The Duchess Takes it All

Chapter Twenty-Six

Tamsin had listened to Christian and his prince argue. Had listened while her heart broke and raged and broke yet again until she wasn’t sure if she was more angry or despairing or some furious tempest of both.

The door opened, and she came face to face with Prince Heinrich. If he was surprised to see her standing there, he didn’t betray it. Instead, he looked her over, sizing her up, possibly. She’d love nothing more than to drive her pretty slippered foot into his soft nether regions. But that wouldn’t improve matters between them. And might make matters worse for Christian.

Besides, while the prince had shattered every single hope she hadn’t realized she’d had—until it was ripped away—he’d sounded pained when he did it. For all his uptight righteousness, she did believe he cared for his nephew.

So she dropped her gaze and curtsied. Not as deep as she could have gone, perhaps. And she certainly didn’t hold it for longer than a second before rising and meeting his gaze again.

This time he did raise a brow. Well. If nothing else, she’d managed to surprise the man. Victory for her.

He inclined his head, the barest hint of a smile on his lips, his surprisingly kind eyes full of sympathy before he left, his retinue of guards and courtiers following in his wake.

Christian stood inside, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed out the window. To someone who didn’t know him, it might look as though he were simply enjoying the view of the gardens. But she could see the rigidity of his shoulders, the utter stillness of his body. And the white knuckles of the hand that clasped the wrist of his other arm.

She moved to stand beside him. And waited.

He finally spoke, his voice low, hoarse. “I am sorry, meine Herzogin.”

She took a long, deep breath, trying to decipher the riot of emotions thundering through her. Finally, she said the one thing that kept spinning round and round in her head.

“You have changed your mind about running away with me, then?”

His head jerked in her direction, his eyes drawn, haunted. “You didn’t wish to do so before. Do you now?”

She searched his eyes, her mind spinning. God help her, but she didn’t know what she wanted for her future. She just knew she wanted him.

“If I did?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but he heard her all the same.

“I meant what I said.” He didn’t even question if she’d overheard. They hadn’t taken care to be quiet. And he knew her better than that, anyway. She would have found a way to listen.

“I meant it,” he said again. “If you wish it, I’ll bribe the nearest vicar, or even run off to Gretna Green if necessary. They can’t truly stop us.”

She focused on drawing in one breath after another, the temptation to do just that almost more than she could stand. Marriage hadn’t been what she wanted. But now, with the possibility of losing him forever…

“And the marriage would be valid?” she finally asked.

“In England, as far as I know, yes.”

“And in your own country?”

He hesitated. “With my uncle’s consent…possibly.”

She nodded. “And without his consent?”

His jaw clenched again. “You would be seen as my mistress, not my wife. Our children would be considered illegitimate.”

She threaded her arm through his and laid her head on his shoulder. “For myself, I would not care. I would be proud to be known as your mistress.”

He flinched at that. “I would always be proud to have you by my side. But I would not wish such a life for you. The only thing you have ever wanted is acceptance. And you would give that up?”

“It is not the only thing I’ve ever wanted,” she said with a frown.

He raised a brow. “From the moment I met you, it is all you have spoken of, all you have worked toward. Acceptance. And I do not blame you for that. I understand completely,” he said before she could protest. “I would not have you lose that. So…maybe this is for the best.”

She sucked in a breath, feeling as though she’d taken a blow to the gut, and stepped away from him. “How can you say that?”

He gazed down at her, the sorrow in his eyes searing her to her soul.

“I saw what it did to my mother. She and my father loved each other, enough that they went against everyone, flouted every law. And her life was a miserable existence. I do not wish that for you.”

She closed her eyes briefly, wanting to tread carefully. “I am sorry for your mother. Truly. But I am not her.”

“You’ve done nothing since I’ve arrived but strive for acceptance. Can you tell me that you could be truly happy if that was forever denied you?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but he spoke again before she could. “I heard you with the women from court. I heard you give in to everything they wanted, even though I know it is not what you wish. How can you say you could be happy living in exile because of me when you said you would be willing to do whatever you’re bidden to gain their approval?”

“That isn’t fair.”

“Am I wrong?”

She raised her chin and stepped away from him, not wanting to admit he was right. That in a moment of weakness she had failed. Anger filled her—anger at him, at his uncle, at the situation. At herself.

Instead of responding to his question, she lashed out. “And what of you? The moment your uncle snapped your leash, you came to heel. Are you not the same as I? Doing anything asked of you no matter your own feelings and desires?” She stopped, struggling for control of the emotions that threatened to erupt. “You could have fought harder,” she finally said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I still would have lost.” His quiet, tortured answer smothered her anger and tore another hole in her heart that she knew would never heal.

She took a deep, tremulous breath and raised her face to his. “You were right,” she admitted. “Yes, perhaps I went against my own wishes, but I did so to gain much more than their approval. It’s what their approval means, what I can do if I am in their good graces, what I can gain. Without their support, it will make accomplishing my plans more difficult. But I would still find a way. And I would still have Lavinia, and Kitty, and Georgie, and Nigel. And you . Whatever I suffer as a consequence to any of my choices, if at the end I have you, it is worth it.”

