear.
Theodora then went to their middle sister, and just as she had done with Alexandra, wrapped her arms about her, resting her head on Evelina’s shoulder. “I wish they were still here with us.”
The words hung in the air as silence enveloped them, each lost in their own thoughts.
The sorrow that had been weighing Alexandra down magnified. She didn’t want to think about those last months when their mother had been so frail and weak she could hardly move, and their father had become a shell of who he once was. She pushed those recollections to the dark recesses of her mind, desperately trying to embrace the happier times. “Do you remember when Father was teaching us to climb the oak tree near the rose garden?”
Evelina chuckled. “Mother was furious, not because of the climbing but because we were wearing dresses. She marched us straight into the house and—”
“And changed us into Harold’s old breeches,” Theodora ended their sister’s sentence with a giggle.
“And then put on a pair herself and marched back out to the tree and climbed with us!” Laughter filled Alexandra’s body. It felt good to share these memories.
“Mother was certainly a force to be reckoned with.” Pride reverberated in Evelina’s voice. “And Father encouraged that side of her. It was quite lovely to watch them together, especially when they believed no one was looking.”
“How he adored her,” Theodora said on a dreamy sigh.
“And that is what we should be striving for,” Alexandra started. “Nothing less than true love and adoration.” She was more determined than ever to not just settle for a marriage. She wanted passion and desire—just like her mother had encouraged in her letter. She paced again while forming her words. “We need to do exactly what Mother wanted, but first we need to understand.”
“What do you suggest?” Evelina asked with curiosity.
“Perhaps there are more clues to what we should be looking for in Mama and Father’s letters.”
The sisters stayed up until the sun began to rise in the east, reading through the letters, reminiscing about the past, and thinking about the future. Apart from rather graphic sexual desires, it painted a wonderful picture of two people who had been in love and detested being apart, even for a day. It gave them glimpses into what could be.