Status: In Progess
The Duchess
Chapter Three
The Duke Peter Ashdown of York had never considered himself to be the guilty sort. Most often, whenever he wronged someone, he rarely felt remorse. Often, he would ignore the slight and expect that the person on the receiving end on his slight recover from it. After all, he was a duke and rarely would anyone ever call him out for his insult against them. Never once had he felt an ounce of guilt for taking a mistress while he was engaged to Ms. Charlotte Brandon. Nearly ten years younger than him, Charlotte had always been an annoyance to him. Not only was she as unlovely as they came, she had the biggest black eyes that seemed to stare at you as if they knew every wrong that you had ever done. And with those solemn black eyes had she stared at him in the carriage ride home after the opera. Though she made no spoken accusations, he knew that she knew.
And for the first time in a long while, he felt the first inkling of guilt in his core. Sitting there delicately on the plush velvet seat, her small frame made her look just as if she was a child. She was still a child, now that he thought about it. Barely eighteen, she still looked and acted like a child. It had only been at his grandmother’s insistence that he had proposed marriage to her. Then, he had been nearly thirty, and he had to admit that it had been drawing close to the time when he would have to take a wife and settle down. His days of traveling the world and philandering with woman were long past him.
Sighing, he set his brandy glass down before him, groaning in dissatisfaction when he realized the bottle of alcohol before him was empty. He was tempted to call for his butler to get him another, but he had no desire to wake in the morning with a terrible hangover like he had the past two. Mostly, he had been worried about his visit to his fiance. He had not seen her in almost three years before the night they had dined, and he had to admit that he had been quite surprised by her appearance. He had expected a now grown young woman, but in place of his hopes had been a girl who had looked the same as then. By God, his soon to be wife could almost pass for his daughter! If she wasn’t so plain, he mused. He realized how vain it was to be so perturbed about his fiance’s appearance. Even he would have scoffed at such narcissistic behavior, but her plainness truly bothered him. Why had he been sentenced to be chained down with such an unappealing woman? Not for the first time, he wished that Gabrielle had been born into the same social circle as him.
He did not really know when he had realized he had felt love for the young opera singer instead of just seeking solace in her arms. The first time he had seen her on stage had been in a performance of Carmen. She had just been a chorus girl then, but once his eye had settled on her he had been enchanted. His engagement with Charlotte had long since been started, but that fact had not bothered him in the least. After all, since he would soon be forced into a marriage with so plain a woman, why should he not spend time with a beautiful woman who seemingly as much in love with him as he was with her. Of course, his finances and expensive gifts probably had something to do with it, but he really could not blame her.
How could Charlotte even begin to compare to Gabrielle? One had beauty beyond words, while the other was a face that could easily be overlooked. What bad luck he had to be stuck with the homely one. His sentence would have been lessened, if she had not been born with those God forsaken black eyes that seemed so deep and solemn and seemed to know everything that went on. How could he bear to come back to her when she was his wife and see those eyes boring into his soul, quietly accusing him?
Damn women, he thought, ringing for his valet.The world would be a better place without them and their confusing ways.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the very same time that the very intoxicated Duke of York was just stumbling into bed, Charlotte sat wrapped up in a bundle of shawls on her window seat, staring out into the rainy night sky. How appropriate, she thought, letting out a bitter smile, that it should rain while she was in such an unhappy mood. Leaning her head against the cold, stone window sill, she let out a soft sigh, wrapping her shawls tighter around her. She watched the fire smoldering in the grate. It would not be lit again until tomorrow night, or if they could spare it, not at all. Since their funds had run out, money for heating had dwindled, and if it was not cold enough so that her mother relented that a fire could be burned, the girls were forced to burrow under as many blankets that they could. At least when I am married I will always be warm, she thought.
Wincing as her bare feet hit the cold, stone floor, Charlotte slowly moved to the bed, keeping her shawls wrapped tightly around herself. She kept them on as she burrowed back under the covers, frowning as she discovered it only made her small amount more warmer than she had been before. Charlotte thought of all the people that were colder than she was now, hungrier than she was. Was that what her family awaited if she did not marry the duke? Was her family’s happiness more important than her own? Yes, she realized, it was. How could she ever even bear to see the hungry face of her sister? The disappointed face of her mother as she knew that Charlotte’s marriage would have been the only thing to save them from ruin. She felt tears begin to trickle down her face, wasn’t this to much to put on the shoulders of a mere eighteen year old girl?