His eyes closed, and he dropped his forehead to hers. “I do not deserve you,” he whispered.

They stayed like that for a few moments, and then he kissed her forehead. “I cannot allow you to give up all you’ve worked for, not for me.”

“I would give up much more but—”

He took her face in his hands, his eyes suddenly wild, desperate. “Then tell me you’ll marry me. Tell me you’ll have me, and I will happily follow you into exile. I will take you from here and we can go, we can—”

She shook her head. “I cannot allow you to give up everything for me .”

He shook his head, and she could see the arguments building in him again. She let go of him and took a step back, trying not to see the pain in his eyes.

“I have already heard all your arguments,” she said. “And I heard your uncle’s.” She shook her head. “I cannot allow you to give up so much.”

“I would be giving up nothing I want. I do not care about the succession. There are others who will happily move up the ranks to fill the hole I leave. I have other estates. We would not be penniless.”

“Not while you live,” she said. “But what would happen to any children we might have? They could not claim any inheritance that might be left to you. They could not claim a portion of their half-brother’s inheritance. They would have what is left to me by my father, if he has an inheritance left to leave. He is successful and wealthy now. But he is a merchant. And nothing is guaranteed. If we marry, I would no longer be the Duchess of Clevesly. My dower settlement income from the duchy ceases. My son will be a man someday, and I can hope that he will be a good one. But how generous would he need to be to support not only his mother but a number of half-siblings as well?”

“I would not allow that,” Christian said, his eyes fierce. “I would ensure that you and any children would be safe. Cared for.”

She nodded sadly. “I don’t doubt that. But no matter how comfortable, they would be considered bastards. No inheritance. No family name. Not accepted by your upper nobility nor mine.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steel herself for what she needed to say. “I said I would be proud to be your mistress, Christian. And I meant it. For myself, I think I could live with whatever society might think of me.”

Though even as she said it, doubt crept in. Could she? He hadn’t been wrong. She had spent her whole life trying, and failing, to be accepted. Staying with him would mean never gaining that acceptance.

But she would have him.

She looked at him, her heart breaking all over again. It didn’t even matter if she could be strong enough to withstand the consequences of being with him. Because she couldn’t let him suffer the fate it would condemn him to.

He took a step toward her, and she held out a hand to keep him from coming nearer. If he touched her now, she would be lost.

“But?” Christian asked, stopping before her, his eyes blazing.

“I cannot condemn any children we may have,” she said. “And I cannot condemn you.”

“It is no condemnation,” he growled, taking a step closer but stopping again when she moved back. “Do not do this, Tamsin.”

“And what of your country? I heard your uncle,” she reminded him. “Your betrothal, your marriage, will end years of conflict. What will you breaking it do? Will you condemn your people just to keep me?”

He stared at her, his gaze searing her to her soul. “God forgive me, but yes,” he whispered. “The whole world could burn as long as I have you.”

She exhaled and closed her eyes against the agonizing pain. “We cannot,” she nearly whispered. “We gambled, Christian.” She tried to smile but could barely see him through the tears she tried to keep from falling. “I do not regret it. You were worth the risk. But we gambled, and we lost.”

She took another step back, the stricken look on his face destroying her. “You belong with your family. Your countrymen. And I…I think it is time I returned home.”

She stood straight and tried to put all the love she felt for him into her smile. And she almost managed. Until a silent tear rolled down his cheek, obliterating the last piece of her heart and leaving a scar on her soul that would never heal.

“Goodbye, Christian,” she said, her voice strained.

And then she turned and walked away.

…

Tamsin had maintained her composure while she had been with Christian. She had maintained that composure when he’d sent servants for his belongings, wrongly—or perhaps rightly, she still wasn’t sure—determining she wouldn’t want him under the same roof. Her throat had ached from the unshed tears, and she’d barely eaten or slept, but she had maintained her composure.

And it wasn’t because she wanted to be strong or because she was too afraid of ridicule for her na?veté or for any other reason but that she feared if she let go of her iron control for even a second, she would crumble. Shatter. And never be able to pick up all the pieces.

She had maintained that cursed, hateful composure, until a knock at the door announced the Duchess of Beaubrooke and Lady Georgina. And then the dam she’d built to hold everything back disintegrated. And she finally let the tears come.

Lavinia held her while she cried, and she allowed it for all of three minutes before she pushed out of Lavinia’s arms, wiped her face, and started raging.

“I know this isn’t his fault. I know he loves me. I know if he had a choice, he would stay with me. But…he knew about this law.”

Lavinia frowned. “Yes, but he did tell you.”

Tamsin threw up her hands. “Yes, he did. To his credit, I suppose, he did. We spoke about it at length. But he made it seem like there was some hope when surely, he must have known how poor our chances were. His uncle was so vehement and insisted that Christian had known how severe this issue was. If that is true, then I don’t understand how he could have truly believed that my title by marriage would provide enough status for me to be acceptable under their laws. I even had Kitty talk to Frederick in the hopes he could explain it better. I tried to find information in one of those damnable books,” she said, pointing to a table in the library with several open books.

