Page 31 of The Rogue’s Countess

“I know the boy accepts the an dara sealladh is a part of who you are, but we both know it unsettles him despite his support of you assisting those who do ask for your help.”

“I know that,” Constance rubbed her forehead in an attempt to ease the headache she’d suddenly developed. “And I know I meddle more than I should, but ever since that terrible business with Oliver…”

The dowager countess’s gaze focused on her gnarled fingers gripping the brass eagle cane head. Constance instinctively knew that, like her, the elderly woman was remembering those terrible hours leading up to the moment when Jamie had been about to be sacrificed by a madman and Constance’s own brush with death as she tried to save her son. Aurora lifted her gaze to look at Constance.

“It was a terrible time for you and Jamie—for all of us. You’ve never said so, but I believe it also made you fear someone might come to harm if you didn’t act on your visions.”

The older woman’s words made Constance start as she met the dowager countess’s steady blue-eyed gaze. There was understanding and deep affection in the dowager’s eyes that warmed Constance’s heart as she nodded her confirmation.

“I do feel obligated to use my gift in helping others. Ignoring my gift and what I see is no different than if I were to stand by and simply watch someone drown.” Constance paused for a second before a rueful smile tugged at her lips. “But we both know that is not always the case. After all, I am a reckless Rockwood.”

“Reckless? No, my dear, impulsive is a far better word. Reckless implies you have little regard for others. You and your family are not thoughtless, uncaring people. You are quite the opposite.”

“Perhaps,” Constance shrugged slightly. “But reckless or impulsive, I cannot deny that my behavior is often frustrating for Lucien. I am certain I can be quite trying for him at times.”

“And I know my grandson is far from being a saint,” Aurora said with an ironic twist of her lip before she sighed. “He is a proud, stubborn man, but Lucien loves you deeply, Constance.”

“I love him just as much, Grandmama. Sometimes it frightens me how much I love him.” Constance closed her eyes as she drew in a deep breath then released it. “We argue so seldom, and when we do, I’m miserable until we resolve our differences.”

“Then we must make Lucien understand how the past changed you, changed all of us, and why you must act on your visions whether or not someone asks for your help. The boy needs to understand life is still a mystery no matter how illogical it may seem.”

“What you suggest is easier said than done, Grandmama.” Constance choked out a small sound of amusement.

“Perhaps, but we will find a way to make the boy understand that he must be more accommodating in his expectations where your gift is concerned.” The old woman made a small noise of exasperation.

The sound made Constance’s lips twitch. Lucien would no doubt receive an earful from his grandmother at the next opportune moment. The dowager countess slowly rose from her seat. Despite her age, she was an indomitable woman when it came to setting things to right where her loved ones were concerned.

“Come along, my darling girl, kiss me good night. It is way past my bedtime.” Despite the crisp, blunt manner, there a warm affection in Aurora’s voice as Constance rose to kiss the woman’s weathered cheek.

“Shall I walk you to your room, Grandmama?”

“There’s no need, child, but you are thoughtful to ask.” Aurora patted Constance’s hand before making her way to the door. As the dowager countess opened the door, she looked over her shoulder at her. “Lucien will not stay angry with you for long, Constance. Go to him, and see if you can heal the divide between you before it widens.”

As the old woman closed the bedroom door behind her, Constance turned around to stare at the door leading into the short corridor between her room and Lucien’s. Her confidence wasn’t as strong as Lucien’s grandmother when it came to Lucien’s ability not to remain angry with her. In the past several months, he’d become increasingly irritated when she interfered in the lives of family friends. Ophelia and Mathias had been more Louisa’s doing than hers, but Lucien knew she’d been involved.

In the past, she’d always been able to convince him that acting on her visions had been for the good of others. But that had become increasingly difficult to do. Things had come to a head two months ago when she’d advised Lady Reigate to reconsider accepting Lord Shively’s proposal. Constance hadn’t had a vision about the couple. She’d simply sensed the two belonged together.

A few days later, she and Lucien had hosted the family at Lyndham House for dinner. They were all to attend a play at the Lyceum later that evening. While the women waited on the men to finish their port before joining them in the salon, Constance had discussed Lady Reigate with Patience. She’d not heard the men coming from the dining room, and Lucien had overheard the tail end of her conversation with her sister about Lady Reigate’s indecision about Lord Shively.

Lucien had immediately expressed his disapproval, and Constance remembered saying something cavalier in reply. Seconds later, they were arguing in front of everyone. It had been a terrible quarrel. Lucien had actually forbidden her to interfere in the lives of others again unless specifically requested to do so. His autocratic manner was out of character for him where she was concerned, and she’d been too stunned for a moment to say anything.

It was the first time he’d ever tried to dictate her behavior, and the moment she recovered from her astonishment, anger had driven all reasonable thought from her head. Constance’s heart twisted in her chest at the memory of her vicious words that night. Even her family had gasped as she’d accused Lucien of being no different than her first husband, Graham. Perhaps worst of all, she’d questioned his love for her.

The stricken look on Lucien’s face had given her little pause before she’d stormed out of the salon declaring she was no longer feeling up to attending the theater. Patience had followed her to her room in an effort to coax Constance into apologizing to Lucien, but she’d been adamant in her refusal to even speak with him.

It wasn’t until hours later, when she’d woken up in a cold bed, that she thought her heart would break. It was the first time they’d gone to bed angry with one another, and she’d been miserable. It had taken her more than an hour to work up her courage to go to Lucien’s room and apologize.

Her words had cut deep, and it had taken time to convince Lucien that she’d flung her accusations at him out of anger and nothing more. Not once since they’d married had Lucien ever made her feel as if he was ashamed of her for being different.

Although her husband might not like her ability to speak to the dead or see small glimpses of the past and future, Lucien had demonstrated on far too many occasions that he understood the an dara sealladh was part of who she was. It’s why her accusation had been cruelly harsh and unjust. Even now, the look of pain and shock on his face still haunted her.

Tonight, there had been no harsh words, only silence. Constance closed her eyes to squeeze back tears. Interfering in Phoebe’s life had been a calculated choice on her part, but she’d done so with the best of intentions. It had been the right decision, even if Lucien was furious with her. All she needed to do was convince her husband that her choice had been the right one. She’d rescued Phoebe, whether the woman had asked to be rescued or not.

Without another thought, she quickly crossed the floor and entered the corridor leading to Lucien’s room. Quietly, she turned the knob to open the door and froze as the brass handle didn’t move. Locked. He’d locked her out.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she released a soft cry of pain. Lucien could not have hurt her more than if he’d hit her. He hadn’t simply shut her out. He’d banned her from his room, and the pain his action caused her was indescribable. With a sob, she fled back to her room and crawled into bed. Burying her face into her pillow, she cried herself to sleep.

§ § §