Somehow, she kew that the duke would not stop his visits with the opera singer when they were married. Gabrielle was a beautiful woman, while she was plain. She did not doubt that the duke would be the kind of person to do away with his wife as soon as she gave him a son. Letting out a long sigh, she rolled over, searching for a more comfortable place to fall asleep at. It would be a long night.
And for the first time in a long while, he felt the first inkling of guilt in his core. Sitting there delicately on the plush velvet seat, her small frame made her look just as if she was a child. She was still a child, now that he thought about it. Barely eighteen, she still looked and acted like a child. It had only been at his grandmother’s insistence that he had proposed marriage to her. Then, he had been nearly thirty, and he had to admit that it had been drawing close to the time when he would have to take a wife and settle down. His days of traveling the world and philandering with woman were long past him.
Sighing, he set his brandy glass down before him, groaning in dissatisfaction when he realized the bottle of alcohol before him was empty. He was tempted to call for his butler to get him another, but he had no desire to wake in the morning with a terrible hangover like he had the past two. Mostly, he had been worried about his visit to his fiance. He had not seen her in almost three years before the night they had dined, and he had to admit that he had been quite surprised by her appearance. He had expected a now grown young woman, but in place of his hopes had been a girl who had looked the same as then. By God, his soon to be wife could almost pass for his daughter! If she wasn’t so plain, he mused. He realized how vain it was to be so perturbed about his fiance’s appearance. Even he would have scoffed at such narcissistic behavior, but her plainness truly bothered him. Why had he been sentenced to be chained down with such an unappealing woman? Not for the first time, he wished that Gabrielle had been born into the same social circle as him.
He did not really know when he had realized he had felt love for the young opera singer instead of just seeking solace in her arms. The first time he had seen her on stage had been in a performance of Carmen. She had just been a chorus girl then, but once his eye had settled on her he had been enchanted. His engagement with Charlotte had long since been started, but that fact had not bothered him in the least. After all, since he would soon be forced into a marriage with so plain a woman, why should he not spend time with a beautiful woman who seemingly as much in love with him as he was with her. Of course, his finances and expensive gifts probably had something to do with it, but he really could not blame her.
How could Charlotte even begin to compare to Gabrielle? One had beauty beyond words, while the other was a face that could easily be overlooked. What bad luck he had to be stuck with the homely one. His sentence would have been lessened, if she had not been born with those God forsaken black eyes that seemed so deep and solemn and seemed to know everything that went on. How could he bear to come back to her when she was his wife and see those eyes boring into his soul, quietly accusing him?
Damn women, he thought, ringing for his valet.The world would be a better place without them and their confusing ways.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the very same time that the very intoxicated Duke of York was just stumbling into bed, Charlotte sat wrapped up in a bundle of shawls on her window seat, staring out into the rainy night sky. How appropriate, she thought, letting out a bitter smile, that it should rain while she was in such an unhappy mood. Leaning her head against the cold, stone window sill, she let out a soft sigh, wrapping her shawls tighter around her. She watched the fire smoldering in the grate. It would not be lit again until tomorrow night, or if they could spare it, not at all. Since their funds had run out, money for heating had dwindled, and if it was not cold enough so that her mother relented that a fire could be burned, the girls were forced to burrow under as many blankets that they could. At least when I am married I will always be warm, she thought.
Wincing as her bare feet hit the cold, stone floor, Charlotte slowly moved to the bed, keeping her shawls wrapped tightly around herself. She kept them on as she burrowed back under the covers, frowning as she discovered it only made her small amount more warmer than she had been before. Charlotte thought of all the people that were colder than she was now, hungrier than she was. Was that what her family awaited if she did not marry the duke? Was her family’s happiness more important than her own? Yes, she realized, it was. How could she ever even bear to see the hungry face of her sister? The disappointed face of her mother as she knew that Charlotte’s marriage would have been the only thing to save them from ruin. She felt tears begin to trickle down her face, wasn’t this to much to put on the shoulders of a mere eighteen year old girl?
Somehow, she kew that the duke would not stop his visits with the opera singer when they were married. Gabrielle was a beautiful woman, while she was plain. She did not doubt that the duke would be the kind of person to do away with his wife as soon as she gave him a son. Letting out a long sigh, she rolled over, searching for a more comfortable place to fall asleep at. It would be a long night.