“Did any of that help?” Georgie asked, her brow creased.

“To some extent, perhaps. Though not nearly enough,” she said, dropping back into the chair. “It’s not just one law governing these marriages. It’s multiple laws at many levels from the country’s Constitution down to the rules and laws of the different family houses and even leftover laws from the Holy Roman Empire and the Napoleonic code and…”

She took a deep breath and just threw her hands up again. “Literally law upon law upon law dictating how the status of each and every member of every level of their nobility—which is far more complicated than our own system, by the by—must be in order for the marriage to be considered valid. And even within that validity, there seem to be differing levels.”

“My goodness,” Lavinia said. “That is…a lot.”

“Yes. And no,” Tamsin said, some of the fight draining out of her. “At the end of it all, it’s rather simple, I suppose. There are a limited number of acceptable brides available to Lord Rauchberg, and it all hinges on his bride’s bloodline. Had I been a duchess in my own right, rare as that occurs in this country, or at least have been the daughter of a duke with a title going back at least a generation or two, I might have been deemed acceptable. But a first-generation duchess by marriage with common blood?” She shook her head. “Never.”

“But…” Lavinia’s brow creased further. “Are there never exceptions made?”

Tamsin took a deep breath and sank back onto the sofa. “Yes? I believe so. Though according to Kitty, and therefore Frederick, they are rare and most of them occurred under the Holy Roman Emperor. Under the German Confederation, the different ruling houses handle it how they see fit. The old families often follow the older laws, but there are also new sovereign families with new rules and laws who must still abide by the old laws to a degree. It is beyond complicated.” She covered her face with her hands, and Lavinia patted her back.

Georgie blew out a breath. “Not to be the one to defend the villain, if that is how we are seeing him today?”

She glanced at Tamsin in question, who shook her head. “He is not the villain.”

Georgie nodded and continued. “If the laws are truly that complicated and with the upheaval since the formation of the Confederation, perhaps our illustrious count really did have cause to hope that his uncle would be able to smooth the way for your marriage.”

Tamsin released a shaking breath. “I know.”

And she did. Deep down. It was their situation that angered her, not Christian. He would not have purposely given her hope if he had none himself. But that somehow made it hurt even more.

She stared into the distance, letting her thoughts run rampant in her mind, no longer having the energy to hold them back.

“I think I could live with just being his mistress. Not as we’ve been, in secret, but openly,” she said. And to her friends’ credit, they did not gasp and clutch for their Bibles, though Lavinia’s eyes did widen slightly.

“In fact,” Tamsin continued, “under the circumstances, it would behoove me to become his mistress. I wouldn’t have to give up my title, or my income, or my freedom. Or guardianship of my own son,” she said, fighting back the anger that always arose at that thought. “And we wouldn’t have to deal with the convoluted mess that the marriage laws in his country would bring. If that was the only issue, to lose him or become his mistress, I think…I think I would do it. I would live with him openly, here and in his own country. I would hardly be the first widow to openly take a lover.”

“Isn’t he already living under your roof?” Georgie muttered, and Lavinia shushed her.

Tamsin ignored her. “I wouldn’t care what anybody thought or said. If the rest of society chose to shun me forever, then the rest of society be damned. I could still do my charity work. To a lesser degree, perhaps, but I could still do good. And I could still do…other things I’m passionate about,” she said with a quick glance at Georgie. “But…the other matter… I do not think I can live with that.”

“Other matter?” Lavinia asked.

Tamsin could barely voice the words, and each one pierced her like a shard of glass as it left her lips. “His uncle has found him another bride. A princess,” she said with a mirthless laugh. “High enough status to satisfy their laws and from a country with whom they have had much conflict.”

“So this marriage not only allows our dear count to get a legitimate blue-blooded heir, but resolves decades of strife,” Georgie said with a scowl.

Tamsin nodded. “Even if he were to decide to flout his uncle’s bidding for my sake, how can I let him do so? How can he do anything but marry her when not doing so could cause so much harm? And I doubt she has more choice in the matter than he. And he will be,” the words stuck in her throat, but Tamsin forced herself to say them, “her husband. I would not punish her by my presence.”

“Oh, my darling,” Lavinia said, pulling her into a hug.

Georgie’s face was positively somber, which made Tamsin realize the hopelessness of her situation more than anything.

“The one occasion when your jokes might be welcome, and you have nothing for us?” she said to her.

“I do apologize, my dear duchess,” she said. “But this situation is just…it just…” She growled with frustration. “It righteously stinks.”

That did startle a laugh out of Tamsin. “Yes, Georgie, yes, it does,” she said, grateful to call her a friend.

Lavinia poured them all another cup of tea, and Tamsin drew in a deep breath. Her world might be crashing down about her. But at least she didn’t have to weather it alone. And for that, she was grateful.

Because this was a pain that wasn’t going to go away. Perhaps ever.