[2] The Duchess of Kent and Strathearn | B. Bridgerton

Chapter 8

Twisted Love

An artist must be free to follow their muse. But it appears the ton has fallen prey to the fickleness of fashion.

For how else might one explain the tawdry, dare I say vulgar, gown sported lately by Miss Cressida Cowper?

Mayfair's newest modiste has one thing, and one thing only, going for her.

She is new.

Whereas Madame Delacroix might be old, but at least she is capable.

Of course not everyone can always get things so right.

Though, I do suppose, for some, it may be simply too late to change course and undo any damage.

Aubrey Hall, Kent

As dawn unfolded its tendrils, the Duke of Kent and Strathearn awoke to the merciless grip of the headache that accompanied his unconventional evening. The throbbing ache served as an unsolicited reminder of the peculiar events that transpired. His wife, unsurprised by the consequences of the powdered tea, observed his discomfort with a knowing look.

Unbeknownst to Benedict, Charlotte was attempting to divert her attention from the slight discomfort in her belly. While she had shared her symptoms with Fatima, her Lady of the Bedchamber, reassured her that such sensations were typical nearing her due date.

In the midst of preparing for the day, the Duke attempted numerous apologies, each uttered with a sincerity that sought forgiveness. However, his efforts were met not with understanding but rather with the brooding intensity of his wife's unyielding gaze. The air between them hung heavy with the aftermath of a night filled with strange substances and the unintended consequences that ensued.

"My angel," he approached his wife, a determined yet gentle expression adorned his face. "I've been contemplating the words to express how truly sorry I am. Recklessness overcame me."

The Duchess of Kent and Strathearn, though immersed in her book, looked up, acknowledging his words with a measured gaze. The room held a quiet tension as they navigated the delicate space between apology and forgiveness. He took a seat beside her, ensuring he had her attention.

"Please find it in your heart to forgive me for my thoughtless behavior," he continued, and sighed. "I was just so nervous about receiving word from the Royal Academy of Schools that I lost sight of reason."

"Being nervous is not an excuse to do what you did, my love. I was so concerned about your condition last night. I had never seen you like that," she stated calmly. "And...you did mention something that..."

"I don't remember much, if I'm being honest," he sighed with frustration. "What could I have possibly said that..."

The Duke's expression softened with realization, observing his wife's eyes welling up with tears. Swiftly, she brushed them away before they could cascade down her cheeks. Suppressing a sniffle, the Duchess swallowed hard, biting her tongue to stave off tears, while her husband's heart shattered with a profound sense of guilt and sympathy.

"I know you are nothing like him. You do not share my Papa's condition, and I know I shouldn't be concerned," Charlotte took a deep breath before continuing. "But– But when you said it, Benny, I was just so scared to lose you... I was so scared to lose you like I've lost him."