The Contract Duchess, a Regency Romance: Key To My Heart Book 1

Chapter 30 - Angela

Angie was no closer to finding out who had invited the ladies now surrounding her lounge in the drawing room, but she needed to know so she could send a note of gratitude. The chatter of her guests washed over her like a cool mist, refreshing her spirit. These ladies had been her friends before her accident, and each one had arrived after receiving an unsigned letter requesting their presence at her side for tea. It had been far too long since she had spent time with female companions, and she could not remember why she had been afraid to invite them over herself.

Besides expressing sympathy for her delicate health, none of the ladies seemed bothered by her reclining on the lounge under a light throw. Indeed, the past two hours had passed quickly as all four women talked of anything and everything that came to mind, and the conversation only became more lively when Robert and Theo joined the group. As the time drew near for each to return to their own homes, they promised each other to come together for tea in a week's time.

Angie fought back bittersweet tears as she embraced Heather, Amelia, and Lily. She had mostly forgotten her own sorrows amid the bustle of tea and gossip, and she half-wished that they could stay with her a little longer. However, all three ladies had husbands waiting at home and could not stay too late. Only the anticipation of seeing them all again soon kept Angie's tears from falling.

The click of the front door latching shut crashed over her senses with finality, and suddenly grief over the end of her marriage to Derrick welled up in her heart, and the unshed tears were flowing down her cheeks, one tear chasing another faster and faster, slipping between her fingers and soaking the throw on her lap. Anne stepped to her side and knelt beside her; her arms squeezed Angie's chest tightly, and the momentary discomfort pushed the grief back enough for her to sniffle back her sobs and return the embrace.

The last of the brilliant red light from the sunset lit the room dimly, and Anne released her mistress, quietly promising to return with a candle to assist Angie to bed as she bustled through the shadows to the door. A moment later, Angie found herself alone in the darkening room, wishing for Derrick.

There had been no response to her letter, nor any other communication from her husband today. She had hoped he might at least give her a sign of his intentions regarding their marriage and her brother's plans, but perhaps his absence from early in the morning was intended as a sign.

She now recalled that he had left without even coming to her room and kissing the tip of her nose, a habit he had begun in their first days of married life. He had made a point to kiss her on the nose when he left her, no matter if she was awake or sleeping, no matter if he would be gone for a few minutes or all day. That he had left this time without completing the gesture stabbed her already tender heart, the pain of it so severe she could not even cry.

She was startled from her reverie by the booming echo of the knocker on the entrance door. Who could that be at this hour? she wondered.

Shuffling and murmuring in the hall indicated that the summons had been answered, and a moment later, Anne appeared in the drawing room doorway. Her brow was wrinkled, and her mouth formed a thin tight line. One hand held a lit candle in a holder, the other held a letter.

"For you, my lady. It was delivered by a messenger I did not recognize. It is from the Chesterton house."

Angie's hand trembled as she accepted the letter, nearly dropping its unexpected weight. Though a surprise, the heft of the missive was familiar, just like ...

Angie broke the seal with such force that the paper tore slightly, but that didn't matter. As the page unfurled, the cellar key dropped into her lap.

She could only stare at it for what felt like ages, but was likely only a few seconds. She had never expected to see this particular key again, and its weight on her legs seemed to increase with each passing breath.

With great care she scooped up the heavy black object and cradled it in her hand, its metal cold against her palm. She pressed it to her chest, absently noting that her bosom was rapidly rising and falling, the space between breaths sharp and short. With her other hand, she lifted the letter, written in Derrick's confident script, and began to read.

Dearest Wife,

I can never express to you how amazed I am with you. That you would be so willing to sacrifice your own happiness to try to secure my own legacy only increases my love for you. My affections are so strong that I believe you have ruined me for any other woman. Even these few hours away from your side make my heart ache; how much more pain would I have to endure were I to set our marriage aside and seek out another? The difficulty of losing all that I had expected to inherit pales beside even the thought of such agony.

It is with this deep attachment to you in mind that I will embark this evening on a solution to our troubles. Should I fail, I still wish to remain your husband, no matter what the future holds for us both. I understand that this may lead to hardship, especially in regards to your delicate health, and I respect that you may not wish to remain my wife under such circumstances.

Should you wish to stay with me, endure this marriage, I ask that you make ready to complete the requirements of the will, tonight. I hope to be with you before midnight, with the required witness. Even should this prove impossible, I can no longer wait to make you my wife, in every sense of the word. I love you, beyond all reason, and I want to show you the depth of my love, witnessed or not.

I will be with you soon, my dear. I pray you will be waiting for me.

Your Derrick

P.S. I have returned the cellar key to you. If it is truly the key to my heart, then it belongs only to you. It will never work for any other, ever again.

Angie read the letter again, half convinced that it was a sham, or even a joke. His eagerness to finalize their wedding vows, even if doing so would not secure his inheritance, was clearly reflected in his words, but could it be true?

The press of the key, now warmed by her skin, affirmed at least the truth of the postscript. Hope blossomed in her chest like a tender spring rosebud opening its petals to the sun for the first time. The emotion imbued both calm and purpose to her spirit, and she carefully folded the letter around the key before looking for Anne.

Sensing her mistress's need, Anne shifted into view beside her, still holding the candle, which had burned quite low. Angie frowned at the candle before grinning at Anne. Once the maid returned the smile, she outlined what she needed as she shifted to place her feet on the floor. The two continued to plan as they made their way down the hall to Angie's chamber. Too much time had passed since the letter's arrival to waste any more.