And completely…dispassionate.
“Lord Aldington! Lord Aldington!”
Constantine paused and slowly turned. A footman, running from White’s, came to an abrupt stop just in front of him. “An urgent message was just delivered for you, my lord.” He handed Constantine a folded piece of parchment.
Opening the note, Constantine quickly scanned the contents. His father was demanding he attend him immediately. Not tomorrow but tonight. This couldn’t be good, but Constantine didn’t care. He was furious with the duke about Brightly and eager to tell him so.
After thanking the footman, Constantine caught a hack. Anticipation thrummed in his veins. He could hardly wait to tell his father exactly what he thought.
Five minutes after arriving at the Phoenix Club assembly, Sabrina was ready to leave. She never should have come, though she’d wanted to show the ton that she was not cowed after her calamitous ball. Still, she was exhausted from last night. She’d barely slept after her conversation with Constantine. She should have said more, but once again her anxiety had gotten the better of her.
She should have fought. For him, for their marriage. To keep what they’d found.
And what was that exactly? She hadn’t even told him she loved him, hadn’t tried to find out if he might love her too.
“Sabrina, you look so pensive.” Evie had approached her, and Sabrina hadn’t even noticed.
Blinking, Sabrina recalled that she was in the Phoenix Club standing near the wide entry to the ballroom. “I think it was a mistake to come tonight. I’m still recovering from last night.”
“I hope you aren’t feeling bad about it. Didn’t you see the evening paper? Lady Pickering declared your ball to be the Success of the Season.”
That was almost enough to make Sabrina smile, but not quite. “I did not see that.” She’d studiously avoided all the newspapers today.
“There were several other quotes from attendees. They all made the same point: that in spite of the challenges you suffered as a debut hostess, you are no longer the Wallflower Countess. They’re calling you the Renaissance Countess.”
Now Sabrina did smile. “You suggested that nickname to Lady Pickering.”
Evie arched a brow, eyes sparkling. “I will neither confirm nor deny that. You are a rousing success and nothing else matters.”
“I can’t agree. I’m a complete and total failure.” Just as her mother had said.
Evie’s gaze darkened with distress as she stepped closer to Sabrina. “What’s happened?”
“Constantine discovered I was his tutor. It was the perfume. When you and I left my chamber before the ball the other night, Cassandra and Miss Lancaster remained. They found the scent and applied it to themselves.”
Deep lines splintered Evie’s brow. “Aldington smelled it on them.”
“I saw the moment he recognized the scent. He commented on it, and Cassandra revealed it was mine.”
“I’m so sorry. Let us go up to my office.” Evie ushered Sabrina through the retiring room to the backstairs that would take them up to the first floor where her office sat in the corner, just above the retiring room.
Sabrina had been to the office when she’d visited the club after the musicale. The space was as tastefully and beautifully appointed as Evie’s house. Evie went directly to a cabinet and poured two glasses of hock.
“I take it Aldington is terribly angry,” Evie said, handing Sabrina a glass before perching on the settee.
Sabrina didn’t sit. There was too much energy coursing through her. “No, he isn’t terribly angry.” She thought of how he’d seemed after the ball—he’d reverted to his demeanor of detachment. Was that his true self? Not the passionate, caring man she’d come to recently know?
“We both agreed it was a terrible stratagem,” Sabrina said, pacing toward the window that overlooked the back garden. “We never should have lied to each other, not when our entire marriage started with misunderstandings and assumptions.”
She realized communication and honesty were their problems, not their ability to have sex. If they’d actually talked to each other—openly and without fear—the intimacy would have followed. In fact, that’s what had happened. Constantine had courted her, wooed her, and she’d been not just receptive but eager for his attention. That’s when everything had changed.
Turning from the window, Sabrina felt a surge of clarity, of calm. “I never should have gone to him as the courtesan tutor. I should have done so as his wife.”
Evie set her glass down on a table near the settee and stood. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have pushed you into the stratagem. But you were so apprehensive, and I so badly wanted to help you. I could see the persistence and strength inside you. The more you took on the role of countess and then of courtesan, you gained confidence.”
“You’re saying it took me being someone else to finally feel comfortable.” Perhaps she had needed that. Still, she wanted to believe she could have faced Constantine in their bedchamber as herself, as his wife. The first time after she’d arrived in London had gone somewhat poorly, but it had been improvement. She should have given him—and herself—the time and patience to get where they’d needed to be. Instead, they’d both allowed others, Evie and Lucien, to meddle and manipulate. Given how their marriage had started in exactly the same fashion and had nearly been dead from the start, they both should have known better.
But they were who they were—a dispassionate earl bound to duty and a frightened shadow who didn’t stand up for herself. “I think I might return to Hampton Lodge.” There was no reason for her to stay.
Brow creasing, Evie strode toward her. “You can’t do that. You and Aldington are so close. You’ll work through this. Perhaps Lucien and I can—”
“Stop.” The frightened shadow was who Sabrina had been. No longer. She took a long sip of hock, then straightened her spine. “I appreciate your friendship, but I don’t want that sort of interference anymore. This is our marriage—Constantine’s and mine. We will work this out together or not at all.”
Evie’s face fell. “I am so sorry. We should not have involved ourselves. The tutor stratagem was a desperate idea, born of Lucien’s desire to help his brother and mine to help you. Though we’d just met, I felt such a kinship with you.”
“Why?” Sabrina didn’t understand how a sophisticated Society matron could have anything in common with her.
“Because you felt like an outsider. You wanted to find your place. Sometimes I feel like I’m still trying to do that,” she added softly, her gaze dropping to the carpet. Sniffing, she jerked her head up. “But this is not about me. This is about you and how I meddled in your marriage. I should not have pushed you into the role of tutor. We—Lucien and I—just wanted to bring you and Aldington together, to give you the love and happiness you both deserve.”
“That’s incredibly kind of both of you, however neither of you can ‘give’ me or Constantine that. We had to find it for ourselves. And I do love him—so very much. Though I’m not sure he loves me.” If he did, would he even allow himself to? If she thought she’d been playing roles, he’d been acting the grandest one of all, that of a dutiful heir with little inclination for emotion. Unless that’s who he really was, but she didn’t think so.